Life Is Not A Bowl Of Cherries
A Story At Christmas
By Susan Brown
He was sitting behind his desk, in his deep padded office chair. I was opposite him sitting on a hard, uncomfortable plastic chair.
Nothing like trying to make me feel inferior, I thought.
Whilst I waited, I looked outside, noticing that it was raining and it getting dark. I hated the winter and December in particular. All those festive revelries left me cold. Christmas was for happy families and I wasn’t in one...
He finished writing on some form or other and then looked up at me and smiled. I noted that the smile did not reach his eyes. Was there any soul or compassion in there? I wondered.
‘Well Ben, you are now sixteen, quite grown up really. You have been in care for how long?’
He knew very well how long had been in care and I didn’t like that crack about being ‘quite grown up’.
‘Since I was four.’ I replied shortly, trying to hold my temper.
‘That’s right, four.’
He smiled as I had answered a difficult exam question.
He paused for a moment still looking at me, before continuing.
I moved around in my seat. I hated these seats just like I hated the home that I had been living in for the past few months and in particular, I hated the bastard sat opposite me, all high and mighty and thinking that he was god’s gift to child care.
‘You haven’t done too well at school, have you Ben? Your teachers all say that you are bright and if you applied yourself, you could have gone far.’
‘What’s all this about Andy?’ I asked, trying to cut through the crap.
He looked annoyed; he didn’t like being interrupted; he was a control freak.
‘What this is about Ben, is your future. You haven’t fitted in wherever you have been placed, have you? This is what, the seventh kids’ home you have stayed at, not forgetting the eleven foster homes?’
‘So what?’
‘They can’t all be at fault, Ben. You haven’t even tried to fit in; you never have, right from when you were little.’
‘Nobody understands me!’ I shouted, standing up.
He looked at me as if he was going to explode and then took a deep breath and pointed at the chair.
‘Please sit down Ben. Shouting won’t help you and I am trying to help, believe it or not.’
My heart was thumping and I was breathing as if I had just run a mile. Eventually, I sank back down on my seat, the thought of him actually helping me made me feel slightly nauseous.
‘How many friends have you got here?’
I didn’t answer but shook my head. He knew very well how many of them liked me; none and to be honest, I never bothered to make friends. They all thought that I was weird. What was the point anyway, when I knew that I wouldn’t be there long enough to make it matter? I was different from them; I was the only girl in an all boy’s children’s home. The fact that I had a penis didn’t mean I was one of them. I might look vaguely like a boy, but I was a girl in my head and had always been one for as long as I could remember.
I had told no one about my being a girl. It was my secret and one that I would take to my grave if it came to that. I was not going to be held up as some sort of freak or something. Alright, I was small for my age and my voice hadn’t broken; I had long hair and delicate features.
I had been mistaken for a girl countless times and that was bad because all that meant was that I was considered strange, not quite right, a square peg in a round hole and all the other things people say when they were trying to explain the unexplainable. Despite that, I was terrified of growing into one of them with all the muscles, testosterone and hair in unacceptable places that growing into a man inevitably entailed and had been taking ‘the pill’, for some time now. I had ‘borrowed’ a supply from my last foster carer. I was running out now and would have to get some more from somewhere. My budding breasts, hidden under a tight t-shirt and hoodie, itched a bit, but I didn’t mind as all girls went through that.
‘I don’t make friends easily.’ I said, eventually replying to his question.
‘That’s true. You are quiet, introverted if you like, but you also have this temper thing, as if no-one understands you.If you let people help you, they would. We even had a psychiatrist try to work out what the problem was, but she didn’t get anywhere with you.’
‘Where is all this leading to Andy?’
‘See, another brick wall attitude. Look, I have to be truthful, there has been some pressure to let young adults over sixteen with issues such as yours to try to go out into the community, with support, of course...’
‘So you are chucking me out then?’
‘No, that would put too strong a point on it. What I am saying is that you might be happier away from an environment like this.’
‘It’s nothing to do with council cuts then?’
‘Well, to be honest there are pressures but I am only thinking about your welfare.’
‘That’s nice of you. Where will I go?’ I asked, not interested in his excuses.
‘There is a place where people such as yourself are placed prior to living in the wider community, a sort of staging home that gives you more freedom and prepares you more for the outside world, if that’s the right description for it.’
‘When do you want me out?’
‘I wouldn’t quite put it like that. All I want you to do is think about it. Here is some information about what we have talked about. Come and see me tomorrow and let me know how you feel.’
I stood up, took the leaflet and without another word, I left him and went to my room.
I winced slightly as I saw all the Christmas decorations everywhere, as if this was a happy family place which, to me anyway, it wasn’t.
Shutting the door to my room, I sat on the bed and sighed. I didn’t bother looking at the leaflet after reading that the place that I was being sent to was Charring House. I knew about that place. Having been in care for so long, you pick up on things. Charring House was the pits. Most of the people there had no job or didn’t go to school. Police were called regularly to sort out the fights and to do drugs raids. It used to be both male and female kids there, but after a lot of trouble and allegations regarding what went on behind closed doors, the girls were placed in another ‘safe home’ and it was now a male only environment.
Burying my head in my pillow, I cried my eyes out. It was probably a hormonal thing and a reaction to the girly pills I was taking. My emotions were all over the place. Testosterone was fighting with the estrogens and that made me moody with bouts of anger and then, other times when I couldn’t stop crying my eyes out. I was just happy that I hadn’t cried in front of the others. That would just be another emotional stick to beat me with.
The trouble was I was a girl not a boy and I didn’t feel that I would last five minutes at Charring House. So what was I to do? It was obvious that Andy and his team wanted me out and it was equally obvious that I wanted to go, but I didn’t want to go anywhere near Charring House.
I could stay where I was and tell them that I wasn’t budging, but I wasn’t happy there. I had some savings from the allowance that I never spent and the balance was more than two thousand pounds, so could I use the money to help me go somewhere else?
Still undecided, I heard the dinner bell go and went downstairs and joined the queue for dinner.
Like everywhere else, except my room, the dinner room was covered in Christmas decorations and there was a big tree in the corner with its lights twinkling away in an annoying fashion.
I think that Scrooge had the right idea about Christmas, all Bah and humbug.
As usual I had a salad. I think that I was the only one to have rabbit food, as the boys called it. They tended to go with something and chips, but, as I may have mentioned, I wasn’t a boy.
I sat at my favoured table, in the corner and as usual, no-one wanted to sit near ‘the freak’ as I was affectionately called behind my back and in a few cases, to my face.
Head down, I ate my meal. There was plenty of chatter, some laughter and the occasional raised voice, nothing out of the ordinary. Suddenly I heard a movement and looked up.
Peter Knightly looked at me, tray in hand and then sat down opposite me. Peter was a quiet boy of about fifteen. He was almost as much a loner as me and we occasionally spoke, but not much.
‘Hi Ben,’ he said.
‘Hi.’ I replied, not wanting to strike up a conversation, even with him.
He munched at his burger and I stole a glance at him. He was quite tall, stringy I suppose. His thin face looked troubled and I noticed the rings under his eyes. He was an asthmatic and quite often had to spend some time in hospital. He popped more pills than I did.
We carried on eating in silence. I finished first and then started to get up.
‘Ben, stop a minute.’
Reluctantly, I sat down again as Peter finished his mouthful and then looked at me.
‘I hear that you’re leaving.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘You know this place; no secrets.’
‘I haven’t decided yet.’ I replied, toying with my food.
‘Once they want you out, then that’s it. Remember Mark Hines?’
‘Yes.’
‘He didn’t want to go, but in the end they made things uncomfortable for him and he went to Charring House. You don’t want to go there...’
‘I know that it has a bad rep.’
‘Yea; anyway, Mark got into a fight with some big bruiser there and landed in hospital with a punctured lung; a knife fight, they say.’
‘Ouch.’
‘Mmm, anyway, I thought that you ought to know.’
‘Thanks, Peter.’
‘Don’t mench. Try to go somewhere else, if you can. Anyway I had better go.’
With that, he got up, gave me a shy smile and then went off to sit with the ‘normals’.
I sat there for a few minutes more and then, finishing my meal I got up, put my tray on the counter.
The other kids were either finishing their meal or going into the games room; something that I rarely did, so I just left to go up to my room.
Thinking about Peter, maybe I should have tried to make friends with him. It was a bit late now, but I was grateful to him for the information; they weren’t all slime-balls after all.
Shutting the bedroom door behind me, I pushed across the small bolt so I wouldn’t be disturbed.
Going over to the window, I drew the curtains and then went over to the bed. Still on it was the leaflet about Charring House. Glancing at it, I saw what appeared to be a large, pleasant house in nice, well kept gardens. There were glowing things mentioned about the care of the inmates and the freedom they had to fulfil their potential.
There was a photo of a bedroom and it all looked nice and cosy. It was all too good to be true, with a well-dressed, clean-cut boy sitting on the bed looking at a magazine and smiling. I would bet that he had either been bribed or he wasn't an inmate but just some male model type, in it for the money.
I threw the leaflet across the room. There was no way that I would be going there!
Standing up, I picked up my wash bag and went out of my room, going to the bathroom at the top of the stairs. The room was free, so I went in and did what I had to do, including cleaning my teeth as I was going to get ready for bed and maybe have my usual early night.
Back in my room, I once again bolted my door and then got undressed. Under my mattress, I had a nightie, it was a short pink cotton one that once again I had borrowed from somewhere, but forgot to return. It was my only item of female clothing. After putting it on, I turned the main light off got into bed and then switched on my bedside lamp.
Outside my door it was a bit noisy as some of the kids messed about in the corridors. I ignored this, as I was so used to living in a noisy environment.
I still hadn't decided what to do. My options were limited. I couldn't stay here. As Peter had said, once they decided that you weren't wanted, they would find ways to get rid of you. Perhaps I should jump before I was pushed?
Charring House wasn’t an option, as I didn't think that I could survive in a place like that, no matter what the leaflet said. What else could I do? I felt like I was between a rock and a hard place. I was sixteen now and could legally do a lot more than a fifteen-year-old could do.
I wondered about my parents. My father; I had no idea about him. I think that it was one night stand thing, involving illegal sex. As for my mother, she was only fourteen when she had me, younger than what I was now. She was evidently a mess and I was taken away from her.
I have a vague recollection of her that I hoped wasn’t just wishful thinking. I remember her perfume or whatever she was using. I could recall her holding me and playing with me. I couldn’t recollect her face. I dreamt about her sometimes. We were living in a lovely home. I was wearing a beautiful dress and we had such a happy time, bonding as a mother and daughter should; laughing hugging and sharing those special moments, but she had no face that I could remember...
It was just a dream.
Up until the year before last, I had always received a birthday and Christmas card from her. Then it had stopped. The cards held no information about her, she only ever said the same thing, that she wished me a happy birthday or Christmas and that she loved me very much and was sorry that she couldn’t see me.
Her name was Carol Young and the postmark on the envelopes were first Birmingham, then Sheffield and finally, Ross On Wye.
I had kept all the cards in my case, now sat on top of my wardrobe. I wondered about her, a lot. Why had she not contacted me or come to see me? As I say, I vaguely remember her, how I don’t know, as I was only four when she had to give me up. Perhaps she just felt guilty and was trying to make it up to me in some strange fashion that didn’t include actually coming to see me.
For many years I asked to see her or at least be allowed to write to her, but for some reason, it wasn’t allowed. As I got older I grew angrier. I thought that I had rights but was told on number of occasions that it was in my best interests not to have any contact.
I didn't even have my mum’s address. It was withheld because she had requested it. That hurt a lot. She didn't want me, that was obvious, but if she didn't want me, then why did she keep sending me cards?
I sat up in bed. Perhaps she had died and no one was telling me. Nothing would surprise me. I had been part of the care system for most of my life and stupidity and unreasonable behaviour from the authorities was normal. They did things without rhyme or reason. I had often been put with foster carers who were more interested in the money side of things than any sense of love and caring for me. One couple had been really nice to me, but I couldn’t stay with them for long because my foster mum became ill and I had to leave.
Once I was temporarily put in a girl’s home and that was hell, as I was surrounded by people that I wanted to be like and they treated me as if I was some sort of freak of nature. Don't tell me that girls are all sweetness and light, they can be as vicious and nasty as any boy.
I broke three windows there and that made them move me on quickly enough. I was close to being sent to a home for troublesome and unruly children, sort of a modern day Dotheboys Hall, but for once sense prevailed and I was put out with yet another very temporary foster home until yet another place could be found for me.
All this wasn't getting me anywhere. I had to decide what to do. My thoughts returned to Mum. Had anything happened to her? Was she still alive? After a few minutes thought, I had an idea.
I set my alarm for 2am and tried to get some sleep. It took a while, what with everything going around my head and the noises outside, but eventually I managed to doze off and then go into a deep sleep.
Then the alarm went off and it took a moment to realise where I was and what I was supposed to be doing.
Shrugging off my sleepiness, I quickly got dressed in jeans and t shirt and then I pulled back the bolt on my door and looked out. Everything was quiet and the hall was in semi-darkness. I went out and closed my door quietly and then went along the hall, down the stairs and then into the office.
The office was never locked as, in an emergency, the staff could get in there quickly. Over in the corner was a filing cabinet and that was where all the records of the inmates were kept. I had seen that often enough on my frequent visits to the office.
I also knew where the key was kept; in the top drawer of the desk. Security wasn't a high priority in the home.
It took just a moment to get the key and unlock the cabinet. I paused for a moment to make sure that all was quiet and then I opened the top drawer. The first thing I saw was a folder marked private and that got my interest. I had my torch with me, so I sat at the desk and opened the folder and looked at the contents by its light.
My eyes widened, as on top was a letter from the council regarding me!
I scanned the first few paragraphs, which wasn’t interesting and then got to the meaty part.
As you know, due to the massive cutbacks that this government has forced on us, we are looking for ways to cut costs and regrettably, we have to look at all services including child care. We feel that our limited resources would be better targeted on younger more vulnerable children and have therefore decided that young adults such as Ben would be better served in a community setting. We feel that it would be in Ben’s best interests and would free up a place in your unit.
You have reported that you do not feel that Ben is comfortable with being at your unit. Due to the previous problems that we have had in placing him in a caring environment in the past and the fact that this has been less than successful, we believe that the best course of action will be to transfer him to Charring House, without delay.
Please contact me as soon as possible so that the necessary arrangements for the transfer can be made.
Yours etc.
I sat there for a few moments and had a think about what I had just read. It confirmed what I already knew; they wanted me out and the only place they wanted me to go to was Charring House.
I put the letter back into the folder and went over to the cabinet, placing the folder where I had found it. I then went through the alphabetically listed files of all the kids at the home and then found my one.
Taking the file out, I returned to the desk and sat down.
The file was quite thick. Not surprising, as I had been pushed from pillar to post for most of my life. I had seen some of the contents of the file on many occasions as I had ‘a right to know’ as it’s termed, but I had not seen everything. I was looking for one thing in particular and I eventually found it at the bottom of the pile; my mother’s address.
The Lees, Pendleton Way, Ross On Wye. There was also a phone number. I made a note of both and then closed the folder, put it back in the cabinet, locked it and returned the key to the drawer.
Without incident, I was back in my room. Several times I looked at the address and phone number.
I powered on my iPad, luckily we had wi-fi and I had a good signal. After looking at a few sites, I jotted down some information. The jigsaw puzzle was coming together.
I was never one to rush things except when I was angry or lashing out and I went over and over in my mind the positives and negatives of what I was trying to achieve.
A plan was forming in my head and I decide there and then to put it into action.
I knocked on the office door.
‘Come in.’
Andy looked up as I walked in.
‘Ah Ben, you have missed the school bus; is something wrong?’
Once again, the false smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
‘I’ve thought about what you said yesterday and I want to leave.’
His smile grew wider and wasn’t that a slight bit of relief in his demeanour?
‘Yes, that seems to be the best way forward. When do you want to go?’
‘As soon as possible.’
‘Well, I know that a place was provisionally booked for you at Charring House, I’ll check and see if you can go today.’
He picked up the phone with almost indecent haste and speed dialled a number.
Not wasting much time then, I thought.
‘Hi Phil, yes, about Ben, he wants to go. Can he come today? Good, thanks for that. I’ll speak to you soon, bye.’
‘It’s all arranged, you can go when you like. Do you want to go and pack? I’ll ring the school and tell them why you are absent today. The other kids have just gone off so you’ve missed saying goodbye...’
‘I’ll catch up with them at school.’ I lied.
‘Yes, that’s good. When you are ready, I’ll arrange a taxi for you...’
‘That’s okay, it’s not far I’ll catch a bus. I need to go to the bank anyway.’
‘If you are sure?’
He sounded happy to spare the expense.
‘Yes, I’ll be fine. I’ll come and see you when I’m leaving. I won’t be long.’
Going upstairs, I contemplated once again what I was going to do. It was risky, but I had no choice in my eyes.
I was used to packing my case, I had done it often enough. I also filled a black sack with things that I didn’t need. I would chuck them in the bin when I left.
Looking around the now bare room, I didn’t feel upset about leaving. This was never home to me and I would be glad to be out and free from its confines, rules and in particular, away from Andy and his ‘team’.
I took my case and the black bag downstairs and left them outside the office. Then I knocked on the door and went in. Andy was there, on the phone but he said goodbye to whoever he was talking to and then turned his attention to me.
‘Well Ben, got everything?’
‘Yes thanks.’
It didn't hurt to be civil.
‘Here’s some paperwork for you. Remember, if you need any help or advice, I’m always here.’
‘Erm, right.’
With that, I left him, picked up my case and bag and left the home for the final time.
I put the bag in the large rubbish bin around the side of the building and then, with my case, I went to the bus stop.
Luckily, the bus arrived after only five minutes and I was in town about ten minutes later.
First thing first, I went to a cash machine and drew out £200. Then it was time to go shopping.
I tried to ignore the Christmas overload that shops tended to get into at that time of year and the sugary sweet piped Jingle Bells type music that you couldn’t escape from. I had to stay focussed.
Going to Marks & Spencer's, I bought some new underwear, a jumper, jeans and a lilac, hooded puffer jacket. I asked the lady at the changing room if I could change into my new clothes and pay using the tags and she said that it wasn't a problem. It seemed like that wasn't an unusual request.
Putting on one of the sets of bras and panties was nice. I had guessed at my bra size, a 28 AA and it looked like I was right, as the bra felt snug and supported my girls quite nicely. Then I slipped on the matching panties, quickly followed by the jeans, pink socks and then the top; a pink sweatshirt and finally the coat. My trainers would have to do for now and anyway they were pretty unisex.
After removing the elastic band, I pulled out my hairbrush and got to work on my hair. It was quite long and had been in a low ponytail. Luckily, there was a mirror in the changing room and I was able to style it the way I wanted, parted in the middle and loose around my shoulders.
Leaving the changing room, I made my way over to the checkout, showing the tags for my purchases. I paid using my debit card when it was realised that I wasn't a shoplifter!
It was nice to stop hiding. Dressed as I was, I hoped that I would be seen as the girl that I really was and not some strange looking excuse for a boy..
I went over to the restaurant in Marks and had a coffee and Danish pastry. Sitting down at a table near the corner, I reviewed what had happened and what I was going to do.
I had decided that I would leave Ben behind and live full time as a girl, using the name I always thought myself as, Katie.
I would not be going to Charring House and I would not be returning to school.
When the crap hit the fan, I would be long gone. Being sixteen, they couldn't force me to do anything and that was the way I wanted it to be.
The next thing on my list was to get some more clothes. Enough to fill my case. I had no male clothes left except the ones that I had in one of the the carrier bag next to me. Those clothes would be put in a bin.
I would go around the shops for a couple of hours to buy the minimum I needed to last me for a week or so. Marks were too expensive to buy everything I needed and their teenage range was limited. I would also get a decent pair of shoes and some boots as I was bound to need them, as it was winter. Then I wanted to get some makeup; Boots, the shop that is, would be a good place to get some, as their prices were affordable. Once I had done that I would be ready for the next, most important thing on my list.
I was going to find my mum.
Life Is Not A Bowl Of Cherries
A Story At Christmas
By Susan Brown
Previously …
I would go around the shops for a couple of hours to buy the minimum I needed to last me for a week or so. Marks were too expensive to buy everything I needed and their teenage range was limited. I would also get a decent pair of shoes and some boots as I was bound to need them, as it was winter. Then I wanted to get some makeup; Boots, the shop that is, would be a good place to get some, as their prices were affordable. Once I had done that I would be ready for the next, most important thing on my list.
I was going to find my mum.
And now the story continues…
The next few hours were busy for me. I was a bit wary about how others would react to me, as this was the first time I had been out in public as Katie. Knowing as I did how feminine looking I had been when I had been considered a boy and all the snide remarks that I had been given at school and at the home, it was nice to be treated as just a normal girl doing the usual girlie things like shopping and buying clothes.
Because I didn't want to spend a fortune on clothes¬¬¬ -- I wasn’t sure how long my money would last -- I went into a few of the cheaper clothes shops like Primark and bought some of the basics like skirts, tops and jumpers. I also bought tights, bras, more panties, a couple of nighties and some satin PJ’s. On my travels I found a nice shoulder bag in black to hold all my nic-knacks and by then, I felt that I was really getting somewhere.
After my minor shopping spree, I visited Boots the chemist and looked through the makeup section. There was a large selection. I had read in one of the few girlie mags that I had read that Boots did a good range at an affordable price. The trouble was that I was a novice at all this.
I noticed over in the corner that there was a cosmetic counter and a lady was there who obviously did makeovers. I was tempted to go over, but felt quite shy and self-conscious about it. Then, before I could look away, she caught my eye and then came over. My face went red, as I was trying to blend in and not draw attention to myself.
‘Having trouble?’ she asked.
‘Erm, yes, I’m not very good at choosing makeup.’
I could have kicked myself. What sixteen year old girl didn’t know all about makeup?
‘Would you like me to give you a quick makeover? It’s quiet at the moment and I like to keep in practice. No pressure about buying or anything.’
I thought for a moment. It would be nice to see what I looked like with properly applied makeup. I had visions of looking silly if I tried myself. Now was a good opportunity to see if I could get some work at a circus as a clown or if I looked okay with face paint slapped on me.
‘Thanks that would be great.’ I said quietly.
She led me over to her chair and after taking my coat and making sure that my shopping bags and case were behind the counter for safety, she sat me down.
After getting me comfortable, she carefully looked at my face which, I suspect, had a deer in the headlights look.
‘Good, a blank canvas, I don’t need to remove anything before we get started. I’ll just clean your face first, to get rid of any greasy residue.’
I had no idea how much greasy residue I had, or whether I needed to make an appointment at the doctor’s for it, but I just went with the flow and hoped fervently that I wasn’t going to draw a crowd.
‘Look, look Mummy, look at the clown!’
I shuddered slightly; perish the thought.
As she did her stuff she explained to me what she was doing and almost lost me when she proceeded to tell me about my oily T Zone. She started by cleansing my face and then used an under-eye moisturizer and face moisturizer. She then took a lot of time to match the foundation and set it with a powder. She then used an eye shadow primer and a smoky eye shadow kit. She used a black eye pencil and then some mascara and concealer. She finished with blush, lip liner and gloss. During my makeover she evidently used around thirteen products.
Whilst she did her stuff, she kept up a constant chatter that didn’t require much input from me. She did not seem surprised that I wasn’t wearing makeup or that I had little idea about it, but I did explain, when I could put a word in edgewise, that I had just come out of a tomboy stage and wanted to look a bit more girlie.
‘Well, you are pretty and makeup can only enhance that. I take it that the tom-boy thing has passed?’
‘Definitely’, I replied with conviction.
After a surprisingly short time, she finished and then whipped me around so that I could see myself in the mirror.
I knew it was me; it couldn’t be anyone else sitting there. But I looked so different, pretty and maybe, perish the thought, even beautiful?
‘You are very beautiful,’ said Tracy the makeup girl, reflecting my thoughts, ‘I wish I had skin like yours.’
My eyes welled up.
‘Here, none of that, you’ll ruin your makeup. Maybe I should have used waterproof mascara!’
I giggled through my tears and it took Tracy a few moments to repair my eyes. I was lucky that no-one seemed interested in me and were going about their business like nothing unusual was happening.
‘There we are, all better. I bet that you’re glad that you are now a bit more girlie looking?’
I nodded.
‘I never thought that I could look that nice.’
‘So you haven’t worn much makeup in the past?’
‘No.’
‘Well you’ll soon pick it up. Now would you like to buy some of the makeup that you’re wearing?’
‘As long as it doesn’t cost too much.’
‘Let’s see what we can put together, shall we?’
Tracy helped me to find what I was looking for and even threw in a makeup bag and it came to a very reasonable amount, slightly less than the national debt.
‘Thank you Tracy.’
‘No problem; if you need any tips about applying makeup, come and see me.’
‘I will!’
I left the shop a little lighter in my purse, but a lot more self assured.
Unbelievably, I still had about twenty minutes until I had to get to the station so I went to a charity shop and bought a nice dress, in a deep red colour, knee length with capped sleeves, just because I thought that it looked nice and Christmassy. It was cheap too! Whether I ever got the chance to wear it was another matter.
One last stop at a phone shop had me buying a pay-as-you-go phone. I had never had one before, but felt that I needed one now. In particular, I wanted to do some texting.
Finally, all shopped out, I caught a taxi to the station. I had booked online and my ticket was ready for me at the ticket office.
Sitting on the train, I managed to find a corner seat where no-one was around me. At that time of day, the carriage was empty apart from a family at the other end of the carriage.
Opening my case, I put the bags of clothes in and shut it up again. Then I put the case and my coat up on the rack above me and after that, settled down as the train left the station on its way to Gloucester. I would then catch a Stagecoach bus into Ross-On-Wye, where I had booked a room at Travelodge.
Settling back, I watched the scenery go by. A lot had happened in the last 24 hours and it was hard to get my head around what I had actually done. I wondered what the people at Charring House would say at my non-arrival and Andy for that matter, back at the home. I thought that I should sort that out straight away.
I pulled out the phone and switched it on. The man in the shop had set it up for me and showed me how to use it. In particular, I had asked him to set it with my number being withheld. I didn’t want anyone to be able to trace me via the phone, if that was possible. It had a touch screen with lots of apps on but I just wanted to use the phone in an emergency or to do some texting.
In my coat pocket, I kept a list of phone numbers, one being Andy’s.
I texted Andy; no way was I going to speak to him.
Hi Andy, I have decided not to go to Charring House. I have also left school. Please contact anyone who needs to know. Do not try to contact me – Ben
I didn’t bother texting Charring House, as I thought that Andy would do that.
Switching the phone off, I put it into my bag and then tried to relax. There was no point worrying about my situation. The one overriding thing I was pleased about was that Ben was gone and Katie was here to stay.
The train jolted suddenly and awoke. I hadn’t even realised that I had been asleep. It was getting dark outside and while I had been snoozing, a number of people had boarded the train.
A mother and little girl were sitting opposite me and the little girl was looking at me. I smiled and she started crying.
The mother turned to her daughter and said, ‘Shh now, don’t start again.’
Looking at me apologetically, she just said, ‘Sorry, she’s a bit whiny at the moment. She has an ear infection.’
‘Ooh, that’s bad.’
‘Mmm, it’s getting better though.’
‘Where are we?’ I asked, looking out of the window.
‘We’ve just left Stonehouse, where are you going?’
‘Gloucester.’
‘It’s about fifteen minutes. Going home?’
‘Visiting relatives.’
‘That’s nice.’
I started to get my stuff together. The little girl was going to sleep, which was good. Her mum said that they were getting off at Cheltenham Spa.
A few minutes later, we arrived at Gloucester and after whispering goodbye to the mother; I left the train with several other people.
My case was the sort that had wheels, so it was easy for me to walk down the platform into the station proper and then go out to the bus stop. As luck would have it, a bus pulled up just as I arrived at the stop and in seconds I was being whisked away to Ross-On-Wye, which evidently was a 45 minute journey by bus.
The bus wasn’t very full and after paying my fare, I made my way to the back and sat down with my case next to me. The bus stopped several times on my journey and I admit to falling asleep for a while, but eventually we arrived and I got off at the bus stop, which was about a minutes’ walk from the Travelodge where I was staying for the night. It was dark now but the street was well lit and there were plenty of people about, so I didn’t feel threatened, although I could have been had the streets been quiet.
I was well aware that girls were in more danger than boys out on their own and I would have to be careful not to get into situations that might lead to trouble.
I finally arrived at the hotel and checked in, using the reference that I had obtained when booking the room. The lady behind the counter didn’t question why a young girl was staying there by herself. I suppose that nothing surprises them.
The room was on the first floor and was plain but functional, with the usual corner bathroom and king size double bed. It was 6.30 in the evening and dark outside, so pulled the curtains across and turned on the bedside lights to make it seem a bit cosier.
Sitting on the bed, I removed my trainers and rubbed my tired feet. Then I lay down on the bed and relaxed for a few minutes before deciding what to do next. Eventually, I decided to open my case and take my clothes out, and then I could hang them up to avoid creases.
My clothes were still in the bags, so I spent a happy few minutes sorting them out, taking off the labels and hanging them up. I was pleased with my selection but knew that I would have to get some more things soon, money permitting.
I had to be careful with money as I wasn’t sure that my weekly allowance would be continued. Not that it was much as the total was only £18.00 a week and that wouldn’t last long. It looked like I might have to get a job at McDonalds or something. Where I would stay was up in the air too and I wondered if I had completely worked things out prior to setting out on this mad-cap journey.
I suppose that I imagined that my mum would accept me and I would join her happy family, but that was just wishful thinking at this stage.
I had booked in for three days and hoped that that would be enough time for me to find my mum, as long as she still lived in Ross-On-Wye. In the back of my mind was the nagging worry that she might have died or something.
Why had she not continued to at least send me a card on my birthday and at Christmas? Even if I did find her, what would she say or do? I had no idea, but these negative thoughts were dragging me down a bit.
Would the authorities try to find me? Would I be considered as a missing person? Would the police get involved or was the fact that I was sixteen and I had told Andy that I was leaving and didn’t want to go where the council wanted to go, enough to stop any possibility of being traced?
Stop it Katie!
There was no point worrying about what other people might do. I would just have to make the best of things and take one day at a time.
My tummy rumbled and I realised that I hadn’t eaten anything since the coffee and Danish in Marks, earlier in the day.
I got up and went into the bathroom. Looking at my face, I smiled as my makeup still looked okay, except that my lippy needed freshening up. I couldn’t have that, so, pulling out my lipstick from my new makeup bag, I carefully did some repairs, not perfectly, but I would practice until I got it right.
After brushing my hair through, I was ready to meet the world again. I could have changed, but there seemed little point as I was only popping next door to the Little Chef Restaurant.
I picked up my keys and coat and with a final look at my reflection, I went out.
The restaurant wasn’t very busy and was shown a table by the window. I wasn’t clocked, as we say in trans-land and for that, I was pleased. I looked like someone normal and not some Norman Bates look-alike.
Looking at the menu, I decided on a chicken wrap, salad and a cup of tea. Not exciting, but I had had enough excitement for one day!
After my order was taken, I looked around. As per usual, the place was festooned with Christmas decorations wherever I looked. On the other side of the room, I saw a family of four having a nice time and laughing over something or other...
I felt pangs of jealousy and dragged my eyes away as the waitress returned.
‘There you are Miss,’ she said, putting down the plate in front of me, together with the small pot of tea, with cup and saucer.
‘Thank you.’ I replied with a smile.
Soon I was tucking in. I didn’t realise how hungry I was and it did not take long to demolish my meal. My hair kept getting in my face and I decided that I would get it properly cut at the earliest opportunity; not much shorter but more styled.
After my meal, I wasted little time in getting back to my room. With the TV on in the background on a music channel, I decided to pamper myself a bit. Something that was impossible to do anywhere else. I got undressed down to my panties and bra and then removed my makeup. I was reluctant to clean my face as it had been so nicely made up, but it was something that had to be done. First, I did a selfie on my phone, so that my look would be captured for posterity.
I had purchased some makeup removal pads and some Nivea eye makeup cleanser, both of which quickly removed all traces from my face. I was back to bare skin mode in no time. Filling the bath, I added some complimentary bubble bath and soon the water was nice and sudsy, if that’s a word. After taking off my bra and panties, I put on a shower cap, as I didn’t fancy wet hair tonight, and then I stepped into the bath, sighing as I sank into the foamy water.
It felt like heaven to slowly relax and let the warm water soak my cares away, if only temporarily.
I must have stayed in the bath for a good half an hour and I was in danger of getting the dreaded prune skin, also, I was getting bit sleepy, so reluctantly I
got out of the bath, dried myself off with a bath towel and then went back into the bedroom.
Putting on my new pink satin PJ’s, I marvelled at how nice the soft silky material felt against my hairless skin. I was so glad that I was taking pills to stop getting masculine. I knew that I should been to see a doctor about it, but I had read how many hoops that you had to jump through to get the right pills and I just couldn’t face that at moment.
Sighing at the unfairness of it all, I switched most of the lights off and got into bed.
Reaching over to the bedside cabinet, I fired up my iPad and after entering the wi-fi key provided, I went on the BBC news website, just in case. There was no mention of a sixteen year old absconder, the ports and airports being checked or police scouring the country, which was nice. It seemed like I was getting a bit paranoid. No doubt, if I was younger I might have been more newsworthy. I decided to go onto Google Maps to check out my mother’s address; the one that I had noted down from my file, back in the office.
On Google Maps I entered: The Lees, Pendleton Way, Ross-On-Wye.
A few moments later, the result came up.
Pendleton Way was off Brampton Road; on the outskirts of Ross. On street view, it looked like a small lane with few houses along it. I wasn’t sure which was the one I was looking for, as the names had been hidden, so I would have to find it when I got there.
Would she still be there and if she was, would I be welcome?
On an impulse, I searched for Mum on Twitter and Facebook; trying to find out a bit more about her before seeing her. no such luck, my mum’s name didn’t appear as a member of either.
Mind you, she might have got married. I had no information about her.
Let’s face it, I thought, she could be anywhere.
I slept fitfully that night. Everything was going on around in my head and I wondered what would happen in the morning when I would attempt to see my mum. The next day, I was undecided. I hated the idea of rejection. If she was still living there; would she want to see me? She thought that I was boy not a girl. It was all so complicated.
When I drew back the curtains the next morning, I noticed that it was a nice day outside. It looked like one of those strange mid winter days that were almost like summer.
Going over to the wardrobe, I looked at what clothes I had and what would be suitable for today; a day when I hoped that I would see my mum for the first time in years.
I couldn't wear boy’s clothes, as I had none. Should I wear jeans and a top or go all girlie and wear a skirt?
It was difficult, as I had no idea as to how she would react to me. I had visions of her seeing a girl land on her doorstep, saying that she was her long lost son who was really her daughter. That would probably cause more problems than I or she could cope with at the moment. Maybe I should wear my jeans and a top and sort of see how things went?
That led to the knotty problem of makeup. Should I or shouldn't I?
After a moment hesitation, I decided on no makeup. Even if I wanted to, it would take me ages for me to apply makeup correctly and I didn’t think the world was ready to see the results and my mum might die of fright if she saw my attempts at it. I would put my hair back in a pony tail; once again to reduce the shock of seeing Katie rather than Ben. Time enough for me to get round to telling her all about my gender status, although my breasts and feminine clothes might give the game away rather quickly!
I know now, in hindsight, that I was being ridiculous. I couldn't hide my gender; I was too much of a girl ever to be mistaken for a boy, but you must realise that I was full of indecision, frightened at my reception and terrified of rejection.
I had a shower, once again using a shower hat to keep my hair dry. I had no hair dryer and there wasn't one in the room. I would have to get one soon, as I couldn't live without a hair dryer!
After I had made myself presentable, I had a quick breakfast in the restaurant comprising of serial, toast, marmalade and a cup of tea. By the time I had finished breakfast, it was 10 o’clock. It was time for me to get my skates on.
Before I returned to my room, I stopped off at the reception and asked if they had a bus timetable.
She reached under the counter and handed one to me.
‘There you are Miss.’
‘Thanks,’ I replied with a smile.
In my room, I put my bag on the table and sat on the bed, opening up the timetable to see what buses went close to my mum’s house.
Luckily, on one side was a map showing where the buses went. There were only two
Routes, the 32 and 33. The number 33 bus route went close to where my mum’s road was and the service said that mid-week there was a half hour service from the station to a road quite near her.
Soon, I was ready to go. I put on my puffa coat, picked up my shoulder bag and with a final look around the room, I went out and dropped my key off at the reception. Then I went out of the hotel and started walking to the station where I would be picking up the bus.
It was a nice day and I was feeling quite warm in my coat, but I knew that weather can change quickly on this side of the country, so I wasn't taking any chances. I needed to get a jacket or something less bulky, but that would be far another day and I added that to my growing list of things to do and buy.
It was lovely being out as a girl. For all of my life I had had to present myself as a boy and I hated it. Now I was dressed as a girl, no one paid me any attention and that was great, as the last thing I wanted was for me to stand out.
Despite my worries about meeting Mum, I could feel a weight lifting off me. I was now able to be the real me, Katie and not Ben. The world seemed to be a slightly brighter place and Christmas didn't seem such a bad idea, after all.
I was shaking off my Scrooge type persona and slowly turning into The Christmas Fairy – perhaps not; but at least I was feeling a bit more festive!
The bus was only a few minutes late. I told the driver where I wanted to go and he promised to tell me when we arrived.
Ross-On-Wye was a pretty place and I could see the attraction of living there, but my tummy was getting knotted up now as I drew ever closer to where I hoped to find my mum.
Questions that were unanswerable went around my head; questions that I had asked myself time and time again. Would she reject me; had she any love for me; had she decided that I wasn't even worth a birthday or Christmas card?
After only ten minutes, we had arrived at my stop. After thanking the bus driver, I got off and started walking the quarter mile to mum’s road.
Pendleton Way was a narrow lane really with the occasional house and bungalow dotted along. Every house I passed, I looked for The Lees and eventually I found it, near the end, on the left, behind a small gate.
The Lees was a large bungalow, quite pretty really and about a hundred years old, I would say.
My heart was thumping as I opened the gate, walked down the path and then stopped at the door. Taking a deep breath, I rang the bell and waited, feeling a bit faint as the anxiety in me rose to a fever pitch.
A few seconds later a woman opened the door, she was carrying a baby in her arms.
‘Hello?’
She was pretty, with blond hair and I would say, about the right age…
‘C…Carol Young?’ I asked, my voice sounding strange, even to my ears.
‘No love, I’m Andrea Sanderson; Carol moved about a year ago’
I broke down in tears.
Somehow, I found myself inside. I was on the sofa in the sitting room and I had a mug of tea in my hand. The baby had been put down in his cot and the lady, who was called Andrea, was sitting opposite me with a concerned expression on her face.
‘Are you feeling better?’ she asked, with concern in her voice.
‘Yes thanks. It was just the shock, did you know her?’
‘Not really. There was a divorce and the couple sold up. I think that they were going to split up the proceeds.’
‘Were there any children?’
‘Not that I know of; I never actually met her. Everything was sorted out through the estate agent. Is she a relative?’
‘My mum.’
‘Oh, you look a bit old for her to be your mother.’
‘She was a teenage mum.’
‘That explains it. So why weren’t you with her then?’
‘Erm, I was put in care when I was small. My mum couldn't cope, I think.’
‘Oh that's a shame. And you lost touch?’
‘Yes; this was the last address I had for her.’
‘That’s a pity. Hang on; I think I have a forwarding address for her...’
She left the room and I took the opportunity to dry my eyes and blow my nose on a tissue. I must have looked a state.
A few minutes later she came back with a folded piece of paper and handed it to me.
‘Thanks,’ I said, getting up, ‘you’ve been very kind.’
‘No problem. I hope that you find your mum.’
With that, she showed me out and gave me a big hug on the doorstep.
‘Don’t worry,’ she said, ‘I’m sure that it’ll all work out.’
‘I hope so; goodbye.’ I replied and with a slight wave, I went down the path and went back to the bus stop.
It had been a wise move not to wear makeup.
I had put the slip of paper in my bag. I had decided that I would look at it back at the hotel. My emotions were all over the place. If the address was somewhere like the Outer Hebrides or abroad, I think that I would have broken down again. I had to wait ten minutes for the bus, all the time I was wondering where my mum had gone and why she gotten a divorce. Andrea had said that as far as she was aware, Carol had no children; was I included in that?
I took little notice of the scenery as the bus made its way to the station. My mind was in a whirl of emotions and what positive thoughts I had had earlier had melted away leaving me feeling flat and drained.
All too soon, we arrived and I got off the bus and made my way back to the hotel. It was getting cooler now and more wintery, as the sun went behind the ever increasing clouds and the wind started to increase. I was glad of my coat and I zipped it up to my neck to keep out the cold.
On arrival at the hotel, I got my key from reception and then made my way back to my room.
As soon as I arrived, I took my coat off and made myself a cup of tea, to warm me up.
After taking a few sips of tea, I picked up my bag and pulled out the folded slip of paper. Taking a deep breath and with shaking hands, I unfolded it and looked at the address:
The Seashells, Beach Road, Penmarris, Devon.
Life Is Not A Bowl Of Cherries
A Penmarris Story At Christmas
By Susan Brown
Previously …
On arrival at the hotel, I got my key from reception and then made my way back to my room.
As soon as I arrived, I took my coat off and made myself a cup of tea, to warm me up.
After taking a few sips of tea, I picked up my bag and pulled out the folded slip of paper. Taking a deep breath and with shaking hands, I unfolded it and looked at the address:
The Seashells, Beach Road, Penmarris, Devon.
And now the story continues…
‘Penmarris; never heard of it,’ I thought.’ At least it’s in this country.’
I opened up my iPad and looked on Google Maps. After a moment, there it was; a large village or very small town rather in Devon, Close to the Cornish Border. Unsurprisingly Beach Road was on the sea front. I went down to street view and annoyingly, like the houses in Ross, I couldn’t see house names because they had been blocked out.
I did take an opportunity of having a look around on street view and it all looked rather pretty and the scenery was stunning. I thought that Ross was nice, but, from what I could see, Penmarris was in another league. The harbour was nice and I panned around and saw all the boats in the harbour, including a huge yacht and I wondered if rich, St Tropez types brought their boats there.
This wasn’t getting me anywhere. I had to go to Penmarris to see my Mum. Once again, I had no idea if she was there, but I had gone through too much for me to stop now.
I searched for the train times and connections from Gloucester to Plymouth, the nearest station to Penmarris.
As I thought, there wasn't a direct connection. I had to go from Gloucester to Bristol Parkway station and from there to Plymouth via Exeter and that would take three to four hours, even if I caught the right connections. Then I would have to catch two buses and that would add another hour and a half to my journey. All in all, if I was unlucky, it could take five hours to get to Penmarris. Looking at the time, I would be hard pressed to get there before it got dark.
I had two more nights booked at the hotel. After a bit of intensive thought, I decided that I would stay in the hotel for one more night and cancel the third night.
The first train out of Gloucester to Bristol was 7.05am; I decided that I would have to get up early and make sure that I caught it.
I still had the rest of the day to do what I wanted and I decided that I would go for a walk into Ross and have a look around, the idea being that it would take my mind off my troubles.
I would have liked to have worn a skirt -- I had a nice denim one that I was dying to wear -- but I didn't have thick enough tights to wear under it and I did not fancy freezing, so I stayed dressed as I was, in jeans. Perhaps I could get some thicker tights in Ross?
Without further thought, I went off to have a look around Ross-On-Wye.
It was cold outside and I was glad of my coat. Walking towards the town centre, it was nice to see how clean everywhere was; the pavements, I mean. In London, where I used to live, it wasn’t very nice, with litter strewn around and rubbish everywhere, in and out of bins; even the buildings looked grubby.
Ross was a pretty little town and when I arrived at the centre, I found a sort of market square, only it wasn’t square, but a funny shape and there was a strange looking building in the middle of it with market stalls sheltered underneath; it was called Market House -- that figured.
Anyway, this isn’t a travel log, so back to the important bits. The shops were mostly small local ones, but there were some better known names there. I found a clothes shop called The Edinburgh Woollen Mill. As the name implies, it had a lot of woollen clothes for sale. My eyes lit up and I nearly drooled when I saw Christmas sale, up to 50% off! in the window.
I nearly fell over myself as I went in and immediately latched on to some jumpers that looked rather nice. I picked up a red one in my size (cos it’s a festive colour and I was trying to be festive) and then tried it on in the changing room and it looked great. Then I found a blue beanie hat that said Bad Hair Day on it and thought, why not? Then I found a long multi coloured scar which seemed to go well with everything, so that went into my basket too.
Finally, I found a pack of three thick tights in black that were ideal for my needs and were quickly added to the other things that I wanted to buy. The whole lot came to £55.99 and I was well pleased as I walked out of the shop. I seemed to be in a shopping frenzy, as next door was a shoe shop and there were some nice black calf high boots with a low heel. I tried them on and they fit like a glove -- you know what I mean! They were £60.00 and I wasn’t made of money, but the sales girl said that they were in the sale and were only £49.99 and I was sold on them.
it was funny, when I was in boy mode, I hated shopping and now, I couldn’t get enough of it!
As I left the shop, I realised that I was getting a bit hungry, so I went to the local Greggs, which is sort of a bakery with coffee and snack shop, ordered a sausage roll and coffee and went to sit in a corner and wondered how long my money would last, if I kept spending at this rate. Then I realised that I needed the clothes and I wouldn’t function very well without them; so, in affect they were an investment, weren’t they? In any case, I still had plenty of cash left and as long as I didn’t go too mad, I would last for a while longer without getting the begging bowl out.
I had visions of my being huddled up in a shop doorway; a cardboard box for a home, a cap on the ground for collecting the begging money and the obligatory poor little dog to add pathos…
I shook my head. No way was I going to let that happen, I would rather work at McDonalds…well I think I would!
Regarding the clothes situation, what I really wanted was some sort of short coat or jacket, as my puffa coat was rather long and not always practical for travelling, but, with great willpower, I decided to leave that for now and make do with what I bought already.
I sat there drinking my coffee and suddenly doubts seemed to filter into my mind and I wondered whether going to Penmarris was a good idea after all. I had already been disappointed at not finding my mother in Ross. I had psyched myself up so much for the meeting and all for nothing. I was now thinking of going a couple of hundred miles on what might be a wild-goose chase.
Then, for some strange reason, I thought about the memories that I had of my mum, sketchy and elusive as they were. I thought that I could remember her smell -- some sort of perfume maybe -- and her laugh and the cuddles, all too soon snatched away from me.
Were they real memories or just some sort of wishful thinking?
I liked to think that my memories of her were true and I decided that despite my misgivings and doubts, I just had to try to find her and I would seek her out if it meant travelling all over the country for her.
That was more like it. Being positive was less painful than negativity. I took a large bite out of my sausage roll and nearly choked on it. Another lesson, take smaller bites; it was more girlie and I would be less likely to choke death!
Before leaving Greggs, I swapped the trainers that I was wearing for my new boots. I wanted to break them in and thought that they would be more comfortable to wear in the cold weather rather than my thin, nylon trainers. The boots looked ace, rad and well bad, as cool girls say –well, I think they do anyway. So much to learn and too little time to learn it...
Thirty minutes later, I was back at the hotel. On my way in, the lady was in the reception area and I told her that I would be leaving the next morning. After a major sigh, she managed to sort out the cancellation for the third night that I had booked. That was good as I needed all the money I could get. By the scowl on her face, it was almost as if it was her money and that I had mugged her.
Leaving her, I made my way to my room. I was getting a bit fixated on money and maybe a little bit guilty about spending so much on clothes, but let’s face it I was going from zero, clothes wise and I needed to wear something.
Sitting on the bed, I tried to work out what to do next. I was still a bit hyper from all that had happened to me and I felt that I needed to do something. I still had the rest of that day and the evening to fill. In the end, I decided to practice doing my makeup; something that I believed needed a lot of practice to get right.
Tracy, the Boot’s girl had been nice, telling me what I should use, but I saw little of what she had actually been doing to my face and I really felt that I needed some hands on experience before going out and mixing with the general public. In the end I had the bright idea of going onto YouTube and looking at some videos showing how to apply makeup.
There were hundreds of videos to choose from and I spent over an hour sifting through, trying to get what I was looking for. I even looked at some of the manufacturer’s websites, but they were full of model types with perfect skins and plastic smiles.
In the end I found several very popular videos made by a teenager, just like me. She had a similar face to mine (but prettier) and she seemed to know what she was doing.
Once I had seen all the videos, I had some idea as to what to do, but I knew that following her techniques would take time, practice and patience and that I would have to look at those videos several times. Ideally, I would have liked someone to teach me and then I realised that all girls go through the learning phase and if I wanted to do it right, I would have to practice and practice until I was satisfied with my look and not rely on anyone else.
I decided to have a shower first and then had a thought. I had forgotten to buy a hair-dryer.
‘Blast.’
Then I had an idea.
I left my room and went out to reception.
‘Hi, have you a hair-dryer I can borrow?’ I asked the receptionist, who was doing a bit of intensive work on her rather long nails. How she could type with those talons, I would never know...
‘Isn’t there one in your room?’
‘No.’
‘There should be.’
‘Well, there isn’t.’
‘Okay, hang on.’
She put her file down with yet another sigh, and went out the back. I wondered if she was considering searching my room for the hidden hair-dryer; she didn’t seem to believe me.
Little Miss Ray Of Sunshine came back in and handed me a rather beaten up specimen.
‘There you are,’ she said with a rather fixed smile.
‘Thanks.’ I replied and then with a nod and more natural smile of my own, I left her to her nail filing and evilly wished that she broke one and then she would have to file the rest down to compensate.
I was getting a bit bitchy in my old age! I blamed the pills and that reminded me. I would have to get a supply from somewhere soon. There was always the internet. I happen to know that there are on line pharmacies that will do what they laughingly call an online consultation and will supply pills to anyone who give the right answers. The only problem with ordering online was that I would have to supply a permanent address.
I could always find a B&B and stay there for a week or two and then give that as my address. That was for the future. Now I wanted to have a shower and slap on the war paint!
I did consider having a bath, but showering was quicker and I wanted to get as much time in as possible to practice applying my makeup.
I won’t bore you with a blow by blow account of my attempts at making myself beautiful. All I will say is after four attempts including nearly stabbing myself in the eye; I started to make some progress and began to get a bit nearer to the results that Tracy in Boots (Not Puss in Boots) managed to get.
By the time I had finished, I was pleased enough to leave my makeup as it was and I got dressed in a lemon top, thick tights and denim skirt. I was hungry again and it was time for something to eat next door.
Being a bit peckish, I opted for an omelette and chips, followed by ice cream. I was getting more used to going out dressed as a girl. All this was new to me and I hadn’t done anything like this before. It was nice that I obviously passed okay and people didn’t run away screaming when they saw me. It all gave me confidence and I needed all the confidence I could get.
Going to bed that night in my satin jim-jams, I set my alarm on my phone for 5 am as I wanted to give myself plenty of time to catch the first train out of Gloucester. The previous night I had had trouble going off to sleep, but tonight, I was so tired; I went out like a light.
The next morning, my alarm woke me up with a start and it took a moment to realise where I was and what I was going to do that day. After groggily making myself a cup of tea, I gradually woke up a bit more and then, looking at the time, I realised that I had better get ready. I wasn’t hungry enough for breakfast and I decided that I would have something later. In any case the restaurant didn’t open until after 7 am, anyway.
I had decided the previous night that I wasn’t going to pretend to be a boy any more, even for my mother, if I was lucky enough to find her in Penmarris. She would have to take me as I was.
Ben was gone for good.
After my shower and drying my hair, I applied my makeup twice, as the first time didn’t quite look right and my lippy was all wonky.
My smallish breasts were somewhat itchy and I wished that I had some cream or something to ease the soreness, but I was a bit shy to go and ask at the chemist and would just put up with it, for now.
Looking out of the window, it was still dark, but it looked clear; no rain or snow, thank goodness. My phone said that it was going to be up to 10 degrees today so I decided on wearing what I now called my festive outfit, comprising of red jumper, denim skirt, black tights, boots, scarce and beanie hat. The hat would stop my hair from flying all over the place and anyway, it was nice and would keep my head warm. It didn’t take long to get dressed, but I had to be careful not to ruin my makeup when pulling on my jumper. Another thing to remember; do your makeup, after getting dressed and cover your clothes up when you do it.
Before I knew it, I had to go, as I wanted to arrive at the station in plenty of time. After packing my case carefully, I looked around the room and made sure that I had everything. I put on my coat, hat and scarf -- making sure that my hair was okay -- then picking up my key, I left the room with my luggage.
There wasn’t anyone in reception and wondered if the happy receptionist was still in her coffin. I left the key in the slot provided and went out into the coldish morning air.
There weren’t all that many people around at that time of the morning, not like London where there seemed to be traffic at all times of the day and night. I made it to the station in good time and the train for once was on time. There were a surprising number of people on the train and I assumed that many of them were commuters into Bristol. I managed to find a seat eventually, just beating a man with a briefcase and sat down with a sigh. The man was not well pleased, but that was his problem, not mine.
The first part of my journey had begun.
When I bought my new phone, I pleaded helplessness and the nice man in the shop transferred some of my music from my iPad to it; so I plugged in my ear buds and listened to the music whilst watching the scenery slip by. I was to be on the train for 55 minutes, if there were no delays, so I thought that I could relax for a bit.
My skirt was kind of short and had ridden up a little when I sat down. I was so pleased that I was wearing thick tights and the seat that I was in didn’t give anyone an eyeful of something they shouldn’t see! Another lesson, short skirts and train seats don’t mix very well.
The time went fast and it seemed like in no time we had arrived at Bristol Temple Meads Station.
A kind man helped me with my suitcase, as I was struggling a bit, what with everyone getting off at once. I wondered, if I had been a boy, whether he would have been as helpful.
I thanked him with a smile and then made my way to the platform where my next train to Exeter would arrive shortly.
In the end, the train was a bit late and there was a bit of a crowd on the station and in the scrum for seats, I missed out and had to stand for an hour. I didn’t mind too much, as I was by the door which obviously had a window and I could see out and once again, listen to the music on my phone.
The train made up the time lost and when we arrived at Exeter, I was the first one off. Luckily, the connecting train was on the other side of the platform and I was able to get on it and grab a nice window seat and get myself settled before many of my co-travellers were off the starting blocks.
One thing that I ought to mention in all this, were the stares that I occasionally got from some of the boys and men on my travels. I was very conscious of the fact that I was fully in girl mode and, although I say so myself, I thought that I was quite pretty. This seemed to draw attention to me and some of that attention wasn’t exactly welcome.
I suppose that I now understood more what girls and women had to put up to on a daily basis and how vulnerable we are to unwanted attention.
As I got nearer to my destination, I began to get more anxious that my mum would not be there or that I wouldn’t find her or maybe even worse, that she would be there, but would reject me. It was a terrible feeling, not helped by the fact that I was so unsure about my future.
I had left the home because I didn’t want to go to Charring House and also because I felt that I was in a situation of ‘go before you get thrown out’. My choices were limited; either stay in the system and take the chance that things would work out for me or leave and start afresh. I had always thought that when I was legally an adult, I would live as a woman and not as a man. The reason why I had decided to take the pill was because I was so scared of puberty, the wrong sort, that is.
I had a deep mistrust of the child care system and did not fit into the normal scheme of things. In the past, I had hit out against the care I had been given. Perhaps, if I had been placed with more permanent foster parents who would maybe understand what I was going through, I might have taken a chance and told them about who and what I really was. But I had no such luck with the couples I had been farmed out to and I had to admit that I was a far from ideal foster child.
Now, my future was in my hands. I had to consider the possibility that I could not stay with Mum for whatever reason. If that was the case, I had no intention of going back; I would go forward, try to find a place to stay and get a job and see where that took me.
We arrived at Plymouth just after mid-day. I had fallen to sleep about twenty minutes out and when I awoke, I felt more tired than I had prior to my nap. Getting off the train, I noticed that it was now considerably colder and I was glad of my woolly clothes and puffa coat.
Wheeling my suitcase behind me, I left the station and saw a Caffè Nero across the road. In the summer I was a cola and other cold drink fan, but in the winter, I just wanted something to warm me and sometimes wake me up. So, I thought that a latte or something would just do the trick.
I found a nice table inside and drank my coffee and nibbled at a Danish pastry. It was quite busy there and it was nice to sit and people watch for a while. There were four girls about my age on another table, giggling away, doing selfies, texting and talking at the same time. I smiled at them and one of then looked over at me and smiled back before turning back to her friends.
I sighed; it would be nice to have some friends like that. I had no friends, male or female. I was a bit of a loner, an odd ball if you like. Thinking more positively, I hoped that I would find some friends, now that I had stopped pretending to be a boy.
Plymouth bus station was about a ten minute walk from the railway station. After finishing my drink and delish pastry, I decided to go and get my bus.
I won’t bore you with my bus journey, all I will say is that the scenery was pretty and that we stopped lots of times and I had to change buses midway.
On the second bus, I was sitting up the front, near the driver. After going through a few villages, along lanes where the bus brushed against trees and bushes and somehow managed to get through very through some rather tight bends, the road opened out a bit.
The route was now quite hilly and we went from moorland into a thick wood and then out the other side. The sun suddenly came out as we went up yet another hill. At the top was a bus stop and an elderly couple got on, but I was paying more attention to the view though.
On the road was a sign that said:
Down below there it was.
The crescent of Penmarris Cove looked lovely. At its centre was the village itself and the harbour with boats bobbing about. At each end of the village there were unspoilt sandy beaches. The hillsides were dotted with colourful houses and bungalows. On the hill, overlooking the cove was a large imposing looking mansion and to the side a little nearer the village centre, I could see a church tower.
I didn’t have time to see more, as the bus moved off again, but it made me eager to see more of Penmarris and in particular, my mum.
Life Is Not A Bowl Of Cherries
A Penmarris Story At Christmas
By Susan Brown
Previously …
Down below there it was.
The crescent of Penmarris Cove looked lovely. At its centre was the village itself and the harbour with boats bobbing about. At each end of the village there were unspoilt sandy beaches. The hillsides were dotted with colourful houses and bungalows. On the hill, overlooking the cove was a large imposing looking mansion and to the side a little nearer the village centre, I could see a church tower.
I didn’t have time to see more, as the bus moved off again, but it made me eager to see more of Penmarris and in particular, my mum.
And now the story continues…
The bus continued on its journey, going steeply downhill, with several rather hairy sharp turns to contend with. Soon we were in the outskirts of Penmarris, with more cottages and houses evident. Within a few minutes, we were down by the quay and several people, including myself, got off.
As the bus left, I stood by the side of the road and took a deep breath. From a distance, Penmarris looked lovely, from the centre, it looked wonderful.
The place was in festive overload. Everywhere I looked there were Christmas decorations; on the lamp posts, trees, houses, shops and some of the boats in the harbour. It seemed like Penmarris took Christmas seriously. Then there was the huge Christmas tree sat back slightly in an alcove that could have been made for it. All in all it was a festive and colourful scene that would be even nicer at night time when all the lights were on.
There were lots of people milling about and the café and tea shop were doing a roaring trade, as was the fish and chip shop, where the lovely smells wafting over was making my mouth water. There were a few gift shops along the quay and they were open too. At the end of the quay stood a pottery shop and what looked like some sort of art gallery. All in all, it was a busy scene and I was surprised, because I always thought that places like this would be dead in the winter and this was the complete opposite.
I looked around and wondered vaguely if I had arrived at some sort of film set and they were shooting scenes for a film called Christmas at the Cove and all the people were actors.
Forgetting that fanciful thought and realising that I needed to get my head together, I went over to the café, took off my coat, beanie hat and scarf and found a seat by the window to sit down. None of your plastic table cloths and tacky interiors here; it was all white linen, silver cutlery and an appearance of style and good taste.
‘Can I help you?’ asked a girl in a waitress uniform with starched white pinny.
‘Can I have a cup of tea and a scone please?’
‘Cream and jam?’
‘Yes please.’
‘Coming up.’ she replied with a sunny smile.
Looking around at the other tables, I wondered how many there were visitors for Christmas or whether any of them were locals.
I went a bit cold for a moment, realising that one of these women could be my mum. I had never even seen a photo of her. All I knew was that she had blond hair, like me. I remembered her hair for some reason; it was long and straight and felt very soft to touch...
‘There we are,’ said the girl, putting down the tray in front of me. Then she sat down opposite, which kind of surprised me.
‘I just need to take the weight off me feet. I’ve been on the go since this morning. Do yer mind?’
‘No, that’s fine.’
‘So,’ she said, ‘Down ‘ere for yer holidays?’
‘Erm no, visiting a relative.’
‘Oh, anyone I know?’
‘I’m not sure. Do you know Carol Young?
She thought for a moment and I held my breath.
She shook her head. ‘Can’t remember anyone of that name; she lived ‘ere long?’
‘About a year, I think, if she’s still here.’
‘Where does she live?’
‘Along Beach Road, wherever that is.’
‘That’s downalong the beach,’ the girl replied.
‘I thought that it might be.’
‘I know most, hereabouts, can’t remember anyone called Carol Young. She be an aunt or somethin’?’
‘No, my mum.’
‘Don’t yer live with ‘er then?’
‘No.’
I wasn’t going to tell her everything about my private life on such short acquaintance.
The girl shrugged and then looked up when an old couple came in.
‘Ah well,’ she said, getting up, ‘I ‘ope that yer find yer mum, any road.’
‘Thanks,’ I said as she went off to serve the new customers.
Sipping my tea, I wondered if my journey had been a wasted one. I could tell that this was the sort of place where everyone knew your name, if you were a local that is. I could feel tears pricking my eyes, my emotions were all over the place; to come this far, for nothing?
Pulling myself together, I finished my tea and lovely scone and then decided to venture out again and try to be a bit more positive. Just because the waitress didn’t know my mum, did not mean that she wasn’t living in Penmarris. The village was large; almost a town and thousands must live here…
Trying to think positively, I decided that It was time for me to go and find my mum.
It wasn’t that cold, but the sea breeze did drop the temperature down a bit, so I zipped my coat up to my neck and walked along the quay. The sound of rigging on the boats in the harbour was nice. Now that I was nearer to the beach, I saw a long white stretch of sand that went to the far end of the cove.
I saw the name Beach Road on someone’s wall, so I knew I was on the right track and I continued on up the road, which ran parallel to the beach, looking at house names as I went.
Glancing over the low wall to the beach, I noticed that there were a few people walking their dogs; or was it the dogs walking their people? Other than that, it was pretty deserted; it wasn’t bucket and spade weather!
The sand looked clean and had been washed by the tide that had receded quite recently. After a bit, the road split into two, one narrow unnamed road going along to the end of the cove, following the waterline and the other, slightly wider went uphill quite steeply. I decided on a whim to go up.
After about a quarter of a mile, I stopped outside a white cottage, my heart thumping. On the gate was the name I was looking for, The Seashells.
The front garden was well kept with a small lawn and flowers beds. The cottage itself looked quite old but nicely looked after. The brickwork had been rendered in white and looked clean and inviting. The door was a bright blue colour and added to the all-round cosy, niceness of the place.
Back in Ross-On-Wye, I had thought that it would be a good idea if I dressed myself sort of androgynously, so as not to confuse my mum too much when she came to the door. That had been a complete waste of time because she wasn’t there. I had changed my mind about how I should present myself to my mum after that and had decided that she would have to take me as I am. The way I was dressed now and the fact that I wore makeup, left no room for doubt as to who or what I was – a girl.
By now, my heart was thudding even louder, if that was possible and I felt slightly sick. Before I gave myself reasons to leave, I opened the gate and on shaking legs, went up to the front door.
I attempted, without success to pull my skirt down a bit. Was it to short and was my makeup okay?
Although the chrome knocker was small, it sounded quite loud when I used it and the sound seemed to echo around me.
I waited for a few moments and knocked again, a bit louder and for good measure I rattled the letterbox.
All I could hear were the waves in the distance and the sound of the birds wheeling overhead – no footsteps
It was no good, no one was in. My shoulders sagged. Once again I had been disappointed and I wondered if there was someone up there who didn’t like me. I bent down and had a look through the letterbox. I wanted to see if there was any sign of occupancy. For all I knew; she (if my mum still lived there) could have gone away for Christmas. It was dark and I couldn’t see a thing.
Standing there, my emotions were mixed. Was this a sign that I was never meant to see her? For so many years I had waited for this moment and her not being there was such an anticlimax that it left me feeling almost numb. My mind went back to when I was still small and hopeful.
At first, I believed that she would come and take me away and that we would live happily ever after in some idyllic place like this one. I spent hours looking out of the various widows where I was staying in the vain hope that she would come and take me away.
As the years went by and she did not come, I began to wonder if I would ever see her and I stopped looking out of the windows for her. The only thing that kept my hopes and dreams alive were the cards that she sent to me. I still had them all in my case, tied up with a pink ribbon... Why had she stopped sending me the cards?
I had no answer to that and with a sigh, I turned away, let myself out at the gate and went back down the hill.
In an attempt to cheer myself up, I decided that I had to do a bit of sleuthing, so I went to the post office and waited in line. Eventually, I reached the front and asked the lady behind the counter if she knew who lived at The Seashells.
The lady thought for a moment and said, ‘Can’t say that I do. I’ll ask Alf, he’s the postman, he’ll know.’
She went into a back room and returned with an oldish man in a faded postman’s uniform. He motioned me over to the side.
‘What’s up Miss?’
‘Sorry to trouble you, but do you know if a Mrs Carol Young still lives at The Seashells along Beach Road?’
‘I shouldn’t tell you that, because it be confidential, but yer don’t look like one of those serial killers, so I’ll trust ye.’
He laughed at his own witticism while I stood there waiting, tapping my foot. Then, patience not being my strong point, I said, ‘well?’
‘Well what?’
‘Does she live there?’
‘Who?’
‘Mrs Young.’
‘Is that Young with an e or without one?’
‘Without.’
‘So no e?’
‘No.’
‘Carol, ye say?’
‘Yes.’
‘Carol Young without an e?’
‘No, I mean yes!’
‘No need te shout, I bain’t be deaf, young lady. I only asks ‘cos there be a Younge with an e living off the High Street.’
‘What’s her first name?’ I asked hopefully, thinking that my mum might have moved and he might have been a bit confused – read stupid.
‘Who?’
Mrs Younge with an e.’
‘Brenda, she be eighty-five now.’
I felt like grabbing hold of his throat and throttling the life out of him.
‘Who lives at The Seashells?’ I asked through gritted teeth.
‘On Beach Road?’
‘Yes,’
‘Let me see, well there’s only been a few letters delivered there in the past year. What’s the name?’
‘I don’t know, you were going to tell me.’
‘Was I? Oh yes, Stevens, a Miss Margaret Stevens, that’s it.’
My heart sort of flip-flopped. This wasn’t the information I wanted to hear.
‘So you’ve never heard of Carol Young?’
‘Without an...’
‘...e, yes.’
‘I seem to recall the name, but, I ‘aven’t ‘eard of her, this last year. I think we ‘ad some letters that were returned te sender.’
I looked at him. He seemed a bit; dare I say it, simple? But he was the postman and if he didn’t know who lived there, then no-one would.
With a false smile, I thanked him and left the post office; conscious that a dozen pairs of eyes and ears had heard my conversation with him.
Going down to the quay, I sat down on a seat overlooking the harbour. I wanted to cry. This was all turning out very badly; it very much looked like mum had moved on, if she had ever lived there at all. What was I to do now?
I felt lost, helpless, emotionally drained and very tired. I thought that my previous Christmases had been bad, but this one seemed like it was going to be the worst one on record...
A woman sat down beside me, but I took little notice as I was in my own little world of misery.
‘Sorry Dear, but are you all right?’
Looking up, I saw a pleasant faced woman in her thirties, she looked a kindly sort, but I wasn’t about to blab all my secrets to her or anyone else.
‘I’m fine,’ I said looking over at one of the yachts and wondering if I could sail away on it. Barbados, Timbuktu, no that was in the centre of Africa; Hawaii..?
‘Pardon me for interfering, but I was in the post office while you were there and overheard what Alf told you. You can’t avoid hearing what Alf says, he speaks rather loudly; he’s a bit deaf, you know and he doesn’t realise that they can hear him from Cornwall when the wind’s in the right direction. You seemed upset at what he told you and to be frank you look even more upset now.’
‘It’s nothing.’
We sat there for a few moments longer and then she spoke again. 'Look, I know that I’m butting in and tell me to go away if you want to, but my business is helping people. For my sins, I am the vicar’s wife and my name is Jocasta Gotobed. David is my husband and we have two pony loving, mad, silly daughters who we love to bits, but they have problems like all kids do. So I know what teenagers go through and you look as if you have gone through rather a lot yourself. Everyone says that I have a sympathetic ear; would you like to talk about it?’
‘No.’
She sat there for a moment longer and then got up.
‘If you need me, I’ll be over in the tea room; I fancy some tea and scones and they do some very good ones; goodbye Dear.’
With that, she quietly left. I had sort of expected the hard sell. I had been on the receiving end of that quite a lot of that sort of thing from supposed well meaning people who think that they knew what was best for me.
I put my head in my hands and had a little cry. Those damned hormones were getting at me again; it was one of the side effects I hated, the emotional swings and the crying jags at the least opportune moments.
Around me, people were going about their business. One or two kind souls came over and asked if I was alright and I told them that I was fine. It was nice to be in a place where people cared...
Then I thought about that. For some weird reason, I felt that people did seem to genuinely care including, what was her name, oh yes, Jocasta Gotobed; funny name that. Could I take a chance on trusting her?
I had tried trusting people before and that hadn't worked out for me. How many promises had been broken? Now here was someone else who had offered to help me.
She seemed nice though and she was, after all, a vicar’s wife. Didn't helping other people come with the job description?
I had such mixed emotions and didn’t really know whether I was coming or going. Then I felt a sense of guilt. I had been very short with the vicar’s wife and hadn’t thanked her for her concern. I made a sudden decision; I would go and say sorry for my rudeness. I was trying to turn over a new leaf and one of the things I was hoping to do was to be a nicer person. Time would tell if that would happen or not.
I could hardly hear myself think though, as a fishing boat came into the harbour followed by a whole flock of seagulls making raucous noises in the hope of getting some free dinner. Then, as one, they suddenly all shot off towards the edge of the cove.
‘Something must have spooked them.’ I thought.
Getting up, I went to cross the road, when suddenly, I was startled as a car bibbed its horn at me. Being in my own world at the time and not paying too much attention to my surroundings, I jumped at the noise.
Looking up, I saw that this ginormous Rolls Royce, driven by a chauffeur. It had stopped just short of where I was going to step out. That would have been great after the wonderful day that I had had; to be run over by a Roller and turned into strawberry jam!
I mouthed sorry and the chauffeur smiled and the car continued on.
My eyes were drawn by the person in the back of the car and was taken aback slightly by her. I wondered in passing if she was royalty. She could have been anything between fifty and a hundred years old and had on this large feathered hat and she looked at me with a piercing gaze that would melt lead. She raised one eyebrow at me and then she and the car was gone.
I wouldn’t have wanted to meet that lady on a dark night. She scared the heck out of me! Behind me, I could hear that the seagulls had come back to pester the boat again, but I ignored the noise as I had other things to concern myself over.
Arriving at the tea room, I looked around and saw Mrs Gotobed over in the corner. She waved at me and I went over.
‘Hello Dear, want a cuppa?’
‘No thanks, I just came to say sorry for being rude and to thank you for your kindness Mrs Gotobed.’
‘Think nothing of it Dear and please call me Jocasta or Jo if that’s too much of a mouthful. Look, I have this large pot of tea here. We don’t want it to go to waste. Why not have a seat and we can finish it off?’
The kind look on her face and the way she treated me made my heart melt a bit. Taking my coat off, I hung it with the other coats there. Then I put my case and bag next to the wall and sat down beside her.
‘Thanks.’ I said shortly.
She poured me a cup of tea and added two lumps of sugar.
‘It’s nice here isn’t it? I came to Penmarris when I married David. He kidnapped me from over the border in Cornwall and I haven’t looked back since. Do you come from around here?’
I sipped my drink before replying.
‘No, I come from London.’
‘That’s a long way away.’
‘Yes, but I’ve been moved about a lot, so I don’t really have a home to speak of.’
‘If you don’t mind me asking, how old are you?’
‘Sixteen.’
‘You look younger, no don’t frown like that; when you get to my age, you want to lose years, not gain them. I have been twenty nine for a few years now. So, are you here to find a relative?’
Looking up, I weighed the pros and cons of telling her everything. In my heart, and if I was trying to be truthful to myself, I didn’t just come into the tea room to say sorry to her, I wanted to talk to someone and she seemed so kind. I just hoped that my trust in her on such a brief acquaintance was not misplaced.
Taking a deep breath, I told her everything.
‘My mum gave me up because she couldn’t cope. She had me when she was fourteen and I was taken into care. I never saw her again but received birthday and Christmas cards every year up until last year. I have been in and out of several homes and stayed with many foster carers. I haven’t been able to stay for long in any one of them. Then I was told by the care home manger that I should move to a place called Charring House; it’s a sort of home that is supposed to be used as a transition to going out in the big, wide world as an adult. The trouble is that it has a very bad name; violence, drugs and stuff like that and it has another big problem about it.’
‘What’s that Dear?’
I looked into her eyes. She didn’t look shocked or judgmental about what I had said.
‘What the hell.’ I thought.
‘They used to be girls and boys there, but after a nasty incident, the girls were moved to another place, not much better, but without the boys.’
‘So why didn’t you go to the girls’ home?’
I shut my eyes.
‘Because as far as the authorities are concerned, they believe that I’m a boy called Ben Young and not a girl called Katie.’
I kept my eyes shut but could feel the tears leaking from my eyes.
‘Here it comes, more rejection...’ I thought.
‘Have a tissue.’
I opened my eyes and took the tissue, dabbing the corners of my eyes carefully, I didn’t want to mess with my makeup, although, I was sure that major repairs were now necessary. She didn’t look that shocked or disapproving. Maybe vicar’s wives were shockproof.
‘Thanks.’
‘That’s okay. So I take it that you are transgendered?’
‘Mm, I suppose that’s the official name for it, although I have always thought of myself as a girl.’
‘Are those real?’ she asked, vaguely pointing at my chest.
‘Yes, I’ve been taking contraceptive pills for quite a while.’
She frowned.
‘Without a doctor’s prescription?’
I nodded; she looked a little unhappy at that.
‘Why didn’t you tell your carers about your gender problem?’
‘Because they would have called me a freak. I didn’t fit into their cosy system as it was. Having the gender thing hanging over me would have made things even worse.’
‘So you decided to find your mum. How do you know she’s here?’
I explained what happened when I went to Ross and that I was told that she had moved to Penmarris. I also told Jocasta about my calling at The Seashells only to find that no one was in and then my attempts at the post office to confirm that Mum was still there and how upset I was to find that she didn’t live there after all.
‘What do you want to do now?’
‘I still want to find Mum, but I don’t know where she is.’
‘Have you booked up anywhere to stay?’
‘No.’
‘Well, because it’s Christmas and it’s a busy time in Penmarris, you might find it difficult to find somewhere.’
‘I...I’ll manage.’
‘What, find a nice cardboard box and sleep in a doorway?’
I smiled ruefully.
‘Would you like to stay overnight with us? We have plenty of room...’
‘I don’t want charity...’
She looked at me and smiled sadly.
‘Still building brick walls against the world?’
I said nothing. I was getting into one of my moods and I felt a train crash coming.
I started suddenly as her soft, warm hand covered mine. It was a good thing that we were in a secluded corner away from the few other people in the tea room and I wondered in passing if she chose this table for a reason.
Somehow, her touch seemed to calm me down.
‘I think that those pills you are taking are messing with your emotions. You need to see a friend of mine, a lady doctor, who happens to know something about people with your problems and issues and is very kind and sympathetic. Don’t think that you are the only transgendered person in Penmarris, you aren’t. In fact, I think that it’s a bit of a hot-spot, between you and me. Anyway, what I am trying to say is that you need help, not only to find your mum, but also with your medical issues. Do you agree?’
I nodded, looking down at my empty cup and not wanting to say anything. The last thing I wanted to do was to snap and push aside the first person showing me a bit of real kindness that I had experienced for years.
‘And will you come and at least stay the night? You can then maybe go back to The Seashells tomorrow and see if the owner is in and if so, she can give you a forwarding address or at least some information about your mum.’
Sniffing, I looked up and said quietly.’ Yes please. I will stay with you, if it’s not too much trouble.’
‘Come on then, it’s not far; just up the hill by the church.’
We took it in turns to drag my case up the hill. She might have been a lot older than me, but she was far fitter and it didn’t take long for me to start blowing like an asthmatic sheep. As we walked we were passed by a number of people, all of which seemed to know Jocasta. Some asked who I was and Jocasta just said that I was a friend staying for a few days. I just kept quiet.
‘A word of warning young Katie, we have quite a lot of gossip mongers here and the jungle drums are probably beating about you, as we speak.’
I didn’t think much of that. I liked to keep my business to myself and the last thing I wanted was for people to wonder who I was and what I was doing in Penmarris. I had long since stopped worrying if people would see me as a boy dressed up as a girl. I knew I passed and for that I was grateful. I felt really sorry for those like me who didn’t pass and although my situation was bad, some of them were in a worse position than me.
With me gasping like I was a fifty ciggies a day girl, and Jocasta totally unaffected, we reached the top of the hill, turned left, through the churchyard, past the church with a wonky tower that wouldn’t look out of place at Pizza and then we were at The Vicarage.
Before I knew it, I was sitting at the kitchen table with a drink of water and a cupcake covered with pink icing. David, the vicar had come in, beamed at me vaguely and then mentioned something about a sermon and Lady F, whoever she was, and then disappeared.
A few minutes later, Jocasta came in.
‘I’ve put your case upstairs in your bedroom. My, are you still out of breath? You need to get fit around here. There aren’t many flat bits!
I smiled; London wasn’t noted for its hills. Before I could reply, there was the sound of a herd of baby elephants coming downstairs.
I winced as Jocasta shouted, ‘girls, come in here!’
Two kids rushed in, one slightly smaller than the other.
The larger of the two said, ‘Mum...’
Then she saw me and stopped in her tracks.
‘Girls, this is Katie, she’s staying here for a bit.’
‘Hi Katie; I’m Jen and this twit is Phillipa...’
‘I’m not a twit and call me Pippa; I hate being called Phillipa; the kids at school have started to call me Flipper after some old Australian whale.’
‘It was a dolphin dear; I remember I saw the repeats when I was your age.’
‘Were you ever my age? Gosh; anyway, hi Katie, are you one of Mum’s waifs and strays?’
‘Phillipa Gotobed, if I hear another word!’
‘Sorry Mummy,’ she said looking down and pretending to be upset.
Jennifer grinned. 'Pippa is almost as daft as her pony Rosie...’
‘Am not.’
‘Am...’
‘GIRLS! Stop it, you are embarrassing Katie.’
Actually, I was finding it hard not to laugh.
‘Now, have you done your homework?’
‘It’s not due in ‘til next term; we broke up remember?’ said Jen.
‘That’s really cool,’ said Pippa and then she turned to me.
‘Do you skate?’
‘Roller skate?’
‘No, ice skate; there’s a cool rink down by the harbour. It’s there every year at Christmas.’
‘That’s right,’ said Jen excitedly. We’re going down there a bit later. It’s nice with all the lights and everything. Do say you’ll come.’
‘I don’t have skates.’
‘You can hire them.’
‘I don’t know...’
‘Girls, don’t pester her. She’s been through a lot and is probably too tired...’
Of course I treated that comment as a challenge.
‘When are you going?’
‘After tea; first we have go to the stables to feed and bed down Poppy and Rosie and then we’ll go on from there.’
I looked at Jocasta.
‘Would you mind?’
‘Of course not, it’s up to you and you don’t have to ask.’
‘Okay, I’ll come.’ I said with a grin.
Things were looking up, just a little bit.
As I walked down the hill to the quay with Pippa and Jen, I marveled how things had changed for me in a few short days...
Life Is Not A Bowl Of Cherries
A Penmarris Story At Christmas
By Susan Brown
Previously …
‘Do you skate?’
‘Roller skate?’
‘No, ice skate; there’s a cool rink down by the harbour. It’s there every year at Christmas.’
‘That’s right,’ said Jen excitedly. We’re going down there a bit later. It’s nice with all the lights and everything. Do say you’ll come.’
‘I don’t have skates.’
‘You can hire them.’
‘I don’t know...’
‘Girls, don’t pester her. She’s been through a lot and is probably too tired...’
Of course I treated that comment as a challenge.
‘When are you going?’
‘After tea; first we have go to the stables to feed and bed down Poppy and Rosie and then we’ll go on from there.’
I looked at Jocasta.
‘Would you mind?’
‘Of course not, it’s up to you and you don’t have to ask.’
‘Okay, I’ll come.’ I said with a grin.
Things were looking up, just a little bit.
And now the story continues…
It was strange being with a family again. Several times on my travels I had been fostered out to families, but this was the first one that didn’t treat me as someone strange or as an outsider. To be fair, I wasn’t exactly good foster child material and I did little to ingratiate myself to those families.
Alright, I do admit it; I don’t think that it was all their fault. I wasn’t an easy person to live with and had what is popularly known as “issues”. I never felt that I could trust or confide in anyone before I met Jocasta. Being in the system meant that to a lot of my carers I was just another one of many that had to be looked after, not out of love, but because it was their job to do so. I don’t mean that they were uncaring, but love was for family members and not for the likes of me.
Anyway, enough of this navel gazing; I was trying to be upbeat and had no reason not to be. The problem of finding my mum could be put aside for a short while so that I could enjoy myself a bit.
As I walked down the hill to the quay with Pippa and Jen, I marveled how things had changed for me in a few short days. From being an inmate of an unhappy home and not looking forward to anything, I was now with a couple of nice girls and staying with a family that had real love for each other.
Both of the girls were dressed similarly to me, with jumpers, jeans, hats, scarves and woolly hats. It wasn’t that cold, being in the south west of the country meant that winters weren’t as harsh as up North, but we were supposed to be skating and skating was an icy pursuit, hence the warm clothing.
Now that it had become dark, most of the cottages and houses on the way down were festooned with pretty lights of all colours. It appeared that there was some sort of competition between many of the residents, as it was obvious that they were trying to outdo the neighbours in the extravagance of their Christmas decorations.
‘Hello Jen, Pippa, Katie,’ said one lady going up the hill as we passed. It took a few moments to realise that she knew who I was. Now how could have that happened?
Then the same thing occurred twice more and I began to wonder what sort of village this was. Did everyone know about me? I think that if someone had said, ‘hello Ben,’ I would have died on the spot!
It was noticeably noisier as we got closer to the quay, where, according to Pippa and Jen, everything happened at Christmas.
First I could see the glow of the lights, then a strange mixture of smells including everything from roasting chestnuts to fish and chips. Then I could hear the sound of a street organ and some pop songs both vying for ascendancy.
As we reached the bottom of the hill, more and more people were milling about and the scene was gorgeous and everything that I would wish for at Christmas. On one side of me was Pippa and on the other Jen, we were arm in arm and in a second, I completely forgot all my troubles and dived into a feeling of happiness that I had never experienced before as, with eyes wide open, I took in the scene before me.
There were bright twinkling lights everywhere and all along the quay to the promenades beyond. The huge Christmas tree was resplendent with hundreds of twinkling coloured bulbs and its large, scantily dressed angel on top. The floodlit harbour looked wonderful against the dark sky; many boats looking like nautical Christmas trees with lights hanging from the masts and spars. Everywhere was a picture of colour and festivity. I thought that Penmarris was very pretty in the daylight, but now the village looked like a magic fairyland that out-Disneyed Disney!
Along the front were Christmas stalls selling lots of seasonal delights including sweets, hot and cold food, gifts, candles, decorations and toys. To the side were lots of children watching what looked like some sort of Christmas themed Punch and Judy and there were squeals of delight when Punch, dressed as Santa, knocked the policeman’s helmet off.
‘Come on,’ said Jen as she dragged me along the quay, through the crowds, towards an ice rink, with Pippa helping her.
The ice rink had lots of people on it, of all ages and skills. There were few flash ones, doing the twists and twirlie things, but the vast majority were just going around in circles, hanging on for dear life around the edges or falling down.
I would be in the hanging on and falling down categories.
As soon as I put my boots on, I knew that I was skating on thin ice (get it?). I wasn’t much good and I just tottered around and fell on my backside. Being an obstinate so and so, I fell over several times more before I got the message that I wouldn’t be an ice skating star. After that, I got intimately acquainted with the rails around the edge of the rink as Pippa and Jen went around and around looking almost professional. I hate people that can do that, don’t you?
As I watched Jen and Pippa, other girls came over and after squeals of laughter; they all skated over to me.
‘This is the gang,’ said Jen and they all sort of waved at me.
‘Hi gang.’ I said.
‘Hi Katie,’ they replied, almost in unison.
‘Right,’ said Pippa over the sound of the Christmas muzak, ‘This is Bethany; Candice, her mum is the doctors receptionist, that idiot over there putting her tongue out is Sarah, Lady F’s daughter. Amy, the one with the red hair out of a bottle is Abby, the potter’s niece and finally Hannah, the quiet shy one is Sam and Abby’s daughter. Everyone, this is Katie, who turned up on our doorstep, with a suitcase and an attitude, but she’s quite nice really.’
I didn’t know whether to be annoyed or laugh at that character assassination but I shrugged. It was Christmas after all and I could always murder her in the new year!
After all the introductions we did some more skating and I managed to stay on my feet – sometimes, it was difficult to concentrate as everyone was giggling and laughing all the time.
Afterwards, we handed back our skates and everyone decided on getting some hot chestnuts. As I walked along trying to avoid burning my hands as I ate my bag of chestnuts, I got to know the others a little better. I expected to be bombarded with questions about my past, but it seemed like they had some unwritten rule or agreement not to pump me for any information. I didn’t have to say much and I think that they collectively sensed that I was a bit shy and not used to being the centre of any attention, so they went easy on me.
It was as nice as it was unusual to be accepted at face value. I was hardly what you would call a popular child in the various institutions that I had lived in; being uncomfortable around others had been the norm for me. I had always been defensive and prickly but I couldn’t do that around these girls, as I was too busy laughing at their antics and what they said.
Somehow we found ourselves in the café and sat around a table. Whilst drinking hot cocoa to keep out the cold, the others kept up a conversation without any help from me.
‘So Sarah,’ said Amy ‘is your mum ready for Christmas yet?’
‘She had better be. I have given her my list...’
‘Demands you mean,’ interrupted Pippa.
‘No I don’t. Can you imagine Mummy Dear giving in to demands?’
‘You have a point,’ said Bethany, ‘she scares the pants off me.’
‘Do you know, she actually made me clean the grates out last year? Ruined my nails, that did... you know what she said?’
‘No,’ everyone said.
‘Sara gel, you will be the death of me. If yer were a horse, I would have shot yer, years ago. How many times have I told yer ter keep yer rooms tidy? Yer can’t have the maids waitin on yer, hand and foot all the time, in my day...’
‘Sarah, you are a fibber,’ said Jen, ‘ take no notice Katie, Lady Fairbairn is as nice as pie under that gruff exterior.’
‘Lady Fairbairn, who’s she?’
‘Apart from being my adopted mum, she’s the local bigwig, has pots of money and lives in a mansion.’
‘Oh, does she own a Rolls Royce?’
‘Two.’
‘Two?’
‘Yup, anyway what about her Roller?’
‘I think that she doesn’t like me?’
‘Why?’ asked Jen.
‘Because earlier today, I was crossing the road and her car had to stop suddenly otherwise I might have got squashed. There was a chauffeur driving and he seemed nice but the lady in the back -if looks could kill...’
‘Was she wearing a hat with dead things on it?’ asked Hannah.
‘She had a hat on and I could see some feathers, no animals that I could see; although I only saw her for a moment.’
‘Sounds like her,’ said Sarah, ‘Mummy’s bark is worse than her bite, unless you are a mole.’
They all laughed.
‘Eh?’
‘You’ll find out,’ said Bethany mysteriously.
We stayed for a while longer, but I started yawning hugely. Like the previous day, this one had been a long one and I needed my beauty sleep. The next day promised to be another full one and I just told the others that I needed to get back to the vicarage.
Jen and Pippa said that they ought to get back too, before their mum sent out the search parties and sniffer dogs and so we said goodbye to everyone, after promising to meet up the next day, if possible. I was a bit surprised before leaving that there was some sort of group hug and I was included!
Outside, things were still going in full swing, but the Punch and Judy show had shut up shop and many of the little ones had obviously gone home with their parents.
As we walked up the hill, Jen and Pippa kept up a constant chatter and were bickering about just about everything including which pony was the better jumper and which one of them would have better exam results. I just listened to them and wouldn't get drawn into their arguments. What was obvious though, was the fact that despite the arguments they loved each other very much. Being effectively orphaned, I appreciated this probably more than they did. They took family for granted and I couldn't really comprehend what it would be like to be part of a real family, although what I had seen so far made me long for what they had.
Soon, we arrived back at the vicarage and Jocasta came out of the sitting room to greet us.
‘Did you have a nice time girls?’
‘Yes, it was brill!’ said Jen enthusiastically.
‘What about you Katie, did you enjoy yourself?’
‘Yes, it was great; Pippa and Jen have some nice friends.’
Suddenly, I yawned.
‘You must be tired dear, why don't you head on up to your room. Your case and everything is up there.’
‘I will. Thanks for having me and thank you Jen and Pippa for helping me have a nice time.’
Both the girls looked embarrassed about what I said and mumbled something and rushed off somewhere.
‘Despite everything,’ said Jo, ‘they are good girls and have hearts of gold. Now, do you want something to drink before you go up?’
‘No thanks, I had a drink down by the quay. It's a lovely place, Penmarris, isn't it?’
‘Yes, it's a magical place to live. We aren't perfect here, but not many people want to leave after being here for a while. I hope that you find your mum locally and that everything works out for you.’
‘So do I, I would love to stay here. Anyway, goodnight and thanks for putting me up.’
It took a while to completely remove my makeup, slip on my pyjamas and get into bed; one of the downsides, if you can call it that, of being a girl. I did stand at the window for a few minutes to drink in the view though. The harbour was down below and from my vantage point; I could see it quite clearly.
My eyes widened as I could see a large yacht come into the harbour, fully lit up and looking very sleek, elegant and plush, if they were the right adjectives. It looked like the one that I saw on Google maps and I wondered who might own her and why she was here in a little tucked away harbour that barely had room to moor it.
I yawned. This was no good, I was tired and I needed to be fresh for the morning. I was going to try and see if the owner of The Seashells was in and maybe, just maybe I might find where my mum had got too.
I awoke the next morning refreshed and ready to face the world with a song in my voice and full of the joys of Christmas...
Enough of fantasy, I was dealing with reality here. I had spent the night tossing and turning, wondering what I was to do if I couldn’t find my mum. I had no real answers to that. I would have loved to stay in Penmarris, but I had to be realistic. I was 16 years old, with no job or home. I couldn’t stay where I was, in the vicarage and I would have to find some sort of job to keep me going and I doubted that there would be many jobs available in the mid-winter at a seaside resort. As soon as Christmas was over, I would imagine this place would return to being a sleepy seaside village.
It was Christmas Eve now and much as I would like to celebrate Christmas, I wasn’t feeling very festive.
Looking out of the window, I saw that it was drizzly outside and I could barely see the harbour through the mist and rain. Putting on the robe that had been kindly provided to me by Jo, I grabbed my wash bag and went out of the room, across the hall and into the bathroom.
I could hear noises coming from downstairs. It seemed like I was the last one up, although it was only 8.30.
By 9 o’clock I was dressed in jeans and top, and ready to face the day, whatever that would bring.
The kitchen was empty apart from Jocasta.
‘Morning Katie; did you sleep well?’
‘Yes,’ I lied.
‘Hmm, those dark circles under your eyes, even beneath the makeup tell a different story. Are you worried about today?’
‘A bit,’ I said.
‘Do you want me to come with you to The Seashells?’
‘Thanks, but I think that I need to do this by myself.’
‘I understand; whatever happens, you must come back and tell me about it. Do you promise?’
I nodded.
Nothing more was said on the subject and I ate my cornflakes in silence as Jo pottered about the kitchen.
Looking outside, I could see that it was still raining.
‘Jo, have you an umbrella I could borrow?’
‘It’s a bit windy for that. You haven’t got a waterproof jacket?’
‘No and I don’t think that my coat was designed for this kind of weather.' ’I can lend you an anorak, if that would help? It should fit you.’
‘Thanks, that would be great.’
As I walked along Beach Road for the second time, I wondered if Miss Stevens, the current owner would be in. She may have been visiting relatives, being Christmas Eve. It was a bit wet and miserable and I was glad of Jo’s sky blue anorak, even though the colour didn’t exactly match today’s sky! I was warm enough though as I was wearing Jeans, top and a hoodie over that, together with my boots.
As I neared my destination, the rain stopped and the sun started peeking through the clouds. Pushing my hood back, I finger combed my hair. Luckily it wasn’t unruly and was cut in such a way as to be easily manageable, if a bit short for my taste.
A few minutes later, I had arrived at the gate of the cottage. This time, I could see a light in an upstairs window, so I knew that Miss Stevens was in.
I swallowed nervously, opened the gate and walked up the path. Knocking at the door, I stepped back a pace and waited for the door to be opened. I could hear the sound of footsteps coming nearer and then the door opened.
‘Yes?’
She was, I would say in her early thirties, wearing a black skirt and cream coloured top. Her hair was long, straight and blond.
I was struck dumb for a moment and then pulled my act together,
‘Erm, Miss Stevens?
‘Yes, that’s me. Can I help you?’
‘I...I...I was told that Mrs Young lived here a while back. I wondered i...if you have the address she moved to.’
‘Who are you?’
She didn’t sound very friendly.
‘S...someone she used to know.’
She looked at me with piercing eyes.
‘I’m sorry, she didn’t give me any address that she was going to. I have to go, I have something in the oven; goodbye.’
She closed the door in my face.
I stared at the knocker for a few minutes, willing for it to open again, but it didn’t.
Turning away, I went down the path and out of the gate. In some quirky way, the weather had brightened into what now looked like a spring day, with the roads drying out rapidly.
Walking down the hill, I soon found myself back on the seafront.
Sitting on a bench, facing the white beach and the blue sea, I rummaged through my bag and took out my small mirror, the one I used to do my makeup.
Staring at my face, I confirmed what I already knew from years of looking at it in the mirror.
Miss Stevens looked remarkably like me.
Unless I was very much mistaken, Miss Stevens was, in fact, Carol Young.
My mum.
Life Is Not A Bowl Of Cherries
A Penmarris Story At Christmas
By Susan Brown
Previously …
Walking down the hill, I soon found myself back on the seafront.
Sitting on a bench, facing the white beach and the blue sea, I rummaged through my bag and took out my small mirror, the one I used to do my makeup.
Staring at my face, I confirmed what I already knew from years of looking at it in the mirror.
Miss Stevens looked remarkably like me.
Unless I was very much mistaken, Miss Stevens was, in fact, Carol Young.
My mum.
And now the story continues…
I sat there for several minutes, my mind in a turmoil, going over again and again the few words that I had exchanged with my mum.
Yes, I was convinced that it was her. I was also convinced by her expression that she was frightened of something and I wondered what that was.
I would have been naive to expect her to recognise me after all those years even if I had been in boy mode. Dressed as I was, there would be little chance of her realising that I was her child.
Maybe I should have been more upset, but I wasn’t. I had found my mum and that to me was the most important thing. What was worrying me was, why did she look scared and why was she pretending to be someone that she wasn’t, if that made sense?
I considered the possibility of going back up to the cottage and confronting her, but I didn’t think that would be a good idea, as she may still want to reject me, for whatever reason. What was I to do then?
For far too long, I had had to make my own decisions and tried to be as independent as I could be and yes, obstinately ignoring all help offered to me and in some cases, for good reason. But that was in the past. Now that I was effectively trying to be my own girl, but I still needed help, no matter how adult I considered myself to be. I wanted advice from someone who I felt that I could trust and the only one I would consider would be Jocasta. I would ask her what she thought that I should do.
Without further thought, I got up from the cold bench and made my way back down to the village
The Vicarage was empty when I got back. I had been given a key the night before and had let myself in. On the kitchen table was a note from Jocasta.
The girls are with their ponies and I am in the church with David, if you need me.
Love
Jocasta
I wondered what to do and then decided to go and seek Jo out in the church, which was just a short walk across the churchyard.
The church was very old and the spire looked quite bent out of shape as it leaned alarmingly to the left as I looked at. But my thoughts were on more personal matters, rather than architecture as I walked into the church.
I wasn’t a very churchy person really, not being strongly religious. As far as I was concerned, God had done little for me and I although, when I was younger, I used to pray for my mum to come and get me, nothing ever came of it. That didn’t mean that I had no respect for those with strong religious beliefs; that was up to them, of course.
Mind you, as I walked into the church and saw the decorations, flowers and the lovely nativity display in front of me, I felt a strange warmth that I had never experienced before in a church. I saw a movement to the side of the nativity scene and noticed that there were two small lambs in a pen, on a bed of straw. A notice was on the side of the pen that said that they were orphans, born out of season and being hand fed.
I felt an ‘ah’ moment coming on, but with difficulty resisted the urge to get in their pen for a quick cuddle.
Most churches to me were large cold places, where it seemed that you should be overawed by their majesty and magnificence. This was the opposite, as the church felt homely and welcoming. It was warm and cosy, as the wall heaters were going at full blast. The organ was being played and I recognised the tune as being Hark! the Herald Angels Sing. Then I noticed that there were some girls and boys in the choir pews and they had started singing; it looked like choir practice as they were all in their normal clothes.
I noticed a few of my new friends in the choir, Sarah and Hannah and I sat at the back to listen to them. I giggled quietly behind my hand as I watched the choir master. He was trying to conduct the choir by moving his arms about in a seemingly random way and dancing some sort of jig at the same time.
Then I saw, over at the side, Jocasta talking to someone and I shivered slightly at recognising first the feathered hat, and then the face of the lady from the Roller that had nearly flattened me. She wasn’t very PC as she was wearing some sort of dead furry animal around her neck, probably a fox. So this was the famed Lady Fairbairn.
I felt a little sorry for Jocasta as Lady F was obviously berating her for some problem with a flower arrangement that was before them. There was no way that I was going to jump in and interrupt them...
I sensed someone come up to me.
‘Hello.’
I turned to the person, just as they sat down beside me. That was strange, there were pews aplenty that were free, why did she want to sit next to me?
‘Hi,’ I replied shyly, I wasn’t much of a people person and found it difficult to speak to adults at the best of times.
‘The choir sounds nice, doesn’t it?’ she said.
‘Yes.’
‘Do you sing?’
‘Only in the bath.’
‘Are you any good?’
‘I can keep in tune and haven’t broken any mirrors yet.’
We both laughed as I relaxed a bit.
She was quite beautiful and her makeup was immaculate. Blond, early thirties with clothes that looked fashionable and very expensive, she was what I would like to look like at her age...
‘Are you Katie?’
‘Yes; erm, do I know you?’
‘No, we have an acquaintance in common, Jocasta Gotobed is my friend.’
‘She’s nice.’ I replied.
‘Yes; she’s over there talking to Mummy Dotty, sorry, Lady Fairbairn. Sorry, I didn’t introduce myself; I’m Samantha Smart and one of those kids in the choir, is my Hannah. She has a lovely voice and is going to do the solo tonight.’
‘Is it a carol service?’
‘I’m not sure if Carol will be there...sorry, I do very bad jokes. Yes it’s the carol service tonight. Will you be coming?’
‘I...I might. I need to talk to Jocasta first about something.’
‘Hannah mentioned that she was with you yesterday. She said that she likes you.’
‘Does she? That’s nice. I like her and the other girls I met too.’ I answered awkwardly. I wasn’t used to any form of compliment.
We listened to the Ding Dong song and then Samantha got up.
‘I see that Jo is free now. I’ll just go and have a word with her. If you ever need any help, come and see me and my partner Abby or tell Hannah that you want a word, okay?’
‘Yes, thank you.’ I replied, tears pricking my eyes for a moment.
She looked at me for a moment longer, smiled and then with a cheery ‘bye,’ she went off to see Jocasta.
It seemed that I would have to wait a little longer to see Jocasta, so I just sat back and listened to the choir.
Most of the hymns I knew and I started singing along quietly to myself. Midway through Once in Royal David’s City, I felt a touch on my shoulder and I jumped slightly.
‘Damn fine voice you have there, young Katie.’
Turning around in my pew I saw to my horror, Lady Fairbairn, sitting behind me, leaning forward and almost in my face.
She looked even more formidable, up close and personal and it was all I could to prevent a wetting of the panties situation.
‘Erm, h...h...hello.’
I swore that the dead fox around her neck was staring at me and at one point winked, but that might have been a trick of the light...
‘Nice to see kids in church. In my day, of course, we had to go – noblesse oblige and all that. Now, it’s all iPads, Xboxes and can’t be bothered. The world’s going to hell in a handbasket, if yer ask me. So, you are the Katie that Sarah’s been blathering on about. Must say yer look normal. No rings through yer nose or tongue; put a decent dress on yer’ and yer would be presentable. Can’t abide girls in jeans, not lady-like. The times I have told Sarah but does she listen? No, jeans are cool an’ fashionable and I still live in the Victorian age accordin’ ter her. When I was a girl it was speak only when spoken too and don’t cheek yer elders.’
All this was spoken at a volume that would have been heard by half the village, if the organ wasn’t being played rather loudly.
The music stopped and thank goodness Lady F did too – then she stood up.
‘Mr Francis, a word.’ she bellowed, making the lambs behind bleat with alarm and hide their heads under the straw.
The choir conductor looked over at us and I could have sworn that I saw a grimace, as he walked over, leaving the choir whispering and giggling behind him.
‘Can I help Lady Fairbairn?’
‘Yes, this is young Katie, her singing is pleasing. You have few malingerers, I believe?’
‘Well, Mark and Joanne have the flu, Amy a throat infection and Simon got his head caught in the school railings and hasn’t recovered...’
‘Yes, yes, I know about all that. In my days things like that wouldn’t have stopped me...anyway, I am sure that Katie will fit in.’
‘But...’
She turned to me, her imperious eyebrow raising a good couple of couple of centimetres.
‘Do yer say that yer wouldn’t fit in..?’
‘Yes but, no but...’
‘But me no buts, girl. That’s settled then’ she turned back to Mr Francis, ‘ I’ll tell Mrs Gotobed, who’s lookin’ after her, that Katie here has been roped in ter help out. All hands to the pump and all that nonsense. Now run along Katie and join the others, I think that yer have several more hymns to practice Mr Francis?’
‘Indeed I have Lady...’
‘Off yer pop then and take Katie with yer. I hope that we aren’t having any modern hymns this year, Mr Francis. This is a C of E church and we don't want any of that happy clappy nonsense here. Now, I need ter see the vicar; he was threatening ter use incense. We can’t have that sort of thing...’
In a sort of daze, I followed the choirmaster and was soon sandwiched between Sarah and Hannah, who gave me a look midway between sympathy and humour.
I wasn’t given much time to think but found myself singing some well known and a few not so well know hymns. Soon, I had temporarily forgotten my problems and lost myself in the music. After another half an hour, choir practice was over and I was somehow promising to turn up at 6.30pm to get changed into choristers’ robes and ready to join in the candle light procession. Sarah and Hannah wanted to chat, but I really needed to talk to Jocasta and at last, I could see that she was free.
‘We’ll meet you outside Katie,’ said Sarah.
I went over to Jocasta and she looked up from sorting out some bibles and smiled.
‘Hi Katie, I saw that Lady F got you roped into the choir. I hope that you don’t mind. She’s a force of nature and hard to stop sometimes.’
‘No, I don’t mind; I like singing and it keeps my mind off things.’
‘Things being your mum?’
I nodded.
‘Did you get any information from Mrs Stevens?’
‘Can we talk in private?’
‘Of course dear, let’s go into the vicar’s vestry, it should be quiet there now; David has gone back to the vicarage; I think to get away from Lady F but don't quote me on that.’
I followed her into a small room where there were some vestments, a desk and chair and a filing cabinet.
Jo closed the door behind us and then turned to me expectantly.
‘Well Katie, how did you get on at The Seashells?’
‘I...I went back and knocked on the door. A lady answered. I asked her if she knew where Mrs Young had gone and she said that she didn’t know. She couldn’t give me any more information and she shut the door in my face.’
‘Oh, that’s a shame Katie. Never mind we’ll find her...why are you crying, is everything a bit too much for you?’
It took a moment and a bit of a hug from Jo to calm me down enough to speak coherently. I was surprised at my crying, as I didn’t do it before when I realised that Mrs Stevens and my mum were one of the same person.
Haltingly, I told Jo what had happened when I went to The Seashells.
‘So, you recognised her; could it have been a mistake? You can’t have remembered her from when you were very young.’
‘She looks very much like me, but a bit older. Remember, she had me when she was fourteen. She’s thirty now, but looks a bit younger than that.’
‘Are you absolutely sure that you were not seeing what you wanted to see?’
‘NO, it was her!’
‘Alright dear, don’t get yourself upset; I just wanted to make sure. The last thing you want and need is for you to accuse a person of being someone else. Right, we need to sort this out, but going up there and confronting her would be a bad thing. She has something to hide; otherwise she wouldn’t have changed her name. Could it be her married name?’
‘Maybe, but then why didn’t she tell me that she used to be Mrs Young?’
’Good point. Look let’s give her a day or so and then we’ll contact her somehow. Maybe I’ll go to speak to her for you and find out what is going on.’
‘Would it help if I gave her a letter?’
‘Maybe; if you give it to me, I’ll take it to her. Posting it through her letterbox might frighten her away. You did say that you thought that she looked a bit scared?’
‘Yes, she did; nothing definite, but she had this look in her eye that gave me that impression.’
‘Okay, we definitely don't want to scare her off. We need to approach this carefully. Do you trust me?’
‘Yes.’ I replied, feeling a bit strange at saying that to anyone after the experiences that I had suffered in the past.
‘Right; you must stay with us until all this is sorted out; do you agree.’
I nodded, a lump in my throat. It would be nice to be with a family who really cared about me.
I found my voice.
‘I don't want to spoil your Christmas.’
‘Oh don't worry about that. You are a nice girl and the more the merrier I say and I know that David feels the same as I do. As for the girls, they like you and anything and anyone that stops them bickering between themselves is alright by me. Now, I think that The Gang are outside and I have a feeling that they are waiting for you, so that you can all go down to the quay. You don't have to go though, if you want some peace and quiet.’
‘I need something to keep my mind off of things so I will go with them, if they’ll have me.’
‘No problems there then; everyone who sees you likes you. I can’t see what the people who looked after you before objected to. You are a lovely sweet person.’
I nearly cried at that and on an impulse, I hugged her and gave her a kiss on the cheek. I couldn’t remember the last time I did that to anyone and it was a novel, if nice experience.
She looked at me with a sort of pleased, surprised expression on her face and I swear that she had damp eyes...
‘You had better hurry; otherwise they will go without you.’
Feeling slightly embarrassed at that show of emotion, I smiled and left without another word, putting on my coat and beanie hat as I did so.
‘Here she is, did you get caught by Mummy?’ asked Pippa as I joined the gang, comprising of her, Jen, Hannah, Sarah, Bethany and Amy, who were waiting outside by the war memorial.
‘Yes.’
‘What was it about?’ asked Jen.
‘Don’t be so nosy Jen,’ said Amy with a croaky voice; ‘your nose is longer than Pinocchio.’
‘Are you saying that I have a long nose?’
‘If the cap fits,’ laughed Amy, as she rushed down the path with Jen chasing after her and all of us following on at a more leisurely pace.
‘How did you like the singing Katie?’ asked Sarah.
‘It was nice,’
‘It looks like my mum roped you in then.’
‘Lady F is your mum then?’
Having met her now, I wasn’t sure that that was possible. I wanted to say that she was miles too old, but I was too polite to say so.
‘Yea, by adoption sort of; I’ll tell you another time cos it’s complicated.’
‘Okay; what about you others, apart from Hannah, don't you sing?’
‘Not well,’ said Bethany,’ I’m tone deaf and Pippa and Jen are more into their ponies. Amy is a member of the choir but has got a throat infection. That’s why she sounding a bit like Freda the frog at the moment.’
We had, by now, caught up with the other two and were walking down the steepish hill. The others kept up a stream of chatter and I just listened, enjoying being, all be it temporarily, part of The Gang.
Almost inevitably, we found ourselves in the café, drinking hot chocolate and sticky buns. I was asked, in a roundabout way, a few more questions about myself and why I had landed up in a faraway place like Penmarris. I didn’t think that it mattered much, so I have them a highly edited version of why I was there.
‘I was in a children’s home. My mum left me in their care when I was young. I’ve been shifted about a lot. Now that I’m 16, they sort of wanted me off their hands. I was told to go to another home for those who were close to the age when they would be released into the community...’
‘Sounds like you were being treated as a prisoner on release,’ said Amy.
‘It felt like the prison system sometimes. Anyway, I didn’t want that, so I decided that I would try to find my mum instead, so I found out where she lived and the trail led to here.’
‘Have you tried to see her yet?’
‘Erm, well, I’ll be contacting her in the next few days. Jocasta said that she would help.’
‘If it was me,’ said Sarah, ‘I would go straight away. I would want to know why I had been abandoned...’
Then, despite myself, I started to cry.
‘Flaming hormones.’ I mumbled, as I was given a tissue and Hannah and Pippa started to have a go at Sarah for her insensitivity.
After I calmed down a bit, Sarah grabbed hold of my hand.
‘I’m sorry Katie, sometimes my brain and my mouth don’t sync.’
‘That’s alright, I’m just being silly.’
After that, things lightened up a bit and the others soon had me laughing again with stories about Lady F and her famous mole hunting expeditions.
‘Is she a bit loopy?’ I asked, ‘sorry, I shouldn’t be so rude.
‘She’s as nutty as a fruitcake,’ said Sarah calmly, ‘but she’s as sharp as a tack when she wants to be. She acts all tough, but she’s lovely and soft inside.’
‘She frightens the life out of me and I’ve seen a few tough nuts in my time.’
‘Wait ‘till you know her a bit more,’ said Bethany, ‘she’s lovely really.’
‘If you say so,’ I replied doubtfully.
After our café interlude, we went to the ice rink for some more skating. The others were fine, but evidently I had two left feet and found myself landing on my bum more times than I would like to remember.
After freezing my rear end with constantly falling down, I soon had my fill of skating and was grateful when everyone agreed that they had had enough too.
We took our skates off and then decided to see what was happening on the quay.
As yesterday, the quay was crowded with festive revelries. The Punch and Judy show was going down a storm with lots of kids under eight and quite a few over that age too. There were even more stalls on show, many of them selling late Christmas presents and others, the all important take away food like burgers, hot dogs, doughnuts and other delicacies.
I heard a jingle bell type noise and did a double take when I saw a wheeled sled type vehicle with a lot of laughing kids being towed by two reindeers driven by a Father Christmas look-alike.
Everyone laughed and clapped at the sight and I wondered what else I would see; maybe a brace of angels coming in on hang gliders?
After that last excitement, a few of the others professed themselves to be hungry. Having just eaten a sticky bun, I wasn’t feeling hungry, but Jen and Pippa had bottomless stomachs and bought hot dogs. I had no idea where they put all that food.
Somehow, I became detached from the others for a few minutes and I went over to the harbour wall and looked at all the boats. The one that dwarfed them all was the big yacht that came in yesterday. I wondered who owned the huge bathtub and imagined myself on board in one of the staterooms, being waited on by subservient and ingratiating staff, who were there to fulfil my every wish...
I jumped as someone sidled up to me and spoke in hushed tones.
‘The moon is full tonight.’
‘Erm, is it?’
‘Your star is in ascendancy; beware, a surprise will come your way this night.’
I looked at her. She was old, had a stringy bobble hat on head and was wearing clothes that had obviously seen better days, hadn’t been cleaned in years and didn’t really match. Colour coordination to her was mixing orange and pink with a splash of green. I could smell her mustiness over the other smells like the fish and chip shop and the curry takeaway stall just yards away from where we were standing. The odour coming from her was all making my eyes water and a breath mint wouldn’t have gone amiss...
She gave me one more piercing gaze with surprisingly clear blue eyes.
‘Believe in what you see and remember.’
‘Remember what?’
‘That Melchester will win the cup and that cheese comes from cows. Have a nice day.’
She then turned without another word and went off down the road in a somewhat aimless fashion, stopping to talk to others as she went.
I shook my head; I had seen enough eccentrics in Penmarris to last a lifetime. A number of seagulls were chatting to each other in between pinching the odd chip from a few of the unwary revellers. The way they did it was almost an art form. Fagin would have been proud.
Suddenly, as one, they rose up into the air and sped off into the distance. Looking around, I saw the Rolls Royce of Lady F whisper by and I had a sneaky suspicion that the two events were somehow connected...
I rejoined my new friends and we spent some time looking around and then having yet another go at skating, where, to my relief, I managed to stay on my feet longer than ever before. If things went on much longer, I would be Olympic material!
Time was getting on and after saying goodbye to the others, I went along with Pippa and Jen to the stables where there ponies were kept and I met Rosie and Poppy. I obviously fell in love with both of them and wanted to have one for myself. However, that wasn’t possible, but was told that if I was a good girl and ate Pippa and Jen’s Brussels sprouts on Christmas Day, I would be allowed to ride them.
I was so desperate, I agreed to their unreasonable terms, even though I had no idea whether I would still be with them on Christmas Day. A lot was happening to me at the moment and I had no idea what the future might bring.
Mind you, Brussels sprouts, yuck!
It was late afternoon when we arrived back at The Vicarage. Jo was there and fed us quickly with a sandwich, as we had to get ready for the carol concert that started at 7 o’clock. We choristers (that had a nice ring) had to get there early to change and get ready for the short candle-lit parade through the village and up to the church.
Pippa and Jen took me to the village hall, downhill from the church and left me to it. They were going to back to the church to find some good seats.
I made my way inside the hall and saw that most of the choir had already arrived. On a long table were the choristers robes, arranged in sizes small to large, the large being for the adults and the smallest for the two youngest kids, both aged about 11.
Sarah and Hannah came over and we had a sort of a mini group hug which was as nice as it was unexpected, then we went over to the table where the robes were.
As it was quite cold and frosty outside, we were all wearing clothes that would keep us warm; in my case my jeans and red jumper. Sarah was about my size and we both went over to some clothes and after taking off our coats, scarves and hats, quickly got dressed, whilst Hannah, being slightly smaller went further down the table to pick hers out.
Following Sarah’s lead I first tied on the white ruff, Sarah helped to tie it on around the back of my neck and then I did the same for her. Then we both put on a red cassock and finally the long white surplice. the ruff tickled my neck, but I soon got used to it.
Once we were all dressed, we were given long candle sticks and then told to line up in twos, the smallest in the front and the tallest adults at the back. I was pared with Sarah around about in the middle, and that was nice, but I was very nervous and I suppose that you could call it a form of stage fright.
David the vicar came in wearing his vestments. He beamed at us vaguely, said how nice we looked and then went to the front.
The candles were lit and then we were off!
Outside, the choir master timed us in and then we started singing O Come All Ye Faithful as we walked towards the floodlit church and suddenly, I didn’t feel nervous any more as I got caught up in the moment.
As we walked up the lane, I saw that it was lined with lots of adults and excited children; many carrying torches and candles to light our way. Almost on cue, gentle snow began to fall and it all added to the magical scene. Being in the depths of Devon, I didn’t think that snow fell much and especially at Christmas time. I was obviously wrong in that.
I felt privileged to be there and be a part of the wonderful celebration. We were singing the last verse of the hymn as we walked into the church and up aisle to the front of the church where we peeled off right and left to go into the choir stalls.
The church was packed and brightly lit. With its Christmas tree winking away in the corner and the all the decorations and masses of flowers, it was not anything like the sombre and cold church that I had been in some years ago.
David, the vicar came into his own as he led the service with passion and humour, involving everyone, including some little children who got involved with the nativity scene at the back of the church and the two tiny lambs, who were quite vocal and seemed to enjoy being in the limelight.
All the usual carols were sung and there was complete silence apart from the bleating lambs and one baby crying when Hannah, with the voice of an angel, sung a cappella, Silent Night in the original German language. Her voice was wonderful and I didn’t think that there was a dry eye in the house apart from one choir boy opposite me who was more interested in the contents of his nose than the beauty of her singing.
At last, the service drew to a close and I had really enjoyed singing with the others. I was sad that it was all ending but proud that I had played a small part in its obvious success. It was a very talented choir and I found out afterwards that it had won many prizes in the past.
The last hymn was Hark! the Herald Angels Sing, and with the candles, we all proceeded to go out of the church.
As we walked along the aisle, towards the back, I nearly stumbled as there, standing in one of the pews, looking directly at me, with tears in her eyes, was my mother.
Life Is Not A Bowl Of Cherries
A Penmarris Story At Christmas
By Susan Brown
Previously …
At last, the service drew to a close and I had really enjoyed singing with the others. I was sad that it was all ending but proud that I had played a small part in its obvious success. It was a very talented choir and I found out afterwards that it had won many prizes in the past.
The last hymn was Hark! the Herald Angels Sing, and with the candles, we all proceeded to go out of the church.
As we walked along the aisle, towards the back, I nearly stumbled as there, standing in one of the pews, looking directly at me, with tears in her eyes, was my mother.
And now the story continues…
My singing faltered as I smiled at her. She didn’t smile back and, if anything, she seemed very scared. The person behind ran into me and I had to keep moving, otherwise there would have been a body pileup.
I had to carry on; my mind not really on what I was singing. What was the meaning of it? Was she just there because she liked carol services? Did she really recognise me for who I was or was it because we had met at The Seashells briefly and she was acknowledging that fact?
I had more questions than answers and wasn’t sure what I should do now. The procession ended down by the quay at the Christmas tree, where more candle and torch carrying people stood and applauded us. At any other time I would have enjoyed it all, but the sight of my mother staring at me like that had put a dampener on my previous happy feelings.
Our coats and other clothes had been transferred from the village hall to the small seamen’s mission hall at the end of the quay, near where the RNLI station was. As soon as the singing ended we all made a move to go and change, as the weather was getting colder and the snow thicker.
‘Look,’ I said to Sarah and Hannah, ‘I have to go back to the church.’
‘Why?’ asked Hannah.
‘I think that I saw my mum in there and I need to catch her before she goes home.’
‘You had better be quick then,’ said Sarah, ‘we’ll tell the others where you are. We will be down by the quay, maybe skating or in the café or The Copper Kettle getting warm drinks.’
‘Okay, I might see you down there, if not, don't worry; bye.’
With a wave, I was off, through the quay and up the hill to the church, trying to avoid slipping over on the snow covered ground. Everywhere, the crowds were still milling about and it was surprising that a seaside village like this was such a busy and popular place, but then I realised that that was a silly though. Penmarris was popular because of what it was – magical.
I hoped and prayed that my mum was still there, as I desperately wanted to see her. I increased my pace as I got into the churchyard and made my way to the church. Bells were still peeling in celebration of the Christmas to come and I could hardly hear myself think from the noise.
David, the vicar was shaking hands with someone as I came up to the door.
‘Can I go in?’ I asked.
‘Of course Katie, forgotten something?’
‘Not really, I just saw someone I recognised.’
I didn’t wait for any reply as I went into the church and had a look around. The place was empty apart from a few women talking by the font including Jo, who looked up as I went over.
‘Are you okay Katie?’
‘Can I have a word?’
‘Of course; excuse me ladies.’
We went back into the vestry and I wasted no time in telling Jo what had happened.
’So she saw you and reacted?’
‘I think so or maybe it was a coincidence and she was just being emotional about the music and the choir – I don't know any more. At first I thought that it was all about me, but I could have misread the situation; but I am sure that she recognised me from earlier.’
‘Well I know almost everyone who lives in Penmarris, but I don't think that I have ever met her and, strangely enough, no-one has mentioned her or talked about The Seashells come to that. You may have noticed that this is a very closely knit community and I find it hard to believe that she is such a mystery.’
‘What should I do; go and confront her?’
Jo thought for a moment and then shook her head.
‘I think that what we originally planned is the best way forward. You write a note and I’ll take it up to her early tomorrow morning...’
‘But that’s Christmas Day. I don't want to spoil it for you and your family.’
‘You don't know much about a vicar’s family at Christmas do you? David has a service in the morning and again in the afternoon. Our family celebrations work around that; so you are not spoiling anything. Pippa and Jen get up early to see to the ponies, David is always brushing up on the sermon and service that he knows by heart and I will be stuffing a few bits in the oven for a quick lunch. We have our main meal in the evening and we will be going up to the manor for that.’
‘Is that the place where Lady Fairbairn lives?’
‘That’s it. It’s a tradition now that she invites everyone close to her for a Christmas meal. There are a lot of people going including everyone from The Gang, so you won’t feel out of it.’
‘I’m invited?’
‘Yes, Lady F specifically asked me to tell you to come. That, by the way, is more like a royal command and she never takes no for an answer.
‘What if my mum accepts me? I would rather be with her, to be honest. We have a lot to catching up to do.’
‘Let’s see what happens shall we? You can always adjust your plans if things don't work out. Whatever happens, we are all here for you.’
I gave her a hug. I was getting more used to the touchy-feely thing. Who would have thought that I, a convicted untrusting hard case and someone who scorned any signs of affection, would go all gooey inside like that?
Jo had some tidying up to do in the church so, to take my mind off things, I went down to the quay to meet up with my new friends. Once again, I had that warm feeling, as I realised that I had real friends now; more than I had ever had. The snow was beginning to fall heavier now, covering everything with a fine patina of white that just added to the magical beauty of a place. A place where I felt, more than ever, should be my permanent home, whether or not I was accepted by my mother. Things like where I would live and how I would earn a living would be something that I would find out soon, but for now, I was living for the moment.
In the past, I kept everyone at arm’s length; never knowing what my future would hold. What was the point of making friends with anyone when one, I was a girl and I was mainly around boys who were not on my wavelength and two, I was continually being moved on from place to place? Penmarris was different and I believed it was where that could put down roots and begin to have a proper, normal life.
Unsurprisingly, I found The Gang skating and I hired some skates and joined them. I was getting more used to skating now and only fell over twice. Soon, my troubles went to the back of my mind as I laughed and joked about with my new friends as we did a sort of dance train with me hanging on like grim death to Sarah in front of me and with Amy gripping my waist with her hands from behind.
In the end, we all landed on the cold ice and somehow we found it to be hilarious.
After the manic skating fiasco, we made our way to the Copper Kettle tea room. There had been a rumour going around that some fresh pasties had been smuggled over the border from Cornwall and we had to investigate the truth of that. The quay was beginning to empty out now as people started to make their way home. Many with excited children, waiting for the time when, in the dead of night, a certain portly, white whiskered man with a BMI in excess of 30 would come along with his sleigh and deposit presents, drink a drop of the hard (or soft) stuff and the occasional mince pie or two.
Luckily the paths had been salted, so we weren’t slipping about all over the place as we walked to the tea room. It was warm and inviting in there and although downstairs was almost full of customers still; upstairs was more or less empty. We sat in the corner by the window overlooking the quay and ordered hot drinks and pasties; reputed to keep a large, grown man full up for several hours after eating one.
The drinks came and then the humongous pasties. They were every bit as good as I had been told and I enjoyed every last bit. Feeling pretty stuffed, I sat back and just listened while the others talked about things.
‘...so I said to Mummy, why is it that we don’t give the moles any Chrimbo pressies and she hit the roof. You know what she’s like about those moles. She shoots them, or tries to anyway, with her shotgun and never hits anything. She doesn’t know that Jenkins, our butler, doctored the sights and that she has no chance of even hitting a barn door with it.’
‘What’s Lady F got against moles?’ I asked.
‘They mess up the lawn – holes everywhere. I swear that they know it’s safe in our gardens, even when they are being shot at. We have a Labradoodle called Fifi and Mummy has been trying to get her to be a sort of mole catcher, but the silly dog has no idea and keeps running away from any she sees. She’s a bit of a wimp really; mummy despairs of her.’
We all laughed and talked of other things. The girls were all looking forward to Christmas Day when, as I had already been told, we would all be at The Big House, as Sarah called it, for Christmas dinner.
‘Lady F does fantastic nosh,’ said Jen enthusiastically.
‘Does she cook it then?’ I asked.
They all looked at each other and within moments, they were rolling about with laughter.
Not being in on the joke, I wondered what was so funny, then it came out that Lady F would never get her hands soiled with menial labour and had a large staff. 'She has a Gordon Blue chef,' said Pippa.
‘That’s cordon bleu, silly,’ said Jen in a superior manner.
‘Whatever, she’s couldn’t boil an egg,’ said Pippa.
‘That’s where you are wrong,’ said Sarah, ‘she was a girl guide and is the local county commissioner. She knows how to do campsite cooking and is rather good, although she would never cook at home. By the way, she wants us all to join the new troop.’
‘Why?’ asked Hannah.
‘Well, the existing troop is full and has a waiting list and there are enough girls on the list to make a new one. Abby and Samantha will be the new leaders. Anyway, be warned, Mummy will bend your ears to join and you know how persuasive she can be. ‘All gels should be guides. Gives ‘em backbone and teaches ‘em to be strong and tough and not wimps. In my day, us gels in the guides used to do 10 mile hikes in the poorin’ rain, carryin’ one hundred pound rucksacks ; those were the days...’
We all giggled, it was as if Lady F was in the room!
Amy sighed.
‘Another uniform to wear; it’s bad enough having to put on a school uniform. Skirts in this weather, I ask you!’
‘Have you seen the new guide uniform?’ said Hannah, ‘Bridget is a guide in the old troop. She says that it’s awful, been designed by a five year old and has a tacky skirt too.’
‘Yea, but you can wear legging or jeans.’ said Pippa.
‘That’s something,’ replied Amy.
‘I never got the chance to wear a skirt when everyone thought I was a boy.’ I said casually, without thinking.
Then I realised that it had gone very quiet and everyone was looking at me.
‘Oh God!’ I shouted and then looked at their puzzled faces. I immediately burst into tears and ran to the ladies toilet, which was half way down the stairs leading to the main tea room.
I locked myself in a cubicle and held my head in my hands in despair.
What had I done? My secret was out now and everyone knew what I was; a freak.
For all the years that I could remember, I had hidden the secret that I was really a girl and that was the safe way to go for me. I couldn’t be hurt by it because it was a secret that only I knew. I had heard many stories about tranny kids being ridiculed, beaten up and in a few cases, forced to suicide when it got out that they were different.
Yes, I could be hurt in other ways, like the lack of love, of not fitting in and being considered as a trouble maker; but to me, being a girl with boy bits was a biggy and not to be disclosed to anyone. Then, when I had felt vulnerable, I had told Jo and she was cool with it; but I couldn’t expect such acceptance from others. I had, I thought, found some friends that would like and accept me as a girl and in a few short, stupid words, I had spoiled everything.
I couldn’t imagine anyone else to be the same as Jo and be so accepting. Her job as a vicar’s wife was to helpful, friendly and non-judgemental, but I couldn’t expect kids of my age to be the same.
I sobbed into my hands. I didn’t know what to do. If The Gang hadn’t have left the tea shop in disgust, they would be up there now, talking about me and saying nasty things. If I stayed in the toilet until the place closed, then maybe I could make my way up to my mum’s place and I would beg her to take me in...
There was a knock on the door.
‘Katie, are you there?’
‘Go away Sarah.’
‘Don’t be silly...’
‘I am not being silly. You know my secret now...’
‘What, that you are a tranny?’
‘Yea; had a good laugh at my expense have you? Fancy a boy wanting to dress up as a girl. Is he really a queer? Not good enough to be a boy, Sick in the head? I can hear you saying all those things about me...’
‘You must have good hearing then.’
‘Don’t try to be funny. I’m not laughing.’
‘I’m not laughing either. Will you come out here so that I can talk to you?’
‘Why; so that you can have a go at me?’
‘NO, so that I can explain what’s going on.’
‘I know what’s going on.’
‘No you don’t clever clogs. You know nothing and you won’t know anything unless you come out now.’
‘I’m staying here ‘til you go.’
There was silence for a moment.
‘I didn’t think that you were a coward Katie.’
‘I’m not!’
‘Come out then. I promise that I won’t laugh or be judgemental. I couldn’t care less what sex you are. You are Katie and I like you and so do the others.’
‘You are just saying that to get me out. I knew many people in the past that made me all sorts of promises, only for them to go back on them.’
I could clearly hear the stamp of a foot in temper.
‘Right!’ she shouted.
There was a scramble of feet and then Sarah’s head came over the door and looked down at me. It was a good job that I was not sitting down with my panties around my knees...
‘Listen,’ she said with gritted death, ‘If you don’t come out, I’ll call the manageress and she’ll get you out. I promise that we like you and don’t care about your gender. We have good reasons why...’
‘I don’t believe you...’
‘God, you are a pain in the neck and talking of that, my neck is hurting. Four words; I am transgendered too!’
I looked at her. She was obviously lying and it was some sort of trick.
‘Don’t believe me?’
I shook my head; she was obviously one hundred percent girl.
‘I can’t stay like this. I’ll go and get Pippa and Jen. Their dad is a vicar and they can’t lie, they would go to hell or something.’
Her head disappeared from above the cubicle door and then went over to the toilet door, opened it and then slammed it closed.
I waited a few moments and then decided that I couldn’t stay there and be humiliated. I opened the cubicle door and then went out of the toilet turning left and going downstairs away from the girls who were probably still laughing at me.
I didn’t look left or right as I went past the tables where people were sitting and out into the cold night air. I didn’t have my coat, scarf or hat, they were all upstairs and I wasn’t going to go back for them under any circumstances. I would have to walk fast to stay warm. I knew where I would have to go.
I went as fast as I could with the snow now coming down a bit harder and the roads being a bit icier, despite the gritting. The snow was falling quite heavily and it stung my cheeks and hands. I wished that I had my beanie hat, coat and other things but I would just have to manage somehow...
This was the third time I had been up that road and I was getting colder and colder. I wasn’t in the best of condition and was puffing a bit as I reached The Seashells, opened the gate and made my way up the path, which had nearly disappeared under the white snow.
Knocking on the door, I stood there shivering and willing for the door to be opened and for me to be able to fall into my mum’s open arms.
I knocked again and again, but there was no answer. I sobbed as I sat down on the cold doorstep; the snow falling harder and me not knowing what to do.
I was getting colder and colder but somehow I didn’t care. I was tired of running and tired of things going badly wrong for me. I had thought that Penmarris might be the place for me to finally get some roots down, but now it had all turned into a nightmare.
My teeth began to chatter but despite the biting cold, I was getting sleepy for some reason and I let myself fall back slightly and rest my head on the snow. It was funny it felt more like a pillow than something very cold.
In the far recesses of my brain, I knew that I shouldn’t go to sleep, but suddenly, I was so tired...
I had no idea how long I had been there, but in the far recesses of my mind I heard the sound of a car, but couldn’t lift my head to see who it might be. It was getting rather comfortable where I was and I just couldn’t be bothered.
There was a slamming of car doors and muffled steps but I was finding it hard to prise my eyelids open and it was all too much of an effort to do anything but just lie there and go to sleep.
‘Oh my God!’ said a voice that I vaguely recognised as my mum.
‘Lift her up. Get her inside, quick before she freezes to death.’ said another, unknown voice.
Everything was in slow motion. I vaguely recognised two of the voices but not the other one. I found myself being carried inside and I cried as everything felt so hot and painful; my feet, hands and face in particular.
Before I knew it, I found myself on a comfy sofa, wrapped in a blanket and with a mug of hot tea nestled in my shaking hands.
‘Oh Katie,’ said Jocasta, ‘you had us worried.’
‘Yes Katie, that was a bit dramatic,’ said the other lady who I noticed was sitting opposite me, now that I was a bit more aware of my surroundings.
‘I’m Abby, by the way. You have met my partner, Samantha and Hannah and Amy you know, of course.’
I smiled weakly and then looked around for my mum, but she wasn’t in the room.
‘She's gone upstairs and will be down soon,’ said Abby, ‘Now, it appears that you threw a wobbly down at The Copper Kettle because you let slip about your gender, is that right?’
I nodded.
‘And when you were told by Sarah that she understood because she was the same as you, you didn't believe her?’
Once again, I nodded, not wanting to say anything.
‘Sarah can be a bit silly at times and lets her mouth run amuck, but she doesn't lie though.’
‘You mean...?’
‘Yes, she is a girl, but used to be considered as a boy, although she never thought that she was anything but a girl; a bit like you?’
‘So she was telling the truth?’
‘Yes.’
Jo spoke up.
‘You don't know as much as you think you know about Penmarris, Katie. There are a number of people around here who are very similar to you. We don't judge and are very accepting; otherwise you just don't last very long in this village. We take as we see. If you thought that you were say, gay, lesbian, or bi-sexual, we wouldn't bat an eyelid. And that goes for transgendered boys and girls too. Our doctor knows how to help people like you and so do the schools and even the local social services. No, don't knock them; not all of council and government services are the same and in this area, they are very supportive. It does help that Dotty is on just about every committee imaginable and helps the cause as much as she can. After all, her adoptive daughter is in the same position as you.’
‘You would be surprised at who is transgendered around here…’ said Abby.
There was a knock at the door and I could hear steps in the hall. The front door opened and I could hear talking; but couldn’t make out what they were saying.
A few seconds later someone came in, but annoyingly not my mum. Was she still not interested in me?
‘Hi Marcia,’ said Jo, ‘here she is.’
The lady came over. She had a kind face, but was looking me over in a calculating manner.
‘Hello Katie, I’m a doctor. I understand that you have had a few problems and got caught out in the cold?’
I nodded
I was warming up, but was still shivering a bit under the blanket where my clothes were still quite wet.
‘Abby, Jo, I need to examine her; can we have a few minutes? Looking at how damp she is, I think that we need to get her a change of clothes and maybe a hot bath. Can you ask erm, Mrs Stevens if she has anything for Katie to wear?’
‘So, she still insists on being called Mrs Stevens?’ I thought dejectedly, ‘what is going on? I want my mum!’
Life Is Not A Bowl Of Cherries
A Penmarris Story At Christmas
By Susan Brown
Previously …
‘Hello Katie, I’m a doctor. I understand that you have had a few problems and got caught out in the cold?’
I nodded
I was warming up, but was still shivering a bit under the blanket where my clothes were still quite wet.
‘Abby, Jo, I need to examine her; can we have a few minutes? Looking at how damp she is, I think that we need to get her a change of clothes and maybe a hot bath. Can you ask erm, Mrs Stevens if she has anything for Katie to wear?’
‘So, she still insists on being called Mrs Stevens?’ I thought dejectedly, ‘what is going on? I want my mum!’
And now the story continues…
‘Right Katie, let’s have a quick chat whilst Jo gets you some clothes. I want you out of this wet things but I imagine that you are bit shy about that sort of thing; am I right?’
I nodded.
‘Perhaps you can tell me a little about yourself. How old are you?’
‘Sixteen.’
‘I haven’t been told much about your circumstances and it’s up to you what you actually tell me, but it’s in your best interests to be frank and truthful. Jo mentioned, without going into specifics that you have gender issues, is that right?’
I nodded.
‘Hmm; look...’ she said.
Just then, Jo knocked on the door and poked her head round.
‘Will a nightie and dressing gown okay for now Katie? Susan hasn’t got anything that would fit?’
I nodded.
‘Do you want me to leave while you get changed?’ said the doctor.
I shook my head.
‘Are you going to examine me?’ I asked.
‘With your permission.’
‘So I don’t have to be examined?’ I replied, feeling a bit embarrassed about me body.
‘Not if you don’t want to be. It’s up to you, but I want to help and I am not judgmental. So, do you want me to have a look at you to see if you are alright?’
I thought for a moment. All that had happened to me recently had made me feel very tired. I had had enough of this. I was 16 years old, so I couldn’t be made to do anything I didn’t want to; but I did want to be considered a girl and not a boy and I did need medical assistance if I was going to make my dreams come true. I wondered for a moment what my mum was thinking about all this and even whether she cared about me.
I had had enough of hiding, running away and not confronting what had to be done. It was time to take charge of the situation and not rely on others.
I just nodded my head in answer to her question.
‘Okay, take your top off.’
She turned away to have rummage around her doctors bag.
Shrugging the blanket off, I removed my jumper, bra and then after a moment’s thought, my jeans and panties and even my socks, which were wet, despite the fact that I had been wearing my boots. Obviously they weren’t as water proof as I had hoped.
Doctor Marcia turned to me and looked surprised as I faced her.
‘I only wanted your top off; never mind, come over into the light and let me have a look at you.’
She must have been good at poker, as her expression didn’t change as she took in the fact that I had shrunken genitals and small, pert breasts. I thought that showing her everything would give her an idea as to what my problem was.
She did the stethoscope thing and I winced at the cold touch of it and then she asked me to lie down on the couch.
‘Not an ideal place for an examination, but it will have to do for now. You can come into the surgery in a few days and I’ll give you a proper once over. Do you mind if I examine a few delicate areas?’
I shook my head.
‘Do you want Jo or Abby to come in?’
I shook my head; noting with a pang of pain that she didn’t say anything about my mum coming and holding my hand.
She felt my breasts carefully and then did the same with my genitals. I tried to keep my mind on other things while she did that. Finally, she had me stand up and bend over as she inserted a lubricated, rubber gloved finger up my backside and that was unpleasant in the extreme. She did have the grace to apologise for doing it though! She also took an armful of blood and I had to look away for that as I am a bit of a jelly when it comes to needles.
‘Okay Katie, pop on your nightdress and robe and go and sit by the fire, you still seem a bit cold; put the blanket around your legs too.’
I was still shivering, so I was pleased to put some clothes on and also the slippers that had been provided. The room was warm, with a cheerful open fire. It didn’t take long for me to get warmed through.
After the doctor had put everything back in her bag, she came over and sat opposite me.
‘Can I ask you a few questions?’
I nodded.
‘Tell me all about what has happened and why you believe that you are a girl.’
‘I am a girl, I don’t just believe it, like some sort of religion; I am a girl.’
‘Sorry, I put that wrongly; please just tell me your story.
So I told her.
It took a surprisingly long time to tell her all that had happened to me and about the search for my mum. Not helped by the fact that my damned hormones made me cry a lot. But the crying helped and I did feel a bit better when I had finally finished my story.
‘Okay Katie, thanks for that. I’m a little clearer now as to the reasons behind your actions. On purely medical grounds, I’m not happy about your taking birth control pills from such a early age and in particular, ones that haven’t been prescribed for you. You probably know that once you were 16, the option is normally blockers until 18, although some clinics are giving them to kids aged 12 and over. The fact that you have gone straight to hormones is not the usual thing and you have probably been having some side effects such as mood swings as well as the more obvious physical changes like your breast development and shrunken genitals. Am I right?’
‘Yes Doctor.’
‘Call me Marcia, all my friends do; not many patients call me doctor as most of them are my friends and I hope you will be too. Anyway, what’s done is done regarding your self-medication and I prefer to look forward rather than back. Physically, you seem okay, but I want to have some further tests done to make sure everything is as it should be. The blood test results should be back by the end of December. The Christmas break always slows things down, and I propose that once we finally have those results in, we’ll have a better idea as to how we should proceed. Do you agree with that?’
‘Yes doctor, I mean Marcia. Tell me, does all the crying and anger have much to do with the pills I’ve been taking?’
‘Yes, I would say so; that and the fact that a lot of teenagers even without your issues think that the world is against them; angst is one of the perils of grown into an adult for some. Adolescence is a hard time for most people and you more than most, as you have a potent mix of testosterone and oestrogen flooding your body. I would be surprised if you didn’t have these issues. When the bloods come back, we’ll know what the levels of each are and I can make some recommendations. I will also arrange for you to see a psychiatrist...’
‘I’m not mad.’
‘I know that, but you do need to see someone with experience with your issues so that he or she can help you through what I know is a difficult time for you. In any case, it’s mandatory for you to be fully assessed before we can give the go ahead for any treatment. Which reminds me, I want you to promise not to take any more birth control pills? I will give you a supply of blockers, so everything will be on hold and that will give us time to sort out all we have spoken about; do you agree?
I nodded my head reluctantly. For a long time I had been self-medicating and even I realised that that could be harmful. I would have to get into the system if I had any chance for surgery.
I had no choice.
She smiled.
‘Cheer up Katie; things aren’t as bad as you think. Anyway, I need to go now. I’ll see you very soon and we will get this sorted out. By the way, if it means anything to you, I think that you are a very pretty girl and can’t see much of a boy in you.’
‘What about those things between my legs?’
‘From what you have been saying, they will only be there temporarily and if everything goes as you wish, they can be sorted out. Now, I have to go, my hubby is waiting for me. He wants to start Christmas early by raiding the sweet tin and having a few drinks!’
‘Sorry to have got you out.’
‘No problem; see you soon, maybe even tomorrow; bye.’
‘Goodbye and thanks for listening; I wasn’t used to that before I came here.’
‘Things are different here; now I must be off.’
With that, she left me and after a few brief whispered words, I heard the front door open and then close.
I was feeling quite warm now. I wiggled my feet in the fluffy slippers that I was wearing. My toes had lost that almost numb feeling and if anything were starting to feel almost too hot. As for the nightie, I wasn’t that keen on long winceyette nighties, being a bit old for my taste, but even I was grateful for its warmth after my near freezing experience.
There was a soft tap on the door and I looked up.
‘Come in.’
The door opened and there she was.
Mum.
She came in and stood by the doorway. She looked tired and had been crying. Her eyes were red and puffy.
‘H...how are you?’ She asked in a voice barely above a whisper.
‘Better.’ I said, feeling myself tear up.
She came in and shut the door and then walked over and sat down in the chair opposite me.
I said nothing, not knowing what to say; but worrying that if I did shout at her or accuse her of leaving me all those years ago, she might go again and I would never see her or find out what happened.
She wouldn’t look at me, but just stared at the fire. I wondered if she would ever say anything, but she took a deep breath and then looked at me.
‘You are lovely, Katie.’
‘Thanks.’ I whispered, with a lump in my throat.
A tear fell down her cheek and her lips trembled. Then she did something that I didn’t expect.
She got up came over, knelt down beside me and then hugged me fiercely.
‘I am so sorry for leaving you’ she cried, ‘I have always regretted it and worried about you.’
I lost it then and cried my eyes out, as did my mum. There was no pretence that she was Mrs Stevens; she was my mum and we were back together again.
We stayed like that, in each other’s arms for an age. Time didn’t matter, we were together again.
Eventually; hand in hand, we went over to the couch and sat down.
There was another knock on the door and Jocasta came in with a tray.
‘Oh good,’ she said, ‘It seems that things are going okay. Let me put this tray down and I’ll leave it to you to sort out the drinks. I found some chocolate hobnobs and hope that you don’t mind Carol, my raiding your biscuit barrel?
‘That’s okay, Jocasta,’ she replied.
‘Oh Carol, on that other matter, it’s all in hand. You should be safe now.’
‘Are you sure?’ Mum asked.
‘Positive.’
With a beaming smile Jo left us to it and shut the door behind her.
‘Safe?’ I said, ‘what does she mean?’
‘Shall we have some tea and then will tell you everything you need to know.’
It seemed a bit unreal and a very domestic scene as my mum made the tea and then offered me some biscuits. It was surprising that I realised that I was quite thirsty and hungry. A few moments later we settled down again and Mum felt ready to tell me her story.
‘I’ll start at the beginning. You need to know everything, you deserve that.’
I nibbled at a biscuit as she sat back, stared at the fire and told me everything.
’I was just fourteen when I had you. Jeff was in the same class in school and I suppose that we were both a bit on the wild side. I thought that I loved him and he was the boy for me. Despite the wildness, we had moments of love and tenderness and had even spoken about marriage when we were older; silly talk at our age. Anyway, one evening, we managed to get hold of a bottle of gin; I think Jeff pinched it from his dad’s drinks cabinet, which just happened to be a cupboard under the stairs. Anyway, we found our way to the park that evening, climbed over the rails and then got very drunk and didn’t really know what we were doing, well I didn’t anyway. I’m not sure that Jeff was drunk at all; it’s so easy to be wise in hindsight. Without going into sordid details, things got a bit hot and then, before I knew it, we had unprotected sex. I wasn’t on the pill, my dad would have killed me if I had asked for that and my mum, well she was weak and did as Dad told her to. Anyway, as I say, we had sex and it was a bit painful for me, as it was my first time and he was, surprisingly, quite rough with me and not the gentle person I thought that he was.’
She stopped for a moment as if dragging up those distant memories were painful for her.
I held her hand; our fingers entwined and put my head on her shoulder as she continued.
‘It didn’t take long for me to realise that I was pregnant. I was too scared to tell my parents but something like that couldn’t be hidden for long and Mum kept on asking why I looked so pasty and why was I always sick in the morning. I was going to tell Jeff, but soon after the park thing, he became distant and he didn’t want to know me. He was even a bit abusive and not like the boy I thought that I loved. Then he moved away and we lost contact.’
‘Didn’t you tell him about the pregnancy?’
She looked both sad and angry at the same time.
‘Initially, I wanted to tell him, but he left school suddenly. I had found out from friends that he had this thing about conquesting and controlling girls. I wish I had known this before he took my virginity. He was only fourteen, but it appears that he had had sex with several girls in the school and I was just one more notch on his bedpost or park tree in my case. The word was that he had moved away with his family because things got too hot for him and he had been accused of rape. That was a rumour, but I can now believe it. I wanted nothing more to do with him, so I didn’t find out where he had gone and as far as I was concerned, I would bring up my baby as a lone parent. Before you ask, I had no intention of having an abortion as I don’t believe in it, other than on medical grounds.
‘Eventually I had to come clean to my parents. To say that they hit the roof was an understatement, especially as I wouldn’t tell them who did the deed with me. I was taken out of school and given home schooling by my mum, who had been a teacher before she married Dad. I was kept apart from all my friends and not able to see anyone. It was as if I had some sort of dreaded disease rather than the natural process of bringing someone precious out into the world.
‘I felt you grow slowly in me and despite my parents’ disapproval and the feelings that I had about being pregnant by that...that boy, I loved the way you started kicking and moving about inside me and my love for you increased with every day that passed. Anyway, in due course it was time for you to be born and the birth was a hard one as I was in labour for twenty hours and I refused much of the medication that I was offered; I was concerned about the effects of any drugs might have on you. Anyway, eventually you were born and I immediately felt that special bond with you that only a mother can have with her baby.
Surprisingly, my mum and dad came round eventually and grew to love you almost as much as I did. After all, you were their grandchild and you were a lovely, contented baby. We had lots of nice times as a family and I cherish those times. Seeing you as a girl now, reminds me that you seemed a very gentle child when you were little and you loved playing with fabrics and you even refused a toy soldier because you preferred little dollies. We all thought that you would grow out of it.’
She got up and walked over to the tray.
‘I’m parched; do you want another cup of tea? I think that there’s enough for another one if we top it up.
‘Yes please.’ I said in a bit of a dream. I was so caught up in the story that I would have probably said yes to a cup of dishwater!
We settled down again and Mum continued her story; only it wasn’t a story, it was real life and I had been part of it.
‘It was coming up for three years later that everything went wrong. We were coming back from the shops; the weather was bad and it was in the middle of winter. There was ice on the road and our car was ploughed into by a lorry that had skidded on the ice. I woke up in hospital to find that Mum and Dad had been killed and I had various broken bones and a ruptured spleen. You somehow had miraculously survived almost without a scratch.
‘You were put into temporary care whilst they mended my body. But although they could stitch back my body, they couldn’t do that to my mind. I had a breakdown due to losing my parents and nearly losing you. The nightmares were awful and once they let me out of hospital I started drinking to deaden the pain of my loss. It didn’t help that I was taking drugs to help overcome the fact that I didn’t have a spleen. All this time, you were still in care and the powers to be had decided that I was too weak and ill to have you back.
‘That decision didn’t help as I relied more and more on alcohol, not a good idea for someone without a spleen and open to infection and other nasties. The doctors and specialists tried to help, but it was no good, I just wasn’t a safe enough person to take responsibility of a young child when I couldn’t even look after myself. So you were put into care until it was deemed that I would be a good and reliable mother.
‘It broke my heart to let you go and the last time I saw you, I made a scene and tried to snatch you away from the kids home that you were in at the time. A court order was put in place saying that I couldn’t see you anymore because of my state of mind, as they called it. I tried to keep in touch by sending you cards on your birthday and at Christmas. For your safety, as they put it, they said that they would not allow any contact other than that. However, I did write letters to you for years in the hope that they would be given to you.’
‘I never had any letters,’ I said.
‘I thought not as I never did get anything back from you.’
‘I wanted to write, but no one would give me your address.’
‘I put a note in with every card telling you my address.’
‘I never saw anything like that.’
‘Sometimes I think that these people like to play god! Anyway, enough of that; like you Katie, I moved about a bit. Eventually I arrived back to where I started in London and gradually got my life back together. I stopped drinking and haven’t touched a drop since. I enrolled into a college studying a degree in pre-registration nursing – I always wanted to be a nurse. It was hard, as I was living in a bed-sit, off campus. My plan was for me to be a fully qualified nurse and to be accepted as someone who could look after a child.
‘Despite my change in circumstances, I think that the social services had it in for me and couldn’t accept that I was a good person who had gone through hell and come out of the other side. I lost count the amount of times I asked to see you and have you back with me. I think that they believed that once you have fallen off the wagon, then you won’t ever get back to what they consider to be normal.’
‘Thinking about you and eventually getting us back together kept me going, despite all the walls that had been put up to prevent my access to you. I passed my degree with good grades. As part of my training, I was given work placements in several hospitals and once I obtained my degree, I applied for a nursing post in of all places, Birmingham. I spent some time there, and then transferred to Sheffield and then Hereford, all the time building up experience and then finally specialising in intensive care.
‘One thing I haven’t told you is that after a number of years there was a payout from the accident that killed my parents and injured me so badly. It appeared that the lorry driver was drunk and speeding at the time he hit our car. The claim took time to settle because the drivers’ insurers kept on arguing that the ice was a mitigating circumstance. Anyway, long story short, the claim was paid just prior to it going to court and as I was the sole beneficiary, the money came to me. When I found somewhere nice to live, I would buy a house and then try once again to get you back.
‘As I said before, every time I moved, I told social services and put a note in with the cards that I sent you, letting you know my current address. I was at least given information about where you were. Although I was concerned that you moved about more than me and I did wonder why. All I was told was that you found it hard to settle; I had to be satisfied with that explanation.’
‘They must have taken the notes out; all letters and cards were open prior to my having them.’
Mum shook her head.
‘Nothing surprises me about social services after the way we’ve been treated. I had no trust in the system and still don’t. Although, I understand that around here, things are a bit different; I’ll wait until I see that. Anyway, when I started working in Hereford, I decided that I didn’t want to live in town and one day, I was looking through the papers at houses and I found one that looked nice and it was in Ross-On-Wye. It that wasn’t that far by car and was a commutable distance, so I went and had a look. I loved it on first site and I bought it. Things went okay for a while and then something strange happened. Jeff, your father found me. He had been looking for me for some time and had even got private investigators involved.
‘He turned up on my doorstep late one night. You could have knocked me over with a feather when I saw him. He was older and more heavily built, but I recognised him instantly. Time had not dealt with him kindly and I could see that he was overweight, florid and had started to lose his hair – a heart attack waiting to happen. He said that he had hired an investigator to find me as he wanted to discuss certain things with me. He wanted to come in, but I said no. I had no love for him and as far as I was concerned, the only connection we had was you and I wasn’t going to tell him about that. I reluctantly agreed to meet him in a pub the following lunchtime and then I just closed the door on him. I was worried; he had a look about him that was rather nasty.’
‘Why didn’t you tell him about me?’
‘Because I did not feel that it was right and also to protect you. I hadn’t seen him in years and what I saw that night didn’t make me feel any better about him. I knew his history and it wasn’t nice. Anyway, I went to the pub and he was already there. He bought me a drink and we found a quiet place in the corner. Initially he was quite pleasant and I could see a glimpse of what had attracted me to him in the first place. He made out that he was a reformed character and he had always loved me. He had been married but that didn’t work out as he wasn’t able to have kids – low sperm count was the reason given. Well it couldn’t have been that low as I had you by him. Anyway, the investigator had ferreted about and told him about what had happened to me and the fact that my child had been put into care. Jeff wanted to know more about you and what the chances were of my getting you back. You were nearly 15 by then and close to the time when you could decide for yourself whether you wanted to know me or Jeff, but I felt uneasy about him and I didn’t believe the undying love nonsense. So, I just said that I wasn’t allowed to contact you.
‘Did he say that he wanted me?’ I asked.
‘Yes, he wanted a child because he told me that he couldn’t have any more and you fit the bill. Sorry, that was the impression that I got. He suggested that we marry and then as a married couple we could approach the social services and as we would have a stable home, we could then have you back.’
‘Did you agree to this?’
‘I said that I would think about it and then I told him that I had to get to work. I wanted to be out of there as soon as possible. Katie, I could see him for what he was. I might not be too bright in some things, but I could see right through him. He wanted to have a ready-made family. He wanted my house and my money and you were the connection between us that would ensure that what he wanted would come to pass. He wanted to control me as he had controlled other girls, probably including his ex-wife and I also believe that he wanted a son that he could mould into his likeness.’
‘The next morning, early, he was at my door again. He asked me if I had made a decision and I said that I didn’t think that it would work. I didn’t love him and I was sure that he didn’t love me. He pleaded with me and the pleas then turned to threats as the real Jeff came out. Once again, I shut the door in his face. He banged on the door and hurled abuses through the letter box. In the end I called the police and he was escorted from the premises, as they say. Somehow, probably through his investigator, he got my phone number and he started to ring me in the night. Then he turned up at the hospital and made a scene and I hid in the ladies toilet until he was taken away by security.
‘In the end, I got a court order to ensure that he kept away from me. I told Social Services about him, just in case he tried to get at you. Despite the court order, he started to stalk me and I became very concerned because the police wouldn’t do anything about my complaints, as it was my word against his and Jeff was very clever and never put himself in a position where he could be caught out. I changed my home and mobile numbers as I was still being called at odd times of the day and night. He used PAYG phones, so that the calls wouldn’t be traced back to him.’
‘I’m glad that he didn’t try to find me.’ I said hugging her and loving the feeling that I was at last with my mum again, despite all that had happened to both of us.
‘So am I honey. The only thing about you being in the care system was that at least you had some protection. Anyway, enough was enough and I transferred to Torbay District Hospital and found my way down here. I had known Penmarris from when I came here as a little girl. I had always thought that it was a lovely place and it still is. I told my previous employers and the estate agent not to tell anyone of my change of address and just had a PO Box in Torquay to pick up forwarded mail, although somehow, a few bits of mail did somehow find its way here. I kept to myself and changed my name, in the hope that Jeff wouldn’t find me. To protect you, just in case, I didn’t send you any cards. I wanted to make sure that he was off the scene and that you couldn’t be traced somehow through the social services as I had a feeling that he might try to contact them again and put a case that, as your father, he should look after you. I didn’t think that it would happen, but I was taking no chances.
‘No one said anything to me about my father,’ I said.
‘Good; anyway, about a week ago, Matron at work asked me to go to her office. She sat me down and told me that someone had been sniffing around and asking questions. The hospital already knew about my name change as it was only fair that they should know about the reasons why I had left Hereford and needed a change of identity.
I thanked her and then asked for a few days off as I needed to sort a few things out. I was overdue some holidays and so she said that I could take all the time I needed. I immediately went to Torquay Police Station and the desk sergeant referred me up to an inspector. I told her all that I could about what had happened and she looked up her records and she saw the details of Jeff’s court order. She didn’t look very happy as she scrolled through a number of pages and then turned to me.
‘Did you know that Jeff Walker is a convicted rapist?’ she said.
‘No, I knew at school that there had been rumours, but nothing was proved enough for a court case,’ I replied.
‘I have no record of the case that you are referring to, but he has been convicted twice for rape and once for embezzlement. In addition, West Mercia police want to question him about another rape case and violent assault.’
‘What can I do?’ I asked.
‘At the moment, not much; he needs to show himself. It seems that he wants you and your son to be part of a family with him and so he shouldn’t harm you, but we must be careful. We have to assume that he knows at least roughly where you are living. I’ll contact Penmarris Police and they will keep an eye on you. If you see Walker or he makes any contact let the constable know first or if you can’t contact him, ring here. I’ll make sure that Walker’s photo is circulated and hopefully we’ll catch him before long.’
Mum looked at me.
‘You can see what was happening there. I was being hounded, stalked, whatever you want to call it. I decided that I wouldn’t run anymore and so I stayed and waited. I was shocked to see him down at the quay yesterday evening and I ran back home and phoned the police. Last night, I locked myself in and the constable kept coming by to see if I was okay. Then, this morning you knocked on my door and asked me if I knew where Mrs Young was. My immediate thought was that somehow, he had sent you to enquire about me and I’m afraid that I was a bit short with you.’
‘It was only after you left, that I had a think. There was something nagging away at me and then I realised. I went and dug out a few photos that I had taken before you were taken from me. Looking at them, I broke down. You were so much younger and your face had changed a lot, but a mother knows her own child and I knew it was you, even though you were dressed as a girl. I broke down and cried. I had you right there and you had gone. ‘
‘I hadn’t gone Mum, I knew it was you.’
‘I didn’t know that. I wasn’t sure what to do. For a while, I wondered why you were dressing as a girl and then it all came back, how gentle you were and your obvious love of soft, pretty fabrics and your dollies and how you liked my skirts and dresses. It wasn’t just a silly childish thing; you thought that you were a girl then, even at such a young age. Looking at you, it’s as obvious as the nose on my face that you are my daughter and not my son.’
As I leaned into her and she held me tight, she finished her story.
‘Somehow, I pulled myself together. I decided to speak to the vicars’ wife. I didn’t know her but had heard that if there was anyone who had a sympathetic ear, it was her. Also, being in the centre of the local grapevine, I thought that she might have heard about you and possibly where you were staying. I tried ringing her, but she wasn’t in. Then I remembered seeing a notice about the carol service and I knew that I would catch her there.’
‘I sat near the back of the church and felt moved by the service. I had seen the choir come in, but hadn’t looked at any faces. It was only when I saw you coming out with the other choristers that I realised that it was you, my darling daughter, and my emotions got the better of me. Before I had pulled myself together, you had left the church and was half way down the hill. I went to follow you, but got the shock of my life when I saw Jeff in the churchyard. Luckily, he didn’t see me and I went out a different way and then going the long way around, I finally reached the quay. I saw the policeman and told him about my sighting Jeff and seeing you at the church and he told me to try to find you and then go to the Police House and stay there.’
‘I went up to the church after you, Mum, but you had gone, so I went back to the quay as Jo said that we would sort everything out tomorrow.’
‘We must have just missed each other then. Anyway, I looked everywhere for you, all the way making sure that I wouldn’t come across Jeff. I was out there for ages and then I decided to go and see Jocasta, just in case she knew where you were. I found her in a bit of a state as her daughters had told her that you had run off somewhere after a row in the Copper Kettle.
‘We wondered where you might have gone, and then I thought that you may have gone to The Seashells. So Jo, together with Abby, who was there at the time with her kids, had us jump into her car and we came here. We found you on the doorstep and now you are here with me safe and sound.’
‘What about my father?’
‘Jo told me that she had a message to say that he had been sighted going into the Toad and Tart and he has called for backup and is going after him. So we should be safe and soon we’ll be even safer because he’ll be in police custody...’
There was a loud knock on the door, making us both jump.
‘That’s probably that nice policeman.’
‘MUM!’
‘What darling?’
‘Don’t answer the door, look out the window first.’
‘All right, just in case, but I’m sure that it’s the police or maybe Jo or Abby.’
She went over to the window and flicked the curtain open and then nearly fell back. She turned to me, her face as white as a sheet.
‘It’s Jeff.’
Life Is Not A Bowl Of Cherries
A Penmarris Story At Christmas
By Susan Brown
Previously …
There was a loud knock on the door, making us both jump.
‘That’s probably that nice policeman.’
‘MUM!’
‘What darling?’
‘Don’t answer the door, look out the window first.’
‘All right, just in case, but I’m sure that it’s the police or maybe Jo or Abby.’
She went over to the window and flicked the curtain open and then nearly fell back. She turned to me, her face as white as a sheet.
‘It’s Jeff.’
And now the story continues…
There was another loud bang on the door, followed by a third.
‘Don’t answer.’ I said.
‘I don’t intend to; ring the number on the pad by the phone; it’s the local police; be quick.’
I went to the phone table, picked up the receiver and rang the number.
‘Hello, Penmarris police,’ said a woman’s voice. ‘Can I help?’
‘Yes, this is Katie Young up at The Seashells, Beach Road; a man is banging on our door and threatening us. The man is Jeff, my father and he’s wanted by the police; I think your lot are out looking for him and...’
‘I know all about him love. I’ll give my hubby a call, he’s the local bobby and I’ll get ‘im to come downalong and see if he can sort this out. He’s not far from you, down by the quay, I think. Just you wait there and don’t answer the door.’
‘Okay.’ I replied as she put the phone down.
‘He’s shouting now,’ said Mum, as I went over and hugged her.
‘Carol, open up. I know you’re in there and you have Ben with you. I want my son. You can’t have him. You’re not fit to look after a kid. Let me in, NOW!’
Mum looked terrified. She had experienced the violence of the man and quite honest, I didn’t think that she was in the state of mind to help. I wondered if something else had happened to make her so frightened.
‘Mum, stay here.’ I said.
‘Where are you going?’
‘’I’m going to answer the door before he knocks it down. Anyway, I want to see my father.’
‘You can’t want that, he’s an animal.’
‘I need to do this. Don’t stop me Mum.’
I didn’t give her the chance to answer, but walked purposefully out of the room. Tightening the belt of my robe, but feeling more than slightly vulnerable in a thin winceyette nightie, I took a deep breath, went to the door, picked up an umbrella from the stand and hid it behind my back as I opened the door on the chain.
I might be daft, but I wasn’t stupid enough to open the door without the chain.
‘What do you want?’ I asked.
‘Where’s Carol and who the hell are you?’
‘Carol has gone out and I’m the lodger.’
He seemed to think for a moment.
‘I’ll come in and wait.’
‘No you won't.’
‘I’m a close friend.’
‘I don't know you from Adam,’
‘Who’s this Adam bloke?’
I could hear a siren in the distance coming closer, he heard it too.
I wanted to keep him at the door for a minute to give the police a chance to arrive and hopeful arrest him.
‘Just something people say when they don't recognise someone. Who shall I say called?’
The police car was getting closer. Well I assumed it was the police, it could have been an ambulance for all I knew…
He was getting agitated. He must have been as aware of the siren as I was and I was sure that he wanted to get away. That was what I thought, but I was wrong.
He suddenly lunged at the door; breaking the chain and making me stagger back as he violently entered the cottage.
He knocked me back against the wall, and then went to go in the living room where I knew Mummy was hiding. Without thinking, I thrusted the umbrella between his legs and with an oath, he fell over, cracking his head against the parquet flooring with a sickening thud.
He lay still as Mummy came out of the sitting room with a large vase in her hand. As a weapon, it wasn't ideal, but it was better than nothing and I admired her courage.
Just then, the police car drew up outside and the policeman (call me Andy) came rushing up the path.
‘Got yer massage,’ he said as he walked through the open doorway.
I was shaking a bit from reaction and Mummy (? Where did that come from) hugged me.
‘H…have I killed him?’ I asked.
‘Nope, ‘e’s still breathin, but I’d best call for an ambulance. I’ll just put ‘in in the recovery position, just in case. Nearly nabbed him down by the quay, I did. Bloody sod – pardon my French – kicked me dog, Rufus ‘e did an then ran off. Sorry ‘bout the language ladies. I love’s me dog. Anyway, I had a feeling that the bugger– pardon my French – was gonna come this way and then Penny the wife rings me about ‘im being ‘ere, I came up as fast as I could. I’ll ring for that ambulance now.’
Looking down at my father, I felt no love for him. He was a violent man and the world would be a better place for him to be locked away somewhere, out of sight and out of mind. I wondered if Alcatraz was still open to boarders?
Was I hard? I didn't think so. As far as I was concerned he had caused my mother a lot of harm, anxiety and pain. He may have been my biological father, but that was all he was.
‘Right, the ambulance is on its way. Now ladies, I think that a cup of tea would be in order. Good for your shock that is.’
‘I’ll make it,’ said Mummy as she went off into the kitchen, leaving me with Andy.
‘So, that’s the mum you have been looking for?’
‘How do you know?’ I asked.
‘Not much gets past me. I put’s me ear to the ground and pick up a lot of information that way. Do yer like it ‘ere?’
‘Yes, it’s lovely.’
‘Most people like it. I was born and bred ‘ere. It gets under yer skin, it does.’
My phone went off and I answered it.
‘Katie is that you?’
‘Hi Jo, yes.’
‘What’s going on? I heard that Andy was up your way, flashing his blue light and I also heard that there was a rumpus and Rufus his dog got kicked.’
‘My dad tied to get at my mum...’
‘Dad?’
‘Yes, he traced mum to here and wanted to...well I don’t know what he wanted to do. Anyway, he barged his way in and got hurt. I had called the police and Andy arrived. Dad is unconscious on the floor and the ambulance is on the way, but with the snow coming down, I don’t know how long it will take them to get here...hang on, I can hear them now. Look, we’re all okay. I’ll ring you what I know more.’
‘Are you staying with your mum tonight?’
‘Hang on; Mummy; am I staying with you tonight?’
‘Mummy, I like that, yes love, of course you are going to stay with me, if you want to, of course.’
I just smiled.
‘Jo, yes, I’m staying here.’
‘If you need me, you know where I am. By the way, you and your mum are invited to Lady F’s bash tomorrow afternoon.’
‘How does she know about all this?’
‘She has spies.’
‘Oh.’
‘Anyway, I have to go, Jen and Pippa are arguing again. See you tomorrow.’
‘Bye.’
The hall was full of people now and we just stayed out of the way as my dad was carted off. Andy turned to us.
‘Right, that’s about it; I have to go with the ambulance. He won’t be any more trouble. He’s wanted for serious crimes and the evidence that we have means that he’s going to have a long jail sentence. If I had my way, he’d ‘ave a bloody good kicking– pardon my French – just like ‘e gave Rufus . Come down to the station to make statements after Christmas, no hurry.’
‘I hope that your dog is okay.’ said Mummy.
‘Rufus is as tough as old boots. I’ll give ‘im a saucer of best bitter later and ‘e’ll be as right as rain. Bye ladies.’
He shut the door behind him and we were alone again. Going back into the sitting room, we sat down together and had a bit of a cuddle, something that I had been starved of from a very young age. I lapped it up like a cat laps up milk and I was all but purring!
We spoke late into the night, telling each other of our experiences and sympathising about all that had gone wrong in our lives. Both of us had suffered but had, at last, started to come out of the other side and we had hopes that we could now move forward together into a new future.
I spent the night in the spare bedroom that would now be mine. It was a strange and novel experience for me, a sixteen year old girl with attitude, to be tucked in and given a kiss goodnight, but it was so nice and I hoped that that would happen every night, forever.
The next morning, I was gently shaken awake.
‘Katie, happy Christmas. It’s time to get up; breakfast on the table in thirty minutes.’
I stretched and smiled as I looked up.
‘Morning Mummy, happy Christmas to you; this is so unreal.’
‘Tell me about it, I keep pinching myself that I’m not in a dream.’
‘This time last year, I was in a home, eating gruel and then I drew the short straw and had to go up the front and ask for more.’
She laughed.
‘Enough of that or I’ll send you out to work for Scrooge!’
I giggled as I jumped out of bed, gave her a big hug and a sloppy kiss on the cheek before running into the bathroom before I had an accident that we would both regret.
We ate eggs and bacon for breakfast in the kitchen – this wasn’t a cereal type of day.
We talked quietly about the day and what we would do.
‘I haven’t bought you any presents,’ said Mummy sadly.
‘I have the only present I want - you.’
‘Aww, same here darling,’ she said, ‘but still, there are bargains to be had in the Boxing Day sales and I expect we could raid the shops and see what we can find.’
‘I haven’t got much money.’ I said sadly.
‘Well, let me see, you are what sixteen now and you have missed out on your pocket money for years and years, so I am sure that I can scrape up some money for you and then there is your settlement.’
‘What settlement?’
‘For the accident, the car accident that killed your grandparents. I put it in a trust for you and it’s a tidy amount now, so you won’t be short.’
‘I didn’t know anything about a payout.’
Mummy frowned.
‘I told them about it and they should have said something to you. My God what a bunch of s...’
‘Mummy, don’t swear, I’m at an impressionable age.’
‘Yea, right.’
We both giggled.
Mummy hadn’t got in anything special for lunch, so we had a sandwich, not exciting, but I was more interested in having quality time with her, rather than feeding my face. One interesting thing happened in the morning; Jo came around and dropped off my case, so at least I had some clothes to wear.
‘Don’t forget that you are both invited up to The Manor for dinner; Lady F won’t take no for an answer. Kickoff is 5pm, the snow is melting now and the roads should be okay, but if not, give me ring as there’s bound to be a 4X4 floating around giving people a lift. Anyway, I’ll love you and leave you as I must rush, lots to do; byee!’
Jo could be a force of nature sometimes and I wondered where she got all her energy from; must be something in the water or maybe the pasties!
I looked at Mummy and she looked at me. I could see that her thoughts were working overtime as to what she would wear. I knew exactly what I would have to wear, a top and skirt bought from Ross-On-Wye, hardly ideal and not exactly formal wear, but no shops would be open and Christmas Day and I knew that nothing of my mothers’ would fit.
‘Oh well,’ I thought, ‘they will have to take me as I am.’
‘I have got a nice dress, but I haven’t worn it for ages. I don’t know what we can do for you though Katie, nothing I have will fit a thin rail like you.’
‘I cannot help being twiggy-like.’ I said.
‘I’d prefer to be twiggy-like rather than the size of an elephant.’
‘Oh Mummy, you look nothing like an elephant. For one thing, your nose isn’t long enough and for another...ooomph!’
Mothers shouldn’t throw cushions at their daughters...
A little later, I received a text from Sarah; how she got my number I didn’t know, as I was sure that I hadn’t given it to her.
Love Sarah
We pondered over that and wondered why the time had been changed, but then we got into discussion about other things and the subject got shelved.
We spent the rest of the day, up until it was time to leave, talking and just getting to know each other. It was lovely to be with her and I know that she felt the same way about me. We discussed what we would do once Christmas was over. We went into detail as to how I wanted my bedroom to look and I had strong ideas about how girlie I wanted it to be. No tomboy look for me, I had missed out on being a little girl, so I was going to make up for it by at least making my room a little bit girliefied.
As I wasn’t keen on going back to any school with a rigid framework and kids who might not want to be nice to me, Mummy suggested that I look in to going to college in Paignton, which wasn’t a great distance from where she worked as a nurse in Torquay. They had a number of starter courses that were aimed at my age group 16-18. I agreed to look into it. I just hoped that my grades were good enough for what I sort of wanted to do – nursing, like my aged parent.
Time went by rather fast, as we tried to make up the years that we hadn’t been in contact with each other but, all too soon, we had to get ready to go. I sort of wished that we didn’t have to go as I selfishly wanted to have my mother all to myself, but we had time now to get to know each other more and anyway, I didn’t want to get into Lady Fairbairn’s bad books by not turning up.
Mummy let me have a shower first and then whilst she had hers, I got dressed and put on some makeup. Earlier, I had taken my things out of my case and hung them up or put them in drawers. I left out the clothes that I was going to wear for the Christmas bash. The jumper was okay, but the general consensus was that jeans wouldn’t do, so I borrowed a skirt from Mummy and it to be pinned so the thing didn’t fall down. It looked too long for a fashion conscious girl like me to wear and, dare I say it, a bit mumsy. It had to do though and I wasn’t going to say anything to her about her fashion sense.
Time was getting on and it was nearly time to go.
‘Ready love?’
I turned to Mummy and she looked beautiful. Not an elephant in sight! Her dress was a simple, elegant little black dress and it showed up how beautiful she really was. Any man with a bit of taste and sense would snap her up. Her makeup was understated but very classy looking. She made me feel a bit like something dragged off the street, but I didn’t mind because I loved her and I didn’t have much choice as to what I was looking like.
Mummy, bless her, didn’t bat an eyelid when she saw me. She knew my situation and didn’t seem all that bothered and if she wasn’t bothered then why should I be?
We put on hats, coats and scarves, as it was quite cold, even though most of the snow had melted a few hours before. I was wearing boots, the only thing that I had to wear, feet wise apart from a scruffy pair of trainers; ah well...
We got into Mummy’s car, a bright red BMW Mini of all things, and we were soon on our way.
As we went through the village, I noticed that it was a lot quieter than on Christmas Eve and only a few people were about, walking their dogs or maybe their dinners off. It was dark now and many of the homes had their Christmas lights on and it all looked very festive.
Mummy had a thing about being on time. I always thought that it was a good idea to be a few minutes late, I didn’t want us to be the first there. Mummy knew where The Manor was and to be honest it could be seen from miles away on a clear day and at night, flood lights lit the buildings and acted as a sort of beacon for the shipping out on the high seas. I wasn’t sure I believed that until I saw the floodlit manor in the distance when we reached the top of the hill. It was brilliantly lit and very visible.
We turned into the drive and made our way towards the Manor House. I drew my breath in sharply as I saw the scene before me. Trees lined the drive and many of them had coloured lights twinkling away. Through gaps in the tree, I noticed the lawns - a bit lumpy and holey in places where the local moles had done their thing - but what really caught my eye were the large lake and the tall fountain, lit from below. It shot water high into the air that changed colour every few seconds. It was so pretty; I had a lump in my throat, probably caused by my hormones – maybe not.
‘Wow, this is something,’ said Mummy, ‘she knows how to impress!’
We drove up to The Manor and stopped next to a 4X4. Not wasting much time, as it was getting rather cold, we made our way up the steps and the massive door was opened and there, in full glory, was a butler.
‘Madam, Miss, welcome, please come in. I am Jenkins.’
‘Hello Mr Jenkins,’ I said.
‘Just Jenkins Miss.’
‘Sorry.’
‘Perfectly alright Miss.’
We went in and there was a clatter of heals down the long marble staircase as Sarah came down them in a rush.
She skidded to a halt in front of us.
‘Hi, you’re Carol; I’m Sarah, Jenks, can you show Carol where the breakfast room is? Carol, you don’t mind me calling you that? I need to grab Katie for a while. Jo, Abby and Sam are in the breakfast room with Mummy and a few other olds and you can have a chat and compare your aches and pains whilst you wait for the fun to begin.’
‘Miss Sarah, I am Jenkins not Jenks; her ladyship would not approve; however, may I take your coats first ladies?’
‘Okay Jenks,’ said Sarah impatiently, ‘hurry things along; we haven’t got much time.’
We took our outer clothing off and Sarah gave a gasp at sight of me.
‘Blimey Katie; my spies were right; your clothes are okay for slumming about in, but you are hardly Cinderella in that getup. This is a party and we need to sort you out. Carol, you look great, very classy; but enough of this polite stuff, come on Katie we have to go.’
I waved at Mummy apologetically and was dragged off up stairs leaving her looking slightly bemused and shell shocked.
Sarah had that effect on people.
At the top of the stairs, we turned left down a long corridor and then she pulled me along to a room at the end.
‘Come in then.’ she said as she opened the door and I followed her in.
The room was nice, large, ornate and expensive looking and unlike any bedroom I had ever been in.
‘This is your bedroom,’ she said.
‘My bedroom?’
‘Yea, you’re both staying the night, all the guests are, its tradition.’
‘I haven’t brought anything with me.’
‘What night things, toothbrush and gunky cream to put on your face at night, stuff like that?’
‘Erm yes.’
‘No problem, everything is provided by Mrs Bridges the housekeeper. She’s sweet, you’ll like her. Her cookies are to die for. Your mum will be next door to you tonight and I’m two doors down if you want to have a midnight chat. We kids often do that when everyone comes to stay; we don't get much sleep, but sleep is for adults and is totally boring. Now let’s have a look at you.’
She gave me a critical once over and tutted several times.
‘So the rumour was true; no dress to wear?’
I shook my head.
‘How did you know...?’
She tapped the side of her nose with her finger.
‘If I told you, I would have to have you shot with Mummy’s double barrelled; only joking. Look, tell me truthful, would you prefer to dress as you are or would you like to wear a nice dress?’
‘A nice dress, but...’
‘Never mind the but stuff, you are small for your age and I am tall, that makes us roughly the same size except your breasts are slightly bigger than mine, you cow; anyway, I’m sure that I can find something that will fit you. I have heaps of dresses and, well do you want to have a look at some and chose what you would like?’
‘If it’s no trouble.’
‘Trouble is my middle name. Anyway, let’s go to mine and have a look.’
I followed the mini-tornado out of the room and into hers. The bedroom was obviously very girlie and about the same size as the one I was using. It had lots of personal touches; the bed was actually a four poster with drapes in pastel colours. The walls matched the drapes and the furniture was white with pink trimmings. It all seemed a bit young and for Sarah’s age.
‘Ignore the overboard girlie room,’ she said, almost apologetically, ‘It’s like that cos I missed out a bit when I was young; being allowed to be a little girl, I mean. I might change it soon but there again, I might not. Now let’s get some dresses for you to look at.’
She went over to a door and opened it. Inside was a large walk in wardrobe with many dresses and other clothes hung up on rails and countless drawers underneath.
‘Right, what have we here? Mmm, too long, too short, wrong colour, wrong design, ooh that one will do and this one; what about this? That might work...’
She pulled out several dresses and hung them over my arm.
‘That should give you a nice choice. Right, back to your room and we’ll sort you out. Have to be quick, cos I need to dress and make myself pretty too.’
We went back to ‘my room’ and I laid the dresses on the bed.
They all looked expensive and very pretty.
I glanced at Sarah as she sort of spread the dresses across the bed so that we could find which was the best for me.
‘Sarah, I’m sorry about what happened at the tea shop?’
She looked up and frowned.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I threw a wobbly and said some nasty things.’
‘After all you’ve gone through, it’s not surprising.’
‘Well anyway, you didn’t have to pretend that you were a boy to get me out of the toilet cubicle. That was a nice gesture, but whatever you said wouldn’t have made any difference. I wasn’t ready to listen to reason.’
‘What are talking about Katie? I didn’t lie, I was a boy – well when I say I was, I never was really, I have always been a girl, a bit like you really. I have boy bits between my legs, but when I’m older, I’m going to get my plumbing sorted.’
I sat down in a heap.
‘So you were telling the truth?’
‘Haven’t I just said that? I’m not the only one here that’s the same as us, but I won’t say who; it’s up to them to tell you. Now, enough of the soul bashing, let’s get on with the important job of making you look presentable for Mama. She “can’t stand gels who don’t dress properly; in my day, etc.”
In a dream, I went into the bathroom and tried on several dresses, Most of which were discounted by the super critical Sarah when she saw them. Eventually we settled on a pretty, just above the knee, ivory, halter neck dress in a floaty material. The label said Karen Millen and I could tell that this wasn’t bought at the local Primark, if they had one nearby, that is, which I doubted. I also tried on several pairs of shoes. Luckily, Sarah was the same size as me, so it was just a question of which pair would suit my dress. Having tried on a few high heeled pairs and feeling like I was up on stilts, I opted for a pair of strappy white court shoes with two inch heels that seemed quite comfy and stable. I felt a bit safer in them and they did go well with the dress.
The dress needed a backless bra and Sarah just happened to have a new one with matching panties in one of her many full drawers. The bra was too large in the boob department for Sarah and she just said that I could have it together with the matching panties. I swear that half of her clothes had never been worn and many still had labels attached. The bra and panties fitted me to perfection when I tried them on, especially as I did a little trick to hide my small boy bits, known technically as tucking. Sarah also helped me out with fine, flesh coloured tights from a fresh packet, my own tights being thick and not exactly very glamorous.
Sarah disappeared before I had changed, because she had to get ready herself, but said that she would come back for me before going down to the party. I think that she realised that I was a bit shy about changing in front of her. I was still reeling from the conversation I had had with her about her gender. She was so much a girl; it had never crossed my mind that she had ever been a boy, physically, that is. The fact that she was the same as me, gave me comfort that I might be accepted for what I am and not for what was between my legs. Another snippet that she had casually thrown out was that there were others like us and I wondered who she meant?
Shrugging my shoulders and glancing at the clock on the wall, I realised that my dolly daydreaming wasn’t getting things done and I would have to get a move on, if I was going to be ready in time.
Just in my bra and panties, I redid my makeup, taking time to do it as well as I could. I tried to remember the tricks that the girl in Boots had shown me when doing my makeover a few days before and luckily I remembered what I was told; only having to redo my eyes twice before I was satisfied with the effect.
After my makeup, I painted my nails a bright pink. That took some time to get right, but eventually I was wiggling my fingers and blowing on them to help the drying. I would have liked to have painted my toenails, but I wasn’t too sure about that, having never done it before. As I was wearing tights, it didn’t really matter though.
Once my nails were rock hard, I slipped on the dress, making sure not to get makeup on it; a big no-no for any girl. Finally, I brushed my hair out and loved the way it shone, although I would have to have it properly cut in a salon, as soon as I could get to one; maybe another mother daughter experience?
Looking at myself in the floor length mirror; I liked what I saw. There was no sign of Ben there, and for that I was very happy.
There was a knock on the door.
‘Come in.’
It was my mother.
She looked at me and her hand flew to her mouth and she gave a little gasp.
‘Is everything alright Mummy?’
‘You look beautiful Katie.’
‘No I don’t. I admit that I scrub up okay, but I’ll never be beautiful like you.’
She came over and hugged me and then turned me around to face the mirror. We stood side by side and I could immediately see that we were so much alike, we could be sisters. Although I had joked about her being elephantine, she wasn’t much bigger than me and had a lovely figure.
Just then there was another knock on the door and Sarah barged in without waiting for an answer. She looked very pretty in a black dress that left little to the imagination and would probably give her mother, the imperious Lady F, an attack of the vapours. It wasn’t as if it was short, it was as long as the one I was wearing, but it was strapless and backless and I assumed that it was held up by willpower.
‘Wow Sarah, does your mum know about that dress?’
‘No; do you think that she might not approve?’
‘It should carry a government health warning. She might set the dogs on you.’
‘That bad eh? Well, the only dog we have is Fifi and she’s putty in my hands. Anyway, I don’t want to wear something pink and fluffy tonight like some sort of Shirley Temple clone. I’m a young lady and need to look the part. Mummy will understand...I think. Anyway, you both look lovely and could be sisters. You don’t have any bling do you Katie?’
‘Bling?’
‘Jewellery.’
‘Oh, no, I haven’t got anything.’
‘I thought not. Put these on. It’ll make you look even nicer and have the boys swoon over you. Not that the boys around here are much to look at, except one, but that’s another story for another day.’
She handed me some small diamond drop earrings that were magnetic and they looked nice, but a bit fiddly to put on. I didn’t know how long I would be able to wear them as they pinched my ears a bit. Then she placed a small silver heart locket with a single diamond inset around my neck and fastened it. Finally, she put a silver bracelet on my wrist. Overall the look was nice and I was very pleased with the result. Mummy looked on and beamed; I think that she approved of my look.
‘There,’ said Sarah, ‘Cinderella is now ready for the ball.’
I looked at Mummy and I could see a tear in her eye. I wondered if she ever thought that something like this would happen. Not in her wildest dreams, I thought.
‘Come on you two,’ said Sarah impatiently, ‘the party has started and I think we need to join them before all the grub goes.’
We followed Sarah out of the bedroom and made our way to the top of the wide marble staircase. Milling about below were lots of people dressed in their finest. Sarah went down first and then Mummy took my arm, looked at me and said with a nervous smile, ‘show time.’
We started to walk down the stairs and as we did so, the talking stopped and everyone looked up.
I now had that deer in the headlight feeling.
Life Is Not A Bowl Of Cherries
A Penmarris Story At Christmas
By Susan Brown
Previously …
‘There,’ said Sarah, ‘Cinderella is now ready for the ball.’
I looked at Mummy and I could see a tear in her eye. I wondered if she ever thought that something like this would happen. Not in her wildest dreams, I thought.
‘Come on you two,’ said Sarah impatiently, ‘the party has started and I think we need to join them before all the grub goes.’
We followed Sarah out of the bedroom and made our way to the top of the wide marble staircase. Milling about below were lots of people dressed in their finest. Sarah went down first and then Mummy took my arm, looked at me and said with a nervous smile, ‘show time.’
We started to walk down the stairs and as we did so, the talking stopped and everyone looked up.
I now had that deer in the headlight feeling.
And now the story continues…
It was quiet for a second and then I felt my face go hot as everyone started clapping!
I gripped onto Mummy’s arm so hard, it must have hurt, but as she didn’t whimper, I carried on hanging on to her for dear life as we went down the stairs.
Why was everyone clapping and smiling at us like that?
I was so conscious of what I was wearing. It had been a marvel to me how pretty I felt wearing that lovely dress. I could feel every whisper of it as it brushed against me. I had never worn anything like it and I hoped that to would have plenty of opportunities to wear clothes like this in the future. Being a girl wasn’t all about the clothes, but it certainly does a girl good to look and feel the part.
We reached the bottom and after a few back slaps and hugs from some of my new friends and people I had never seen before, there was Jo. People started drifting away to resume whatever they were doing before we rudely interrupted them and Jo pulled us off to the side.
‘Well done for making sure that creep was caught,’ she beamed, ‘Andy, the policeman said that you were very brave and did the right thing.’
Mummy wasn’t saying anything.
‘It wasn’t much, I just happened to have an umbrella in my hand and he sort of tripped over it. Mummy would have brained him with a vase, anyway.’
Jo just smiled and then her and Mummy were distracted and started talking to the olds and I was dragged away by Sarah and taken over to a corner where The Gang was.
Everyone looked very pretty in their party dress and I was glad that I had glammed up for the occasion. I didn’t think that jeans and blouse would be very suitable at a do like this!
‘Hi Katie, nice dress,’ said Pippa.
‘It’s one of Sarah’s.’ I replied, giving them a quick twirl.
‘It looks better on you,’ said Jen.
‘Hey, that’s a slur’ said Sarah in feigned insulted mode.
We all laughed or in my case, embarrassingly giggled.
We didn’t have much more time to talk as I nearly jumped in the air when a big dinner dong, Erm, donged.
‘Dinner is served,’ said Jeeves – I mean Jenkins in his most haughtily butlerish voice.
There was a general scrum as we all made our way to the great hall where the dinner was served.
I gasped at the sight of the splendid room. It was huge, with a high ceiling, painted with classic scenes where cherubim’s and seraphim’s were flying about all over the place and making a nuisance of themselves with the various berobed figures. I wondered if they had fly spray in ancient times...
The walls were covered with paintings that were either portraits of people in old costumes or landscapes that looked original and probably very expensive to my untrained eye. There was a splendid Christmas tree in the corner that almost rivalled the one down by the quay and the various decorations around the room, all added to the festive look.
I expected one long table for some reason, but that wasn’t the case, as there were many smaller round tables, all with pristine white table cloths, bright silver cutlery and red crackers. Each table had a Christmassy centrepiece with red candles, holly and pine cones sprinkled with white and silver; It all looked wonderful.
The Gang new exactly where they were going and I went along with them.
We were over in the corner, ‘out of harm’s way,’ said Sarah mysteriously.
I looked around for Mummy and saw that she was at a table near the front with Jo, Abby, Sam and a few others I didn’t know. She saw me and waved and I finger waved back. She looked quite happy and her cheeks were a bit flushed. I wondered in passing if she’d been at the sherry.
Just then, the room became quiet and looking around I saw Lady Fairbairn walk in wearing a long silk gown that must have cost a fortune. She was so dripping with diamonds, I wondered if they were weighing her down a bit, although she seemed to cope quite well as she crossed the room and sat down at the table where Mummy was. She was smiling and saying hello to everyone at her table. She didn’t seem quite as formidable when she smiled...
Sarah sighed.
‘She does like to make an entrance,’ she remarked to no one in particular.
The food was excellent and so was the company. Nobody said anything about the incident in the Copper Kettle and for that I was grateful. I was also pleased that the subject of my father didn’t crop up. I wondered if he was now in a police cell or still at the hospital for concussion or something; but I wasn’t going to let thoughts of him spoil my evening.
As the various excellently prepared courses came and went, everyone on our table kept up a lively conversation about clothes, jewellery, makeup, boys, ponies and other riveting subjects. I wasn’t much use because many of the things they spoke about, I had no experience of. I think that I came across as a bit shy, even though they all thought that they knew me quite well from the previous times we had been together.
I didn’t think that Sarah had told the others about my gender and for that I was thankful. I would tell them in my own time and that time wasn’t in the middle of a Christmas dinner; it might have put them off their desert.
We were all feeling pretty stuffed after the final course, which, for us anyway, was in the shape of humongous knickerbocker glories.
There was a tinkle of a glass and everything went quiet.
‘Oh God, Mummy’s going to make a speech, groaned Sarah.’
‘Shhhh,’ said Amy and Bethany.
‘Don't shhhh me,’ said Sarah, crossly.
‘Sarah, be quiet.’
Lady F was looking over at our table with eyes that could drop a mole at fifty paces.
‘Sorry,’ she mouthed.
‘Thank you all fer comin’,’ said Lady Fairbairn with a smile, ‘it’s good ter see new faces as well as old. This old pile needs lots of people in it ter make it come alive and tonight, I think that we’ve achieved that. Before I say anythin’ else, let us raise a glass ter the staff, who made this possible; the staff.’
With a scraping of chairs, we all stood up and said, ‘the staff.’
After sitting down again, Lady F continued.
‘At this time of the year, we remember all those who cannot be with us, either friends or relatives who have gorn away or passed on. Christmas is a time of happiness and remembering past hopefully happy Christmases. I remember, as a child, coming downstairs with my dear sister and into this very room. The tree was in the self same place that it is at the moment. I could not have been more than eight and my sister ten. All the presents were around the tree and we spent a good hour opening them up and making a complete mess of wrapping paper, bows and ribbons on the floor around us.
‘Then our mother and father, together with Jenkins’s father, who was the butler at the time, came into the room and glared at us. I won’t go into the exact words that were said, but the gist of it was that it was very wrong to get out of bed at four in the morning, sneak down and open our presents alone. We were told that Christmas was a time of sharing and being with family, if yer were lucky enough ter have one. As it was Christmas, we were let off with scullery duty the followin’ day and muckin’ out the horses for a week, otherwise we would have more than likely been put in the stocks and pelted with rotten fruit by the local yobs.
‘Anyway, the point of me mitherin’ on is that Christmas is the time for sharing and rememberin’ family, past and present and I count on all of you as bein’ part of the extended family that is Penmarris. If there is anyone alone at this time, try to find them and spend some time with them, not only now but all year around. If anyone is having problems, try and help them. Enough of my sermonising like the vicar, I wish you all good health, Happy Christmas and a prosperous new year. Now, as usual, the tables will now be cleared while we hold the dance, the little ones will be looked after, as usual, in the green room by the parents in turn and the older children and young adults will have their dance disco thing in the barn, without, I might add, drinking anything remotely looking like alcohol. In my day...well never mind that; please enjoy yourselves. By the way if anyone sees me Dorg Fifi with a joint of meat in her mouth or anything else that is fer human consumption, yer have my permission to take it off her. She's on a strict diet after eating half a dozen doughnuts that cook negligently left on the kitchen table. I would have sacked cook, but she makes nice dumplings so I have ter make allowances. Now let's go and enjoy ourselves. Vicar, the first dance, I think.’
An army of servant type people came in and there was general mayhem as they cleared everything up so that there would be a dance floor. A band was setting up over in a spare corner and this was just the hint we needed to leave and go to the barn where us younger ones, as Lady F put it, could let our hair down and make a bit of noise.
I saw Mummy talking with Abby and Samantha and I quickly made my way over to her and explained where I was going.
‘That’s alright dear. I want to spend as much time with you as possible now we’ve found each other again, but a few more hours won’t make much difference.’
I hugged her and gave her a kiss on the cheek as Abby and Samantha looked on and beamed at us. At least it looked like Mummy had made new friends so she wouldn’t be alone, I had wanted to be with her but would just have to be patient.
A covered walkway led to the barn and I followed the others in. Thinking of a barn, I had visions of something a bit rustic, with farm animals, a crib, Virgin Mary and child...no that’s going too far, but you get the picture. The barn had been converted into a hall. I found out afterwards that it was used as a cub/scout/ brownie/girl guide hall as well as other things, when not in use. The barn was clean, fresh and quite modern looking with artfully designed use of some exposed beams.
There was a lot of noise as the disco was already up and running. We went over to the bar and ordered gin and tonics and got just tonics. Bethany had bagged a table and we all went over and sat there. I suppose that there were at least forty kids and young adults there. Some of the smaller children were either dancing or running around making a nuisance of themselves, while the older wiser ones like us were sprinkled around the room in small groups.
We tried to talk but it was very hard with the noise of the music. Eventually, we all stood up and went and had a dance. Of course, I wasn’t keen because, like on the ice rink, I had two left feet, but I soon got the hang of it. Dancing was simple really, you sort of swayed on the spot, lifted up your arms occasionally and perhaps, if you were feeling exceptionally Travolta like, you wiggled your hips and stepped to the left or the right, roughly in tune with the music.
After a while many others were joining us and the dance floor was a swathing mass of grating - I mean gyrating bodies. Eventually, I had to stop as my shoes were pinching and my arches had fallen flat or that was how they felt.
Leaving the others with a wave, I crossed the room, sat down and drank some of the tonic. It tasted bitter and foul, so I went over to the bar for a cola, complete with a slice of lemon and some ice. Then I returned to my table and sank down on a seat. Sucking through the straw, my eyes strayed over to the side where a boy was just sitting there, by himself, looking a bit bored. A few girls came over and asked if he wanted to dance but each time, he just shook his head.
He was good looking, about my age; I would say or slightly older. He had brown hair and looked quite smart in his jacket and button down shirt. He caught my eye and smiled a bit.
Hmm.
On an impulse, I got up. My feet were still hurting and I winced a bit. Without much thought, I picked up my bag and wrap and went over to his table. It was a bit quieter there and I could hear myself think. That was my excuse, anyway.
‘Can I sit down?’ I asked.
He looked at me and smiled. My tummy sort of flipped. What was that all about?
‘Okay.’
I sat down gracefully – well, that’s not strictly true, as I plopped down with a sigh, took off one of my shoes and started rubbing my stockinged foot.
‘Ooh that’s better.’ I said, ‘I’m Katie.’
‘John.’
‘Hi John.’
‘Hi Katie,’
We were both quiet after that for a while. I didn’t know what to say and he was hardly suffering from verbal diarrhoea himself.
I was trying to come to grips with the weird feelings that I was having after seeing him across a crowded room like that. This had effectively tongue- tied me and I was struggling to see sense in my feelings.
‘Are you with anyone,’ he asked suddenly, making me jump slightly.
‘Erm, only that mob of girls in the middle there, dancing around there bags. I’ve never understood that.’
‘What, the dancing around the handbag thing?’
‘Yes,’
‘I thought that all girls did that.’
‘Not this girl.’
After that we both opened up a bit, and I was soon telling him the story about what I was there, minus the fact that we had more in common down below than I liked or cared to mention.
John, it turned out, was in Penmarris visiting his Auntie Candice, the doctors’ receptionist and I told him that Bethany was a friend of mine.
‘Beth is a nice girl,’ he said, ‘I like her more now than when she was a he, if you know what I mean.’
I looked at him.
‘Bethany was a boy?’ I said.
He seemed to go a bit pale.
‘Oh God, you didn’t know. I thought that everyone knew.’
‘I told you that I’ve only been here a few days.’
He looked at me with those piercing blue eyes that did something strange to my insides.
‘Please don’t tell her that I’ve told you.’
‘I won’t. Mind you it’s surprising, I would have never thought that she was ever a boy.’
‘That’s what I think. Wow, so she’s like me?’
‘Yes...what?’
I looked at him. My mouth had done it again, not engaged fully with what little brain I had. I shut my eyes for a moment and then looked at him again. I wasn’t going to lie. I had lied a lot in my life and it had to stop somewhere. What was he going to do, scream at me?
‘I’m like Bethany, I used to be considered a boy, although I’ve known that I was a girl ever since I picked up my first dolly in play school.’
‘But...but, your pretty.’
‘What, did you think that I should look like the back of a bus?’
‘Sorry...no, that came out wrong. Well you are pretty.’
‘Thank you.’ I replied.
I couldn’t look at him, especially those damned eyes. I thought that he should at least wear dark glasses with eyes like that...they were dangerous and should be hidden from view.
‘Look, do you want to dance?’ he said.
‘No thanks, my feet hurt and anyway, you don’t want to dance with someone that is still officially a boy with all the bits and pieces that go with it, do you?’
‘I never said that. Don’t put words into my mouth. It doesn’t matter what’s between your legs; that can be sorted if you want. It’s what you are, pretty obviously a girl, that’s what matters.'
I looked at him more closely, trying to work out if he was just saying that. He had a nice face with ears, nose, eyes and mouth just where they should be.
‘What about all those girls that came over to you and you wouldn’t dance?’
‘I was just waiting for the right girl to come along.’
He smiled and I swear, he actually had dimples.
‘Oh god, what a cheesy line.’
‘I’ve been saving that one up.’
‘You shouldn’t have bothered.’
We both laughed.
We sat there for some time. My friends saw me but for some strange reason kept away. I really didn’t understand why Sarah kept giving me the thumbs up and winking at me. She must have had something in her eye.
The night wore on and John and I spoke about lots of things and I was pleased to hear that John’s family were moving down to Penmarris from Bristol. He was sympathetic about my father and all the trouble that he had caused and he agreed with me that Dad was better off behind bars rather than on the loose. We were getting quite comfortable just talking to each other and as each minute passed I felt happier and happier to be in his company. Eventually, there were a few slow dances and several ‘couples’ went out and started to dance.
‘Are you feet okay now?’ asked John.
‘Not too bad.’
‘Fancy a dance?’
‘Fancy having your feet trodden on?’
‘I’ll chance it.’
As he took my hand and led me to the dance floor, I felt a tingle. Was this love or at least attraction? As I had been taking the pills, I hadn’t felt any inclination or preference for anything, shall we say, of a sexual nature. Not that I had any experience of that sort of thing anyway, coming from the environment that I had.
So it was with strange, almost disturbing feelings that I went onto the dance floor with John and assumed the position. Dancing with someone else like that was strange to say the least. I had no idea as to what to do but luckily, John seemed to have some experience and he made sure that I put my hands in the right place as he guided me around the dance floor and made sure that we didn’t bump into other couples.
I don’t think that I trod on his toes.
The slow stuff didn’t last long, as most of the kids there were more interested in the head banging loud music. John and I tried to join in a bit, but my feet soon started to complain and holding hands, we first got a couple of drinks and then headed back to our table over in the corner away from the worst of the noise.
‘Sorry,’ I said, ‘I am a terrible dancer. Did I tread on your toes much?’
‘I can’t say, I lost the feeling in my feet after the twelfth time.’
‘Ha-ha.’
Across the table, he gently put his hand over mine.
‘You’re nice,’ he said.
‘For a boy who thinks her a girl.’ I replied defensively and maybe slightly bitterly.
‘Don’t say that. You are a girl and anyone with half a brain can see that.’
‘Do you think so?’
‘Yes, I wouldn’t say that if I didn’t mean it.’
‘I’m not pretending you know. I have always been a girl in my eyes. I was so frightened of telling anyone that I built a wall around me and pushed everyone away. Now, here in Penmarris, everything is different. I have found my mother and everyone has been so nice to me. I feel happy and safe. My dad is in custody and Mummy can live her life without worrying about him. Now there’s you; I don’t know why, but I feel that we can be friends or even a bit more, if you like. It’s all a bit too soon to be silly about it, but I would like to get to know you better, if you like...’
He looked at me with those lovely eyes.
‘I would like...’
I sighed. This was all so wonderful, I wondered if I might wake up and find that it was all a dream. We sat there for a while talking about things that I can’t even recall now, but the evening seemed to whizz by.
Things started to get a bit quieter after 10 o’clock. Some of the other younger ones went off to bed complaining bitterly to their parents that it, ‘just wasn’t fair,’ and a largish crowd, including my friends were having a noisy time of it over to the side.
I looked out of the window and saw that it was gently snowing again. I was feeling quite hot.
‘It’s very warm in here. Can we go outside for a minute?’
‘Okay,’ said John standing up.
I put on my wrap, picked up my bag and we went outside. I didn’t know if I could spend long out there, just wearing a thin dress and wrap, but a few minutes might be nice.
Outside, the snow was gently falling and it was noticeably quieter. Everywhere looked clean, fresh and above all, white.
Hand in hand, we walked along a path away from the barn towards The Manor. The lights on the trees looked wonderful, as did the fountain shooting water high up into the air. The Manor itself added to the magical effect by being floodlit. I could almost think myself as being Cinderella, as Sarah had jokingly called me, and that I was at the ball with my handsome prince beside me.
We stopped and looked at the fountain. John put his arm around me. It was wonderful; I had known John for just a short time, but I felt and believed that we were meant to be together. Love at first sight was maybe not a myth, after all.
John turned me towards him and I looked at his lovely smiling face. He tipped my chin up slightly and slowly our lips met.
His lips were soft and warm and I sighed as I melted in his arms...
‘You make a very sweet couple,’ said a voice and we stopped and looked around.
It was my father.
He had a shotgun in his hand and he was pointing it at us.
‘Funny, fancy someone leaving a shotgun lying around for anyone to pick up. My good luck, I suppose.’
‘Who are you?’ said John as he held me to him protectively.
‘Ask him,’ he said as he jerked the gun barrel in my direction.
Dad was wearing, of all things, a hospital gown and robe. He had slippers on his feet and he looked quite mad. His head was bandaged and he had this wild look about him. He should have been freezing cold, but, if anything, he looked hot and sweat glistened on his face.
‘What do you mean him?’ said John, his voice slightly quivery.
‘Didn’t you know? He’s a boy in a dress and believe it or not he’s my son. I was knocked out by him when I visited his mum. I woke up in hospital and pretended I was asleep. This policeman and a nurse were talking about you Ben. Carol had a son according to my detective, not a girl, but they were talking as if you always thought that you were a girl. That’s the trouble with places like Penmarris, everyone knows your business. The whole village knows about you Ben. I admit that you don’t look too bad as a girl, but you are coming with me and I’ll teach you how to be a man.’
‘I’m not going anywhere with you. I ran away from people like you. You aren’t my father. A real father wouldn’t act the way you do.’
‘Brave words, girlie-boy. It looks like I’m going to have to knock some sense into you.’
‘You leave her alone,’ said John.
‘Are you deaf, boy? She’s really a he. Now Ben, are you going to come quietly or am I going to have to drag you?’
‘My name is Katie and I’m not going anywhere,’ I said.
Dad looked annoyed and then smiled as he swung the gun barrel directly at John.
‘Come with me or lover boy gets it.’
‘Don’t go Katie, he won’t do anything, he’s bluffing...’
Dad smiled and then moving the gun slightly to the left, he fired it.
The noise was terrific. Birds flew up into the air and the blast dislodged some snow from the roof of The Manor, sprinkling us with even more snow.
I wondered where everyone was. Surely the noise would bring flocks of people out to see what was happening?
I couldn’t chance Dad shooting John. He looked mad enough to do it.
I shook myself away from John’s embrace and moved forward towards my so called father.
‘Katie, don’t.’
‘John, stay where you are; he won’t hurt me, I’m his daughter...’
‘Son, not daughter.’
’Whatever,’ I replied with a tired voice as I went up to him.
I wondered if it would be possible to wrest the gun away from him, but I couldn’t take the chance. He motioned for me to move off in front of him and I did as I was told. I wondered if I would ever see my mother, friends or John again.
‘Stay away boy; if you follow us, you’ll regret it for the rest of your short life.’
‘Do as he says John,’ I said over my shoulder, ‘I’ll be alright.’
He prodded me in the back with the gun and I walked on ahead of him. The path was nearly hidden by the snow. I started to shiver. I was not dressed for this sort of thing. Dad kept mumbling to himself and I wondered if he was feeling the effects of his injury. I hoped so. I would just have liked him to keel over and then I could get away from him.
I didn’t think that he had any sort of plan and thought that he just wanted to get me away and worry about the details later. I had an idea. By now, the snow was coming down a bit heavier and the path had more or less disappeared. We appeared to be on the lawn and my heels were digging in a bit as we walked. Occasionally my foot hit a soft mound and I stumbled slightly. Looking over my shoulder, I saw that my dad was just looking at me and not paying much attention to where we were going. A long way behind, I could see a lot of figures in the distance and I knew that they were aware of what was going on and maybe trying to track us without spooking my mad dad with the gun.
‘I’m cold,’ I said.
‘Never mind that; keep walking.’
‘Mummy wouldn’t like you to do this,’
‘Mummy, is it? Well I’m your Daddy and you’ll damned well do as you’re told so keep walking.’
‘A real Daddy wouldn’t put his daughter in danger.’
‘Stop saying that you are my daughter, you are my son Ben and don’t forget it.’
I wasn’t too upset at what he was saying. I was just trying to distract him. To me, he wasn’t my father, he was just a producer of a sperm that got lucky and helped an egg that needed fertilising.
‘Where are we going?’ I asked, my breath condensing in the frigid air as I spoke.
‘My car is out on the lane. I collected it after leaving the hospital, I had a spare key hidden under the bumper.’
‘What happened to the policeman at the hospital?’
‘He accidental got hit on the head with a bedpan when he wasn’t looking. Pity it wasn’t full at the time.’
He laughed as if he had made a great joke. I wasn’t laughing.
‘Dad, I’m really cold. Can we go back? I’m sure that if you did they would...’
I dodged to the left and ran, being very careful where I put my feet. It caught him by surprise and he came after me, as I knew he would. I was also pretty sure that he wouldn’t shoot his only child, correction; I hoped that he wouldn’t shoot me.
‘Stop, you little sod, I’ll shoot you...FUCK!’
I went down on the ground and lay flat as the gun went off again. Looking up, I could see him writhing on the ground, the double-barrelled shotgun about a metre away from him, just out of reach.
He had fallen over some soft soil hidden by the snow, and his foot had sunk into a hole, no doubt excavated by a mole or rabbit, one of many such places littered about all over Lady F’s lawn. I had noticed this little fact when we had arrived earlier.
I love it when a plan comes together.
In seconds, I was surrounded by people together with several policemen and women. John was there too and he took his jacket off and put it around my shoulders; even though it must have made him cold. I appreciated the gesture and kissed him on the lips.
‘Yuck,’ said Phillipa.
‘Sheesh Katie, put the poor boy down.’ said Sarah.
‘Darling, are you alright,’ said Mummy as she came up and hugged me tightly. She had been crying and she needed some urgent makeup repairs and so did I and I wasn’t pleased that my dress looked like it had been dragged through a hedge backwards either.
Dad was surrounded by the police and it looked like he may have broken his foot or leg. I wouldn’t weep for him.
I was led away and then before I knew it, I was in a room that was full of books; a library or study maybe. I was sat by a log fire with a lovely warm blanket around me and a mug of cocoa in my hands.
Mummy was there with me and so was John, who wouldn’t leave my side. My dad had been taken away in an ambulance with a suspected compound fracture in the leg. He wasn’t going to be running anywhere for a while – shame...
Andy, the policeman was okay; he had concussion and would be staying in the hospital for the night.
Doctor Marcia had given me the once over and declared me fit. She did add that I was suffering from slight shock; not surprising, after all that had happened. She prescribed tender loving care and I was getting that in spades from my mother and boyfriend. The Gang had wanted to come and see me but were told to at least wait until the next day – Boxing Day. Sarah could be heard complaining bitterly about that, but her mother told her to shut up or she would have to go and feed the pigs at six in the morning. She became strangely quiet after that...
Somehow, I must have fallen asleep and I woke up in bed. It was the middle of the night. Someone had changed me and I was wearing a cotton nightie with long sleeves. To the side, a fire crackled and gave the room a warm glow.
‘You’re awake then, young Katie?’
I jumped slightly as I turned and there was Lady Fairbairn in dressing gown and slippers sitting over to the side. She had half moon glasses on and a book in her hand.
‘H...hello.’
‘Hello to you too. How are yer feelin’?’
‘Better thanks, a bit tired but not too bad.’
‘Good.’
‘Where’s Mummy?’
‘Gorn ter bed. I told her te get some shut-eye. She didn’t want to leave ye, but I insisted and said that I would be with yer tonight. Don’t need much sleep at my age. get enough of that when I pop me clogs and join me husband Tremain in the great fox hunt in the sky; if they let ye have that up there. Probably not, it a bit barbaric I suppose. But here’s me witterin on. Yer need ter sleep. Are ye paining anywhere?’
‘No.’
‘Good; I can’t abide people who whinge. Broke me arm once when me horse fell on me goin over a fence. Didn't make a fuss just got back on the thing and went back ter the stables. Even rubbed her down afterwards before goin ter the hospital.’
I yawned.
‘Sorry,’ I said.
‘Don’t mention it. I do go on sometimes. I’m ashamed ter say that that gun yer father had was mine. I left where I shouldn’t and if anything had happened, I would never forgive meself. I’ve told Jenkins to get rid of it. Anyway, enough of that and changin’ the subject; I know about your problem, not that it is a real problem around here. You are a lovely girl and don't let anyone say otherwise. Me daughter Sarah likes you and although she's a blithering idiot, she has good sense when it comes to friends. If you or yer mother have any problems, come and see me. Sarah's friends have the run of the place and that includes you. I meant it when I said that people who live in Penmarris are part of an extended family and you are one of us now and part of our family. Now go to sleep; I’m at an interestin’ part of me book and I can’t wait ter get back ter it.’
I smiled at her kindly face and turned over. Why did I ever think that she was a fierce old biddy? She was sweet and nice and I like her, a lot.
In seconds, I was asleep.
’10,9,8,7,6,5,4,3,2,1 – Happy New Year!’
We all cheered as we watched the spectacular fireworks down by the quay.
I was with John and he held my hand and kissed me at the right moment. Then I hugged and kissed Mummy, followed by all my friends, as we spontaneously went into a group hug and screamed a bit, as girls sometimes do.
After a minute or so, we all calmed down and watched the fireworks shoot up into the sky. Hand in hand with John on one side and Mummy on the other, my mind went back to the previous momentous week.
My father had been transferred to prison and was in the hospital wing, with his foot and leg in plaster. He had been charged with a number of offences including rape, assault and attempted abduction. The word was that he would plead guilty in the hope that he might get a reduced sentence. At least Mummy and I wouldn’t have to appear at court and for that, I was truly thankful.
I had officially moved in with Mummy and we had already looked online regarding the possibility of my doing a foundation course that might lead to a career in nursing. Mummy had been on duty most of the week at the hospital and so we hadn’t had much time together, but she now had a week off and we would be having some quality mother-daughter time over the next several days.
Things have gone from strength to strength with John and everyone says that we are joined at the hip most of the time. That didn’t mean that I had forgotten my other friends and let’s face it; boys don’t like to go shopping, so I did go off without him occasionally. We girls went by bus to the shopping centre in Plymouth no less than three times, as once just wasn’t enough. I won’t say how much money I spent; as Mummy might read this one day and I don’t want to give her a heart attack!
I went with Mummy to see Doctor Marcia a few days ago as the results from my blood tests were in. It turns out that I have a condition called Reifenstein Syndrome a form of Androgen insensitivity. I thought that Reifenstein Syndrome sounded like I had been bitten my Count Dracula or something but I was told that I was effectively insensitive to androgens and that was one of the reasons why I looked so girlie. I was to have some further tests done in the new year to confirm things but I decided that I wouldn’t worry about that until I had to.
I have been up to The Manor a few times and I now know that Auntie Dotty, or Lady Fairbairn to you, is a bit of a sweetie under that tough exterior. Samantha and Abby are going to be married sometime in the new year and, hot off the press, I am going to be a bridesmaid! How cool is that? Samantha has to have an operation for something first; plumbing problems or suchlike but she said, as soon as she could walk without bandy legs, Abby and her are going to tie the knot. They are so popular, the vicar David is worried that his little church might not be big enough to hold all the guests and the steel band that Abby and Sam asked for. I don't think that Auntie Dotty is all that keen on the steel band idea, but, for once, she is being overruled.
Everyone went ‘ooh,’ and ‘aah,’ as colourful fireworks lit up the sky, making it almost like daylight. Thinking about just a few weeks ago, I was in a children home, on the point of being ejected. I had no friends and I thought, no one to love me. Now I had found my mother, who never stopped loving me, a boyfriend who thought the world of me, and a whole village full of people who accepted me for who I was.
A very happy girl.
Please leave comments and kudo thingies...thanks! ~Sue