Lee and Leanne were twins, but as a young baby, Leanne dies, leaving her twin with the firm belief that part of her remained with him for always.

As Lee grew in an unhappy home, struggling with a gender identity problem, events occurred that enabled Leanne to come alive again, in more ways than one.

Leanne got a job in a classy cocktail bar, called Badger's, that turned away hundreds for every one that was accepted.

She was a unique girl...

in more ways than one!

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Tanya has a new website where she will display her latest works first and then to BigCloset TopShelf a few weeks later is here at Tanya Allan's Tales .
Tanya's Book Shop where she is selling her works in book form is at http://tanyaallan.authorshaunt.com/shop.php . Please Visit!

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The Legal Stuff: Badger's Set  © 2009,2010 Tanya Allan
 
This work is the property of the author, and the author retains full copyright, in relation to printed material, whether on paper or electronically. Any adaptation of the whole or part of the material for broadcast by radio, TV, or for stage plays or film, is the right of the author unless negotiated through legal contract. Permission is granted for it to be copied and read by individuals, and for no other purpose. Any commercial use by anyone other than the author is strictly prohibited, and may only be posted to free sites with the express permission of the author.
 
This work is fictitious, and any similarities to any persons, alive or dead, are purely coincidental. Mention is made of persons in public life only for the purposes of realism, and for that reason alone. Certain licence is taken in respect of medical procedures, terms and conditions, and the author does not claim to be the fount of all knowledge.
 
The author accepts the right of the individual to hold his/her (or whatever) own political, religious and social views, and there is no intention to deliberately offend anyone. If you wish to take offence, that is your problem.
 
This is only a story, and it contains adult material, which includes sex and intimate descriptive details pertaining to genitalia. If this is likely to offend, then don’t read it.
 
Please enjoy.
Tanya
 
 

 
 
 
Chapter 1
 
 
“You little shit! I’ve had enough of you. Fuck off and go get a life of your own! I’m not paying another penny for you, so it’s time you forgot stupid notions like university, and got yourself a proper job!”

I ducked as Frank swung his fist vaguely in my direction, running upstairs as fast as I could. I wasn’t that bothered about him hitting me, for even when he was sober, I was still much faster than he was.

He stood at the bottom of the stairs and continued to shout abuse. My mother made a half-hearted attempt to quieten him down, but she knew that if she incurred his wrath, she would be the next to attract his anger.

Actually, Frank, my stepfather, was a reasonable man, except when he was drunk. Unfortunately, the latter condition was more prevalent in recent weeks, as the General Motors Plant in Luton had recently laid him off.

My mother had three of their kids to look after, all under ten. Mark was nine, Lucy was seven, and Hannah was only three. I was eighteen, and although I had got on fine with my stepfather up until I was about fourteen, there had been a gradual worsening of relations to undisguised hatred now, dependant upon his alcohol content, otherwise we simply tolerated each other at the maximum possible distance. We rarely came into contact with each other, as I tended to stay away for most of the day, returning in the late evening, by which time he was normally in a drink-fuelled sleep.

He resented me for many reasons, but primarily my academic achievements and my youth. He had been stuck in a dead-end job since he was sixteen, so had never lived anywhere other than Luton, in Bedfordshire.

Mum’s family came from rural Bedfordshire, so after Dad died in South America, what was left of our family returned to the UK and moved back in with her parents.

This time, however, was different. As I packed my case, with heart pounding and adrenaline coursing round my body, I wept for the father who was denied me.
 
 
Dad had been an engineer, having been involved in the construction of the oil pipelines in Columbia for the oil companies, mainly BP. He was posted there for a three-year contract, so Mum had joined him. They had a very nice apartment in Cartegena, in a secure enclave of European and US oil families. There, in a very modern American Hospital, she had given birth to twins, Lee Richard Roberts (me), and my sister - Leanne Rachel Roberts.

My parents had been pleased as punch at our arrival in 1980, and my father registered our births with the British Consulate. Their joy turned to grief when Leanne died of an unknown virus when she was only a few weeks old.

They call it cot death, but I know my mother still resented me for surviving over my sister, even up to this day. To make matters worse, Dad died when guerrillas/drug cartel attacked the pipeline out in the bush. The Columbian soldiers, who should have been guarding the workers, returned fire, but too late to save Dad. A bomb, meant for the pipeline, exploded and killed him instantly. Mum flew us all straight home and went to live with her parents. I don’t remember any of this as I was only a few months old, but I realise now that Mum must have been suffering from terrible postnatal depression, aggravated by the deaths of her daughter and husband.

I was ten or eleven when I found our birth certificates in a box in the attic at my grandparents’ house. Mum had just put everything she had brought back into the attic, and just left them there.

I was sixteen when the letter arrived from the Nation Insurance office, or rather, two letters, one addressed to me and one to Miss Leanne Roberts. They contained our National Insurance Cards. It was then I realised that Mum had never registered Leanne’s death!

I don’t know why, but I was pleased she had never been registered as dead. It is strange, but all through my childhood, which was not really that unhappy, I sensed that my twin was still alive in me, somehow.

Do you know when you sometimes talk to yourself, perhaps solving a problem of working through a difficult decision?

Occasionally, it was if there was another persona inside me, as my conversations took on a surreal quality, and I honestly didn’t know what the other part of me was going to say. I never realised that other people didn’t experience this, but by the time I was about thirteen, it became apparent that I was perhaps unique. I decided to say nothing, as I found from bitter experience that kids do tend to isolate anyone who is the slightest bit ‘different’ and treat them like shit.

Mum had met Frank, my stepfather, at a local function, finding him down to earth and very stable. He was a foreman on the General Motors (Vauxhall/Bedford) assembly line, had his own home, and was steady as a rock. He was exactly what Mum needed, so for a while we were very happy. I was eight, but didn’t want to leave my grandparents.

Dad’s insurance meant that we were reasonably well off, but as Frank and Mum had children, the money began to become very tight. We had a nice four bedroom house in a quiet neighbourhood on the northern outskirts of the town. The airport approach was on the other side of town, so this area was reasonably quiet. I spent a lot of my time with my grandparents, with whom I had a better relationship than my mother.

I loathed Luton and my school. I suppose the teasing started at about the same time. Not being particularly large, and therefore not a physical threat, some of the bigger boys would pick on me and call me names. I tried fighting back, as my stepfather told me that that would make me a man.

“Bullies give up if you fight back,” he had told me.

No they don’t!

They just get even more determined at their task in hand.

It didn’t help that my best friend was a girl.
 
 
Jessica Matthews was my age and she lived about six doors away. She was a pretty dark haired girl, with enormous brown eyes. We sat next to each other in primary school and, for some inexplicable reason, we sort of naturally drifted towards each other. We were both only children ( I didn’t count my half-siblings), so actually got along very well.

As nine year olds, we would spend our time in one or other’s room, playing with whatever was at hand. My stepfather was very much a man’s man. He would take me to see football matches, motor racing, and even built me a go-cart with an old lawn-mower engine. I enjoyed these activities, but actually preferred the time I spent with Jessica.

I didn’t have to be someone I wasn’t. It was hard as a nine year old to explain. By the time I was thirteen, I knew exactly why I felt as I did. We had both progressed to the large High School in Luton. I had few friends apart from her.

The crunch came when Jessica made up may face.

We were at the age where the difference between boys and girls were beginning to be much more marked. Her body started to sprout in all the right places, while all I sprouted were spots.

We were in her room after school, having done our homework, and we were just chatting.

“I went shopping with Mummy last Saturday,” she told me.

“Oh yes?”

“I’ve got tons of new stuff. Makeup and clothes.”

“Oh, so?”

“Do you want to see some?”

“Okay, I suppose.”

The conflicts deep within my soul had started when I was about nine. I thought I was going mad at first. I mean, I was a boy, yet something deep inside me was telling me that I was also a girl. How could that be?

I couldn’t tell anyone, so I just denied it happened.

The feelings just got stronger, and I even tried on some of my mother’s underwear.

The first time I ejaculated came as a huge shock and surprise. I was wearing a bra and panties, and I just came inside the panties. I didn’t even have an erection.

Full of shame and horror at the pleasant feeling I experienced, I washed the panties, drying them before she found out. I would occasionally sneak some from the dirty clothes’ basket, to sleep whilst wearing them.
 
 
Sorry, I digress, back to the story.

Jessica showed me some very pretty dresses and then got out her new makeup case.

She showed me all the brushes and small palette almost like an artist’s palette.

She then suggested she make up my face.

The conflict hit me really hard. The boy in me fought it and the girl welcomed it with excitement causing a fluttering sensation deep in my belly.

The girl won!
 
 
Twenty minutes later, Jessica showed me my face in the mirror.

I was transformed into someone I knew was the real me.

I can’t explain it, but as I stared at the girl in the mirror, tears started to roll from my beautifully made up eyes.

I was unable to stop them, but then the sobs hit me and wracked my body.

Jessica didn’t understand, looking worried for a while. I hugged her and cried for ages. Then I explained the turmoil that was deep within me.

“You’ve always wanted to be a girl?” she asked, astounded.

I nodded, my head downcast in shame and shock, I never meant to share this with anyone.

“Oh you poor love!” she said, giving me an enormous hug.
 
 
That was it. All the emotions just poured out. I wept for ten minutes.

She was wonderful and, looking back, I owe that girl my life. For at last, here was someone with whom I could share and thereby release some of the heavy burden I found myself weighed down with.

Needless to say, after she repaired the rear ruined make up, it was a short step to dress me completely as a girl. Using rolled up socks as a bust, I was dressed head to toe in her clothes. I was wearing a pale pink top, a short pale blue skirt, tights and high heel shoes. As I stared at my reflection, the smile I on my face said it all.

My hair was too short, but Jessica managed to tease it into a semblance of a feminine style. I spent two hours like this, and had to escape to the bathroom when the sexual pressure built up. Still, I had yet to experience a full erection.

Reluctantly, I became Lee again, but would often visit Jess and became Leanne.

As relations with Frank, my stepfather, worsened, I spent more and more time with Jessica. It was to her I came when I discovered Leanne’s birth certificate, and again when the National Insurance cards arrived.

She had been the one to decide that I keep Leanne’s identity. I had thought about it, but been afraid of the consequences.

“Don’t be silly. No one will ever know. You can use the birth certificate to get your drivers licence and passport. You never know, it may come in very useful being two people.”

“I’m not sure. It must be illegal or something. Do you reckon I’ll ever need them both?”

“I’ve been reading all about people like you,” she said.

“Oh?”

“You’re a transsexual. It means you were born with the wrong body.”

I already knew that. I had read up on these things too. In an attempt to understand why I was the way I was, I read up an awful lot of things.

She grinned.

“It means you will have to have a sex change to become female. But first you need loads of female hormones to change you from being a boy.”

“Like that’s going to happen!”

She smiled and held my hand. At sixteen, she was very pretty, and she knew it!

It was strange, we were still best friends, yet everyone thought we were dating. She summed up our relationship once.

“You’re the sister I never had!” she said, and that pleased me more than anyone could tell.

“You’d make a pretty girl,” she told me.
 
 
I had started to let my hair grow, ever since that first time dressing in her clothes. Unfortunately, by the time we were sixteen, I had grown a lot taller than Jessica. She was still five three, yet I was five seven. One of the best days of my life was when we went out shopping as ‘girls’ together.

As I couldn’t get into her clothes any more, she decided that I needed a new set of my own clothes. Her parents were out and I rarely went home these days. I wasn’t missed, so I virtually lived with Jessica and her parents.

So, dressed in a pair of jeans, trainers, a tee shirt and a bra stuffed with socks, she supervised my make up and helped me varnish my nails. We set off on the bus for the shopping centre.

She started calling me Leanne that day, and it stuck. An indescribable feeling of rightness welled over me whenever that name was directed towards me. I knew that part of me really was Leanne. I wanted all of me to be that person!

I was terribly self-conscious for the first hour, despite Jessica telling me that I looked fine, and no one would ever guess I wasn’t a girl.

We stopped for a bite to eat and a drink at a small café, and I settled down. One of the boys from school came over and sat at the table. His name was Mark, and he was a couple of years above us.

“Hi, you’re Jessica?” he said.

“Hi, and you’re Mark. You’re in the sixth form, aren’t you?” she said. I was closely inspecting my burger.

He turned and looked at me.

“Hi, I don’t know you, do I?” he said.

“This is my friend, Leanne. She’s from the other side of London, and is spending the day with me,” Jessica said.

I smiled and took a bite, thereby obviating the need to speak.

He grinned at me.

“Hi, Leanne. Shame you aren’t staying longer,” he said.

I went bright red, feeling incredibly pleased for some strange reason.

He stayed and chatted, oblivious to my deception. I even spoke to him and managed to laugh. It came out as a very nervous giggle, but I found myself relaxing as the time passed.

Mark left us and we went shopping.

We shopped for clothes, makeup and shoes. I had my ears pierced, as, fortunately, it was fashionable for boys to have studs as well in 1996. I felt extraordinarily free, for the first time in my life.

Jessica kept my clothes at her house, as I would spend as much time at her place as I could and, whenever I got the opportunity, Leanne would return.

“It’s so amazing the difference!” Jessica said.

“What difference?”

“The difference between Lee and Leanne. Leanne is so bubbly and happy, yet Lee is a miserable git!” she said laughing at me.

I smiled, a little sadly. She had hit the nail right on the head. She described me completely. I was happy only when as Leanne. No one ever guessed that the sad boy called Lee was the same as Leanne. We were careful not to go to places where we could anticipate people we knew would be.
 
 
When I had registered for GCSEs, I had simply written L.R. Roberts, and put my date of birth. So, when the results came out, they were in the name, L.R. Roberts, and as my initials were the same as Leanne’s, a plan started to formulate.

I had to register for sixth form, and as my grades at GCSE were good, I registered again as L.R. Roberts.

The school was a big one, so the staff members were not perhaps as vigilant as they could have been. It meant that my identity was sufficiently vague as to be interchangeable.

Relations with Frank deteriorated to such a level that my living at home became almost unbearable.

He kept telling me that as he had been in gainful employment at sixteen, I should shoulder responsibility and leave school and get a job. My mother, now looking after three children, was in no position to support me. There was no funding available for me to go to university, so I knew that I would have to get a job for a year before I could even think about university.

I don’t know when I decided I wanted to be a teacher, but I just did. I could never have faced being a secondary teacher, but the younger ones at primary level, were fine.

I struggled through two years of hell. Hell because I was male. Hell because my home life was exactly that, and hell because I rarely had any opportunity to be the person I knew I was.

Then came another crashing blow - Jessica found a real boyfriend, Simon Haddow. She was a normal girl and had normal feelings. We were still best friends, but she had less time for me.

As a result, I became introspective and very much a loner.

I found Internet sites that catered for people like me, whilst working part time at a local pub washing up and helping in the kitchen.

All my money went on clothes for Leanne and other items from certain websites. I had realistic silicone breast forms, hip hugging shape makers, and all manner of cross-dressing aids. I managed to acquire non-prescription hormones, to arrest any further masculine development. It was insufficient to instigate any profound visible changes, but it meant I had no facial hair, so kept a slim and androgynous figure. Who knows what it was doing to my insides?
 
 
Chapter 2
 
 
The event that triggered my ejection from the family home was the arrival of my A level results in August 1998.

Two As and a B, in English, History and Maths. I was delighted, but I made the mistake in telling my drunken stepfather that this was enough to get me into teacher training college.

I arrived on my grandparents’ doorstep about half an hour later. They took me in and tut-tutted over the dreadful second marriage their daughter had made.

I was now without a home, with no job, no money and little hope of ever getting to university. I could get a loan, but I still had to live.

There was one brief respite. A group in my year, with whom I was reasonably friendly, decided to go to a nightclub called Badgers to celebrate our success in A levels. I was asked, even though it was hardly my scene. Jessica thought it would be fun, so I agreed to go too.

Badgers was in Potters Bar, in Hertfordshire, and was run by a man called Mike. He had black hair with s white streak down one side. He had been a policeman in London, and taken a machete to the side of his head. He had lived, obviously, but the nerve endings on his scalp caused this freak streak of hair. His colleagues called him ‘Badger’, so when he retired, he set up the nightclub, so the name was a natural.

The atmosphere was wonderful. I was mesmerised by the bar staff. They were all girls, wearing very short skirts and tight tee shirts that left little to the imagination. They had a routine going with the drinks that could have come from the movies. They would twirl bottles around, throwing them to each other as they mixed the most amazing cocktails.

We had a crazy night, and it was a lot of fun. I danced with all the girls, and even some of the guys, as the booze got the better of us. My longing was to be able to attend as Leanne, and I know Jessica saw that.

The girls behind the bar were a cabaret in their own right, so they did very well from tips. In a quiet moment, I asked one pretty girl how much they earned.

“Ten pounds an hour plus tips. I make around a hundred to one twenty quid a night, so I can afford my uni fees,” she said.

The local pubs paid about four fifty or five pounds an hour, so tips were unlikely.

I felt very envious of this attractive girl.

I returned home to a very quiet house and slipped to bed. I lay awake for a while, trying to imagine me working behind the bar at Badgers. Ah, well, one can but dream!

I loved my grandparents. Michael, my granddad was a lovely man, even though he kept hinting I ought to have my hair cut. Noreen was simply special, having been a surrogate mother to me over much of my life. Neither was in the best of health, so I knew I couldn’t stay with them for long.

My mother would call round, just to see if I was all right. Then she dropped a bombshell.

“Frank has managed to get a job in New Zealand. We have sold up and we are leaving in a week’s time,” she told me.

“Shit, this is a bit sudden.”

“Not really, it is something that we have planned for a long while. I hate Luton, and well, I want the kids to have a better chance.”

“Better than me, you mean?”

“Don’t be like that, we did our best.”

“Yeah, right!”

Then, they were gone.
 
 
I didn’t miss them at all. That made me very sad. Apparently, Mum had been persuaded by my grandparents to leave me behind, and to be honest, I was pleased.

I dropped round to see Jessica. She was delighted with her results too, as she wanted to study dramatic arts at drama college. She was still seeing Simon, who on a couple of occasions had told me that he wasn’t happy with my relationship with ‘his’ girlfriend.

“What will you do?” she asked.

I shrugged. I really didn’t know.

“I’m going to Australia for six months, my uncle lives out there. He has his own business in Sydney and I am going to work for him. Then I shall come back through America. We’ve got some cousins in California, and then I can try to work as I go across country. My Dad is willing to pay my first year, as long as I make enough to start off.”

I felt incredibly jealous. I couldn’t afford a train ticket to Scotland, let alone a plane ticket to Australia.

She sensed my feeling.

“Why don’t you get a job, then come and meet me in America. We could travel and work together. It’d be fun.”

“What about Simon?”

She laughed.

“Simon starts at Birmingham University in September. What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.”

“I don’t know. I’ll have to get a job just to get enough money for the fare to the States, let alone for my first year at uni!”

We agreed to keep in touch. I took all Leanne’s clothes and makeup away with me. I would miss Jessica dreadfully. In the event, Simon saw her off at Heathrow with her parents. I wasn’t even allowed to do that. I was very depressed.

The pub job paid  £4 an hour. I gave  £25 a week to my grandmother, so I wasn’t left an awful lot to save.
 
 
One evening, I had just got back from the pub. I was very tired, and my grandparents were already in bed. I lay on my bed and just tried to focus my life on something.

I was being paid a pitiful amount, so even if I worked every day from now through to the following September, I should barely have enough to live on for the first year. I would have to keep working just to live.

I would have to get a new job that paid more, as I dearly wanted to be able to go to America to join Jessica.

Tired as I was, sleep was just not coming, so I dug around for some videos to watch.

I watched a video of the movie Cocktail, staring Tom Cruise. Now that appealed to me. I fancied the showmanship of these cocktail barmen. They reminded me of the girls at Badgers. Then I watched Coyote Ugly, and felt that yearning to be Leanne again. I dressed and lay watching the movie as a girl. I eventually slept, dressed as a girl, with tears in my eyes.

Every spare moment I’d practice moves from the movie. I was surprised the tape didn’t wear out with all the replaying I put it through. With my duvet on the floor, I still managed to break scores of empty bottles. Eventually, I thought I was doing okay. I began using bottles with some water in them, to get the balance right. My breakages became less and less, so I varied the level of contents until I had a routine just right.

There wasn’t any opportunity to show off my skills in the Duke of York. It was a bog standard pie and a pint pub, and pint tankards are not conducive to spectacular juggling.

The pub was closing down for refurbishment and I was ‘let go’. I was now about as low as I had ever been. For the first time, taking my own life entered my head. It didn’t stay long, as I was reluctant to allow anyone the satisfaction of gloating over my death. The fact that only my grandparents would be upset, and perhaps Jessica, made me sad, but made me determined to do something with my life.
 
 
When one is at the bottom of the shit heap, the only way out is up. I had nothing to lose anymore, so when the mail arrived the following morning, I made some bold decisions.

I received notification, addressed to L.R. Roberts, to attend an interview at De Montfort University, Teacher Training College, in Bedford.

I suddenly had an idea, so, having nothing to lose, decided to attend as Leanne. I wasn’t making a go as Lee, so as I had all the documents, I thought I could make it work.

I was shaking like a leaf as I left my grandparents’ home with a small case. I had used the adhesive to stick the breast forms onto my chest, and was already wearing girl’s underwear, including the shape forming pants.

I went to the bus station and popped into the ladies loo, which was empty at the time. I slipped into a cubicle and took off my shapeless trousers and baggy top. I then changed into a skirt and blouse. I put my chunky boots into the case with the rest of the Lee stuff, slipping on a pair of high heel shoes.

I left the cubicle and did my makeup in the mirror. I brushed out my hair and replaced my plain ear studs with large hoops. I smiled as the reflection showed me as I saw myself. Several women entered and cast me casual glances. I received no shocking stares or any signs that I was anything other than what I appeared.

I took the case to the left luggage office and left it there. I then caught the bus to Bedford, keeping only my shoulder bag and a small document case. I had the birth certificate and National Insurance cards in the name of Leanne Roberts, together with all my exam certificates in the name of L.R. Roberts.

I took the opportunity to varnish my nails on the journey. The bus filled up, and after one stop, a large guy sat in the seat next to me. He was wearing jeans and a tee shirt. His hair was quite short and he had a nice smile.

“Hi, going to Bedford?” he said, once the bus started off again.

“Yup. Interview at uni.”

“Me too. Not De Montfort?”

I smiled.

“Yes, as it happens.”

“I’m Adam. I hope to be a PE teacher.”

“Leanne Roberts, possible Primary School teacher.”

He held out his hand.

I waved my wet nails and he grinned.

“Nice to meet you, Leanne. On your own?”

“Oh yes. There’s just me,” I said, a little wistfully.

“My folks are in Australia. I wanted to stay out there, but they thought that I should at least get my qualifications over here. I’m supposed to be living with my Aunt in Borehamwood, but spend most of my time with my mate Josh.”

“My dad is dead, so I moved out. I don’t get on with my stepfather, besides they’ve buggered off to a new life in New Zealand. I got left behind as I’m eighteen.”

“Tough break, so we’re two abandoned waifs,” he said with a grin.

I shrugged.

“Yeah, but I am doing what I want to do.”
 
 
We chatted away for the rest of the journey and I felt really great. I hated deceiving him, but thought that I was actually being true to me. He gave me no indication that he thought I was anything other than a girl. We arrived and made our way to the University. It was rather a scruffy campus; with lots of 1960s concrete and rather drab, more recent buildings.

We all went to our respective subject rooms, to speak to the heads of department. I noticed that there were a lot more girls than boys in the Primary Education B.Ed course. Of the one hundred and fifty, only sixteen were male.

We all met up in the main dining area, where I noticed that most of the others all had their mothers and fathers with them. One guy was alone and was sitting at a table by himself. It was Adam.

I sat next to him.

He grinned at me.

“Hi stranger,” he said, and I felt warmed by his smile.

“Hi.”

“Are you in halls, or what?”

I shrugged.

“I don’t really know. I don’t know whether I’ve been accepted yet. They accepted me in principal, but as you know, this interview is the clincher. Why, are you in halls?”

“Nah. Halls are rough here. It’s a really naff tower block. My mate was here last year and he told me to avoid the halls at all cost. I want to get somewhere outside, if I can find another couple of people, and share a house.”

I hadn’t really thought about accommodation. I just wanted to get a place.

“Hey, I know we’ve only just met, but how do you fancy sharing a house?”

I was torn.

On the one hand, Halls would be sufficiently anonymous for me to disappear. Yet sharing with some nice people would be so much more fun. I was terrified of being found out!

“Yeah, that’d be okay,” I said, guardedly.

“Great! Now all we have to do is find someone else. Would you rather share with another girl or a guy?”

“I don’t mind,” I told him.

We were split up again as we were interviewed. I was shown into a small room and the senior tutor sat there.

Mrs Reynolds was very nice. She relaxed me by talking about everything else but me. She asked about my studies and obviously knew my results of A levels and GCSEs.

“Why do you want to be a teacher?”

“Because I experienced so many bad teachers, I want to help kids learn. School can be so miserable for young children, so I want to make it fun for them.”

She frowned and looked at my report from the school. I’d spent some time changing the gender pronouns, but it seems I missed a couple.

“Leanne, this report refers to you as Lee, and uses the ‘he’ pronoun on one occasion. Why is that?”

“I don’t know. There was a Lee Roberts in my year, but he never passed any exams. He left before the end of the year. Maybe the teachers were confused? There were a lot of us, and I suppose they had to write loads of reports.”

I passed over my birth certificate and the ambiguous exam certificates.

She looked at them.

“Well, you don’t look like a girl that anyone could mistake for a boy!” she said, making me blush very red.

My heart was racing, and I was bitterly regretting my deception. To my relief and surprise, she dropped the subject, even altering the two offending ‘he’s, then she smiled and asked some more questions. Finally, she ended up with the one question I had expected.

“What makes you think you’d be a good teacher?”

“I’m bright and know my stuff. I am patient and want to help others. Teaching isn’t about giving others your knowledge, it’s about getting along side them and helping them learn, from whatever source they have available. Life has so much to give, if only they can open their eyes to it.”

She stared at me for so long, for an awful moment I thought she’d seen through my masquerade.

“Then, Leanne, you are certainly one person I want on this course. Congratulations,” she said, smiling.

I was in!
 
 
I then had to state whether I would take this coming course or the one starting in the year following.

“I can’t afford to start this semester. I will have to get a job so I can come in a year’s time.”

“Good. A year out can be a wonderful learning experience, if you allow it to be. You must do something unusual, and something that is of value to your life. You will never get another opportunity to have a year where you have your youth and time on your side, with no responsibility and few financial burdens!”

I went back to the dining hall and found Adam. He was smiling too, so I guessed he had also been successful.

“So, when do you start?” he asked.

“Next autumn. I have to take a year out first. I haven’t enough money to live off.”

“Come on, let’s go to the accommodation office. I’m taking a year out too, so we can put our names down for a house,” he said, grabbing my arm.

I let him pull me along the corridors, until we found ourselves with many others at the accommodation office.

There was a small two bedroom flat about half a mile from campus that was shown as being free from the end of the 1998-1999 semester. There were two students there at present, but they were about to enter their final year.

The accommodation officer told us to put our names down, and the landlord would contact us in June 1999 for contracts.

“Put your aunt’s address down as a contact point. I don’t know where I’ll be,” I said, which Adam was happy to do. Once he had done that, I went to the loans and finance office and completed my application for a student loan for the first year starting in 1999.

The day was over. I felt a sort of anti-climax.

I was left watching everyone getting into their cars and going home. I had no real home to go to. My Lee persona was lying in a left luggage locker in Luton and for all I cared it could stay there.

“Hey, Leanne. What are you going to do now?” Adam asked, making me jump.

“I thought you’d gone.”

“Nah, I was just checking out some local sports clubs. I need to keep fit while I’m here.”

“Oh. Well, I suppose I’d better be getting back.”

“Where to?”

“My grandparents. They live on the outskirts of Luton.”

“You don’t sound too keen.”

“I’m not. The truth is, I’d rather go anywhere rather than back to Luton.”

He grinned. “Yeah, I heard that parts of Luton are a bit shitty!”

I smiled, as I couldn’t disagree.

“I’m dossing down at Josh’s house in Enfield, North London. I don’t expect they’d mind if you came for a couple of nights. But it won’t be permanent, I’m afraid.”

I really didn’t know what to do. The university had accepted me as a girl. He accepted me as a girl, and as far as I was concerned, I never wanted to go back to being a boy.

The problem was, I was a boy. Physically at least, and I couldn’t escape that fact.

“Thanks, but I’d better get back to Luton. Then I have really got to find a job.”

“Okay. Look, if you want, give me a call if ever you want to get together.” He gave me his aunt’s address and number, as well as Josh’s home details.

I smiled. “Okay, that’d be nice.”

We went to the bus station, but caught different busses. He had been visiting another mate on the previous journey, so was going back a different way.

He surprised me by kissing me as we said goodbye.
 
 
I felt rather melancholy on the journey back. The bus was half empty, so no one sat next to me. For that I was grateful. I collected my case, deciding not to change back. I no longer cared who knew what I was.

Then I thought about it a little deeper.

Yes, I did care. I didn’t want to deliberately cause hurt to anyone, least of all my grandparents.

It was dark when I walked back to their house, still as Leanne. I prepared myself to tell them the truth. I was ready to be thrown out again. I had had enough of hiding. Leanne was here, and I was so reluctant to go back to being Lee.

So, in a skirt and blouse, made up and with bright red nails, I opened the front door to the house.

It was empty and in pitch darkness. There was no one home. There were no notes, nothing!

This was not just unusual - it was unheard of! I had said goodbye to them earlier and Grandma had wished me good luck. I frowned, and went into the kitchen. There weren’t even signs that they’d had dinner. I checked the fridge. Grandma told me that they were having steak and kidney pie for supper, and they’d leave me some for when I got in.

The steak and kidney was still uncooked in the plastic bag in the fridge.

I was wondering where they could be when the doorbell rang. I walked down the hall and opened the door.

A young police constable stood there, his hat in his hands.

“Yes?”

“Um, excuse me, I’m looking for, um, a Lee Roberts,” he said.

“I’m Leanne Roberts. People often get my name wrong,” I said.

“What is your relationship to Michael and Noreen Bannister, Miss Roberts?”

“They’re my grandparents; I live here with them, why? Has something happened?”

“May I come in?” he asked, with a strange expression on his face. My heart sank.

“Look, I’d prefer if you just told me.”

“There’s been an accident, Miss Roberts. Mr Bannister was driving, and he suffered some attack. A stroke, the doctors think. Anyway, he hit an oncoming vehicle, and I’m afraid to say both were killed outright.”
 
 
I was stunned. I turned, walked into the sitting room and sat down. The officer followed, closing the front door.

“Was anyone else hurt?”

“No, it was a truck. The driver is in shock, but no injuries.”

I was stunned, as they were the only people who I really cared about in the world. It was like losing part of myself. They were my only link with the past. However, another part of me felt as if I had just been set free. Grandpa had told me that they were leaving me the house in the will. They had disagreed with mum about leaving for New Zealand, as they thought they’d never see their other grandchildren again.

As it happened, they were right.

The tears started then. I don’t know whether they were tears of grief, relief or shock, perhaps all three.

“Are you all right?”

I stared at the policeman. I had forgotten about him.

“Fine. No, I feel like shit, actually. I’ve just come back from an interview in which I was accepted at teacher training college, and come back to this. How the hell should I feel?”

He shrugged, looking even younger. I guessed he was only a couple of years older than me.

“Is there anyone I can call for you?”

“I haven’t got anyone. Not any more.”

“Um, there was mention of a daughter?”

“My mother. She’s gone to live in New Zealand.”

“Can we contact her?”

I shook my head, wiping my eyes, conscious that my makeup was probably running. I went over to the desk. Mum’s address and phone number was there in grandpa’s neat little book.

“I’ll do it,” I said.

He nodded, but I sensed there was something else.

“Yes?”

“Um, I’m sorry, but we need to make a formal identification.”

“Now?”

“If possible, yes.”

“Can I call my mother?”

“Sure, I’ll be in the car.”

He left me alone while I called New Zealand. I stared at the reflection in the window of the tall attractive girl standing with a telephone next to her ear. Her auburn hair cascading to her shoulder, with her earrings reflecting the lights.

I prayed that Frank wouldn’t answer.

“Hello?”

It was my mother. I breathed a sigh of relief.

“Hi Mum.”

“Lee?”

“Mum, Grandma and Grandpa are dead. They were in an accident. Grandpa had a stroke at the wheel and hit an oncoming truck.”

There was silence on the other end of the phone.

I heard her sobbing quietly.

I let her cry. I didn’t feel strong enough to offer any words that could help.

“Is there anything for me to do?” she asked, at last.

“No. I’ve got to do the formal identification bit. Then there is the funeral. Are you coming back?”

“We haven’t got the money for another flight. Frank is working hard, but with the mortgage and everything, there just isn’t the cash.”

“So, it’s down to me?”

“Oh sweetie, I’d help if I could,” she whined.

“They were your parents!” I said.

“I can’t, I just can’t! First there was Leanne, then your father. I just can’t do it again.”

I felt the anger rise.

“Fine. I’ll do it. Bye mum, I don’t think we’ll talk again.” I hung up.
 
 
I went into the hall and brushed my hair using the mirror there. I repaired my makeup and went out, locking the front door. I felt suddenly very grown up, but also very vulnerable.

The policeman opened the passenger door and I got into the police car. He wasn’t chatty, as I sensed he was embarrassed and unsure of what to say. I sat quietly in the darkness and looked out of the window at the passing scenery. The police radio was burbling away in the background, but I hadn’t developed the ear for it, so it made no sense at all. I was numb as to what to feel. I half expected to wake up and find it was all a dream.

They had cleaned them up. Both looked asleep and, with the exception of a big gash across grandma’s face, they looked remarkably normal.

“Those are my grandparents, Michael and Noreen Bannister,” I said.

They gave me a big jiffy bag with their personal effects, for which I had to sign.

“What happens now?” I asked.

“There may be a post mortem, and then the bodies will be released for burial,” the officer told me.

“Okay, do I have to arrange an undertakers, or what?”

He smiled, trying to put a human face on a horrible situation.

“We can give you a list of undertakers, and you just call one and they will do the rest.”

I nodded and he handed me a card with a list of local undertakers.

He drove me back home and dropped me off.

“I’m PC Andy Stevens. If you need to ask any questions, then give me a call.”

He handed me his card and I smiled.

“Thanks, you’ve been very kind.”

He shook his head.

“No, I haven’t. I’ve had to bring you bad news, but there is nothing I can really do to make you feel better. I hate seeing a pretty girl look so lost and lonely.”

I stared at him.

He looked sheepish.

“Sorry, I’m out of order, but sometimes, I really hate this job. Congratulations on getting into college, anyway.”

I kissed him on his cheek. He had made me feel like a girl, just when I really needed it.

He left me alone, so I went in and closed the front door.
 
 

*          *          *
 
End of Part 1
 
 
To Be Continued...