Wuthering Dormice (aka Bike) Part 917 by Angharad Copyright © 2010 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

Julie phoned Leon and agreed a date for the following evening–he was going to come over. She also called her two girl friends and she was going to meet them on the Thursday evening in town–they were going to go to a movie. Julie went to bed feeling very happy, and I told her if she helped out for the next few days as she had been doing, I would give her the money to go to the film and get a taxi back. She seemed pleased with that arrangement.

Stella came for a quick cuppa before she and I turned in–she had chocolate and I had tea. “Do you think I’m posh?” I asked her.

“Compared to whom?” she asked.

“Not you–it’s something Julie said…”

“Compared to her you are, significantly so–but you’re so down to earth, I wouldn’t have thought it mattered: why?”

“Julie seemed to think her two friends didn’t come back to see her because they thought I was too posh for them.”

“Well, if they’re from her neighbourhood, I suppose you would seem that way, but no, you’re not posh–nouveau riche but not posh.”

“Ouch, you bitch.”

“You’re welcome,” she smirked then winked at me.

“Least my family aren’t Scottish bandits–reivers or whatever?”

“Mine are an’ prood o’it,” she laughed.

In bed I lay there thinking about how I could help Julie develop a full and rounded personality–she needed to experience life as a girl beyond the safety of this house. I could only help her with the basics, the rest would be for her to discover and evolve into the person she wanted to be.

I wished I’d had the chance to transition so young–and compared to so many, I’d been very fortunate. I’d never become very masculine, and when I went on female hormones my body became quite responsive to them, resulting in slight widening of my hips and reasonable breast development. It remained to be seen how the hormones would affect Julie, but she looked to have very good potential.

In some ways, I suppose Julie gave me a chance to perfect my maternal act before the next wave of gigglers came to ripening. It would also make me confront my shortcomings–how was I going to deal with two young women having periods, when I’ve never experienced one myself? I’m sure I’ll muddle through, and there’s always Stella to call upon if necessary–I know she’d help me, or rather the two maidens who will be those undergoing the rigours of the monthly visitor.

Having reassured myself that was sorted, I drifted off to sleep. I was lying in bed when I was awoken by the brightness of the moon shining on my face. Try as I might, I couldn’t avoid its brightness so in the end, I had to open my eyes and sit up.

I could feel no injury to have caused it, I had no idea whence it had come–but struggle as I might, I continued to sink, deeper and deeper into the mire, my head finally succumbing, my mouth and nose filling with the sticky red fluid and the taste and smell of blood.

I lay there gasping for breath, I was drenched with sweat and the moonlight shone through the crack in my bedroom curtains. I pinched myself to check I was still alive and then scrambled out of bed before it turned to a pool of blood. My heart was hammering as adrenaline flowed through my fearful system. In the bathroom I switched on the light to check I wasn’t covered in the red stuff. I wasn’t–but that dream had really frightened me.

I had a drink of water, changed my damp nightdress for a clean one and tried to go back to sleep–I couldn’t. It was four in the morning, I was yawning, but sleep was many miles away. I read for a bit, but as soon as I thought about lying down my heart pounded and I struggled for breath–I gave up and went down for a cuppa.

Pulling on my dressing gown, I made the tea and did some work on the survey–I was getting reports of dead or dying deer from Scotland–they were starving because of the amount of snow which had buried their usual food supplies. I wondered how many other mammals, more at risk than red deer, were also succumbing to the inclement weather; it confirmed my agnosticism–if there was a God, He was total monster–firstly for allowing humans to develop and secondly because I said so.

I made up a new batch of bread, or started the machine–it would nearly be done before the kids rose. Sick of doom and gloom, I did some ironing–I had loads of it. Julie could do some tomorrow, as part of her domestic science course, under the watchful eye of her personal tutor–moi.

I’d done all the fiddly stuff by six, and went up and had a luxurious shower, washing my hair and giving it a proper conditioning and rinse. Then I brushed it and dried it in a down style, depilated my legs, creamed them, tidied my eyebrows, dressed and finally when Mr Humphrys came on the radio alarm, I went and woke the girls and then the boys.

My energy levels were good all through breakfast and I actually had enough time to make sandwiches and so on for the various lunchboxes, and have some breakfast myself.

The boys went off to catch their bus and the girls trouped off to the car and my delivery to their school. Julie was in the bath when I left–shaving her legs for her big date with Leon. I left with smile on my face.

When I got back, she was cleaning up the kitchen, and I told her she’d be ironing after lunch. She nodded and told me I’d have to show her what to do. But seeing as she was trying, I told her to grab her coat and bag–I’d buy her a new dress for her date or for her meeting with her friends. She was at the door before I could blink, with a smile on her face like she’d won the lottery.

We did the usual teen shops, New Look, Next, Top Shop and so on. She saw several things she liked, I saw nothing I was prepared to buy–not for her at any rate, but I bought a skirt for Livvie, and tops for Meems and Trish.

We did some of the more up market shops and still I saw nothing that inspired me for Julie–she was becoming a bit irritable–‘You said you’d buy me something, yet you refuse everything I like.’ She had appalling taste and it was my money.

Finally, passing a shop called Peacocks which is usually pretty cheap and cheerful stuff, she spotted a black skirt in corduroy with a pattern printed on it plus beading and tiny sequins. It had a dropped waist under which the material was slightly gathered flaring out beneath. She tried it with the plain top she was wearing and it fitted her very well hiding her lack of hips.

Then we remembered a top which would go with it back in New Look. We bought the skirt and walked quickly up to check out the top–they looked very good together, the lacy sequins on the top being quite a close match to the skirt. She was delighted and I’d only spent thirty pounds for her complete outfit, so I was pretty chuffed, too.

In M&S I saw some boots I liked, so I bought them–they fitted quite well–I have a narrowish foot and sometimes their shoes are too wide for me. Julie saw some ridiculous heels and staggered up and down the shop in them. They were far too high for her.

“Mummy, they are so comfortable,” she exhorted, even though I could see quite obviously they were anything but, however, they would go with her new skirt and top, so we got them, although I did warn her not to come grumbling to me when she rubbed blisters or twisted her ankle.

We had a quick lunch, Julie insisted on wearing her new shoes whilst doing the ironing–I know, a dumb choice–but she wouldn’t listen to me, so she could suffer for her art. She did the easy stuff, pillow cases and tea towels to give her a feel for the iron and how to prevent it causing creases. After an hour–I’m sure her toes were screaming for relief, but she kept the shoes on and I showed her how to iron a shirt–in from the corners of the collar and so on.

She came with me to collect the girls, showing off her new shoes which had all three of the younger misses drooling with envy. No matter how much they nagged me, they weren’t having heels until they were at least teenagers, preferably late teens.