The Daily Dormouse Millennial Edition. (aka Bike) Part 1000 by Angharad Copyright © 2010 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

When I came back from the bathroom Billy was still lying in the bed crying. I wasn’t quite sure what to do. He was face down on the bed, hugging his pillow and sobbing quietly. I sat beside him and ruffled his hair, “What’s the problem?”

It took him several minutes to control himself and finally he blurted out, “I don’t want to wear a dress.”

“Do I take it you’ve gone off the idea of being a girl?”

He nodded and spluttered something which I assumed was yes.

“That’s okay, in fact, I’m actually pleased.”

He gave me a curious sort of glance.

“I’ve actually got enough daughters, which was what I tried to tell you earlier. I’m pleased that you’re one of my sons. All mothers love their sons you know, sadly not all sons love their mothers.”

“I love you, Mummy,” he hiccoughed.

“I know you do, son–so much in fact, you thought I’d prefer you as a girl. That’s quite a sacrifice to make, but the truth is, it would upset me more than please me. I’d still love you, but I’d be sad.”

“Why, Mummy?”

“Because it would show I’d failed to give you enough love as a boy for you to want to remain one.”

“But what about Trish and Julie?”

“I keep telling you, they have always wanted to be girls and hate being boys. I really think of them as girls with a small anatomical problem rather than girls stuck in a boy’s body–which doesn’t explain anything really.”

“So you don’t love them any more than you love me an’ Danny?”

“No. I love you all the same. I just find it harder to gel with boys because I’m not one, but I shall try harder. Do you forgive me for getting it wrong?”

He sat up and put his arms round me, sniffing into my ample chest, “I love you, Mummy, you’re the best Mummy there is.”

“And I love you too, Billy boy, you’re one of the best sons there is.” I hugged him tightly and kissed the top of his head.

“I was silly, wasn’t I?”

“No, son, you were anxious and scared. I was the silly one.”

Thankfully the rest of the day was easier and I managed to persuade them all to muck in and help. The morning was busy but by lunchtime we were nearly ready to go to Southsea.

I packed the car full of towels and changes of clothes and with the girls in my car, the boys and Julie in Tom’s, Stella had Puddin’ and spare everythings. We set off for the party and hoped to meet Simon there a little later.

The journey with three excited kids in the car was far from easy–they kept complaining about the traffic and wanting to bounce about in the back seat, while I, deprived of sleep, was struggling to stay even tempered. We eventually got to the hotel and almost as soon as I stopped the car the girls were off and I had to call them back.

“Don’t you dare go running off like that, you could have been knocked down.” They all stood with hands in front of them and eyes fixed on the floor. “Take a bag each and carry them into the party room.” They did and once again scampered into the hotel. Stella came in next and parked beside me, and I carried Puddin’ while she grabbed several bags and hauled them into the foyer.

As befits the owner’s family we were immediately assisted by two porters who took all the bags and led us through to the party room, which is their events room, but it was done up like a dog’s dinner with pink balloons and ribbons and a big banner saying, Happy Birthday Livvie. I met the young couple who were going to entertain the kids, and they told me to relax and enjoy myself. If I could have booked into a bedroom and slept for a couple of hours, I could have relaxed and enjoyed myself.

Tom and the boys arrived with Leon and Julie–they seem to come as a pair these days. Somehow, Julie had purchased one of these artificial vagina things and had glued it on, calling me to see it before she dressed again.

I was shocked initially, then cross that she’d spent so much money–I asked her how she’d managed it? She’d done it in cahoots with Stella, who’d helped her apply it. The manufacturers claimed it could be used for swimming, so we’d soon find out–I had a surreal moment when I imagined the lifeguards seeing this thing floating in the pool and wondering what the hell it was. I had great difficulty not sniggering at the thought–just the silliness of it. Anyway, hopefully, it wouldn’t happen, and Julie would keep her virtue and her little secret safe. I did tell her I took a dim view of any sort of full on sex, even with a rubber fanny. She poked her tongue out at me in dissent and told me to ‘wise up’. I wasn’t entirely sure what that meant.

The other children arrived from three o’clock onwards and the drips and drabs became a full torrent. I was delighted that Sister Maria did come and told me she had her swimming cossie with her and intended to wear it. I admired her for her fortitude, not that she had a bad figure, and it was nice to see her in jeans and a top–being off duty.

By the time everyone was there, we had probably twenty kids plus at least twenty adults if not more. The timetable was play in the pool for an hour, then some snacks and pop, some entertainment and games, then the official tea and finally the cake and blowing out of the candles, cutting the cake and everyone having a bit with distribution of the goody bags.

Even with our discount it was costing several hundred pounds, so I thought they could each have one such party and that’s it. I gave the timetable to the adults and followed the shrieking horde as it went down to the swimming pool, of which we had exclusive use. There is another member’s pool attached to the gym, but we wouldn’t be using that today.

I changed and swam a bit, but mostly played with the girls. The boys seemed happy messing about with Leon and Julie, who actually looked very nice in her bikini–one with a tiny skirt to ‘give’ her bigger hips.

An hour later, the senior poolside lifeguard blew his whistle and everyone was asked to leave the pool and to get dried and dressed for the next part of the party. I was intrigued as how they were going to do things, but then had to concentrate on drying my hair and that of three girls. We all dressed and were collected a short time later and led to the function room, where the kids had a glass of juice and a biscuit.

Next the young couple entertained us with comedy and juggling, a unicycle and some songs–he played the piano-accordion and all the kids were singing along with him and his partner.

It was now half past four and still no sign of Simon. I began to worry that he might have had an accident, then I got dragged off to play in some of the games against the other parents.

Henry and Monica arrived and after greeting them, I asked if they knew where my husband was. They didn’t–assuming he’d be here by now, if not earlier. My fears were not alleviated despite Henry’s cheery reassurance. Once the kids spotted them, they were caught in an avalanche of grandchildren, which they both enjoyed.

After they’d run off some high spirits, we had a sit down meal at two long trestle tables, and the kids were offered a variety of snacks such as sandwiches, sausage rolls, sausages on sticks, crisps, fruit and jelly and ice cream. There were numerous other snacks some of which were aimed more at the adults than the children, so everyone should have been able to find something they liked. I had a tuna roll, just to keep me going–long enough to eat a second.

We then had a hiatus while faces were stuffed and the noise actually dropped significantly. Then the cake with candles burning was brought in and Livvie blew out the candles in two goes, while we all sang 'Happy Birthday'.

As the goody-bags were being distributed, my mobile rang and I recognised Simon’s number.

“Simon, where are you, the party’s nearly over?”

“It is for you, darlin’,” said a woman’s voice I didn’t recognise.

“Who are you?” I asked angrily, “And where is my husband?”

“Keep your wig on ladyboy, hey that’s good, lady-boy, ha ha.”

“Who are you and what are you doing with Simon’s phone?”

“Oh he gave it to me to ask me to phone you.”

My tummy flipped, who the hell was she? “To phone me about what?”

“To say he’s fed up with a fake female, so girly-boy, he’s coming away with me.”

“Where is he? Let me speak to him.”

“He’s fine, he’s just picking up the rest of his stuff from your house.”

“Let me speak to him,” I demanded but tears were streaming down my face.

“No time, girly-boy, byeee.”

I snatched up my bag, asked Henry to get the kids home safely and charged out to the car. I nearly bumped another one as I screamed out of the car park, then I was on the main road and heading back to Portsmouth. My eyes were streaming and felt so sick and angry both at the same time. If I hurried I might just catch him and find out what was really happening.

I didn’t see the van, not until it crushed in the side of my Audi and I felt myself being turned upside down and scraped along the road. Then while I was still moving everything went black––