The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1046 by Angharad Copyright © 2010 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

I took Billie into town and bought her a few more things, a couple of skirts, tops, a pair of jeans, some sandals and a pair of girl’s trainers. She chose a new watch and paid for it herself as we’d agreed.

After putting our purchases in the car we went to a small café for lunch—because I felt guilty. I took her to a small Italian place, a bit more up market than Morrisons, and they sell the best ice cream outside Italy. I’ll do anything for their strawberry, but don’t tell anyone.

We had a minestrone soup and had just ordered some ice cream and a latte coffee for me, when Billie went very pale. “Are you all right, sweetheart?”

“Don’t look now, but that boy is in my class.”

I glanced up at a reflection in picture glass, “Does he know you?” I asked quietly.

She nodded back at me. I looked again in the glass and saw they were sitting right by the door. The ice cream arrived as did my coffee. “When we’ve eaten these, we’re going to the ladies, okay?”

She nodded, “Won’t they see me?”

“No, walk slightly behind me so I’m blocking their view, then as we pass them come level and then slightly in front—I’m bigger than you, so you should be able to hide enough for them not to see you—now enjoy your ice cream.”

We used my blocking her to get to the loos, then after we’d done the necessary and washed our paws. I wiped off her lip gloss and painted some of mine on—which is darker. Then some mascara and blush, she looked about four years older, and her eyes widened when she saw the effect.

“You like?” I asked and she nodded enthusiastically.

“Don’t get too used to it, this is a disguise, now we walk out in plain view, but I want you to act more like a twelve or thirteen year old, so just look straight through him if he looks at you—he’s only a kid and you’re grown up by comparison—okay?”

“How do I do that, Mummy?”

“Move your bum a bit more, carry your bag over your shoulder and keep your head up straight.” I did a quick demo for her and she laughed and nodded. “Ready?” she took a deep breath and nodded.

We stepped out into the café and she held my hand for a moment, then I pushed her in front of me, “Strut your stuff, kiddo,” I whispered to her and she did just that. By the time we got to the door, all that was missing was the runway of a catwalk.

I watched the boy who was watching my daughter with more lust than recognition and he was nine or ten—it’s quite frightening, no wonder we’re up to our eyeballs in teenage pregnancies, the kids are so sexually precocious, but don’t see beyond the itch in their pants to the broader picture.

Once clear of the café, Billie held, my hand again. “That was so scary, Mummy,” she squeezed my hand for emphasis.

“Better get used to it if you want to switch to being a girl. Loads more people will know you as boy than a girl, and every now and again you’re going to meet one of them. The chances are they won’t recognise you, but the more astute ones might.”

“What does that mean, Mummy—the more stute ones?”

“Astute—it means perceptive—oh boy, the cleverer ones who really look at things, not just glance at them. Oh by the way, the lad back in the café, he gave you a good look—I think he fancies you.”

“Donny Egbert—how gross! Yuck—he’s like a cross between a pair of dirty socks and a compost heap.” She pretended to be sick.

“Yeah, that just about sums up what I saw, too.” I smirked and when she looked at me she began to giggle—probably more in fear than anything. I checked the time and decided we had an hour before we collected the girls.

I bought her some more underclothes and socks, a couple of pairs of tights and a plain navy skirt, which were almost like school uniform ones. A quick trip around the supermarket and then to the convent. “Stay in the car!” She pouted but accepted my instruction. I didn’t want anyone from the school to see her—she shouldn’t be wearing that much makeup at her age and although I could justify it to myself, I didn’t want an argument with anyone else, especially Trish, as we walked back to the car.

Of course, while I waited who should appear but Sister Maria, “Ah, Lady Cameron, the school’s favourite speaker, how nice to see you.”

I blushed, “Um—yes, sorry about that—the dormouse was a bit OTT.”

“Did you realise we’ve had twice as many girls request to do science than usual since your visit.”

“Coincidence?”

“I think not—it’s that time of year when we do our options for the following year, and half the school wants to do biology.”

“Oh well, fifty per cent discernment.”

“Fifty per cent? No, a hundred percent—the other fifty want to do zoo and botany.”

“Quite right too. What better way for them to develop an understanding of the world around them?”

“Maybe—sadly, they’ll all be disappointed, our science team is rather depleted.”

“There should be plenty of science graduates looking to teach, so recruitment shouldn’t be a problem.”

“It all takes time and of course they’ll have seen the ultimate in teaching, so anyone else will be a disappointment, won’t they.”

“You flatter me, Sister Maria, well beyond what I deserve.”

“I reserve the right to have my opinions, I’ve seen a few teachers in my time, and some of them have it, and some don’t. You have it in spades.”

“Thank you,” what else could I say? I did blush—again.

“Perhaps we could invite you to come and talk to our biology students once a year.”

“What about? Motherhood and apple-pie?”

“If you wish, although I suspect you’d enjoy talking about ecology—inspire our A-level classes to do biology or ecology at university.”

“Can I think about it?”

“Of course—but it would be the high point of their academic year.”

“Please—my head won’t go in the car if it gets any bigger.”

She laughed, “How is your newest daughter—do you wish to register her here yet?”

“It could well be heading that way.”

“Where is she at present?”

“She isn’t, I’m keeping her at home for the moment.”

“Would you like her to come here for the last week or two of term?”

“Much as I’d like her to attend school rather than miss any, I’m not sure she’s up to coping as a girl full time, especially in a stressful environment like school where she could be rumbled. It could threaten any future plans, if she persists with her life change.”

“I could have a word with her classmates.”

“What, tell them she used to be a boy?”

“No, of course not—say she’s been ill, and isn’t always herself—that should cover a multitude of sins.”

“Wouldn’t that make her a target for the bullies, which is one of the reasons I’ve taken her out of the state school. She doesn’t need to be pointed at or seen as different.”

“I’m sorry, Lady Cameron, I’m not making myself very clear, we have a number of children here who have suffered a number of illnesses, accidents, traumas and so on. It’s our policy to integrate those students with those who’ve been more fortunate, and we try to ensure that no one is victimised because of something negative that’s happened to them.

“If you change your mind, let me know, I’m sure we could accommodate her here for the odd day, or even a whole week—and it might make it easier for next term—in her deciding she wants to come here or not. Better than enrolling and hating it.”

“I haven’t got her uniform or anything, yet because we haven’t decided anything.”

“Don’t worry about that, as long as she’s tidily dressed—as I’m sure she’d be, a skirt of course—and we’ll accept her as an provisional student.”

“Okay, I’ll think about it and speak with Billie about it—I’ll get back to you.”

“Oh good—I’m sure that coming here would be good for her—Trish and Livvie are doing so well.”

“They’re exceptional kids anyway, what about Mima?”

“She’s doing okay, although we don’t seem able help her with her speech problem.”

“You won’t be the first who’ve tried.”

“I’m sure.”

“Mummy,” was said by three voices and soon followed by the bodies of the owners.

“Hello, girls.” I greeted them and soon we were on our way home with a postmortem about why Billie was allowed to wear makeup, and they weren’t.