The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1267 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

Somehow Stella’s cup didn’t break and she’d drunk most of her tea, so we didn’t have much mess to clear up.

“How did you know?” she looked suspiciously at me. “I suppose this is all your magical stuff, is it?”

“No, you just look suddenly very well, positively glowing–you therefore had to be pregnant. You’re also holding yourself differently”

“What if I’m not?”

“Then I’m wrong, I’ll live with it, but I’m pretty sure I’m right.”

“Yeah, you are–bitch–are you happy for me?”

“I am ecstatic for you. Of course I’m jealous as hell, but that’s one of those things.”

“I wish you could have one too, Cathy. You deserve one and you’d make such a good mother.”

“I would, would I? Am I not doing a moderately good job now, then?”

“I didn’t mean it like that, you are a real funny-bunny today, aren’t you?”

“I’m glad to hear it. I’ve got baby C, so I have to be content with my lot, it could be worse. Where are you going to live with Gareth?”

“He’s put an offer on a place near Horndean. His current place is too small for a family, a two bed cottage. Why, did you think I was going to stay here?”

“Not really, I thought you’d want to be mistress of your own place and escape my tyranny.”

“Did you say, tyranny or tranny?”

“A tranny tyrant, yep, that’s me.”

“What about those photos you were going to show me?”

“Photos?” I queried.

“You got from that teacher bloke–the one who died.”

“Everyone seems to die when I’m about,” I muttered.

“Not everyone, some of us are damn glad you were there.”

I returned with the folder. “Make us some more tea and don’t throw it over my clean kitchen floor this time.”

“Yes boss, see you are a tyrant?”

“Just get on with it before I imprison your baby.”

“Don’t you dare, she’s far too young to wear stripes, and an orange boiler suit would clash with her colouring.”

“Oh I don’t know, it might just be the making of her, mind you the leg-irons would make her toddling a rather sedentary affair.”

“You leave my baby alone, you’ve got one of your own to torment.”

“This is true.” I took the tea she offered me.

“What about these photos then?”

I sighed and opened the folder. There were dozens of them, “Oh golly, our little raver as a fifteen year old–dammit, you had longer hair than I did.”

I glanced at the photo, it was one of me in a minidress that Siân gave me, it made me shudder for a moment as I remembered the confusion I felt at that time. I desperately wanted to be an ordinary girl and here I was apparently being one, except everyone knew I wasn’t. The only reason I still had my own teeth at that age was that in attempting to humiliate me, Murray also sent out a clear message that anyone trying to physically or mentally intimidate me would be punished severely. Of course this didn’t apply to him and to prove the point he humiliated me in front of the whole school.

The day before against my wishes, but with the consent of my father, I was to dress as female for a period of practice and rehearsal of the play, which was a period of some weeks. I was to act like a perfect young lady, or how Murray and Dad thought one should behave, and I was also to continue with my normal school timetable.

If you can imagine how it feels to walk into a classroom every day wearing the clothes of and acting like a girl, when everyone knows you’re not and is sniggering or wisecracking at you at every opportunity–it’s purgatory. I suppose the experience in school helped me cope when I did transition officially. But Murray’s master stroke of sadism and humiliation, was to make me go up onto the stage in front of the whole school. I still remember it.

I had decided I wasn’t going to let him beat me. He was bigger stronger and had much more power, but he wasn’t going to destroy me like he thought he would. The original idea was that I would just wear the costume around the place coming up to rehearsals. Then it was decided they’d extend the time. Obviously, that was going to wear out the costume before we got to the play. So it was decided I’d have to wear girl’s clothes–skirts or dresses–and act like one during this period, at least in school.

My father wasn’t entirely happy, but Murray convinced him he’d drive the girl out of me, making me heartily sick of it all and the embarrassment would finish the job. My mother managed to borrow a couple of things for me, a longish skirt and a blouse and some sandals.

I wouldn’t wear them because they clashed, the colour of the blouse and the skirt were awful together. So my friend Siân loaned me a few things. On that first morning, I left home early and went to her house where I dressed in the mini dress and a pair of knee high boots. She helped me do my hair, and I wore makeup and painted my nails, borrowed her spare watch and some jewellery–I’d already had my ears pierced–a small handbag and went off with my Care Bears bag.

As soon as I arrived at the school I was removed from the public gaze before too many could see me–including the Head. So he ignored the efforts of two teachers who were trying to stop him parading me. I knew it was going to be humiliating, so I hit back as best I could.

I was dragged from my ‘holding cell’, one of the changing rooms behind the stage, and thrust out to its front, where instead of standing there blushing and trying to shrivel into a hole in the floor, I strode out like a model, waggled my arse a bit and struck a pose as he laid down the law, before swearing at me in hissed expletives–like an angry snake.

“To help us with our production of Macbeth, Miss Charlotte Watts is attending us for the next month or so.” He was nearly drowned out by wolf whistles. “I expect you to treat her with the courtesy you’d show a young woman guest.” He paused as cries of ‘get ‘em off, Watts,’ and ‘show us yer tits,’ assailed us. “Quiet you rabble,” he shouted banging the table, “Anyone who is found attempting to intimidate Miss Watts will feel the full force of my anger. He, I mean she, is to be treated as a normal female so you will all observe that nicety, remember this is to help her orientate for the part of Lady Macbeth which will be demanding enough without you ruffians making it harder.” Assembly wound up and he hissed at me, “What the hell are you doing, Watts, you look like a teenage floozy, couldn’t you find a girl’s uniform to wear instead of looking like a pop star’s groupie?”

“Beggin’ your pardon, Mr Murray, this was the best I could do. Are you going to do a knicker inspection like they do at the girls’ school?” I beamed a smile at him although I realised I was challenging the lion in his own cage

“Watts, you snivelling little fairy, wear something less provocative tomorrow or I’ll get your father to assist you.” This was a real threat and I knew exactly what would happen when I got home. I was taken out and bought a couple of grey pleated skirts and white blouses, some opaque tights and flat shoes, plus a grey cardi in case it turned colder.

I still rebelled, in exactly the same way the girls down the road were doing, rolled the top of my skirt over a couple of times, even if the wind blew in the willows, my tights kept me safe from prying eyes. I also continued to wear enough mascara to blot out the sun if I sneezed and painted my nails which were false ones anyway and projected beyond my fingers. Can’t think why I’m such an awkward character.