Saturday afternoon and Sunday passed uneventfully enough with no discussion or recognition of the pachyderm currently occupying a large part of the lounge. We’d rather forgotten about such mundane things as housework, laundry and shopping over the last few days and so used the time to catch up. We worked well together, each one doing their fair share, and by Sunday lunchtime we’d pretty well done everything. I offered to take him out somewhere in the car for the afternoon, to take his mind off things, but he preferred to stay in and continue working on his father’s financial affairs.

‘Julian, there's a number of things that I need do in Bracknell, would you mind if I drove over there?’

‘No, that’s ok, you go ahead’ he replied.

Apart from anything else I needed to explain to Susie and a couple of others why they’d seen nothing of me over the last week and why I wouldn’t now be joining them at the nightclub opening on Tuesday night. I also had to collect my dress for the funeral and pick up any mail for me.

‘You can come with me if you like,’ I continued.

‘I don’t know what my friends will make of ’The ru…’ my half brother, but I don’t really like to leave him on his own for several hours.’

‘No thanks. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be alright. I’ve plenty to do,’ he replied.

‘If you are sure, but you could always call me if you need me.’

On the way over to Susie’s house I called in at our house to collect my dress ready for the funeral and one or two other things that I’d forgotten. Mum and Dad were both out as they’d not been expecting me until the following evening. As I opened my wardrobe door, I suddenly had a good idea regarding Julian. There were quite a number of things in my wardrobe that I no longer wore, either because I’d grown out of them, or else because they were the sort of girly clothes that my mother liked me to wear and insisted on buying for me. I chose a couple of dresses, some skirts and tops, a silk blouse, a coat and some shoes that had hardly been worn, and put them into a cardboard box. In my drawer there was also a rather nice lingerie set which I’d never worn as they were a size smaller than I’d normally wear. They’d been bought for me last Christmas by my former boyfriend, who had ambitions of getting inside my knickers, but we broke up soon afterwards. I also found a new pair of nylon tights, which he could use, all of which I placed in the box with the other items, before loading it into the car.

‘There’s everything you might need here young Julian, I just hope you take the bait and don’t freak out. ’

I half wondered whether to say something about Julian to Susie when I saw her, as we usually shared all our secrets, but in the end decided not to do so in this case, or at least not until I’d a clearer idea of exactly what was going on. After spending a couple of hours with Sue and completing my other errands I briefly called in to see my parents again on the way home, just to re-assure them that everything was alright. I returned to Woodley at dinner time, bringing with me a take away meal for us both. It was a bit of a ‘cop out’ on my part, but it had been a busy day and I did not feel like cooking. I surreptitiously took the cardboard box of clothes up to my room, and then began to serve the meal. It occurred to me that my brother might have used my absence as an opportunity to dress-up once more, but if so, he’d covered his tracks very well as there was no apparent evidence. When I went upstairs he was working at his spreadsheet, surrounded by official looking documents.

The ‘right time’ for me to say something to Julian came the following evening. I am not sure why that should be so, but it just felt right. During the course of the day we received one or two last visitors to the house, wrote several letters and made lots of phone calls, as before. I’d taken on the role of ‘responsible adult’ and organiser of his mother’s funeral the next day, without really being conscious of having done so. I therefore had to check up on various details with the undertaker, the florist, and a nearby hotel to provide teas for the guests. For once Julian was happy to be told what to do and not make any decisions for himself in this respect. It was also his turn to cook our evening meal and at the appropriate time there was a great smell coming from the kitchen.

The dinner lived up to expectations and put most of my attempts to shame. For once, I quelled my natural instinct to crack a joke about the food. Instead I told him how much I’d enjoyed it and what a good cook he was.

‘Thanks,’ he said blushing a little and clearly surprised to receive a compliment from me, but appreciative, all the same. ‘Mum taught me. I used to enjoy helping her in the kitchen.’

‘You’re lucky, my Mum never had the patience to teach me anything,’ I replied.

He was about to get up and go upstairs and return to his spreadsheet, as it was understood that the one who had not cooked would clear the table and load the dishwasher. For some reason now seemed to be the right moment for me to say something to him.

‘Julian, do you have a clean shirt ready for the funeral tomorrow? Would you like me to iron one for you?’ I asked, trying to delay his departure.

‘No thanks I’m ok, I’ve everything I need,’ he replied in a sad distracted voice.

'Ok then here goes…, ‘

'By the way, there was a box of clothes in my bedroom at Bracknell that I’ve been intending to take to a charity shop. I’ve brought it back here in case there was anything you could use. Some of the stuff has hardly ever been worn,’ I said, nonchalantly.

He looked at me like a startled rabbit caught in the headlights of a car. It was almost as if I’d discovered him in the act of some unspeakable crime. For a second, I half thought he might make a bolt for the door.

‘Would you like to have a look through them?’ I asked in the gentlest voice I could manage.

He was silent for a moment not sure what to say; his eyes darted both ways as if to ensure that no-one else was listening.

‘Yes please,’ he whispered looking extremely embarrassed.

I brought down the box and put it on the chair next to him without saying anything else. He slowly went through it laying the items carefully on the table. There could be no mistaking my meaning. There was nothing in that box that might be remotely suitable for a teenage boy to wear.

‘B-But I thought you were angry and disgusted with me. I was worried that you’d want to go back to your home and leave me on my own again after the funeral,’ he said, starting to cry.

I got up went over to him and put my arm round his shoulder.

‘No Julian, I felt neither of those two sensations, I was just a little surprised when I walked in on you suddenly last week. If you feel more comfortable wearing those clothes around the house from time to time then it’s ok by me. However, if we are going to live together for the summer, I don’t think there should be any secrets or surprises between us. Also, if you’re going to dress as a girl when you’re alone in the house, it might be better to do so in the master bedroom, as the light is not visible from the road, and you could always leap into the bathroom should there be any unexpected visitors.’

‘Thank you for the clothes, Jenny, that’s very kind of you to offer them to me. Is there anything you want to know?’ he asked, hesitantly.

‘I suppose you could begin by telling me how long you’ve been dressing as a girl.’

This was clearly the one question that he’d wanted me to ask him, since we had first met.

‘I’ve wanted to be a girl … No; I’ve felt that I was a girl with the wrong body, for as long as I can remember. I was about eleven when I tried to explain how I felt to my parents. I think Dad was disappointed in me at first but Mum said she understood. I think that she’d always wanted to have a daughter, and would sometimes let me dress in her clothes and use her makeup when Dad was out.’

‘Why would your dad be disappointed with you?’ I asked.

‘I suppose he wanted a son to play football with, or to help him fix things about the house, whereas all I wanted to do was girlish things helping mum.’

‘He’d already lost contact with his daughter, and now he seemed to be losing his son as well. No wonder he was disappointed by both of us,’ I thought, remembering those unopened birthday cards, and feeling desperately sad for him.

‘I don’t think he would have been disappointed by you, but probably just needed some time to get used to the idea,’ I said. ‘I wish I could have known him.’

‘When I was thirteen, Mum took me to see a psychiatrist, with a view to curing my gender identity problems,’ continued Julian. ‘The only trouble was, that I managed to convince them both that I’d be better off living as a girl,’ he said with an ironic laugh. Dad wasn’t happy, but he was never unkind to me, and ultimately accepted their advice. ‘Unfortunately no doctor would agree to give a thirteen-year-old child female hormones, so Mum took me to a clinic in Thailand two years ago. They gave me a large supply of testosterone blockers to delay the onset of my puberty, and told her to bring me back when I was sixteen. I have been taking them ever since.’

‘So that’s why you look so young for your age,’ I thought.

‘Mum and I were due to go back and see the specialist again at the end of August so that I could begin my hormone regime on my sixteenth birthday. She’d even booked the flights and the hotel,’ he said continuing to cry.

‘But whatever did they say at school?’ I asked.

‘We didn’t tell them; they just assumed I was a late developer. Mum and Dad had agreed that once I began to develop breasts and they became noticeable I could leave school and continue my education on my own.’

‘So what will you do now?’ I asked.

‘I don’t know. As soon as I’m eighteen I’m determined to pay for gender re-assignment surgery and live the rest of my life as a woman. It shouldn’t be too difficult as I’ve never developed as a man. In the meanwhile, I’ll have to find some way of surviving on my own for the next two years, and, if possible, get hold of some oestrogen tablets so that I can start my physical development as a woman.’

‘Wow! This is all a bit more serious than I originally thought.’

‘That may be easier said than done,’ I replied.

‘I know. I hate the way everyone expects me to dress and act like a boy all the time when I’ve always longed to be a girl. If I could, I’d like to attend Mum’s funeral wearing a dress tomorrow, because she understood how I felt and she loved me in spite of everything.’

‘Of course your mother loved you, and your father did as well,’ I replied.

At this point he really began to sob. I was still in a state of shock from his recent revelation, but my heart went out to him just the same. I kept my arms round his shoulder until his tears subsided.

‘Julian, I really think it would be a little unwise for you to wear a dress to your mother’s funeral, given the fact that you’re still a minor and there are Social Workers sniffing around. I also think you need a little advice and practice before you should contemplate appearing in public dressed as a girl. However, if you can bear to face tomorrow as Julian, I’ll try to help you over the next few weeks,’ I said.

‘Be very careful what you let yourself in for Jen.’ I thought to myself, as I answered, but found myself continuing all the same.

‘Would you really help me?’ he asked, drying his tears and sniffing.

‘It is not too late for you to change your mind. ’

‘I’ll do my best, but not until after the funeral.’

A remarkable change took place in his appearance. For the first time since I’d met him Julian looked truly overjoyed.

‘Oh thank you Jenny. It’s so wonderful to have a sister,’ he said, throwing his arms round me and kissing me on the cheek.

‘I just wonder whether I’ll share that sentiment in a few days time. ’

‘Ok let’s leave your new clothes for the time being. You can try them on tomorrow after the funeral is over and the guests have departed, when we can do things properly,’ I suggested.

‘Alright I’ll take them up to my room,’ he said. ‘Thank you for everything.’

I cleared up the meal wondering just what I was doing, and whether I was getting out of my depth with my young charge, but I wanted to help if I could. I therefore spent the next two or three hours reading up on the Internet on the subject of transgender and its implications for young people.

I made sure that Julian was ready in good time and did my best to ensure that he looked smart and double checked with the undertaker the last few details of the ceremony and order of service. We sat together in the only car to accompany the hearse and in the front pew. There were no other members of his mother’s family present, just a few work colleagues and neighbours. His Aunt in Canberra had sent some flowers and a message, but could do no more. This time I was the one who was able to be calm and collected and I held his hand during the service. As his mother’s coffin slowly disappeared into the rear of the crematorium, he at last gave way to the tide of emotion that he’d been storing inside him for the last fortnight. He'd clearly been closer to his mother and was at last beginning to feel the impact of her loss. His tears were understood by everyone there, but I could see they made some of the mourners feel uncomfortable. I was quite relieved as I hugged him, that he was now beginning to act more like human being and less like an automaton.

After the service I remained at his side whilst we looked at the floral tributes and went round thanking the guests for attending, and listening to their condolences and good wishes. I had no idea who they were, but several of them shook me warmly by the hand and thanked me for helping Julian. The minister who took the services even told me what a fine young woman I was. It was a bit rich really, given that I’d taken the job primarily as a means of making some easy money during the summer, and speeding up the receipt of my legacy.

By four o’clock most of the mourners had left to return to their everyday lives and the Undertaker was anxious to return to his office. He approached Julian to explain he was about to leave.

‘Would you like the crematorium to arrange to scatter your mother’s ashes in the Garden of Remembrance or will you arrange to do it yourself?’ he asked Julian.

‘I’ll arrange to scatter both my mother’s and my father’s ashes together later on,’ he replied.

‘In that case you may collect them from our office when you’re ready. My staff and I have to leave now; would you two like a lift back to your house?’

‘Yes please,’ I said, taking over the decision making once again.

After they left us I took Julian inside the house, trying to think of something appropriate or comforting to say. The trouble is that I’m just not used to being nice and sensible for long periods of time, and I find it all quite draining. My usual conversational style is a mixture of sarcasm and wisecracks.

‘Are you OK?’ I said, realising as soon as I said it, that it was a trite and meaningless question.’

‘I’ll be alright in a while.’

‘Can I get you anything to eat or drink?’

‘No I’m fine thanks.’

‘Do you want to change your clothes?’ I asked, thinking that he could interpret that however he wanted.

‘I’m ok as I am thanks. I think I may go for a lie down if you don’t mind.’

‘Yes of course.’

‘But I would appreciate your help tomorrow,’ he added significantly.

‘I’ll be happy to,’ I said giving a weak smile.

I spent the evening looking at my friends’ and my own Facebook pages and responding to various messages from friends asking what had happened to me over the last week and why I’d suddenly disappeared from the social scene. It was only a week since my friends and I had gone out for our abortive night out, but it seemed like ages ago. At last, at about 10.00 pm I looked in on Julian; he was asleep on his bed cuddling my teddy bear. I covered them both with a duvet. It wasn’t late but I had too much on my mind to watch television or listen to music. In the end I went to bed myself.

‘It’s quite hard work being an adult. ’

(Next time - Playing 'dress-up'.)

Thanks again for the comments and kudos. Louise