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We all rise at six in the morning. I lend Wendy one of my loose-fitting shirts and an elasticated skirt. She has a spare pair of panties buried in the bottom of her school bag for use in emergencies. She is larger than I am, but the clothes have enough room that she can wear them. Wendy is borrowing an outfit so that she can assist with the farm work without getting her school uniform - the only clothes she has with her - dirty.

After breakfast, we work for an hour and a half before heading back indoors to shower and change. I put on a pair of short leggings for my cycle into school. I will put a skirt on over the top of them when I arrive. I am once again using my mountain bike, as I’m lending my road bike to Wendy.

We arrive in good time and I put the skirt on after locking the bikes up. I decide to remove the leggings as they show up under the skirt, making it hang wrongly. I slip into the bathroom for this task.

We part company and head off to our separate lessons. The day progresses without incident. Despite some awkwardness over my appearance, I’m physically more comfortable wearing the lightweight silk scarf than the heavier wig. I have therefore decided to switch to the scarf on a more permanent basis, only saving the wig for special occasions.

The school does not usually allow headwear unless it’s worn for religious or health reasons. My usage is being allowed on medical grounds. Dr Lambert has kindly provided me with a note I can show to any teacher who questions why I am wearing the scarf. Only a handful of teachers are aware of my issue. My status is being regarded as a confidential matter and therefore is on a need to know basis.

A staff meeting was held at lunchtime yesterday, just before the press release went out. The teachers were given a copy of the statement but not told my identity. However, considering the number of rumours going round the school, it is not difficult to work out. The school has a strict diversity and equal opportunities policy, so none of the teachers can be seen to discriminate against me based on my status.

As I am still in detention during break and lunch, and there isn’t much opportunity to talk during lessons, it isn’t until the end of the day that I can find out if Wendy is okay to stay with Jill and Mary. Apparently, it isn’t going to be a problem. Wendy will cycle home with me, as she needs to return my bike, and then my father will drive her over to Jill’s with her belongings. He was going to go over to the Bancroft farm earlier in the day to have a word with her parents - specifically her father - and if required, collect her belongings.

When we cycle into the farmyard, my father’s Land Rover is parked up and there are a number of our plastic boxes full of clothes sitting in the back. The trailer is hooked up and tied down under a cloth is the shape of a bike. It doesn’t need much deduction to work out that these are Wendy’s possessions ready to be transported over to Jill’s house. My father is tidying the barn as we enter to put the bikes away.

“Wendy, I have spoken with your father. You can go home at any point, but we both agree it might be beneficial for you to spend a few weeks away. It took me a while to realise I had done wrong in chucking Mike out for being gay. Although I’m still not entirely comfortable with the concept, I’m willing to allow people to choose how to live their own lives,” my father explains. “Your mother needs some time to realise that she is being unreasonable, and your absence may trigger that sense of loss that she needs to experience in order to come to terms with your choice of life. Perhaps when she realises what she is missing she will change her mind.”

Wendy nods in agreement, “I could use the change of scenery. However, knowing my mother I suspect it may be a while before she reconsiders.”

“Before I forget, Jasmine, congratulations,” my father states, turning to me, “your deed poll paperwork arrived in the post today. You are now officially, Jasmine Simone Whittaker.”

I can’t help but grin and cheer in excitement. I’m one step closer to my goals.

My father smiles at my display of happiness, but I also detect a slight sadness in his posture. I guess he is still feeling a little odd at losing a son and gaining a daughter.

He climbs into the driver’s seat and is joined by Wendy as the two of them head off in the Land Rover. My mother is out tending to the sheep, so I head indoors. After changing out of my uniform into a light cotton dress, I get the vacuum cleaner and start hoovering the lounge.

As I hear my mother come in the back door, the phone starts to ring. She calls out that she will get it, so I continue with the housework.

She hangs up as I finish the ground floor and switch the machine off.

“That was your father. There’s been a change of plan. He will explain later, but it seems that Jill, Mary and Wendy are coming back here,” she states. “He is waiting for Jason to come with the van and then they are going to move the girls here along with all their possessions. You need to change into boy mode so that Jason doesn’t see you.”

I question my mother, but she has no further information. I therefore go upstairs to change out of the dress and into something more appropriate. I grab an old pair of trousers and a checked shirt. I put a satin camisole underneath so that it doesn’t irritate my chest. The material of the shirt is thick so that it can’t be seen underneath.

Given that we will be having three guests for dinner, I help my mother add to the casserole that is already in the oven. It’s only been in about half an hour on a low heat. My father put some vegetables and sausages in a dish shortly before we arrived. My mother gets some more sausages out of the freezer, and after defrosting them in the microwave, chucks them in the pot.

I chop some more veg and throw them in as well. It looks like we will be having tea later anyway so it won’t matter. To add a bit of extra volume I knock up some dumplings from the packet of suet sitting in the top of the fridge. I sit them on top of the cooker to put into the casserole later. They only take twenty minutes so can go in when my father gets back.

Forty minutes later, the Land Rover pulls up in the yard followed shortly afterwards by Jason’s transit van. I throw the dumplings in the casserole and my mother and I walk outside to greet them as they climb out of the vehicles. My father and Wendy are in the Land Rover. As well as Wendy’s belongings, the vehicle is now full to the gills with boxes and black sacks. The back seats are completely full and it’s loaded almost all the way up to the roof. The trailer now has three bikes and a number of pot plants that I recognise from Mary’s back yard.

Jason is driving the transit, with Mary and Jill in the passenger seats. The van is also full of house-wear. It would appear the bigger items have been loaded into the van while the Land Rover has smaller items and soft things like clothes and bedding.

“Thanks, Jason, I think we can manage from here. Sorry to drag you away from your meal,” my father says. “Take one of the buggies, they’re road legal, I will drop the van off in the morning and drive the buggy back.”

The girls thank Jason, and he heads over to the barn. A minute later, he is waving as he drives off in our two-seater buggy. The single-seater is at the mechanics after I tore the rear wheel off coming out of the barn when I had my breakdown.

“What’s going on?” my mother asks as we all head indoors.

“Put the kettle on and I will explain,” my father states, “I’m dying for a cuppa after loading the vehicles up.”

I get some mugs out as we all sit at the kitchen table.

“When we got there, an argument was going on between Jill and this big bloke. Seems that the rent hadn’t been paid and the scumbag of a landlord was trying to get heavy with Jill. I decided to intervene. Some of the rent was overdue and he wasn’t happy about it,” my father explains.

“We barely have enough money to keep the roof over our heads at the best of times, but we were in real trouble this time. That’s why I jumped at the chance for Wendy to stay, hoping she would be able to help with the rent,” Jill says. “As my mother is useless with money, I look after our finances. We get most of the rent provided by benefits, but there is a top up we have to pay. I hadn’t realised how much it actually was due to my mother coming to an alternative arrangement with the landlord that I didn’t know about.”

“She was screwing the bastard instead of paying cash. He was overdue for being laid and the bitch has stood him up,” Mary added, the venom in her voice clearly evident. “Needless to say he wasn’t very happy at going without. He was threatening to chuck us out on the street.”

“I’m not an expert at property management, but it was immediately obvious that things were not being done as per the law,” my father declared. “I asked to see the tenancy agreement and the deposit registration document, neither of which seemed to exist. One thing I did learn from renting out the cottages to the farmhands is that it’s now law that all deposits have to be registered. If not done correctly there is an automatic fine of three times the deposit payable by the landlord to the tenant. The scumbag owner didn’t like that being pointed out.”

“You could see the colour drain from his face,” Wendy exclaimed.

“After a quick discussion with Jill and Mary, I negotiated a settlement,” my father states, “They vacate the house immediately taking everything they want. Anything left behind he can have to dispose of how he sees fit. There’s nothing much left worth selling so I suspect he will have to dump it down the tip. He cuts his losses and writes off the missing rent, and pays back the deposit in cash. We don’t seek compensation for incorrect handling of the rent or deposit.”

“Where is your mother?” I ask.

“The bitch has pissed off to Poland with her latest boyfriend,” Mary replies with absolute hatred. “She sods off every now and again, abandoning us until she gets bored. Well this time she isn’t going to find us if she comes back.”

“Considering the circumstances, I have offered them our spare bedrooms in return for help on the farm. I think it could work out as a win-win situation all round. Jill, Mary and Wendy live here and become additional workers in return for board. We then won’t need the services of the shared farmhands, which will free them up for use on the other farms, especially the Bancroft’s who will have lost the services of their daughter,” my father declares, nodding towards Wendy. “All the farms were short-staffed, so this will help the consortium.”

After drinking our tea, we serve and eat the casserole before unloading the van and Land Rover. Most of the furniture was left behind, as it was old and worn-out. The old-fashioned TV in the dining room has been left, but the newer one from the front room, along with the cable box and DVD player are in the van. They have also brought the fridge, freezer, and the contents of the kitchen cupboards. We set the freezer up in the barn and put the frozen food back in it. The fridge isn’t needed so goes in the barn for storage, as does all the cutlery and crockery they had. The blanket and sheets are dumped in the laundry along with all the dirty washing that the girls hadn’t yet done. Their clothes are in plastic bin bags, and we sit them at the bottom of the stairs for the moment.

After unloading the vehicles, we settle down in the lounge with another drink while we catch our breaths.

“Right, we need to decide who sleeps where, and lay down some ground rules. There are two spare bedrooms and three of you,” my father states. “Therefore, I was planning on putting the Green sisters in Mike’s old room and Wendy in the guest room, where she spent last night. I know you two elder girls would like to share, but I’m not comfortable with the idea of a lesbian relationship happening in my house.”

I can see the girls are slightly disappointed, but I think they were expecting that condition. They are relying on the hospitality of my parents, so won’t say anything. I on the other hand have no such inhibitions and ask, “Why not? You let Emily and I share a room and have lesbian sex, how is this any different? Are you going to claim that was all right because it’s heterosexual as I’m a boy, because if you are, then you are seriously mistaken. The only way I can penetrate is with fingers, tongue or strap on dildo.”

My father is surprised by my openness on the subject and hesitates to answer, so I take advantage and press my point, “If you’re willing to let ‘hetro’ sex under your roof, viva Espaá±a and all that, does that mean now I’m a girl I can invite a boy over to stay the night?”

“No!” my father replies.

“Besides, lesbian sex is a lot safer than normal sex, as there is no risk of pregnancy,” I add, “so if you’re going to allow any form, then that would be the most appropriate.”

“Stop it!” my father exclaims then sighs. “I give up! You can sort the sleeping arrangements out between yourselves. If you all want to stage an orgy in the same bed go ahead, just keep the noise down. Remember you will all have to get up at six in the morning, so don’t complain if you don’t get any sleep.”

“In that case, do you fancy sharing a bed, lover?” Wendy asks Jill, smiling.

“Sure thing,” she replies, kissing her before turning to Mary and saying, “Looks like you finally get a room to yourself, sis.”

“Gee thanks,” Mary replies in a dejected tone.

On seeing the sudden depressed look on Mary’s face Jill quickly wraps her sister in a hug. “I didn’t mean it like that, I thought you would be okay on your own by now.”

Mary sobs into her elder sister’s shoulder. “I’m sorry; I know I’m being silly and selfish. You share with Wendy, don’t let my issues interfere with that.”

“What’s the matter?” I enquire.

Mary dries her eyes, composing herself before she responds, “I was sleeping alone one night. Jill was staying at a friend’s, when mum’s boyfriend of the time decided he wanted some extra fun. He crept into the room, put his hand over my mouth and told me not to scream. He was about to pull my pyjama bottoms down when Jill interrupted him. She had forgotten something and called in to pick it up.”

Seeing that Mary is becoming upset, Jill takes over, “He didn’t get to do anything. I grabbed him and threw him off her. The commotion woke mum up out of her drunken stupor, and between the two of us, we sent him packing with numerous bruises and the threat of losing his testicles if he ever came near us again.”

“Ever since then I can’t get to sleep unless I have someone in the room with me. I know it’s stupid and I know I’m safe, but I still can’t settle on my own,” Mary adds after regaining control of her emotions.

“You can sleep with me if you like, if you don’t mind sharing a double bed,” I say, “and I mean sleep as in slumber not sleep as in sex, unless you want to that is. Without hormones, I have zero sex drive anyway. You know I slept with Emily, and it was fun, but she was the driving force, I simply went along with her wishes. Anyway, I’m more into boys than girls. There is no way I’m going to initiate anything on that score.”

“Thanks,” Mary replies, “At least until I get used to living here, I would like to take you up on that offer.”

My parents have been staying out of the conversation, letting us decide the arrangements between ourselves. They have been listening and whispering things between them while we sort things out.

“Okay, I’m not entirely comfortable with this, but I’ll allow it,” my father states. “However, when social services pay a visit, as they are bound to do, you two each have your own rooms,” he says pointing at the two sisters, “and, Wendy, you don’t live here as far as they are concerned.”

All the girls nod. After finishing our drinks, we see to sorting the things out into the various rooms. Wendy and Jill take their belongings up to Mike’s old room. We dump most of Mary’s stuff in the guest bedroom and then head into mine. I will need to sort out some cupboard space for her to use.
It’s getting late so we call it a night and head to bed.

I go into the bathroom first to use the loo and brush my teeth. I then return to the bedroom while Mary goes into the bathroom. I start to undress, with my back to the door in case anybody should see in when Mary comes back. I have no problem being seen, although I would be somewhat uncomfortable around my father. All the women have already seen me naked anyway.

Mary opens the door, and on seeing me standing there naked folding my clothes, quickly closes the door again mumbling, “Sorry”. I turn round, realising she hasn’t come in. I stand behind the door and open it. Peering round the door, I see Mary waiting in the hall in embarrassment, already wearing her pyjamas having changed in the bathroom.

“You can come in, you don’t have to wait out there,” I say, beckoning her into the room. She comes in and sits on the end of the bed, keeping her eyes averted. I close the door, then walk over to where my silk pyjamas are waiting on the bed, and start to put them on.

“What’s the matter? We have seen each other naked before. We have shared the communal showers at school and the swimming pool, why the sudden shyness?” I ask.

“Well, they are public places. Getting undressed in private seems so much more intimate,” she replies.

I climb into bed before responding, “I guess it is, but if we are going to share a room it would be a lot easier if we didn’t worry about such things. Look, I’m not going to jump you if you’re worried. We can keep to our own sides of the bed and I promise not to touch you.”

Mary nods and climbs into the bed on the opposite side. I turn out the lights and we lie on our own sides of the bed for several minutes.

“Jasmine,” Mary whispers. I turn and can see her trembling.

“Yes?” I reply.

“Will you hold me, at least until I fall asleep? I always have trouble sleeping in new surroundings. I was fine in my old house and in Alison’s, as I’ve been there so often, but this feels odd,” she states.

I shuffle across and spoon into her back, wrapping my arm round her waist, being careful to only touch her stomach and not her breast or crotch.

“Thanks,” she whispers, and I can feel her relax.

I hadn’t realised before just how vulnerable Mary felt. I got the impression during the sleepover at her house that something wasn’t quite right. Her comments about being interested in lesbianism seemed to stem from not being comfortable around boys, although I obviously don’t count as one in her eyes. I guess that the kinds of men that her mother attracts are the worst samples of the human population and this has put her off heterosexual relationships.

My alarm clock wakes us up promptly at six o’clock Thursday morning. Mary groans as I throw the covers back and climb out of bed.

“Get dressed,” I say shaking Mary when she ignores the alarm, “We will have breakfast then do chores for an hour and a half before showering and changing for school. Put some old clothes on that it doesn’t matter if they get covered in mud.”

I was tempted to say ‘shit’ instead of ‘mud’, as that may well end up being more accurate, but I decide that I don’t want to put Mary off more than necessary.

I grab a pair of knickers, bra, jeans, and a shirt and start to get dressed. Mary watches me from the bed, still not fully awake. Slowly she climbs out and starts to get dressed herself.

A few minutes later, we are all sitting round the kitchen table having breakfast. Both Mary and Jill are sleepy, but the rest of us - Wendy included - are wide-awake as this is our usual getting up time.

“We need to get you two trained up,” my father states, referring to Jill and Mary. “Mary, you can shadow Jasmine, she will train you in what you need to know. Due to your age, you won’t be doing as much work and there are limitations on what work you can do.”

Mary nods as my father continues, “Jill, you will shadow Wendy. Wendy, I know you are trained enough to be trusted to follow instructions without issue. I assume I can give you a task list and you can follow it without a problem?”

Wendy confirms that her knowledge is good enough. She has after all run her parents’ farm when they were away. My father then goes on to explain the various tasks that need to be completed. Ten minutes later, we are all heading out to the milking sheds to complete the first milking of the day.

Although the milking machines are automated, they still need to be connected to the cows by hand. The more people you have working on it the quicker you can get the job done, so this morning we are able to get the cows milked in record time.

As eight o’clock rolls up, we head indoors to shower and change. Wendy and Jill use the downstairs shower together. I give Mary a knowing look. Figuring that they may be a while, we take our boots and socks off and carefully move upstairs.

Once upstairs we toss a coin to decide who goes first. I win so use the bathroom while Mary waits. After brushing my teeth, using the loo, and having a quick shower, I emerge and Mary takes my place. I dress in my school uniform and walk downstairs into the kitchen.

I start to make some packed lunches for all four of us. Mary enters the kitchen around the same time as the older girls finally come out of the downstairs shower room, wrapped in towels. They quickly head upstairs to dress.

It’s nearly twenty past eight before all of us go over to the barn where the bikes are stored. The other girls have their own bikes, brought back from their houses. Wendy no longer needs to borrow mine, so I can cycle to school on the road bike, its low crossbar allowing me to ride in a skirt.

I lead the way to the school. I adjust my pace to one that the others are comfortable with and that will get us into the school grounds in time for the bell. We lock our bikes in the shed and proceed to morning registration.

I have finally finished my detention for deceiving the school, so I can join my friends at break time. Jill and Mary head to the school office during break to have their records updated. I go with them to make sure that the details are entered correctly and to file my own paperwork. Mr Henry is standing taking to one of the secretaries when we come up to the desk. On seeing me, he fears the worst so comes to see to us himself.

“What’s the problem, girls?” he asks with concern.

“We need to update our address and contact details, as they are now out of date,” Jill answers. “We had to move out of our previous house at short notice, so we are now living at Whittaker farm with Jasmine. She is here to make sure we get the details right.”

“My father will be in his office doing paperwork at the moment if you need to call him,” I add. “I also have a deed poll here to officially change my name.”

Relieved that it is something relatively mundane, Mr Henry sets about updating the details for us, with the help of the secretary. He congratulates me on my name change, stating that will make things a lot easier in future. Any examinations I now take will be issued with my new name.

Soon our files are updated with the new details, and we go outside to where our friends are waiting. It turns out that the Green’s details were wrong to begin with. It seems the school is still sorting out the problems caused by the virus left by the hacker. Mary’s address was down as a local bed and breakfast while Jill was supposedly living on a North Sea oilrig. Mr Henry is pleased to get some correct details into the system. To make sure that the details stay correct he prints the records off and files them in hardcopy in case any further problems occur.

Wendy and Jill begin to walk around the school grounds, no doubt heading to one of the private spots where you can discretely kiss without being interrupted. Mary and I join Alison and Julie, who are chatting waiting for our arrival. It is not long before Mary is relating the events of the previous evening to our friends. Our conversation is cut short by the bell for the next lesson.

I am again wearing the headscarf instead of the wig, as it’s more comfortable. Everybody in all my classes now being aware of who and what I am, my secret is out in that sense. Most of the school know of me, but not everyone knows whom the TG student is, or what they look like. Not many students wear any form of headwear. There are a couple of Jewish brothers in the year above who wear those small skullcaps for religious purposes and a Muslim girl who occasionally covers her head, but not as often as she once did after rebelling against her parents and religion. One of the year eleven girls suffers from alopecia, and like me wears a scarf to cover for her lack of a full head of hair.

My headwear does make me stand out a fraction, but I don’t let that bother me. I always have some friends with me, so nobody seems keen to confront me as I always have backup. I am doing the girly ritual of flocking to the bathrooms with company instead of going alone, although never with Julie as she is still uncomfortable going in my presence.

Lisa comes over to Mary, Alison and I during the lunch break. We are sitting under a tree in the school grounds, enjoying the late autumn sun.

“Just the girl I’m after,” Lisa says to me, “Jasmine, how would you like to take part in a tennis competition Saturday?”

“Me?” I ask.

“My tennis club is short on players and we have a competition against another club at the weekend. Several of our usual under-fifteen girls’ team are unavailable for various reasons. If we fail to provide enough players then we have to forfeit the match,” Lisa adds. “We need one more player, and I know from Julie that you’re capable having come third in the singles, and second in the doubles tournaments held at your previous school. I’m also aware you’re fit and fast due to the beep test results at the start of term. You are the best candidate for filling in.”

“Am I eligible?” I enquire. “I assume you have to be a girl, and in case you’ve forgotten, I’m still technically male. If they find out they could deem that I have an unfair advantage and disqualify me.”

“Actually, I was kind of hoping you do have a competitive advantage, we could use it. We are up against Katrina Sortir. Her nickname is Latrina, due to being built like a brick shi–”

“I get the picture,” I interrupt.

“Seriously, she makes Arnold Schwarzenegger look girly in comparison. If anybody is accused of being a boy, she will. In fact, I think she has been on a number of occasions,” Lisa replies. “Katrina can easily out play most boys, let alone girls. She has serious muscle mass and is capable of 90 mph serves. She is probably the next Venus Williams. You are possibly one of the few people at least capably of attempting a return. I think she is the main reason why we are having trouble finding a team. Everyone is scared of playing her.”

“I’m not sure about this,” I state, “this isn’t exactly honest, and very risky.”

“Worst-case scenario, you get disqualified. Having one player thrown out is still better that forfeiting the whole fixture due to a lack of players. At least we would still stand a chance with one person down,” Lisa declares, “Besides which, how are they going to prove it? All you have to do is drop your knickers, and don’t try and deny that you wouldn’t do that if necessary. After all, that is what you did to gain access to the changing rooms here at school.”

Lisa gets down on her knees and starts to beg, “I’ll arrange for your kit and transport. I can get my cousin to drop you off at home. I’ll even buy you dinner.”

I think about it for a bit, while Lisa looks at me with puppy-dog eyes. I finally reply, “Okay, assuming I can get my parents’ permission, I’ll fill in just this once, but you’ll have to guarantee my safety. I don’t fancy being beaten into a pulp with tennis rackets if my secret comes out.”

“Don’t worry. Julie and I will have your back,” Lisa replies. “There may be one or two of the other girls who know you, but they won’t say anything. Our captain even joked yesterday that we should get a boy in as a ringer to play Latrina. That is what gave me the idea of asking you.”

I may well regret this, but I might as well go along with it. I enjoy the odd game of tennis. Lisa fills me in on the details until the bell rings and we have to head off to registration.

The afternoon gym class proceeds without incident. I’m a lot less nervous this time, and I no longer worry about what I can see when changing. I even risk a few glances in Julie’s direction, but she also seems to be less tense about it. She does however keep her back to me most of the time, and waits until I have come out of the showers before going in.

At the end of the day, the four of us cycle back to the farm at a leisurely pace. Jill and Mary are used to a much shorter commute.

We store the bikes in the shed and go to the farmhouse, but find it locked. I show the girls the key box and its combination, before unlocking the door so that we can enter. There is a note on the kitchen table for us. My father is helping John Palmer out with repairing the fire-damaged milking shed and my mother is at another one of her farmers’ wives coffee afternoons, this time at Janice Yearly’s.

“Oh great, we have to move the sheep again,” I say sarcastically, reading the instructions left for us.

“What’s wrong with moving sheep?” Wendy asks.

“You don’t have sheep on your farm, do you,” I state. Wendy’s parents only keep cows. “They are a pain in the backside to manoeuvre. Cows are somewhat intelligent, and go where you tell them. Sheep on the other hand are thick and like nothing better than to run in all directions. Why do you think shepherds have to use dogs to round them up?”

“I’ve heard of your experiences with sheep,” Wendy replies. “Just because you are useless as a shepherdess, doesn’t mean that it’s necessarily that difficult or that they are that badly behaved. You just need to know how to handle them.”

I grin at them, “In that case you three can go and move the sheep while I get dinner on.”

The three of them head upstairs to change out of their school clothes and into something suitable for working. I look in the fridge to see what needs cooking. A few minutes later, they come back down so I introduce them to the dogs and give them a quick overview of the commands to steer them round the fields. They start walking off in the direction of the sheep and I go back inside and up to my bedroom.

I discard the school uniform I am still wearing and change into a light cotton dress. I descend the stairs and after donning an apron, start to cook and bake. I put a casserole in the oven, and then start to make some cakes for dessert and for our lunchboxes. I enjoy baking, but don’t always have the time.

I hear a vehicle pull up in the yard. I look out of the window to see if I need to go hide, but see both my parents climbing down out of the Land Rover. I head outside to meet them.

“Hi, Jasmine,” my father states, “did you get the sheep moved okay?”

“The other girls are out in the fields at the moment seeing to them. Wendy seemed to think that I was exaggerating in the difficulty of the task, so I left the three of them to it,” I reply. Looking at my watch I then add, “they have been gone a while, it might be an idea to see if they need rescuing yet.”

A lone sheep comes running down the dirt track into the farmyard before crossing over into our garden where it starts to nibble on the flowers. My father quickly grabs it and carries it over to the barn while my mother fetches some rope to tie it up.

“I think we’d better go and see what is going on,” my father tells my mother. Seeing that I have dinner under control they take the sheep and head in the direction of the fields.

Half an hour later, I hear all five of them walking across the yard. I come out to meet them and immediately burst out laughing. All three girls are covered from head to toe in mud. Wendy is by far the dirtiest, looking like she has been dragged along the ground on her back, her hair stuck in clumps with drying mud. The smell of dung permeates the air. My parents, on the other hand, look reasonably clean.

“Those things aren’t sheep,” Jill states, “They’re pure devil spawn. I would never have believed anything that cute and cuddly could be so irrepressibly evil.”

“I thought you had poor sheep handling skills, but this lot make you look professional. They had the sheep spread out over three fields,” my father tells me. “I’m going to take a shower. Knock on the door when it’s safe for me to come back out.”

“Right you lot,” my mother states, “you’re not coming inside with that amount of mud on you. Which do you prefer, stripping or hosing?”

“You can of course opt for both,” I add, grabbing the hosepipe, “I will warn you that the outside tap only provides cold water.”

I turn the tap on and point the spray head in their direction, waiting to pull the trigger. My mother calls out, “I’ll get some towels,” before heading inside, closing the door behind her.

The girls are looking at me with trepidation, uncertain of what to do next. I start counting down from ten.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Mary states.

I ignore her and continue counting down. Wendy, having no doubt gone through this routine before, wisely starts to strip off, however she is still standing in the way of the other girls when I reach zero, and deciding that none of them are moving quickly enough, I pull the trigger and shoot cold water in their direction.

I’m not sure which of them can scream the loudest, but they all seem to object to the cold water. I make sure that they are thoroughly wet, rinsing off the worst of the mud, before turning off the hose. Seeing the nasty look in their eyes, I decide to make a hasty retreat back indoors only to find the door is locked. It would appear my mother has double-crossed me.

The girls soon have their revenge as I’m hit with icy cold water from the hosepipe. I put my arms up to shield myself, but I’m soon as drenched as the rest of them. I also give them a run for their money in the screaming department. I certainly don’t sound masculine while being drenched.

Seeing that we have now finished trying to drown each other and are now shivering as well, my mother opens the door and instructs us all to strip off and deposit our wet clothes in a bucket. I go first to show the others the best method. My mother holds a towel up in the doorway while diverting her eyes to one side. I walk up to it, strip off keeping my back to the others, then take the towel and wrap it round myself as I enter the utility room. I dry my feet on the doormat before heading upstairs.

Mary comes in second, copying my technique to hide her modesty. My mother directs her to go into the upstairs bathroom and shower. Once the other two girls are wrapped in towels, she knocks on the shower room door. My father comes out and the two elder girls proceed into the downstairs shower room to wash the mud off each other, which suspiciously takes quite a while. By the time they come out Mary has showered and dressed and has come down to the kitchen. As I was clean to start with, I don’t need another shower so simply dry myself off and dress.

It’s a tight squeeze to fit six round our kitchen table, but we manage as my mother dishes up the lamb chops from the casserole. Never has lamb been so enjoyed as tonight.

“Dare I ask how did the gossip group go?” I enquire of my mother after we have eaten.

“About as well as can be expected,” my mother replies with a sigh, “Of course all the women were very sympathetic that Susan has a lesbian for a daughter, the same as they were when they found out Mike was gay. I decided to keep quiet about that one. A lot of the talk was about the dreadful situation of the school allowing a boy to attend as a girl. I didn’t enlighten them as to whom.”

I’m not sure keeping them in the dark is a good thing or not, but at least it saves some aggravation for the moment.

“After the disaster of the demonstration, Janice has come up with the idea of calling for a governors’ meeting. She is apparently friendly with one of the parent governors and intends to make the school call a public meeting, not that she will be able to attend as she doesn’t have a child of the right age range,” my mother states. Janice has a young son, who has just started primary school.

“I will let Mr Henry know what to expect in the morning,” I say.