The rest of the week passed without incident (phew I hear you say).

I started being taught how to be more of a girl by a persistent and aggravating Sheila, whilst the other girls went to school wearing that strange, outlandish uniform.

Anyway, Sheila was a bit of a task master and I soon got fed up with her voice droning on about how I should walk, talk, sit, eat my food - ya.di,ya,di,ya….

‘Stephanie, how many times do I have to tell you to put your knees together when you sit down. Do you really want everyone to see your panties! Don’t take such big mouthfuls; you eat like a boy. When you walk, take smaller steps. Your hair looks like it’s been dragged through a hedge, backwards. ; STEPHANIE, GIRLS DO NOT DO THAT!’

And so it went on until, by the weekend, I was worn to a frazzle.

On Saturday, Matron called me into her office. I wondered if I had done something wrong, but as she motioned for me to sit on the comfy leather sofa with her, I relaxed a bit - but not for long.

‘Well Stephanie, I’m glad that you’ve settled in OK and made lots of friends.’

‘Yes everyone has been nice to me.’

‘That’s good. I hear from Sheila that you a re a model pupil.’

‘She never said that to me!’

‘No,’ laughed the Matron, ‘she wouldn’t, but never the less, she is happy with you and thinks that you are a quick learner. How do you feel about acting like a girl?’

‘Sometimes it’s OK. It’s nice to fit in with the other girls and it’s great that I don’t have to act like a tough boy.’

‘Were you ever a tough boy?’

‘No, not really; at my last school I was bullied sometimes. The only way I could stop it a bit was by joking around and doing impressions of the teachers.’

‘Impressions?’

‘Yes, I can sound like some of them if I want; when I spoke like a teacher and it sounded close to the real thing, it sometimes made the bullies laugh and forget to thump me.’

‘Hmm, can you do an impression of me?’

I looked at her. She was smiling so I thought, why not.

‘Girls, Freeze! Now what is all this about? I keep telling you not to play ball in the corridor now go outside in the fresh air.’

She looked at me. Her jaw dropped and I couldn’t help but giggle at her face.

‘Is that me?’

I just nodded, feeling a bit shy all of a sudden.

She laughed out loud.

‘Well, that just takes the biscuit. You definitely have an ear, you sound as good as a female Mike Yarwood!’ *

She then realised what she said and blushed a bit.

‘Sorry, but dressed like that and behaving like a normal girl, I can’t think of you as a boy.’

‘That’s all right, dressed like this I don’t feel much like a boy.’

‘Do you want to talk about it?’

‘Not yet, if that’s OK; I’m still a bit confused.’

‘Well as I said before, my door is always open. Anyway, we need talk about something else.’

‘Have I been naughty?’

‘No nothing like that; we can’t put things off; you need to go to school or we will be breaking regulations.’

‘School!’

‘Yes, I thought that we would get away with it until you were moved to a boys home, but it looks like there are not going to be any places there for quite some time. So Stephanie, we have to send you to the girls school.’

I groaned.

‘Never mind it’s not that bad. You and I have an appointment with the head mistress at 10.am on Monday, She vets all the girls and needs to approve of you before you can go to the school.

I think I looked worried.

‘It’s OK, Stephanie. I will make sure things go smoothly.’

‘Will you have to tell the head mistress about me being a boy?’

‘Yes. I can’t keep that from her. If she says that you cannot go, then we will have no alternative but to transfer you to a boys home out of the area.’

‘But I don’t want to leave,’ I said as I started snivelling like a girl.

‘Don’t worry, I will do everything I can to help you. Anyway, between you and me, I think that you will be accepted without too much trouble.’

‘Why?’

‘The head mistress is my sister.’

The weekend was nice even though I had the worry of school hanging over my head. At least I got to be around the girls a bit more. We spent the warm days playing in the large gardens or listening to music on the tranny or record player, talking about stuff that girls were interested in, you know, boys, pop stars, makeup and stuff like that.

Mind you, I got a bit embarrassed when they started talking about periods. I wasn’t the only one though as Rachel looked a bit queasy too. We were in bed at the time and lights were out. There were a few torches and whoever was telling their tale about the monthly horror had the torch shone on their face whilst telling us of their grizzly nightmare ordeal.

As usual, Tracy went over the top. I had to cover Teddy’s ears, as she was too young to hear about that sort of thing. Mind you so was I!

‘Never mind,’ I thought, ‘it must be a girl thing. You know, boys boast about how high up the wall they can pee and girls, erm…do other things.’

‘Well,’ said Tracy, her face, eerie and ghostly in the torchlight. ‘I was in bed at the Jones’s; they had fostered me for about a week, God help them. Anyway, I had just woken up and it was about eight in the morning I felt a bit damp down below and thought, “Na, I haven’t wet myself in the night, have I?” Anyway, I put my hand down below, you know, just to check and then when I pulled it out and looked at my drippingwet hand, I screamed. It was covered in blood!’

Everyone gasped at this and there was more than one, ‘yuk!’

‘Anyhoo, Mr and Mrs Jones came running in. I jumped out of bed; my jim-jams were covered in blood and the bed looked as if I had slaughtered a pig on it. Mrs Jones took one look and fainted and Mr Jones looked as if he was gong to barf up or something. I wasn’t feeling too bright myself as I felt like someone had kicked me in the stomach and I wasn’t my normal cheerful self. I just told Jones boy to pull himself together and do something with his wimpy wife. Needless to say, I was back in the clutches of the authorities before you could say sanitary belt.’

Looking at Tracy, I felt that she may have gone a bit over the top with her description, but anyway, I gave her the benefit of the doubt — this time.

‘Stephanie,.’ said Paula, ‘what about you.’

‘What about me, what?’

‘How did you find your first period?’

‘Under the bed?’

Everyone laughed at my wit.

‘No, come on, tell us.’

‘Erm…I haven’t had one.’

‘Ooh you’re lucky,’ said Sharon, ‘mind you, you are still a kid, after all.’

That coming from a girl of 13!

Anyway we went to sleep after that as no one could top Tracy!

As I went to sleep with Teddy, whispering that teddies don’t have periods and not to have any nasty dreams about it; I remembered that it was Monday the next day and I had an interview with the head mistress. I shuddered a bit as I remembered something else, that flaming school uniform!

I gripped Teddy a bit tighter and tried to get some sleep.

To be continued…

*Mike Yarwood was British television's first truly successful impressionist, with his own long-running series on both the BBC and ITV.

Please leave comments as it takes Teddy’s mind off things like the above chapter. I keep telling her that periods are full stops, but she doesn’t quite believe me…