Dreamer: Book 2. Part 8

By Tanya Allan

This part Copyright © 2012

As this section is new, written in response to the many comments left, (for which I thank you) I will endeavour to maintain a similar style, albeit from a different perspective. To be honest, I have no idea where this is going or how long it will take me to get there. Bearing in mind that I started this section yesterday, and I do have many other projects that need completing, I cannot promise to produce this much each day.

---

Introducing Philippa Stewart, international Movie Star and mother of two, as she looks back at her life.

Flashing back to that day she was reunited with her parents, this chapter deals with her struggle to be verified by the medical profession, the law and her parents.

Just because she's now a girl, will anything really change?

How will those who knew Philip deal with her?

Find out.... read on....

---

Once again, my thanks to PEGLEG for catching my mistakes.

---

---

Dreamer: Book 2. Part 8

1988: Hollywood

“Cut, that’s a wrap, people, thank you.” Joseph, the director, looked pleased, finally!

I eased my aching muscles, rotating my neck. That last scene was exhausting and very exacting. My eyes stung, as the coloured contacts were irritating me.

A runner came over to where I had eased my tired body into the folding chair with my name on the back. He was a nice lad, about eighteen, I guessed, with more spots that were good for him.

“Miss Stewart?”

“Hello, Neville, how are you today?” I asked.

He grinned, pleased that I remembered his name and actually deigned to speak to such a lowly person.

“I’m fine, thanks, Miss Stewart. I thought you did that last scene beautifully,” he gushed.

I smiled my thanks at him.

“Is there a message?” I asked.

“Oh, yes, sorry. Your husband called and says he’s in surgery until three and then he’ll catch the train. Can you pick him up at the usual place at around eight?”

“Thanks, Neville. I take it he didn’t want a reply?”

“Uh, I guess not, ma’am.”

“Thanks.”

The lad seemed reluctant to leave.

“Is there something else?” I asked.

“Uh, I was wondering, Miss Stewart, are you staying in the states or heading back to Europe?”

“Well, now the film is finished, I don’t have a lot to stay here for. My husband has a job as a surgeon back there, so I guess we’ll head back.”

“So, no more movies in the pipeline?”

“One or two that are possible, but I’ve also been asked to do another TV period drama series for the BBC.”

“Which do you prefer?”

“That’s a tough one. The movies are the big payers, but I love the series. That’s where I started, doing a period drama over fifteen years ago now.”

“I hope you stay on here, Miss Stewart,” he said, blushing through his acne.

“Why thanks, Neville, I love California, but it’ll never be home for me. I’m still just a very ordinary girl from Scotland.”

“No ma’am, you’ll never be just ordinary,” he said, before rushing off when one of the assistant directors yelled his name. “Bye, Miss Stewart. I think you’re great!”

Joseph came over and sat in the chair next to me.

“Happy now?” I asked, somewhat crossly. He’d made me do that damn scene at least fifteen times.

He grinned at me, with a complete lack of remorse.

“I wanted you to look tired and angry. You acted tired and angry beautifully, but I could tell it was an act. By the last take, you were genuinely tired and angry and so it looked ten times more convincing through the lens. You’re good, Pippa, but when you let yourself go, you’re even better!”

I grunted at him, but smiled. He was one of the best directors I had ever worked with, because he took no shit from anyone. He knew what he wanted and worked everybody really hard until he got it. Another runner appeared with some fresh OJ. He gave us both a glass.

“So, have we got a blockbuster here?” I asked, sipping my drink.

“You can never tell. I’m very pleased with it, and it ticks all the right boxes for the audiences. I think the critics will be mixed, the subject matter is a little off? the usual track, so the arty-farty critics might like it. There’s no reason it shouldn’t do well, after all, your name is up there, and you’ve not been in a dud yet,” he said, grinning.

“There’s a first time for everything,” I said.

“I heard you tell young Neville that you might be heading back to Europe, is that right?”

“My husband’s time in LA is up. He’s learned so much in the clinic, but all good things have to come to an end. He wants to put the new procedures to use at his hospital, so he has to head back soon.”

“Gender reassignment is not something one thinks of as being cutting edge surgery, but I guess there’s all kinds in the world.”

“They started things off in Scandinavia with Christine Jorgensen. She was an American, I believe?”

“Yeah, back in the fifties. I met her once; you’d have never known she had once been a guy.”

“My husband did some time in Stockholm after graduating. When he came back to England, we got married, and then he took the job at the clinic in London. As you know, I’ve been all over the place with TV and movies, and it’s been lovely that he came over here while I was in California.”

“How do your kids feel about your life style?”

“They’re a bit young to know anything different, I guess. Toby is fine; he’s nearly six, but is beginning to grumble that we seem to be moving about all the time. Sasha is just three, and is a little prima donna already. She loves all the attention.”

“No more kids?”

“Not for a while,” I said, smiling.

“How did you guys meet?”

“Oh, a long time ago. Do you know Scotland?”

“Sure, I did a movie up on Loch Ness once.” He pronounced the word Loch as Lock, as did many non-Scots people, especially North Americans,

“Well, I was brought up in Scotland. I was at school up in the hills of Perthshire. I woke up one morning and decided that I had had enough, and so just left. My husband helped me find myself.”

“How old were you?”

“Seventeen.”

“You did that Scottish TV series when you were just seventeen, didn’t you?”

“I was eighteen just before we finished it. It made me. I was ever so grateful to Val.”

“Val?”

“Valarie Masterson, she wrote and produced the series. We met when I was going for a job as a model in Edinburgh. I failed to get the job, but she saw something in me and took a chance. The rest is history.”

I felt a bit better now, having relaxed. It had been a very testing scene, and as I tried to do most of my own stunts, it was quite physical at times.

“What’s next for you?” I asked.

“I’ve been asked to do another space movie, but I’m not sure about them. I think that special effects can make or break the damn things, and sometimes the acting takes second place to that. There’s a gangster type movie being put together by a producer on the East coast, I got a call to see if I was interested, so they’re sending me the script. To be honest, I just want a long vacation with Nancy.”

“I’ll drink to that,” I said, raising my glass. “We’re heading home via the Caribbean. We’ve three weeks booked in a friend’s place in Mustique.”

“Is that the private island where your Queen goes?”

“I think the royal couple have been there a few times. Princess Margaret has been there several times, I know.”

“No relation?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.

I laughed.

“I’m a Stewart; we lost the rights to the throne back in the seventeenth century.”

“So, you’ve got royal blood?” he asked, surprised.

I laughed again.

“Stewart is my stage name. My maiden name is Coates and my husband’s name is…”

“Mummy!” shouted a little girl, as she ran across the set and launched herself into my arms.

“Hello sweetheart. Have you had a nice time with Aunty Harriet?”

“Oh yes, we did painting and swimming and running and sticking. We played with her dog too,” she said, beaming at Harriet as she walked across the set towards us.

Joseph excused himself and wandered off.

“Where’s that brother of yours?” I asked my daughter.

“Somewhere,” Sasha said, vaguely.

“He’s by the special effects truck. They’re going to blow something up, and he wants to press the button again,” said Harriet.

The studio had found Harriet to look after the children for me when I was on location or shooting. She was a twenty-two year old from San Diego. She was studying to be a teacher and did this during her vacations to afford the fees at college. She was superb and the kids loved her. Her boyfriend was Rick. He was a fledgling actor, struggling to find a job after completing drama school in LA.

There was an almighty explosion out on the range. A little boy, flushed in the face and bearing the biggest grin came running over to me.

“I did that!” my son Toby told me proudly.

“You did it beautifully,” I said, unsure whether the word beautifully and a bomb went well together.

“Is daddy here,” Sasha asked.

“Not yet, but I’ll pick him up later. Do you remember the trains?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said.

“We will see more trains when we go and collect him. Then in two sleeps we will go to the sea side. Won’t that be nice?”

She nodded with a frown on her face.

“What?” I asked.

“Is Aunty Harriet coming to the seaside?”

“No dear. Aunty Harriet has to go back to college so she can become a teacher.”

Toby frowned.

“Why does she want to do that when she can stay with us and help?”

“Well, that’s a good question. You see, we don’t need Harriet all the time, only when Mummy is too busy because of work. Now I’ve finished working, Harriet can go back and see her Mummy and Daddy and pick up her life again. You will have me to look after you and do fun things with,” I said.

Their expressions told me that they would rather have Aunty Harriet.

“I have to change,” I said. “Can you keep them out of trouble for half an hour more?”

“Sure, Pippa. Hey guys, shall we go get some ice cream?”
They never looked back, which made me smile slightly.

My trailer was a short walk away. Once I closed the door and turned up the air conditioning, I sat at my dressing table and removed the contacts.

They were a strange amber colour. I’d played a British secret agent with amazing paranormal powers called Amber. The film was based on a British book called Amber Alert (by Tanya Allan and available on Kindle), and was about a young boy called Andrew who was born with special powers. His parents were both volunteers in a secret programme to heighten paranormal ESP in the paranoid forties and fifties, but died in an accident when he was very young.

Brought up by his grandparents, he realised that he wanted to be a girl. Unlike other unfortunate children with gender confusion, he had the power to change, so he did; into Amber. This was the story of how Amber developed and blossomed.

When I read the script, my agent advised me not to touch it. How could I resist something as close to home as this?

It was made for me.

However, it was very ironic. Now I was thirty two, I was too old to play the young Amber. They found a remarkable little actress in a London drama school who could have been me aged eleven. I took over when Amber reached adulthood, as I was still able to play a nineteen year old (with good makeup and excellent lighting).

Most of it took place in the UK, so we spent two months there in the summer last year. Then we moved to Europe and finally to America to do the Caribbean sets and most of the internal work. It always amazed me how convincing the locations could seem, even when we were thousands of miles away from the actual locations.

It had been great fun to make, but physically strenuous. I tried to go to the gym a few times a week, but I felt that I needed a long holiday now.

I stripped off and stepped into the shower.

As I stood there, letting the hot water bombard my aching muscles, I thought back to the journey that got me to this point.

That day I returned to the fold was hard on all of us. It was when my mother revealed that I was a surviving twin that acted as a catalyst somehow. None of us knew the answers to the many questions we had over my sudden and profound change. Somewhere there were answers, but we knew that they weren’t going to fall over themselves to become known in the short term.

I knew from old that my father was a bit of a control freak. He was a shrewd and hard-headed businessman, but he liked to think he could deal with family as if we were his employees. I usually acquiesced to his demands on me, as to stand up to him required more effort and courage than I used to possess. Now, however, although allegedly a member of the weaker and gentle sex, I found that I not only had the will to stand up to him, I had the courage and determination not to back down and allow myself to be bullied.

Although emotions ran high, we never actually lost our tempers. I sensed that my father was being slightly defensive because he felt that control was running away from him. I had no strong feelings about his position, as I was now far more content and secure in who I was. I was no longer plagued by my gender confusion. It had made me a techy and touchy young man, ready to respond to anything that appeared critical or negative.

I was much more concerned about my mother.

Her attitude confused me. Before this, she had been a very social animal, with a large circle of friends and busy social schedule. It had been such to give me the impression that her social life was more important to her than I was.

I accepted that the period of time since I walked away from my life had been a stressful time for her. It had been for all of us. However, I realised that it had taken a heavier toll on her than any of us expected or understood.

As the day went on, it became clear that she was increasingly vague and lacked that sparkle that she possessed before. Naturally I experienced a degree of guilt, so took every opportunity I could to talk things through with her. She was particularly tactile towards me, almost unwilling to let me out of her sight and always trying to hold my hand.

I got a chance to talk to my father alone.

“Your mother hasn’t taken this well,” he said, with a tone of admonishment.

I bit back an angry retort.

“It hasn’t been easy for me, either. What else could I have done?”

He shook his head, as I think he understood that my assessment of likely reactions was accurate.

“Has she seen the doctor?” I asked.

“Oh yes, and he put her on anti-depressants.”

“Ah!” I said.

What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Dad, those things screw with you. Now I understand why she’s so woolly.”

I decided not to return to Edinburgh that day, so after being at home for a couple of hours, I rang Thor to tell him.

I sensed he wasn’t happy, but appreciated that I needed time with my family. I didn’t blame him, as I’d dumped a lot on him to deal with in a short time.

It was a hard experience, as there was a lot of pain to deal with. My disappearance was a selfish act, but I saw no alternative at the time. I told them that if it had to happen all over again and I knew the result, I would have still done it that way. I needed to deal with what happened to me. The only thing that I’d have changed is that I’d have sent them a letter sooner.

My father managed to get an appointment with Dr Featherstone that afternoon.

Boy, that was an experience!

We all went, which was gruelling. My mother was never far from tears and was still unable to let go of my hand. I figured that now she had me back, she didn’t want to let go of me.

We all trooped into the doctor’s room together. My father clutched various documents that he believed would be relevant.

“Gracious, a real family outin……Good God, who’s this?” the doctor asked, on seeing me.

This man had been our family doctor since I was born, so knew me as well as anyone.

My parents sat in the chairs provided, while I perched on the examining bench.

“This is a tricky one, Roger, so we need you to keep an open mind, okay?” said my father.

I’d agreed to let him handle this, which I was only too happy to do. I was wary and uneasy about officialdom, and the doctor was the first hurdle of officialdom.

Now I may have my differences with my dad, but I have also to admit that he is a very erudite and persuasive man.

He told the story so well, I almost cried. I had to correct him a couple of times, but in essence he managed to spell out exactly what happened. Oh, except for the bit that I’d been screwing a Norwegian. Although he knew, he wasn’t ready to talk about it to anyone else, doctor or not.
“Wow!” said the doctor, looking bamboozled. “This is a first!”

No one said anything for a while. The doctor took out a buff folder that I assumed contained my medical notes. My dad passed over all the documents he had, and for a few minutes the doctor looked through everything. I thought he probably was playing for time, trying to work out what the hell he could do with me.

At last, he looked up and straight at me.

“Fine, okay young lady, what do I call you?”

“Pippa is fine,” I said.

“Right, then Pippa it is. How about I take a wee look at you, and then we’ll take this one step at a time?”

I nodded.

My parents left, with my father almost forcibly dragging my mother out.

“It’s fine Mrs Coates, you’ll see her again in a wee while,” the doctor said.

At his request, I undressed and sat on the bench.

“Phew, there’s no doubting that you’re a girl, is there?” he said, on seeing me naked.

“Not really,” I agreed.

The examination was reasonably extensive, going places that I’d rather he hadn’t. He started by taking some blood, and then got down to look at the rest of me.

The first stop was my left knee. He had sewn me up when I was ten. I’d fallen off my bike onto some broken glass and my mother had taken me straight to him. The scar was still there.

“How did you get this?” he asked.

“You stitched me up after I fell off my bike, July 1967, wasn’t it?”

He looked at his notes and smiled at me. He moved down to my girl bits, putting rubber gloves on. I lay on my back with my legs apart. It was not pleasant.

“Have you had a period?”

“Yes, one.”

“Painful?”

“No, not pleasant, but no pain. I felt bloated and a bit yuk, that’s all.”

“You’ve had sexual intercourse?” he said.

I blushed and hoped he couldn’t see my face.

“Yes.”

“Contraception?”

“Condoms.”

“Ah. Perhaps we need to talk about that later.”

“Probably.”

So it went on.

Eventually, he washed his hands.

“Okay, Pippa, put your clothes on,” he said, drawing a curtain around me.

How daft is that? The man has just been in places that stripped me more than naked and now wanted me to get dressed behind a curtain.

After I had dressed, I returned to a chair in front of his desk. He sat behind the desk going through my notes again. I sat watching him for a while. He had a little bald patch on the crown of his head.

He looked up.

“Right, as I said, this is a first for me, and would be for most doctors, I believe. The way I see it is that my job is four-fold. One I have to ascertain that you are physically healthy and a normal female. Two: I have to establish that you are psychologically healthy. Then we have to make sure that you are satisfied with being female. Because if you aren’t we need to look at possible options. Lastly, I have to determine that you and Philip are one and the same person. Is that in line with your thinking?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Fine, then if we satisfy all those criteria, I’d also like to find out how this has happened. Medically you are unique, so it would be very helpful to find out what triggered this profound and perfect change. I can only do this with your consent. But you don’t need to worry about that just now. Let’s look at the first point. Do you feel well?”

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“Hmm, how do you feel about what’s happened to you?”

I simply smiled, so he nodded.

“It’s the best thing that could ever happen to me,” I said.

“I take it that if it was possible, you wouldn’t want to go back?”

No.” I said, emphatically.

“Your father said that you ran away because you wanted to avoid a media and medical circus. What did he mean?”

I explained all my thoughts and fears. He nodded, making a few notes as I spoke.

“If it’s any consolation, I can understand your thinking and to be honest, I don’t think you would have been far wrong. I’m not saying you did the right thing, as it has caused pain to your family, and not to mention the problems with the school and the police.”

I cringed in embarrassment and guilt.

“I know. I just couldn’t see any other way,” I said.

“Hmm. I glad it wasn’t me, as I’m sure I’d have been just as confused as you. In fact, I think you coped most capably. Now, some questions about Philip.”

Some!

He tried every trick in the book to make me make a mistake. Fortunately I didn’t have to lie. He moved off the personal and asked me all kinds of questions that I guessed were designed to test my mental state.

In the end, he sat back and scratched his head.

“Fine. Well, young lady, I’m pleased to say that as far as points one to three are concerned, I’m happy that you are a fit, fertile young woman of sound mind, showing the correct development for your age and appearance.”

“I thought I was.”

“Well, you are. Now, the tricky bit. I have to be honest, I have no idea how or why you’ve changed, but have to agree that you are the same person as young Philip. Now, I don’t even know where to start looking for answers. I’m a GP, not a gender specialist. But, to be frank, I don’t think that even a specialist would be able to ascertain the trigger and cause for your change. Do you want to know how it happened?”

“Not really. As long as it doesn’t go in reverse.”

“That’s a difficult one, as we don’t know how it happened in the first place. I’d say that what happened to you is impossible, so ruling out a change back just couldn’t be done. I do, however, think it is highly unlikely.”

“My mother mentioned I was a surviving twin. My sister died just before we were born. Could that have anything to do with it?” I asked.

“I don’t think so, but, as I said, this is a unique case, so nothing can be ruled out. I need to wait for your blood to be tested, as it may hold some clues, but I’m not that hopeful.”

“So, what happens now?”

“What do you want to happen?”

“I just want to be me and get on with my life. As a girl, that is.”

“So, you’re not interested in finding out how this happened?”

“Not really.”

“Are you sure? I mean, you may have a condition that flips you back and forth.”

“Really?” I said.

“Hell, I don’t know. If anything comes back in your blood, I’ll give you a call, all right?”

“Sounds good to me.”

“In that case, I’ll compile a written report that states that you, a female, were once outwardly male and have experienced a genetic hiccough that somehow caused you to apparently change genders. You are now a perfectly normal, genetic female, so it is possible that your apparent maleness was a mistake, which was repaired by the onset of puberty and the sudden production of female hormones.”

“Huh?”

“I know, it sounds like bullshit, and probably is, but you want to avoid the circus, so this is about the only explanation that would do the job.”

“Oh. Thanks, I think.”

“I’ll word it in a suitably medically confusing way and send a couple of copies to you. You will need them to get your birth certificate changed. Once that’s done, you can apply for a new passport and other things.”

“That’s it?”

He stood up.

“That’s it for now. Before we get your parents back, would you like to talk about the pill?”

“Uh, I suppose I’d better.”

“Are you going to continue having sex?”

I smiled.

“I suppose so.”

“Then we need to talk.”

The drive home was quiet. Dad was pleased with himself, as he thought that his persuasive skills had secured the result. I kept quiet, not caring how or why we’d reached this point. I was just happy to be here.

On arriving at home, there was a police car parked in the drive. I experienced a sinking feeling.

“I called them and asked them to be here,” my father said.

“Dad!”

“It has to be done, and now, not later.”

I couldn’t disagree, although I wasn’t happy.

WPC Sheena Forbes was a pretty girl, but the uniform, although smart, wasn’t designed for fashion reasons.

We all sat in the drawing room. I could tell she didn’t believe that I was Philip Coates.

“I’m here to establish the whereabouts of your son Philip,” she started very formally. “Due to the unusual circumstances of his disappearance, I’ve been allocated the case to investigate and to establish whether any offences have been committed.”

She looked at me suspiciously.

My father launched into his long-winded explanation. He was at his best, so now I could understand how he had succeeded in business. He could sell snow to Eskimos.

He produced photographs and documents, including the interim note from the doctor that he had given for just such an eventuality. My father had asked him for it before we left the surgery.

She asked me more questions than the doctor had. Admittedly the doctor had it easy as he had known me as Philip, so had a base from which to start. This girl had nothing. All she knew about me was from her initial report and what my parents and the school had told her.

She took my fingerprints.

“Do you have my fingerprints on file?” I asked, surprised.

“We took prints from your room here and from the school. If we match them and find they are the same, I’ll be able to close the case. If not, well, I’ll be back to talk to you about personation.”

“Personation?”

“The assumption of someone else’s identity.”

“I thought that was impersonation?”

“Aye, if you were to try to look like Philip Coates it would be, but the identity you’re taking is a different gender. Look it up in a dictionary,” she said, smiling for the first time. “I had to when the inspector told me the word.”

“Oh.”

“Mind you, this is the most amazing case I’ve ever dealt with,” she said, smiling for the second time.

“Sorry. I never meant to cause all this trouble.”

“You said that you wanted to be a girl, and it just happened?”

“Just about, yes.”

She shook her head.

“Amazing. Okay, I’m done for now. I’ll get your prints off to the experts and I’ll get back to you. If they’re a match, I’ll close the case. I take it you want to avoid the press?”

“You take it right.”

“Fine, I’ve no bother with that. For the most part the press are a right pain in the arse. Goodbye just now.”

I saw her out and even waved as she drove away.

Shit, was it that easy?

My father came out and placed an arm around my shoulders. It’s funny, but I don’t recall him ever doing that to me as a boy.

“Now, Pippa, we need to sort out the school and your mum.”

Okay, so it wasn’t that easy.