The three days since I arrived in Llangollen have been good fun and I’ve felt that I could at last relax and be the person that I was always meant to be, without having to worry that I might bump into somebody from my former life who would immediately recognise me and want to pour scorn upon me. Denise and Karen have both been great to me, and treated me as they would any other of their friends, without reference to my past gender. This is exactly what I wanted from them. We are constantly in an out of one another’s bedrooms borrowing jewellery or cosmetics or else helping one another with our hair, and I’ve learned a lot. Neither of them appear to give a second thought to getting changed in front of me and expect me to do the same with them.

Denise’s mother was a little wary of me at first, but once I started to offer to help her with the preparation of meals, or else clearing up after them, she seemed to relax. They have a cleaner at their house in Ifield, but I get the impression that she doesn’t get a lot of help from either her husband or her daughter when they are away on holiday. Both Karen and I are used to having to help around the house as we come from single parent households. So Mrs Crawford is quite happy to have the two of us setting a good example to her daughter. I think Denise’s father was a little bit overawed by the idea of having to share a house with four females and so he tends to go out to play golf with his friends or else stay in his study doing work. Then of course he disappeared for his big meeting in Crawley early yesterday morning, and won’t be back until late tonight. As a result I have not felt in any danger of being unmasked or treated with disrespect.

Denise seems to have decided to act as my official wardrobe advisor and is constantly making helpful suggestions as to what I should wear and what makeup and accessories I need to go with them. As a result I’ve compiled a sizable shopping list of things that I am going to need.

‘You still have a lot to learn, Josie, if you are going to make the best of yourself, before you get too old for it to make a difference,’ she said.

‘Jenny accused me of dressing like a ‘Princess Barbie,’ all the time,’ I admitted.

‘She’s only jealous because you won that competition, but maybe I did go over the top by giving you only girly girl clothes,’ said Denise, ‘I’m sure there are some others of mine I can let you have.’

‘Denise, I can’t keep borrowing your clothes all the time, I need to get some for myself. I do have some money saved.’

‘Don’t worry, Mum has promised to take us all in to Chester on Saturday and so we will be able to help you to do some shopping then, if you like, but in the meanwhile you are going to need some more trousers for everyday wear around the town. You will do me a favour by taking them off my hands.’

‘Well, if you’re sure you don’t mind.’

Denise’s mother vetoed our undertaking any of the more energetic local pursuits, such as climbing up to ruins of Castell Dinas Bran or walking the Horseshoe Pass, for the time being until her daughter was a little more recovered from the operation. Instead she offered to pay for the three of us either to take a boat trip over the Pontcysyllte aqueduct or else to take a trip on the steam railway towards Corwen.

‘I can’t say that steam engines are exactly my cup of tea — they seem dirty and noisy compared to the trains of today,’ said Karen.

‘I suppose they do give you an idea of what life was like to live in olden times,’ I suggested.

‘They do have the advantage of attracting younger guys though, and usually provide a good opportunity for some local talent spotting. It tends to be the crusties who go on the far more quiet and gentle boat trip over the aqueduct,’ said Denise.

Karen and I accepted that Denise would probably know best on the subject of talent spotting and we therefore made our way to the station. It wasn’t too long before we were chatting to three German guys of our age who were on a cycling holiday with their parents and were staying in the local Youth Hostel. By the end of the trip we’d even arranged to meet up with them after lunch, to have a look around the town together. They were good fun to be with but unfortunately their family was scheduled to move on the following day and had booked their accommodation so it was never going to be anything more than one of those passing acquaintanceships.

‘Mum, would it be alright if we skipped dinner tonight and had a pizza out instead?’ asked Denise on the phone. ‘We have met up with three lads, but they have to leave for Lake Bala in the morning.’

‘How old are these lads?’ I heard her mother ask.

‘Fifteen to eighteen, but don’t worry, we’ll all be home by 10.30.’

‘Make sure you are, and be careful for Josie’s sake.’

Thus having secured permission from our respective parents or guardians, the six of us went to order a pizza and sat round a large table. As we were sitting down I heard a bleep notifying me that a text message had been received. I quickly noted that it was from Jenny and was quite relieved since I’d previously had the impression that I might have upset her without realising it. (I’d tried to ring her a couple of times during the course of the day but on each occasion my call went straight to voice mail, so I’d sent her a couple of jokey text messages, asking her how things were going.) It would appear rude to be reading text messages in front of our new friends, so I decided to take a trip to the Ladies. Denise decided that she needed to go as well.

Once I was in the cubicle I opened the message from my sister: it made me feel cold inside.

‘Leave me alone — you freak!’

I realised that my becoming Josie would inevitably give rise to some abuse and hostility towards me particularly once I’d returned from holiday — but I’d no idea that it would start so quickly or that it would begin with my own sister!

‘Is everything ok Josie?’ asked Denise as I was washing my hands.

‘Fine thanks,’ I replied feeling so upset that I couldn’t bring myself to show the message to either of my friends.

’I don’t care what she thinks about me, I am what I am, and I’m going to do what is right for me,’ I thought.

Denise and I returned to our seats.

‘Is all good with you, Josie?’ asked Hans, the youngest of the three lads, who seemed to have taken an interest in me, ‘You seem to have gone a little pale.’

‘I’m alright thanks - just girls’ stuff,’ I said, accidentally touching his leg with my own as I sat down next to him.

For a second he moved his leg away but then it slowly returned to its original position. I moved my foot so that it touched his.

‘I’ll show her who’s a freak.’ I thought to myself.

****

‘You seemed to be getting on well with Hans, when we went for that walk by the river,’ said Karen as we were getting ready for bed that night. ‘At one point I thought you were in danger of swallowing one another’s tongues.’

‘Hans was probably the right name for him: ‘wandering hands’!’ I chuckled. ‘I’m glad that I was wearing a pair of Denise’s jeans rather than a short skirt.'

‘Hmm,’ said Karen in a tone that implied mild disapproval.

‘Denise and Karl were getting quite passionate as well,’ I replied, now feeling a little embarrassed by my actions. ‘They were a randy bunch, but a good laugh, all the same.’

Karen took both my hands, and I knew that she was going to tell me off, albeit in a gentle way.

‘I suppose so, but please be careful another time though. Remember that you’re still under age, even if you do look older since you’ve begun dressing as a girl.’

‘I'll be fifteen in just over a week’s time.’

‘Maybe but that is still under the age of consent and you could get both to yourself and any young man into trouble. Going out with boys can be good fun, but we girls, have to be able to stay in control of any situation.’

‘I know, Karen,’ I replied now realising that in my annoyance with Jenny, I’d allowed things to go a bit too far. ‘Please don’t mention this evening to your sister, I should hate it to get back to Jenny or to Mum.’

‘Don’t worry, Josie, your dirty little secret will be safe with me, but please take care another time.’

Yesterday was a little bit of an anti-climax after the excitement and upsets of Wednesday. During the afternoon we went to visit Plas Newydd, a museum created in the home of the ‘Ladies of Llangollen’. These were two aristocratic women from Ireland who scandalized their families and local society by refusing the marriages that had been arranged for them, falling in love with one another and eloping together in 1778. After several adventures they settled in this largish house in Llangollen and lived together for more than fifty years.

‘Apparently they became something of an aristocratic tourist attraction; rich and famous people would travel miles just to come and meet them,’ said Denise as we were examining a portrait of them, identically dressed in a mixture of male and female clothing, both wearing top hats. ‘Society at the time was fascinated by the idea that two women might want to live together in a form of civil marriage.’

‘What did the locals think?’ asked Karen.

‘I suppose they just shrugged their shoulders and let them get on with it,’ replied Denise.

‘At least they were able to live their lives as they wanted to do, and didn’t feel pressurized into fitting in to a mould that was against their nature,’ I said.

‘I think they had to sacrifice a life of wealth and luxury and all further contact with their families, in order to do so,’ said Denise.

‘They must have felt that the sacrifice was worth it,’ said Karen.

I also spoke to Mum on the phone, but I didn’t say anything about Jenny’s text message to me or our going out with the German lads. She also seemed a little cagey with me, but wanted to know what we’d been doing. Apparently, she has made an appointment for the two of us to see someone to discuss my future (in quotation marks), as soon as I get back from Wales. In some respects this is exactly what I want, as I am quite sure that there can be no going back now. Nevertheless the prospect is quite frightening.