The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2281 by Angharad Copyright© 2014 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

“You are such a lucky girl, Danni,” Cindy was giving my daughter a reality check by the sound of it. “Your mother bends over backwards to help you and everyone else follows her lead. She must love you to bits.”

I know, an eavesdropper never hears good of themselves according to the saying, so should I remove myself before they get to the sticky bits?

“You know I’m adopted?” Danielle replied.

“So, they all love you.”

“We’re all adopted, Mummy can’t have children.”

“What about the babies?”

“They’re adopted too, ’cept Lizzie, Mummy’s fostering her.”

“What Trish and Livvie and Mima, too?”

“Yeah, I had another sister too, Billie, she died.”

“Does your mother only adopt girls?”

“Transgender girls, ’cept Livvie an’Meems, they’re real girls, so is Jacquie.”

“Wow, I s’pose tranny kids are difficult to get adopted.”

“I wasn’t tranny—well not to start with.”

“What? Your mum made you one?” gasped our visitor.

“No—nothin’ like that. Billie an’ me were boys and were adopted as boys, ’cept Billie decided she wanted to be a girl.”

“An’ then you decided to be a girl—bit strange that, innit?”

“What d’ya mean?”

“Well, it’s a bit strange for everyone except your dad an’ granddad to want to be girls.”

“No one made me want to be a girl—’cept you and Pia.”

“Hey, I didn’t make you a girl.”

“No, but you encouraged me, like before when those boys chased us round the shops.”

“Well, I thought it would be a bit of fun, didn’t know you were gonna stay one, did I?”

“I didn’t know that meself, till it like ’appened, an’ Pia sorta peeled off me peter.”

“But you’d talked about havin’ your balls done.”

“Yeah, but that was all BS wasn’t it—I didn’t like mean it; it was just making Pia feel less of an outsider.”

“So you didn’t let her chop you about then?”

“No, I wasn’t sure what she was up to, I thought she was just messin’ around, next thing I wake up in ’ospital as a girl.”

“An operation can’t make you a girl, unless they done it on your brain. That’s where all that ’appens.”

“So what’s this slit between me legs then, Scotch mist? If it isn’t that what makes me a girl, why d’you want one so bad?”

“It’s like the icing on a cake, innit? It would make a full girl, ’cept i can’t ’ave periods like. But I could ’ave it away with boys an’things. ’Ave you tried it yet?”

“Don’t be daft, Mummy would kill me, if the boy didn’t. ’S bad enough shoving this bloody thing up it.”

“Geez, you stick that up it—all of it?” It was becoming obvious that Danni was showing her dilator to Cindy. A large plastic bullet shaped thing about eight inches long.

“Sammi’s got one that’s even bigger—’cos she’s full grown, I’ll get one of them when I stop growin’ and they do the final op.”

“Does it, like hurt?”

“Did a bit at first, now it’s just borin’ an’a bit uncomfy, long as you remember to lubricate it.”

“With like, what?”

“KY jelly, we get it at the chemists or the supermarket.”

“D’you, like, feel like a woman when you’re stickin’ this up inside you?”

“No, I feel a right narna.”

“Oh, don’t you wanna have sex then?”

“What, like with boys?”

“Well yeah, if you’re a girl—I’d athought it was obvious.”

“I s’pose it is kind of.”

“D’you fancy boys then?” asked Cindy.

There was a pause, “Like sometimes I might.”

“You kissed a boy yet?”

Another pause. “Yeah, have you?”

“Yeah, who did you kiss?”

“A kid up in Scotland.”

“Oh yeah, did you like it?”

“Yeah, was okay.”

“Did he like it?”

“Think so, he kept wanting to play with my boobs.”

“What?” They both laughed.

“They were mostly my bra padding but he enjoyed it an’ so did I, I s’pose.”

I felt myself blushing, they’re both thirteen and despite the orchidectomy, Danni’s hormones are still flowing. Perhaps I should leave this conversation before I have a nervous breakdown.

“What you like gonna wear for Friday?” asked Cindy.

“To work, you mean?”

“Yeah.”

“Black leggings an’ a top and me ballet shoes.”

“Not wearing heels then?”

“No.”

“Scaredy cat.”

“No I ain’t, I done it before.”

“Well, I’m gonna.”

“Why?”

“Give the customers a good impression.”

“Give yourself sore toes, more like.”

“I’ll cope with it, girls are better at copin’ with pain than boys.”

“Yeah, well I ain’t a boy no more, an’ it still hurt my feet.”

“Wimp.”

“Ha, we’ll see who’s a wimp on Friday night.”

I left them to discuss their footwear thinking that Danni had far more idea than Cindy, but then she had done it before, and I remember her having sore toes, but then so did Julie when she started, insisting on wearing sexy shoes. She didn’t after she’d been standing on them all day. Oh well, Cindy will learn the hard way. I’ll mention it on Friday if I get the chance, but they seem to have to make their own mistakes before they believe you—or even each other. Was I as bad as that at thirteen? Probably.

Sammi and Simon arrived and David had cooked us a lovely whole salmon. I love fish, and he’d baked it with dill and parsley. It smelt heavenly. Sammi wore the suit she’d mentioned the day before. It was the one her dad bought her a while ago and she looked even better than before. I found that after surgery that my breasts grew a little as did my bum, I suspect the same had happened to Sam.

Dinner was served with pommes de terre duchesse or duchess potatoes if you prefer, asparagus and Chantenay carrots. It barely touched the sides we all wolfed it down so quickly and it tasted as good as it looked. Cindy was a bit unsure of asparagus until she tried a stalk, but she ate it all.

David ate with us as Ingrid and Hannah were out so Cindy asked him how he made the creamed potato such funny shapes. For a moment I thought he was going to say something rude by reply, but he roared with laughter and then explained how it was mashed and mixed with egg and then piped like icing before being baked in the oven.

“What it’s like cooked twice?” she was aghast. “Doesn’t that, like, take a long time?”

He said he could justify it and did it while the fish baked and besides, great meals are always worthy of the effort. I wouldn’t disagree but if he’s off sick again, I hope the rest of them won’t expect me to make them—’cos they’ll be disappointed.

We got our just desserts too. Strawberry roulade with fresh cream. I think I need to get the bike out tomorrow or eat rather less than this.