The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2355 by Angharad Copyright© 2014 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

I told the girls I was expecting a visitor for dinner and I wanted them on best behaviour.

“Who is it?” asked Trish.

“An old school friend of mine, called Dr Marc Absolom. Did i ever tell you about the friend whose house flooded and I went to help them clean it up?”

“An’ they thought you were a girl?” recalled Trish.

“Yes, that’s the one.”

“’Cos you had girl’s wellies?” was Livvie’s contribution.

“That’s right my own had a hole in them and Siân loaned me a pair,” which I don’t think I ever returned—oops.

“You had girw’s wewwies, ’cause you werwe a girw, Mummy.”

“Yes I was but not everyone knew it, though Marc’s parents thought I was a girl because I had long hair.”

“An’ you were pretty,” added Livvie.

“And the wellies,” said Trish.

“Didn’t your friend say anything?” asked Livvie.

“Afterwards he did. At the time they thought I was his girlfriend, so that gave him some kudos, plus it seemed I was the only one who went to help even though several knew of the flood.”

“Woss kudo?” asked Trish.

“Kudos in this respect would mean they thought more highly of him because they thought he had a girl coming to see him, and to help clean up.”

“He did have a girl go to help him, Mummy.”

I glanced at Livvie in the rear view mirror and smiled at her, she beamed back at me.

I got them to go and change into something fairly tidy and asked them to stay clean and tidy. They ran off tittering, all except Danni. “Okay, what’s on your mind, young lady?”

“I saw Carly today.”

I had to think for a moment who Carly was, “Peter’s sister?”

“Yeah,” she blushed.

“Okay, what happened?”

“Nothin’ much.”

“Did she recognise you?”

“I think so.”

“How d’you know?”

“We like passed in the corridor an’ she like said she liked my eye makeup.” I hadn’t even noticed she was wearing any. This happens when you see them every day and they nearly always have eyeliner and mascara on, so you notice more when they don’t wear it.

“I thought she went to your old school?”

“She does but they had some project they were doing at St Claire’s with other schools.”

“That was all she said? Nothing about Peter?”

“Nope, just my makeup.”

“Sometimes girls compliment each other on things like that.”

“If they know each other, and she’d know what Pia done to me.”

“Well, I wouldn’t worry about it, I doubt she’ll say anything.”

“I don’t care anyway, I’m a girl now.”

I didn’t believe her nonchalance for one moment, she did care why else say anything? Plus, I wonder if she’s having more regrets about being a girl. I know she liked Carly. Well she could do with some more girl friends even someone whose sibling was a psycho.

I had a cuppa and spoke to David about having a guest. He was doing leg of lamb chops, so he’d just cook a few more of everything. I thanked him and after drinking my tea, went up to change—this time to dress up not down—well, okay, smart casual. I wore a skirt and top with boots. It wasn’t always that warm in the evenings so I had on a light green silky jumper with a green tartan skirt—not a kilt and black boots. I redid my makeup and added some jewellery then a couple of squirts of Coco and I was ready.

Phoebe was next home and Trish sent her off to change telling her, “Mummy’s old boyfriend is coming to dinner.” No wonder she gave me some funny looks. I did speak to Si who would have explained to Sammi what was happening and I asked Pippa to tell Tom as she’d see him before I did.

Julie was briefed by Trish before I could get to her—I’ll shoot that girl one day. As I’d explained to Phoebe, I asked her to tell Julie who was coming to dinner. “What about your old boyfriend?” She laughed and ran off before I could say anything. Bloody children.

Marc arrived on time carrying a bottle of decent wine and some flowers. Trish immediately took those off me and went to arrange them. “Pippa said you had several children,” he gasped when I introduced him to everyone except the littlies.

He nodded at Tom and then looked curiously at me when I called Tom, Daddy. Simon and he shook hands vigorously—why do they do that? I told Sammi that Marc was sorting out our computer problem and they immediately went into a discussion about systems and other jargon.

Over dinner which was delicious, Marc and I relived the day I went to help clean up the flood damage and he went to his laptop case and pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to Simon who looked at it and it was then passed down the table, finally coming to me.

“When was this taken?” I asked.

“Dad took it after lunch when his hands were still clean, I asked him to email me a copy. It was a picture of me with an apron on over my jeans and those wellies. With my very long hair in a ponytail I didn’t look much like a boy, I had to admit. I had on big rubber gloves and was sweeping the mud out of the house helping Marc’s mum who was shovelling it into a bucket. We looked like two women, or a woman and a girl. That it didn’t do the rounds at school was a tribute to Marc, somehow, he was one of the few that respected me as different. I said so.

“Cathy, I had no reason to dislike you and then, when you came to help us after the flood, and worked all day, I liked you even more. No one else came to help, even though I’d have thought some of them were more my friends than you were. My parents were absolutely knocked out when you came, especially when they could see you were a girl.”

“But...”

“Cathy, you’ve seen the photo, now tell me that was a boy,” he countered my protest.

“That’s what most people thought,” I said but without much conviction.

“Marc, I keep telling her that she was never a boy, but that not everyone could see it.” Simon reiterated what he frequently said.

“You know, until that day, I’d only seen you as a weirdo, who was harmless and frequently bullied. You were girlish or feminine and a target for the bullies, and I never liked bullies. That day when my mother saw you as a girl, I revised my opinion of you too, though I didn’t dare say anything because I didn’t know how you felt about things. I should have realised the fact that as soon as she accepted you as a girl, you acted like one meant becoming one—I mean becoming a proper girl—as you have was almost inevitable. I suppose because we moved a few months later meant you were out of sight and out of mind.

“I did occasionally wonder what happened to you afterwards, but then I went off to Warwick and did a degree in computers, added a masters and then did a PhD while I was working with the company I’m still with. Never in a million years did I associate the beautiful woman who did that dormouse film with the girl who helped shovel mud from my house. I’m really glad we’ve met again and really pleased for you that you’ve done so well for yourself.”