I looked around for torture equipment and looked warily at a tray on wheels that had a lot of shiny chrome implements on it. Somehow I had a sixth sense that some of that stuff was going to be used on me.

Orphan 12

I remember now as if it were yesterday. The first time I was dragged kicking and screaming to The Beauty Parlour.

Sheila was on a mission. Here I was, an eleven year old boy, pretending to be a girl in circumstances that quite frankly beggar belief. She however had that missionary look in her eye. Sheila wanted to have me converted and she wouldn’t take no for an answer.

I suppose I exaggerate a bit about kicking and screaming. In fact if I were honest, I would say that I went along like a tame lamb to the slaughter.

I gloss over all that happened in the Beauty Parlour…

Na, I suppose I have give you all the gory details so this account of my life is full and true. Though how people can think that this is true and not just a made up story I leave to your good sense.

As we entered the girls’ hairdressers, I looked at the sign. It was called Hair Today… for some reason.

We were met by a girl with a big smile, her teeth gleaming like some cheesy Colgate advert and a hairstyle that looked like it could withstand a force 8 gale.

‘Hello and who have we here?’

I looked around and then realised that she was talking about me. I jumped a bit as Sheila spoke. You can tell that I was a wee bit edgy.

‘Hi, Sharon, this is Stephanie and this is the first time she has been to a proper hairdresser.’

‘I see what you mean. Did your Mum last cut it with a basin?’

I was NOT going to get upset, so to make her feel guilty, I blurted out, ‘no my Mum has just died and she never cut my hair.’

The look on her face was worth all the effort. She went red and her smile went out like a switched off light.

‘I am so sorry, dear. I’m so insensitive. If I had a brain, I would be dangerous. Come with me and I’ll get Alphonse to have a look at you.’

(Alphonse?)

I was taken over to what looked bit like a dentists chair, with lots of levers and things made of either leather or my likely black PVC and I sat down and awaited my fate. I looked around for torture equipment and looked warily at a tray on wheels that had a lot of shiny chrome implements on it. Somehow I had a sixth sense that some of that stuff was going to be used on me.

Oh, by the way, I forgot to mention the smell. As I walked into the salon, the smell hit me. It was so strong, my eyes started to water and my nose got blocked up. I nearly sneezed but managed to hold it back, manfully or is that wonmanfully or even girlfully? You can see how mixed up I was getting. Anyway, we read about war in history just before I left my last school and I recon that if they used that smell in wartime, it would be considered a chemical weapon.

‘I’ll leave you with Sharon and I’ll be back in an hour; do as you are told and be a good girl for me. I’ve already explained what you should have done.’

‘Don’t I have any say in this, Sheila?’

‘Erm, Sharon. Can I have a minute with Steph?’

‘Okey Dokey.’

Sharon disappeared off somewhere.

‘Now Stephanie, my job is to get you to blend in; do you want to do that?’

‘Yes, of course I do I don’t want to be caught and thrown into jail.’

‘God, you do have a vivid imagination for a child of eleven. Well, can you trust me on this?’

‘I won’t look silly, will I?’

‘Of course not. When they have finished, they will make you look as much of a girl that you can be and you won’t stick out like a sore thumb, not that you stuck out much anyway as you are a natural. One thing I have asked them to do though is to pierce your ears; is that OK?’

‘Will it hurt?’

‘This is where I am supposed to say no, but I’ll be honest, it will hurt a bit, but the pain soon goes away and the big benefit is that it will help you look even more like a girl.’

‘OK, then.’ I said doubtfully, ‘ what else will they do?’

‘Can you trust me? You will like the experience; let it be a surprise.’

‘OK, if you think I should.’

‘Good girl; now I’ll call Sharon and I’ll see you in an hour.’

With that she left me to the tender mercies of the salon staff.

After half an hour, I realised how much girls and women went through. I thought it was tough being a boy, but this was something else.

My hair was washed three times and then rinsed. Then some smelly gunk called conditioner was put on and rinsed off twice. After that, I was led back to a chair with a huge mirror in front of it. I was made to put my hands in some sort of warm liquid. Then two girls got to work on my nails, tutting continually over the terrible condition of them.

Another girl came up to me and with a grin that looked a bit sadistic; she proceeded to put holes in my ears.

How she could say that it wouldn’t hurt without her nose getting any longer, I don’t know. Needless to say, I yelped and shot up in my seat. Anyway, the pain went down to an agonising throb after a few minutes and I stopped thinking of new swear words after a bit.

Eventually, my nails were finished and pronounced passable. I couldn’t believe how different they looked now and I kept staring at them as they reflected the lights of the salon.

‘Well; what have we here?’

I looked up and there in the mirror stood a thin man in a white tunic. He had some sort of green scarf around his neck and looked a bit strange. Then I got it. He was wearing a wig, I could see where the real hair ended and the wig began. It was a slightly different shade of ginger. He was frowning for some reason.

‘Tell me, who last did your hair?’

I couldn’t work out his accent; it appeared to be a mixture of French, German and Italian but for all I knew, he could have come from Hackney.

‘Erm, I can’t remember.’

‘Hmm; whoever did it should be put up against a wall and shot.’

For some reason I said, ‘sorry.’

‘Never mind. I will see what I can do. So many split ends…and not enough time; where do I start?’

He sprayed water in my hair using some sort of pump thingy. The water got onto my face and into my eyes, but he ignored it. Then he picked up some scissors and started snipping away at a rapid rate of knots, has hands going everywhere. How I didn’t loose an eye or ear, I’ll never know. Then he splashed my hair with water and carried on… tutting all the time and mumbling things to himself. I couldn’t really see what he was doing as he had turned me away from the mirror just after he started sheering away at me.

I got to see his face close up as he worked on me. I was mesmerised by the fact that his nose hair was dark brown but the hair on his head / wig was ginger. His breath smelt a bit garlicky and I was counting the minutes until he either finished or gassed me with his breath.

Eventually, he stopped with the scissors and then used a hair dryer, pulling and tugging at my hair until the very roots ached with the abuse.

Finally, he told me to close my eyes and he sprayed some evil smelling stuff on my hair.
Looking at me critically, he snipped a miniscule amount of hair away from my forehead, nodded and then sighed.

‘That is better. A crime has been rectified and all is now well. Look and see for yourself.’

He spun my chair around and I saw a girl staring back at me. I twitched my nose and so did the reflection. It was me; I didn’t realise how much a face could change by just having a hair cut. I could see some gold studs in my ears and that reinforced the ‘girl’ look, but it was the hair that did it.

He had cut it into a sort of bob, my hair was a bit shorter but somehow he made it look more feminine and fuller. I had a fringe and it ended just above my eyes. The hair was layered until it fell in line with the bottom of my ears. It reminded me of a picture I once saw of Twiggy. Mark may have been inside my head, but outside I was all Stephanie.

‘Are you happy with my creation?’

‘Er…thank you, yes I look nice.’

‘Nice!…nice!…you look beautiful. All the boys will want to fall at your feet; you will be the bell of the ball; you…’

I was a bit worried, he still had his scissors in his hand and he was going to stab someone if wasn’t careful.

‘I’m only 11.’

‘Well, perhaps you may have to wait a few years, but have no fear, you will break hearts one day and have lots of babies.’

Just then I heard the door open with a ping.

A few seconds later, Sheila was there beaming at me.

‘Oh Stephanie, you do look lovely. Well done Alphonse; you’ve weaved your magic, as usual.’

‘It was nothing.’

False modesty was not one of his strongest points as I could tell that he considered himself pretty wonderful. However looking at my reflection and seeing the changes that he had made, reinforced the fact that he knew his stuff.

‘Well, we must be off. Thanks again Alphonse.’

‘Think nothing of it Sheila. Bring her back soon, I think that she needs a perm.’

I shuddered at the thought of that and just waved goodbye to the strange man and the girls who assisted him.

In no time we picked up our shopping bags and was out on the street. I was being taken for something to eat and drink and I was starving.

Sheila led me into a Wimpy Bar and in no time I was chomping into a Wimpy and chips.
It was strange, I was very conscious of my hair as it moved slightly on my brow and around my ears. Then there was the slight pain of my abused earlobes, reminding me of the torture that I had endured. Finally, as I picked away at my food, the nails kept catching my attention. To say that all this felt alien to me, could be something of an understatement. Here I was dressed like a girl and looking like a girl; was I getting to like it?

‘A penny for your thoughts?’

I looked up at Sheila as she drank her cup of tea. She was looking at me and seemed a bit amused.

‘Sorry?’

She put her cup down onto the saucer and took a drag from her cigarette.

‘ I said a penny for your thoughts. You looked miles away there.’

I shrugged.

‘Come on, tell Auntie Sheila.’

‘I…I don’t know. I think I…I mean I might not be Mark any more, the way I look.’

‘You think you might not be Mark if you dress as a girl?’

‘Yes. I don’t want to like being Stephanie cos it means that Mum and Dad wouldn’t know me. They brought up a boy and look at me now.’

‘Do you like the way you look now?’

‘No…yes…I don’t know.’

‘Don’t worry about what you Mum and Dad would think. It doesn’t matter what you look like on the outside. It’s inside, where the heart is, that’s the important thing. I think that they would be proud of you; the way that you’ve been since you lost them. I think your parents would love you no matter how you turned out because you were lovely as a boy and your as equally lovely as a girl.’

I finished my meal in silence, digesting my food and the knowledge that perhaps Sheila was right. I should accept the situation for now and let the future look after itself.
After we finished, Sheila looked at her watch.

‘Time to go; we have to be back for the Governors inspection.’

We left in a hurry and after an uneventful bus ride we were back at the Home. As we walked in, I wondered if I might be found out as being a boy not a girl or if the inspection people already knew all about me.

To be continued...

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