The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1105 by Angharad Copyright © 2010 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

I searched upstairs but couldn’t find Trish–where was she? Maybe she hadn’t gone upstairs. I roused the rest of them and for the moment Trish was a secondary concern.

Once they were all stuck into their breakfasts, I asked Livvie where Trish was. She shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. A lot of use that was. I asked the rest of my huge brood and none of them had seen her.

I called upstairs but there was no response. I asked Stella to keep an eye on the rest and went to look for her. Julie sensed my now growing unease and came outside with me. We walked up and down the garden calling her name but nothing, we neither saw nor heard her.

I now began to worry. She was very clever intellectually but she was still only six years old, a child in anyone’s currency.

I went back indoors and called her again. Julie stayed out and began looking through the sheds and outhouses. Why was she so upset? She’s seen the other girls when they’ve been in the bath or shower and okay, there’s sometimes a bit of teasing goes on about her outie rather than an innie, she always seemed to take it in good heart–she knows they wouldn’t wish her any harm. But then she knows that when she’s old enough, if she still feels the same, we’ll have her see the best surgeon we can afford wherever and whoever that is. The same will be true for Julie and Billie–although, I do have doubts about Billie–in some ways I see her as a failed boy rather than a girl, if that doesn’t sound too patronising. Trish, I see as a real girl, who has held that conviction since she was a toddler according to the home.

Still philosophy wasn’t going to find this little girl, I began to look upstairs again. I started at the top of the house and worked my way down, no sign of her. I spoke with Julie–she wasn’t anywhere in the outbuildings.

By now, Tom and Danny–who was miffed he was missing his football, led a search of the garden and orchard, helped by Billie and Livvie. Meems helped Stella watch Puddin’ and Baby C. They were to shout if they found her.

My anxiety was rising faster than a Saturn 5 rocket, where on earth could she be. I went upstairs again, she wasn’t in the girl’s room, I even tried under the beds–except they’re all drawer divans, so she’d be pushed to get under one of those.

Bathroom? I checked their bathroom, she wasn’t there, mind you someone had left the hot tap running. I called her again and again, pleading with her to show herself.

I went up to the attic floor again and called, no sign. Back down to the first floor–again nothing. I looked in my room, even in the wardrobe–the cupboard was bare. I decided whilst I was there I’d have a quick wee and try and rethink where she might be.

I walked into the bathroom sat on the loo and nearly died. There poking out from the shower curtain over the bath was a pair of feet and legs. I jumped up almost weeing in my pants. I drew back the curtain and screamed.

Stella came rushing up and sat me down on the loo while she examined the body. “Ambulance,” she said into the phone, whilst I threw up into the washbasin. She said who she was and where she was. “We have an accident, a child has got a severe laceration and is bleeding profusely, yes, I’ll try and stop it, just get a wagon here quickly.”

I sat there crying when Stella turned and smacked me across the face–“For Chrissake, Cathy, do something to help or this child’s going to die.”

Her tone and the slap woke me from my stupor and I grabbed some sanitary towels and held them against the wound. From my muddled understandings, it looked as if she’d tried to castrate herself, from behind her little scrotum. There was a vegetable knife lying beside her.

Sirens soundeded what seemed like hours later, though it was only minutes, and moments after that, two paramedics came dashing up the stairs with their boxes of stuff.

“How long has she been like this?”

“I don’t know, we’ve been looking for her for maybe twenty or thirty minutes.”

“So, she is actually a boy?” he asked.

“She’s transgendered, she sees a psychiatrist, but lives entirely as female.”

“Okay, her BP is very low, we’ll need to set up a drip to try and stabilise her, then off to the QA. Get a coat.”

They had a drip up in minutes and then he carried her out to the ambulance while his colleague held the drip. I carried their cases down for them, then climbed in the ambulance with her.

“Is she your daughter,” the paramedic asked as his colleague drove like a demon to A&E.

“My adopted daughter, is she going to be okay?”

He shrugged.

They rushed her into A&E and I was made to go to the waiting room, where ten minutes later, Tom arrived looking as worried as I was.

“I called Simon. he’s on his way. Whit fa’ did she do this, hen?”

“I don’t know, Daddy,” I sobbed as he put his arm round me. I was so glad he was with me.

Eventually I was summoned to an interview room. “I’m afraid the police will have to be informed.”

I nodded.

“It’s only a formality, she’s in surgery–but it looks like she’ll lose one if not both testes. I take it she did this herself?” He looked at me and I nodded. “She has a history of gender dysphoria. Are you her mother?”

“Her adopted mother.”

“I see Dr Rose is one of her consultants–do you mind if I bleep him?”

I shook my head. He dialled and a couple of minutes later the phone rang.

“Hi, Sam, it’s Pete Woods, I’ve got one of yours just admitted in theatre.”

I assumed Sam asked who.

“Trish Watts, yeah attempted DIY sex change. See you in a few then.” He looked at me, “He’s coming down.” I nodded my understanding.

A little later sipping a cup of tea I related the morning’s events. Sam Rose was astonished at my feeding a baby without any chemical help, and then nodded when I mentioned seeing Trish trying to do it and then being upset at looking at the baby’s genitals.

“I can see why she might have done it, but normally she’s so level headed,” Sam observed and I nodded. A woman police officer arrived and I had visions of being taken out in handcuffs for child neglect.

However, statements were made and I was told to expect a visit from a senior officer who would decide if charges were to be made, and of course good ol’ social services. She then left.

“If you need support, let me know, Cathy, I’ll happily stand up in any court in this land and tell them what a splendid mother you are.”

“Thanks, Sam.” He gave me a hug and left.

Simon arrived a little while after we were allowed up to Trish’s room. I sat and held her hand and talked to her as she slept. She was now a castrato, but as far as they could tell, the wound was clean and they’d stopped the bleeding.

Simon kissed and hugged me, shook hands with Tom, and then kissed his daughter, “It’s okay, sweety-pie, Daddy’s here,” he said to her and stroked her cheek, I’m sure I saw her smile for a moment.

I told him what we surmised had happened and he shook his head. “Is that Stephanie woman, any bloody good?”

“Yes, and the kids all like her.”

“So how come this has happened, then?”

“I don’t know–I’m half sure that Trish won’t really know either. I think she’s felt so handicapped by her anatomy, that she saw the baby and just flipped.”

“But without taking her panties off, you wouldn’t know, would you–so why the rush to chop off her nuts?”

“I think they’d only just descended and she was very conscious of them, hating them.”

“So did you, but you didn’t try a DIY job, did you?”

“Only because I knew it would count against me–it was very tempting, very often.” I hung my head.

“Geez–zus,” was all Simon said.

Tom nodded sagely, he’d seen his own daughter go through all of this, so he had some insight. “Mebbe, I’d better go an’ help at hame.” He hugged me and then patted Simon on the shoulder. Then he leant over and kissed Trish before leaving.