The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1268 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

“Oh, is this the famous Lady Macbeth?” asked Stella leafing through the photos.

“Yeah, there’s loads of ’em. I mean who in their right mind wants a picture of a teenage boy dressed up like a girl?”

“Loads of people on the internet by all accounts–maybe we should market them?”

“Very funny.”

“Oh, one of you in your school uniform,” she passed it over to me. I was in the blouse and skirt with black opaque tights, low heeled school shoes and my hair tied back in a ponytail. Despite my bright red hair, I wore enough mascara to make my eyes look quite black–Dusty Springfield–eat your heart out.

I was excused PE despite several of the boys complaining, instead I went to Mrs Conway for deportment lessons. I know it sounds odd in a boy’s school, but she was the wife of one of the French teachers and taught dance and movement in a private school on the downs at Clifton. Her day off coincided with my PE class and she had me walking up and down a spare classroom with books on my head; in bare feet, in heels and wiggling my arse like a ballerina with piles. I sat down and stood up–elegantly and so on. It was tedious but it probably helped.

I overheard her talking to her husband which I shouldn’t have done, but everyone in school should know that walls have ears. “How’s Murray’s pet project coming on?” asked her husband.

“Are you sure this child is a boy, because I’m not.”

“What d’you mean, of course he’s a boy.”

“Well he moves like a girl, I’m just polishing up her act. Give me a couple of months and I could have her strutting her stuff on a catwalk and competing with any model I’ve ever seen.”

“But he’s just a woofter, everyone knows that.”

“Sorry, Ed, but she walks like a girl, she sits like a girl, she even bloody talks like a girl. I’ve worked with boys playing girls before, and I’ve even worked with a couple of gay boys–none of them were like her.”

“She’s a he, Lydia.”

“Look, Ed, if it walks like a girl, talks like a girl and so on, it probably is a ruddy girl.”

“Murray won’t be very pleased.”

“Your headmaster is pursuing a course which I think is very questionable and it looks like it might come back to bite him. I’ve seen her at rehearsal, she is a female, she is Lady Macbeth.”

“Oh, so maybe you should be roughening up her edges rather than smoothing them?”

“I will not. I was asked to help her develop her poise–I’ve done that, such as it was. I’m not having any part of a scheme to humiliate someone because the headmaster doesn’t like their sexuality. Dammit, Ed, I’m sure if they looked hard enough, they’d find she was a girl inside after all.”

Naturally, I was delighted. Of course I was a girl–in my eyes anyway. The problem was I didn’t have the support to make it by myself. I needed to finish school, do uni and find a job where people weren’t so critical of transgender folk. Yeah, give me ten years and I should be ready.

“Cathy, is this Siân?” she pulled out a picture with two girls on it.

“Yes, my partner in crime, apart from my own underwear and tights, I borrowed loads from her. My Dad’s idea was just to turn up in school in skirts. I of course maintained it in the evening and weekends.”

“Because you were enjoying the freedom?”

“I suppose I was, but more because it was really pissing him off. I’d be changed into a very short skirt or dress, doing my homework or helping Mum get dinner and would deliberately saunter about in front of him. He used to get livid but Mum told him it was his own fault and he should have supported me in refusing the school’s request. To make things worse for him, she got me a couple of cheap nighties to wear in bed. Sadly after the play, everything disappeared.”

“I can’t imagine having that much conflict in a family.” Stella looked at me with a sad expression.

“Don’t tell me, but it explains a few things?” I said sarcastically.

“It might if things were ever that simple, but it may explain your anger at times and your determination to do things.”

“My anger? Am I angry then?”

“Sometimes very short fused. I do understand that you have issues to be angry about but you do go off on one at times.”

“I’m sorry, I’ll have to try and be more aware.”

“What would you say if you ever met Mr Murray again?”

“I don’t know–I might even be too scared to say anything, he was real pig of a man.”

“What did he look like?” I fiddled through the photos and pulled out one with the whole cast on it and the headmaster sat in the middle. “So who played who?”

I tried to remember who was who, then realised there was a list on the back. “This photo was still hanging in one of the corridors when I left there.”

“So? You look like a girl in your uniform and your knees are together, sitting next to your adoring headmaster,” she laughed. “You don’t seem to have so much makeup on in this one?”

“No, he made me take some of it off.”

“This guy looks a bit like Gareth’s next door neighbour. What was his first name?”

“We used to call him Murray mint, for obvious reasons. His first name, was something old fashioned, oh yes Aubrey, Aubrey Murray.”

I looked at Stella who was blushing and speed dialling on her mobile, “Hi, darling, I love you too. Darling, what’s your neighbour’s name?” She paused as he spoke to her, “I had an awful feeling it was.” He must have spoken again, then she answered him, “He was only Cathy’s horrid headmaster.” Another pause, “Okay, darling, see you later–drive safely.”

“Well?”

“He’s a retired teacher and his name is Aubrey Murray.”

“And he lives in Portsmouth?” I felt my whole world crumbling under threat of this man.

“Gosport, yeah, so? You beat him before, you can do it again and this time with half the universe behind you.”

“I’ll never go to Gosport again.”

“You must, you can’t let him beat you, Cathy. You’re an adult now, a female one to boot, with seven children–what have you got to prove to that arsehole?”

“I never want to see him again in my life.”

“He might have changed, Gareth gets on with him very well.”

“Pull the other one, Stel. Leopards like him never ever change their spots.”

“Isn’t that their weakness, Cathy, you have and moved on. Don’t let him spoil your life, girl, you’re bigger than him and certainly stronger.”

“I don’t know, Stella, I don’t know.” I felt quite small and weak.

“But if he was annoying one of your kids, you’d soon sort him out, wouldn’t you?”

“It’s not my kids though, is it?”

“No, this is about Charlie, you owe it to him to be strong, he gave up so much for you to succeed, didn’t he?”

I was now in tears and she was holding my hand and had her other round my shoulder. “I hate that man, Stella,” I sobbed, “I loathe and despise him.”

“Hate him, but don’t let him win, you’ve nearly got him, girl, and this time your whole family is behind you.”

“D’you think he knows who I am?”

“What if he does? He’s an old has-been, you’re the one in the driving seat.”

“I wonder if Mr Whitehead knew he was down here?”

“I don’t know if we’ll ever know that, Cathy, but he’s lived next door to Gareth for a few years and it hasn’t upset you before, so don’t let it happen now. C’mon, as sisters we can overcome anything together.” She drew me into a huge hug and I wept on her shoulder.