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Chapter 1

I looked at Andy.

He was sitting behind his desk, in his deep padded office chair. I was opposite him sitting on a hard, uncomfortable plastic chair.

Nothing like trying to make me feel inferior, I thought.

Whilst I waited, I looked outside, noticing that it was raining and it getting dark. I hated the winter and December in particular. All those festive revelries left me cold. Christmas was for happy families and I wasn’t in one...

He finished writing on some form or other and then looked up at me and smiled. I noted that the smile did not reach his eyes. Was there any soul or compassion in there? I wondered.

‘Well Ben, you are now sixteen, quite grown up really. You have been in care for how long?’

He knew very well how long had been in care and I didn’t like that crack about being ‘quite grown up’.

‘Since I was four.’ I replied shortly, trying to hold my temper.

‘That’s right, four.’

He smiled as I had answered a difficult exam question.

He paused for a moment still looking at me, before continuing.

I moved around in my seat. I hated these seats just like I hated the home that I had been living in for the past few months and in particular, I hated the bastard sat opposite me, all high and mighty and thinking that he was god’s gift to child care.

‘You haven’t done too well at school, have you Ben? Your teachers all say that you are bright and if you applied yourself, you could have gone far.’

‘What’s all this about Andy?’ I asked, trying to cut through the crap.

He looked annoyed; he didn’t like being interrupted; he was a control freak.

‘What this is about Ben, is your future. You haven’t fitted in wherever you have been placed, have you? This is what, the seventh kids’ home you have stayed at, not forgetting the eleven foster homes?’

‘So what?’

‘They can’t all be at fault, Ben. You haven’t even tried to fit in; you never have, right from when you were little.’

‘Nobody understands me!’ I shouted, standing up.

He looked at me as if he was going to explode and then took a deep breath and pointed at the chair.

‘Please sit down Ben. Shouting won’t help you and I am trying to help, believe it or not.’

My heart was thumping and I was breathing as if I had just run a mile. Eventually, I sank back down on my seat, the thought of him actually helping me made me feel slightly nauseous.

‘How many friends have you got here?’

I didn’t answer but shook my head. He knew very well how many of them liked me; none and to be honest, I never bothered to make friends. They all thought that I was weird. What was the point anyway, when I knew that I wouldn’t be there long enough to make it matter? I was different from them; I was the only girl in an all boy’s children’s home. The fact that I had a penis didn’t mean I was one of them. I might look vaguely like a boy, but I was a girl in my head and had always been one for as long as I could remember.

I had told no one about my being a girl. It was my secret and one that I would take to my grave if it came to that. I was not going to be held up as some sort of freak or something. Alright, I was small for my age and my voice hadn’t broken; I had long hair and delicate features.

I had been mistaken for a girl countless times and that was bad because all that meant was that I was considered strange, not quite right, a square peg in a round hole and all the other things people say when they were trying to explain the unexplainable. Despite that, I was terrified of growing into one of them with all the muscles, testosterone and hair in unacceptable places that growing into a man inevitably entailed and had been taking ‘the pill’, for some time now. I had ‘borrowed’ a supply from my last foster carer. I was running out now and would have to get some more from somewhere. My budding breasts, hidden under a tight t-shirt and hoodie, itched a bit, but I didn’t mind as all girls went through that.

‘I don’t make friends easily.’ I said, eventually replying to his question.

‘That’s true. You are quiet, introverted if you like, but you also have this temper thing, as if no-one understands you.If you let people help you, they would. We even had a psychiatrist try to work out what the problem was, but she didn’t get anywhere with you.’

‘Where is all this leading to Andy?’

‘See, another brick wall attitude. Look, I have to be truthful, there has been some pressure to let young adults over sixteen with issues such as yours to try to go out into the community, with support, of course...’

‘So you are chucking me out then?’

‘No, that would put too strong a point on it. What I am saying is that you might be happier away from an environment like this.’

‘It’s nothing to do with council cuts then?’

‘Well, to be honest there are pressures but I am only thinking about your welfare.’

‘That’s nice of you. Where will I go?’ I asked, not interested in his excuses.

‘There is a place where people such as yourself are placed prior to living in the wider community, a sort of staging home that gives you more freedom and prepares you more for the outside world, if that’s the right description for it.’

‘When do you want me out?’

‘I wouldn’t quite put it like that. All I want you to do is think about it. Here is some information about what we have talked about. Come and see me tomorrow and let me know how you feel.’

I stood up, took the leaflet and without another word, I left him and went to my room.

I winced slightly as I saw all the Christmas decorations everywhere, as if this was a happy family place which, to me anyway, it wasn’t.

Shutting the door to my room, I sat on the bed and sighed. I didn’t bother looking at the leaflet after reading that the place that I was being sent to was Charring House. I knew about that place. Having been in care for so long, you pick up on things. Charring House was the pits. Most of the people there had no job or didn’t go to school. Police were called regularly to sort out the fights and to do drugs raids. It used to be both male and female kids there, but after a lot of trouble and allegations regarding what went on behind closed doors, the girls were placed in another ‘safe home’ and it was now a male only environment.

Burying my head in my pillow, I cried my eyes out. It was probably a hormonal thing and a reaction to the girly pills I was taking. My emotions were all over the place. Testosterone was fighting with the estrogens and that made me moody with bouts of anger and then, other times when I couldn’t stop crying my eyes out. I was just happy that I hadn’t cried in front of the others. That would just be another emotional stick to beat me with.

The trouble was I was a girl not a boy and I didn’t feel that I would last five minutes at Charring House. So what was I to do? It was obvious that Andy and his team wanted me out and it was equally obvious that I wanted to go, but I didn’t want to go anywhere near Charring House.

I could stay where I was and tell them that I wasn’t budging, but I wasn’t happy there. I had some savings from the allowance that I never spent and the balance was more than two thousand pounds, so could I use the money to help me go somewhere else?

Still undecided, I heard the dinner bell go and went downstairs and joined the queue for dinner.

Like everywhere else, except my room, the dinner room was covered in Christmas decorations and there was a big tree in the corner with its lights twinkling away in an annoying fashion.

I think that Scrooge had the right idea about Christmas, all Bah and humbug.

As usual I had a salad. I think that I was the only one to have rabbit food, as the boys called it. They tended to go with something and chips, but, as I may have mentioned, I wasn’t a boy.

I sat at my favoured table, in the corner and as usual, no-one wanted to sit near ‘the freak’ as I was affectionately called behind my back and in a few cases, to my face.

Head down, I ate my meal. There was plenty of chatter, some laughter and the occasional raised voice, nothing out of the ordinary. Suddenly I heard a movement and looked up.

Peter Knightly looked at me, tray in hand and then sat down opposite me. Peter was a quiet boy of about fifteen. He was almost as much a loner as me and we occasionally spoke, but not much.

‘Hi Ben,’ he said.

‘Hi.’ I replied, not wanting to strike up a conversation, even with him.

He munched at his burger and I stole a glance at him. He was quite tall, stringy I suppose. His thin face looked troubled and I noticed the rings under his eyes. He was an asthmatic and quite often had to spend some time in hospital. He popped more pills than I did.

We carried on eating in silence. I finished first and then started to get up.

‘Ben, stop a minute.’

Reluctantly, I sat down again as Peter finished his mouthful and then looked at me.

‘I hear that you’re leaving.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘You know this place; no secrets.’

‘I haven’t decided yet.’ I replied, toying with my food.

‘Once they want you out, then that’s it. Remember Mark Hines?’

‘Yes.’

‘He didn’t want to go, but in the end they made things uncomfortable for him and he went to Charring House. You don’t want to go there...’

‘I know that it has a bad rep.’

‘Yea; anyway, Mark got into a fight with some big bruiser there and landed in hospital with a punctured lung; a knife fight, they say.’

‘Ouch.’

‘Mmm, anyway, I thought that you ought to know.’

‘Thanks, Peter.’

‘Don’t mench. Try to go somewhere else, if you can. Anyway I had better go.’

With that, he got up, gave me a shy smile and then went off to sit with the ‘normals’.

I sat there for a few minutes more and then, finishing my meal I got up, put my tray on the counter.

The other kids were either finishing their meal or going into the games room; something that I rarely did, so I just left to go up to my room.

Thinking about Peter, maybe I should have tried to make friends with him. It was a bit late now, but I was grateful to him for the information; they weren’t all slime-balls after all.

Shutting the bedroom door behind me, I pushed across the small bolt so I wouldn’t be disturbed.

Going over to the window, I drew the curtains and then went over to the bed. Still on it was the leaflet about Charring House. Glancing at it, I saw what appeared to be a large, pleasant house in nice, well kept gardens. There were glowing things mentioned about the care of the inmates and the freedom they had to fulfil their potential.

There was a photo of a bedroom and it all looked nice and cosy. It was all too good to be true, with a well-dressed, clean-cut boy sitting on the bed looking at a magazine and smiling. I would bet that he had either been bribed or he wasn't an inmate but just some male model type, in it for the money.

I threw the leaflet across the room. There was no way that I would be going there!

Standing up, I picked up my wash bag and went out of my room, going to the bathroom at the top of the stairs. The room was free, so I went in and did what I had to do, including cleaning my teeth as I was going to get ready for bed and maybe have my usual early night.

Back in my room, I once again bolted my door and then got undressed. Under my mattress, I had a nightie, it was a short pink cotton one that once again I had borrowed from somewhere, but forgot to return. It was my only item of female clothing. After putting it on, I turned the main light off got into bed and then switched on my bedside lamp.

Outside my door it was a bit noisy as some of the kids messed about in the corridors. I ignored this, as I was so used to living in a noisy environment.

I still hadn't decided what to do. My options were limited. I couldn't stay here. As Peter had said, once they decided that you weren't wanted, they would find ways to get rid of you. Perhaps I should jump before I was pushed?

Charring House wasn’t an option, as I didn't think that I could survive in a place like that, no matter what the leaflet said. What else could I do? I felt like I was between a rock and a hard place. I was sixteen now and could legally do a lot more than a fifteen-year-old could do.

I wondered about my parents. My father; I had no idea about him. I think that it was one night stand thing, involving illegal sex. As for my mother, she was only fourteen when she had me, younger than what I was now. She was evidently a mess and I was taken away from her.

I have a vague recollection of her that I hoped wasn’t just wishful thinking. I remember her perfume or whatever she was using. I could recall her holding me and playing with me. I couldn’t recollect her face. I dreamt about her sometimes. We were living in a lovely home. I was wearing a beautiful dress and we had such a happy time, bonding as a mother and daughter should; laughing hugging and sharing those special moments, but she had no face that I could remember...

It was just a dream.

Up until the year before last, I had always received a birthday and Christmas card from her. Then it had stopped. The cards held no information about her, she only ever said the same thing, that she wished me a happy birthday or Christmas and that she loved me very much and was sorry that she couldn’t see me.

Her name was Carol Young and the postmark on the envelopes were first Birmingham, then Sheffield and finally, Ross On Wye.

I had kept all the cards in my case, now sat on top of my wardrobe. I wondered about her, a lot. Why had she not contacted me or come to see me? As I say, I vaguely remember her, how I don’t know, as I was only four when she had to give me up. Perhaps she just felt guilty and was trying to make it up to me in some strange fashion that didn’t include actually coming to see me.

For many years I asked to see her or at least be allowed to write to her, but for some reason, it wasn’t allowed. As I got older I grew angrier. I thought that I had rights but was told on number of occasions that it was in my best interests not to have any contact.

I didn't even have my mum’s address. It was withheld because she had requested it. That hurt a lot. She didn't want me, that was obvious, but if she didn't want me, then why did she keep sending me cards?

I sat up in bed. Perhaps she had died and no one was telling me. Nothing would surprise me. I had been part of the care system for most of my life and stupidity and unreasonable behaviour from the authorities was normal. They did things without rhyme or reason. I had often been put with foster carers who were more interested in the money side of things than any sense of love and caring for me. One couple had been really nice to me, but I couldn’t stay with them for long because my foster mum became ill and I had to leave.

Once I was temporarily put in a girl’s home and that was hell, as I was surrounded by people that I wanted to be like and they treated me as if I was some sort of freak of nature. Don't tell me that girls are all sweetness and light, they can be as vicious and nasty as any boy.

I broke three windows there and that made them move me on quickly enough. I was close to being sent to a home for troublesome and unruly children, sort of a modern day Dotheboys Hall, but for once sense prevailed and I was put out with yet another very temporary foster home until yet another place could be found for me.

All this wasn't getting me anywhere. I had to decide what to do. My thoughts returned to Mum. Had anything happened to her? Was she still alive? After a few minutes thought, I had an idea.

I set my alarm for 2am and tried to get some sleep. It took a while, what with everything going around my head and the noises outside, but eventually I managed to doze off and then go into a deep sleep.

Then the alarm went off and it took a moment to realise where I was and what I was supposed to be doing.

Shrugging off my sleepiness, I quickly got dressed in jeans and t shirt and then I pulled back the bolt on my door and looked out. Everything was quiet and the hall was in semi-darkness. I went out and closed my door quietly and then went along the hall, down the stairs and then into the office.

The office was never locked as, in an emergency, the staff could get in there quickly. Over in the corner was a filing cabinet and that was where all the records of the inmates were kept. I had seen that often enough on my frequent visits to the office.

I also knew where the key was kept; in the top drawer of the desk. Security wasn't a high priority in the home.

It took just a moment to get the key and unlock the cabinet. I paused for a moment to make sure that all was quiet and then I opened the top drawer. The first thing I saw was a folder marked private and that got my interest. I had my torch with me, so I sat at the desk and opened the folder and looked at the contents by its light.

My eyes widened, as on top was a letter from the council regarding me!

I scanned the first few paragraphs, which wasn’t interesting and then got to the meaty part.

As you know, due to the massive cutbacks that this government has forced on us, we are looking for ways to cut costs and regrettably, we have to look at all services including child care. We feel that our limited resources would be better targeted on younger more vulnerable children and have therefore decided that young adults such as Ben would be better served in a community setting. We feel that it would be in Ben’s best interests and would free up a place in your unit.

You have reported that you do not feel that Ben is comfortable with being at your unit. Due to the previous problems that we have had in placing him in a caring environment in the past and the fact that this has been less than successful, we believe that the best course of action will be to transfer him to Charring House, without delay.

Please contact me as soon as possible so that the necessary arrangements for the transfer can be made.

Yours etc.

I sat there for a few moments and had a think about what I had just read. It confirmed what I already knew; they wanted me out and the only place they wanted me to go to was Charring House.

I put the letter back into the folder and went over to the cabinet, placing the folder where I had found it. I then went through the alphabetically listed files of all the kids at the home and then found my one.

Taking the file out, I returned to the desk and sat down.

The file was quite thick. Not surprising, as I had been pushed from pillar to post for most of my life. I had seen some of the contents of the file on many occasions as I had ‘a right to know’ as it’s termed, but I had not seen everything. I was looking for one thing in particular and I eventually found it at the bottom of the pile; my mother’s address.

The Lees, Pendleton Way, Ross On Wye. There was also a phone number. I made a note of both and then closed the folder, put it back in the cabinet, locked it and returned the key to the drawer.

Without incident, I was back in my room. Several times I looked at the address and phone number.

I powered on my iPad, luckily we had wi-fi and I had a good signal. After looking at a few sites, I jotted down some information. The jigsaw puzzle was coming together.

I was never one to rush things except when I was angry or lashing out and I went over and over in my mind the positives and negatives of what I was trying to achieve.

A plan was forming in my head and I decide there and then to put it into action.

I knocked on the office door.

‘Come in.’

Andy looked up as I walked in.

‘Ah Ben, you have missed the school bus; is something wrong?’

Once again, the false smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

‘I’ve thought about what you said yesterday and I want to leave.’

His smile grew wider and wasn’t that a slight bit of relief in his demeanour?

‘Yes, that seems to be the best way forward. When do you want to go?’

‘As soon as possible.’

‘Well, I know that a place was provisionally booked for you at Charring House, I’ll check and see if you can go today.’

He picked up the phone with almost indecent haste and speed dialled a number.

Not wasting much time then, I thought.

‘Hi Phil, yes, about Ben, he wants to go. Can he come today? Good, thanks for that. I’ll speak to you soon, bye.’

‘It’s all arranged, you can go when you like. Do you want to go and pack? I’ll ring the school and tell them why you are absent today. The other kids have just gone off so you’ve missed saying goodbye...’

‘I’ll catch up with them at school.’ I lied.

‘Yes, that’s good. When you are ready, I’ll arrange a taxi for you...’

‘That’s okay, it’s not far I’ll catch a bus. I need to go to the bank anyway.’

‘If you are sure?’

He sounded happy to spare the expense.

‘Yes, I’ll be fine. I’ll come and see you when I’m leaving. I won’t be long.’

Going upstairs, I contemplated once again what I was going to do. It was risky, but I had no choice in my eyes.

I was used to packing my case, I had done it often enough. I also filled a black sack with things that I didn’t need. I would chuck them in the bin when I left.

Looking around the now bare room, I didn’t feel upset about leaving. This was never home to me and I would be glad to be out and free from its confines, rules and in particular, away from Andy and his ‘team’.

I took my case and the black bag downstairs and left them outside the office. Then I knocked on the door and went in. Andy was there, on the phone but he said goodbye to whoever he was talking to and then turned his attention to me.

‘Well Ben, got everything?’

‘Yes thanks.’

It didn't hurt to be civil.

‘Here’s some paperwork for you. Remember, if you need any help or advice, I’m always here.’

‘Erm, right.’

With that, I left him, picked up my case and bag and left the home for the final time.

I put the bag in the large rubbish bin around the side of the building and then, with my case, I went to the bus stop.

Luckily, the bus arrived after only five minutes and I was in town about ten minutes later.

First thing first, I went to a cash machine and drew out £200. Then it was time to go shopping.

I tried to ignore the Christmas overload that shops tended to get into at that time of year and the sugary sweet piped Jingle Bells type music that you couldn’t escape from. I had to stay focussed.

Going to Marks & Spencer's, I bought some new underwear, a jumper, jeans and a lilac, hooded puffer jacket. I asked the lady at the changing room if I could change into my new clothes and pay using the tags and she said that it wasn't a problem. It seemed like that wasn't an unusual request.

Putting on one of the sets of bras and panties was nice. I had guessed at my bra size, a 28 AA and it looked like I was right, as the bra felt snug and supported my girls quite nicely. Then I slipped on the matching panties, quickly followed by the jeans, pink socks and then the top; a pink sweatshirt and finally the coat. My trainers would have to do for now and anyway they were pretty unisex.

After removing the elastic band, I pulled out my hairbrush and got to work on my hair. It was quite long and had been in a low ponytail. Luckily, there was a mirror in the changing room and I was able to style it the way I wanted, parted in the middle and loose around my shoulders.

Leaving the changing room, I made my way over to the checkout, showing the tags for my purchases. I paid using my debit card when it was realised that I wasn't a shoplifter!

It was nice to stop hiding. Dressed as I was, I hoped that I would be seen as the girl that I really was and not some strange looking excuse for a boy..

I went over to the restaurant in Marks and had a coffee and Danish pastry. Sitting down at a table near the corner, I reviewed what had happened and what I was going to do.

I had decided that I would leave Ben behind and live full time as a girl, using the name I always thought myself as, Katie.

I would not be going to Charring House and I would not be returning to school.

When the crap hit the fan, I would be long gone. Being sixteen, they couldn't force me to do anything and that was the way I wanted it to be.

The next thing on my list was to get some more clothes. Enough to fill my case. I had no male clothes left except the ones that I had in one of the the carrier bag next to me. Those clothes would be put in a bin.

I would go around the shops for a couple of hours to buy the minimum I needed to last me for a week or so. Marks were too expensive to buy everything I needed and their teenage range was limited. I would also get a decent pair of shoes and some boots as I was bound to need them, as it was winter. Then I wanted to get some makeup; Boots, the shop that is, would be a good place to get some, as their prices were affordable. Once I had done that I would be ready for the next, most important thing on my list.

I was going to find my mum.

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Please leave comments and kudo thingies...thanks! ~Sue