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Chapter 2

Previously …

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.

And now the story continues…

The next few hours were busy for me. I was a bit wary about how others would react to me, as this was the first time I had been out in public as Katie. Knowing as I did how feminine looking I had been when I had been considered a boy and all the snide remarks that I had been given at school and at the home, it was nice to be treated as just a normal girl doing the usual girlie things like shopping and buying clothes.

Because I didn't want to spend a fortune on clothes¬¬¬ -- I wasn’t sure how long my money would last -- I went into a few of the cheaper clothes shops like Primark and bought some of the basics like skirts, tops and jumpers. I also bought tights, bras, more panties, a couple of nighties and some satin PJ’s. On my travels I found a nice shoulder bag in black to hold all my nic-knacks and by then, I felt that I was really getting somewhere.

After my minor shopping spree, I visited Boots the chemist and looked through the makeup section. There was a large selection. I had read in one of the few girlie mags that I had read that Boots did a good range at an affordable price. The trouble was that I was a novice at all this.

I noticed over in the corner that there was a cosmetic counter and a lady was there who obviously did makeovers. I was tempted to go over, but felt quite shy and self-conscious about it. Then, before I could look away, she caught my eye and then came over. My face went red, as I was trying to blend in and not draw attention to myself.

‘Having trouble?’ she asked.

‘Erm, yes, I’m not very good at choosing makeup.’

I could have kicked myself. What sixteen year old girl didn’t know all about makeup?

‘Would you like me to give you a quick makeover? It’s quiet at the moment and I like to keep in practice. No pressure about buying or anything.’

I thought for a moment. It would be nice to see what I looked like with properly applied makeup. I had visions of looking silly if I tried myself. Now was a good opportunity to see if I could get some work at a circus as a clown or if I looked okay with face paint slapped on me.

‘Thanks that would be great.’ I said quietly.

She led me over to her chair and after taking my coat and making sure that my shopping bags and case were behind the counter for safety, she sat me down.

After getting me comfortable, she carefully looked at my face which, I suspect, had a deer in the headlights look.

‘Good, a blank canvas, I don’t need to remove anything before we get started. I’ll just clean your face first, to get rid of any greasy residue.’

I had no idea how much greasy residue I had, or whether I needed to make an appointment at the doctor’s for it, but I just went with the flow and hoped fervently that I wasn’t going to draw a crowd.

‘Look, look Mummy, look at the clown!’

I shuddered slightly; perish the thought.

As she did her stuff she explained to me what she was doing and almost lost me when she proceeded to tell me about my oily T Zone. She started by cleansing my face and then used an under-eye moisturizer and face moisturizer. She then took a lot of time to match the foundation and set it with a powder. She then used an eye shadow primer and a smoky eye shadow kit. She used a black eye pencil and then some mascara and concealer. She finished with blush, lip liner and gloss. During my makeover she evidently used around thirteen products.

Whilst she did her stuff, she kept up a constant chatter that didn’t require much input from me. She did not seem surprised that I wasn’t wearing makeup or that I had little idea about it, but I did explain, when I could put a word in edgewise, that I had just come out of a tomboy stage and wanted to look a bit more girlie.

‘Well, you are pretty and makeup can only enhance that. I take it that the tom-boy thing has passed?’

‘Definitely’, I replied with conviction.

After a surprisingly short time, she finished and then whipped me around so that I could see myself in the mirror.

I knew it was me; it couldn’t be anyone else sitting there. But I looked so different, pretty and maybe, perish the thought, even beautiful?

‘You are very beautiful,’ said Tracy the makeup girl, reflecting my thoughts, ‘I wish I had skin like yours.’

My eyes welled up.

‘Here, none of that, you’ll ruin your makeup. Maybe I should have used waterproof mascara!’

I giggled through my tears and it took Tracy a few moments to repair my eyes. I was lucky that no-one seemed interested in me and were going about their business like nothing unusual was happening.

‘There we are, all better. I bet that you’re glad that you are now a bit more girlie looking?’

I nodded.

‘I never thought that I could look that nice.’

‘So you haven’t worn much makeup in the past?’

‘No.’

‘Well you’ll soon pick it up. Now would you like to buy some of the makeup that you’re wearing?’

‘As long as it doesn’t cost too much.’

‘Let’s see what we can put together, shall we?’

Tracy helped me to find what I was looking for and even threw in a makeup bag and it came to a very reasonable amount, slightly less than the national debt.

‘Thank you Tracy.’

‘No problem; if you need any tips about applying makeup, come and see me.’

‘I will!’

I left the shop a little lighter in my purse, but a lot more self assured.

Unbelievably, I still had about twenty minutes until I had to get to the station so I went to a charity shop and bought a nice dress, in a deep red colour, knee length with capped sleeves, just because I thought that it looked nice and Christmassy. It was cheap too! Whether I ever got the chance to wear it was another matter.

One last stop at a phone shop had me buying a pay-as-you-go phone. I had never had one before, but felt that I needed one now. In particular, I wanted to do some texting.

Finally, all shopped out, I caught a taxi to the station. I had booked online and my ticket was ready for me at the ticket office.

Sitting on the train, I managed to find a corner seat where no-one was around me. At that time of day, the carriage was empty apart from a family at the other end of the carriage.

Opening my case, I put the bags of clothes in and shut it up again. Then I put the case and my coat up on the rack above me and after that, settled down as the train left the station on its way to Gloucester. I would then catch a Stagecoach bus into Ross-On-Wye, where I had booked a room at Travelodge.

Settling back, I watched the scenery go by. A lot had happened in the last 24 hours and it was hard to get my head around what I had actually done. I wondered what the people at Charring House would say at my non-arrival and Andy for that matter, back at the home. I thought that I should sort that out straight away.

I pulled out the phone and switched it on. The man in the shop had set it up for me and showed me how to use it. In particular, I had asked him to set it with my number being withheld. I didn’t want anyone to be able to trace me via the phone, if that was possible. It had a touch screen with lots of apps on but I just wanted to use the phone in an emergency or to do some texting.

In my coat pocket, I kept a list of phone numbers, one being Andy’s.

I texted Andy; no way was I going to speak to him.

Hi Andy, I have decided not to go to Charring House. I have also left school. Please contact anyone who needs to know. Do not try to contact me – Ben

I didn’t bother texting Charring House, as I thought that Andy would do that.

Switching the phone off, I put it into my bag and then tried to relax. There was no point worrying about my situation. The one overriding thing I was pleased about was that Ben was gone and Katie was here to stay.

The train jolted suddenly and awoke. I hadn’t even realised that I had been asleep. It was getting dark outside and while I had been snoozing, a number of people had boarded the train.

A mother and little girl were sitting opposite me and the little girl was looking at me. I smiled and she started crying.

The mother turned to her daughter and said, ‘Shh now, don’t start again.’

Looking at me apologetically, she just said, ‘Sorry, she’s a bit whiny at the moment. She has an ear infection.’

‘Ooh, that’s bad.’

‘Mmm, it’s getting better though.’

‘Where are we?’ I asked, looking out of the window.

‘We’ve just left Stonehouse, where are you going?’

‘Gloucester.’

‘It’s about fifteen minutes. Going home?’

‘Visiting relatives.’

‘That’s nice.’

I started to get my stuff together. The little girl was going to sleep, which was good. Her mum said that they were getting off at Cheltenham Spa.

A few minutes later, we arrived at Gloucester and after whispering goodbye to the mother; I left the train with several other people.

My case was the sort that had wheels, so it was easy for me to walk down the platform into the station proper and then go out to the bus stop. As luck would have it, a bus pulled up just as I arrived at the stop and in seconds I was being whisked away to Ross-On-Wye, which evidently was a 45 minute journey by bus.

The bus wasn’t very full and after paying my fare, I made my way to the back and sat down with my case next to me. The bus stopped several times on my journey and I admit to falling asleep for a while, but eventually we arrived and I got off at the bus stop, which was about a minutes’ walk from the Travelodge where I was staying for the night. It was dark now but the street was well lit and there were plenty of people about, so I didn’t feel threatened, although I could have been had the streets been quiet.

I was well aware that girls were in more danger than boys out on their own and I would have to be careful not to get into situations that might lead to trouble.

I finally arrived at the hotel and checked in, using the reference that I had obtained when booking the room. The lady behind the counter didn’t question why a young girl was staying there by herself. I suppose that nothing surprises them.

The room was on the first floor and was plain but functional, with the usual corner bathroom and king size double bed. It was 6.30 in the evening and dark outside, so pulled the curtains across and turned on the bedside lights to make it seem a bit cosier.

Sitting on the bed, I removed my trainers and rubbed my tired feet. Then I lay down on the bed and relaxed for a few minutes before deciding what to do next. Eventually, I decided to open my case and take my clothes out, and then I could hang them up to avoid creases.

My clothes were still in the bags, so I spent a happy few minutes sorting them out, taking off the labels and hanging them up. I was pleased with my selection but knew that I would have to get some more things soon, money permitting.

I had to be careful with money as I wasn’t sure that my weekly allowance would be continued. Not that it was much as the total was only £18.00 a week and that wouldn’t last long. It looked like I might have to get a job at McDonalds or something. Where I would stay was up in the air too and I wondered if I had completely worked things out prior to setting out on this mad-cap journey.

I suppose that I imagined that my mum would accept me and I would join her happy family, but that was just wishful thinking at this stage.

I had booked in for three days and hoped that that would be enough time for me to find my mum, as long as she still lived in Ross-On-Wye. In the back of my mind was the nagging worry that she might have died or something.

Why had she not continued to at least send me a card on my birthday and at Christmas? Even if I did find her, what would she say or do? I had no idea, but these negative thoughts were dragging me down a bit.

Would the authorities try to find me? Would I be considered as a missing person? Would the police get involved or was the fact that I was sixteen and I had told Andy that I was leaving and didn’t want to go where the council wanted to go, enough to stop any possibility of being traced?

Stop it Katie!

There was no point worrying about what other people might do. I would just have to make the best of things and take one day at a time.

My tummy rumbled and I realised that I hadn’t eaten anything since the coffee and Danish in Marks, earlier in the day.

I got up and went into the bathroom. Looking at my face, I smiled as my makeup still looked okay, except that my lippy needed freshening up. I couldn’t have that, so, pulling out my lipstick from my new makeup bag, I carefully did some repairs, not perfectly, but I would practice until I got it right.

After brushing my hair through, I was ready to meet the world again. I could have changed, but there seemed little point as I was only popping next door to the Little Chef Restaurant.

I picked up my keys and coat and with a final look at my reflection, I went out.

The restaurant wasn’t very busy and was shown a table by the window. I wasn’t clocked, as we say in trans-land and for that, I was pleased. I looked like someone normal and not some Norman Bates look-alike.

Looking at the menu, I decided on a chicken wrap, salad and a cup of tea. Not exciting, but I had had enough excitement for one day!

After my order was taken, I looked around. As per usual, the place was festooned with Christmas decorations wherever I looked. On the other side of the room, I saw a family of four having a nice time and laughing over something or other...

I felt pangs of jealousy and dragged my eyes away as the waitress returned.

‘There you are Miss,’ she said, putting down the plate in front of me, together with the small pot of tea, with cup and saucer.

‘Thank you.’ I replied with a smile.

Soon I was tucking in. I didn’t realise how hungry I was and it did not take long to demolish my meal. My hair kept getting in my face and I decided that I would get it properly cut at the earliest opportunity; not much shorter but more styled.

After my meal, I wasted little time in getting back to my room. With the TV on in the background on a music channel, I decided to pamper myself a bit. Something that was impossible to do anywhere else. I got undressed down to my panties and bra and then removed my makeup. I was reluctant to clean my face as it had been so nicely made up, but it was something that had to be done. First, I did a selfie on my phone, so that my look would be captured for posterity.

I had purchased some makeup removal pads and some Nivea eye makeup cleanser, both of which quickly removed all traces from my face. I was back to bare skin mode in no time. Filling the bath, I added some complimentary bubble bath and soon the water was nice and sudsy, if that’s a word. After taking off my bra and panties, I put on a shower cap, as I didn’t fancy wet hair tonight, and then I stepped into the bath, sighing as I sank into the foamy water.

It felt like heaven to slowly relax and let the warm water soak my cares away, if only temporarily.

I must have stayed in the bath for a good half an hour and I was in danger of getting the dreaded prune skin, also, I was getting bit sleepy, so reluctantly I
got out of the bath, dried myself off with a bath towel and then went back into the bedroom.

Putting on my new pink satin PJ’s, I marvelled at how nice the soft silky material felt against my hairless skin. I was so glad that I was taking pills to stop getting masculine. I knew that I should been to see a doctor about it, but I had read how many hoops that you had to jump through to get the right pills and I just couldn’t face that at moment.

Sighing at the unfairness of it all, I switched most of the lights off and got into bed.

Reaching over to the bedside cabinet, I fired up my iPad and after entering the wi-fi key provided, I went on the BBC news website, just in case. There was no mention of a sixteen year old absconder, the ports and airports being checked or police scouring the country, which was nice. It seemed like I was getting a bit paranoid. No doubt, if I was younger I might have been more newsworthy. I decided to go onto Google Maps to check out my mother’s address; the one that I had noted down from my file, back in the office.

On Google Maps I entered: The Lees, Pendleton Way, Ross-On-Wye.

A few moments later, the result came up.

Pendleton Way was off Brampton Road; on the outskirts of Ross. On street view, it looked like a small lane with few houses along it. I wasn’t sure which was the one I was looking for, as the names had been hidden, so I would have to find it when I got there.

Would she still be there and if she was, would I be welcome?

On an impulse, I searched for Mum on Twitter and Facebook; trying to find out a bit more about her before seeing her. no such luck, my mum’s name didn’t appear as a member of either.

Mind you, she might have got married. I had no information about her.

Let’s face it, I thought, she could be anywhere.

I slept fitfully that night. Everything was going on around in my head and I wondered what would happen in the morning when I would attempt to see my mum. The next day, I was undecided. I hated the idea of rejection. If she was still living there; would she want to see me? She thought that I was boy not a girl. It was all so complicated.

When I drew back the curtains the next morning, I noticed that it was a nice day outside. It looked like one of those strange mid winter days that were almost like summer.

Going over to the wardrobe, I looked at what clothes I had and what would be suitable for today; a day when I hoped that I would see my mum for the first time in years.

I couldn't wear boy’s clothes, as I had none. Should I wear jeans and a top or go all girlie and wear a skirt?

It was difficult, as I had no idea as to how she would react to me. I had visions of her seeing a girl land on her doorstep, saying that she was her long lost son who was really her daughter. That would probably cause more problems than I or she could cope with at the moment. Maybe I should wear my jeans and a top and sort of see how things went?

That led to the knotty problem of makeup. Should I or shouldn't I?

After a moment hesitation, I decided on no makeup. Even if I wanted to, it would take me ages for me to apply makeup correctly and I didn’t think the world was ready to see the results and my mum might die of fright if she saw my attempts at it. I would put my hair back in a pony tail; once again to reduce the shock of seeing Katie rather than Ben. Time enough for me to get round to telling her all about my gender status, although my breasts and feminine clothes might give the game away rather quickly!

I know now, in hindsight, that I was being ridiculous. I couldn't hide my gender; I was too much of a girl ever to be mistaken for a boy, but you must realise that I was full of indecision, frightened at my reception and terrified of rejection.

I had a shower, once again using a shower hat to keep my hair dry. I had no hair dryer and there wasn't one in the room. I would have to get one soon, as I couldn't live without a hair dryer!

After I had made myself presentable, I had a quick breakfast in the restaurant comprising of serial, toast, marmalade and a cup of tea. By the time I had finished breakfast, it was 10 o’clock. It was time for me to get my skates on.

Before I returned to my room, I stopped off at the reception and asked if they had a bus timetable.

She reached under the counter and handed one to me.

‘There you are Miss.’

‘Thanks,’ I replied with a smile.

In my room, I put my bag on the table and sat on the bed, opening up the timetable to see what buses went close to my mum’s house.

Luckily, on one side was a map showing where the buses went. There were only two
Routes, the 32 and 33. The number 33 bus route went close to where my mum’s road was and the service said that mid-week there was a half hour service from the station to a road quite near her.

Soon, I was ready to go. I put on my puffa coat, picked up my shoulder bag and with a final look around the room, I went out and dropped my key off at the reception. Then I went out of the hotel and started walking to the station where I would be picking up the bus.

It was a nice day and I was feeling quite warm in my coat, but I knew that weather can change quickly on this side of the country, so I wasn't taking any chances. I needed to get a jacket or something less bulky, but that would be far another day and I added that to my growing list of things to do and buy.

It was lovely being out as a girl. For all of my life I had had to present myself as a boy and I hated it. Now I was dressed as a girl, no one paid me any attention and that was great, as the last thing I wanted was for me to stand out.

Despite my worries about meeting Mum, I could feel a weight lifting off me. I was now able to be the real me, Katie and not Ben. The world seemed to be a slightly brighter place and Christmas didn't seem such a bad idea, after all.

I was shaking off my Scrooge type persona and slowly turning into The Christmas Fairy – perhaps not; but at least I was feeling a bit more festive!

The bus was only a few minutes late. I told the driver where I wanted to go and he promised to tell me when we arrived.

Ross-On-Wye was a pretty place and I could see the attraction of living there, but my tummy was getting knotted up now as I drew ever closer to where I hoped to find my mum.

Questions that were unanswerable went around my head; questions that I had asked myself time and time again. Would she reject me; had she any love for me; had she decided that I wasn't even worth a birthday or Christmas card?

After only ten minutes, we had arrived at my stop. After thanking the bus driver, I got off and started walking the quarter mile to mum’s road.

Pendleton Way was a narrow lane really with the occasional house and bungalow dotted along. Every house I passed, I looked for The Lees and eventually I found it, near the end, on the left, behind a small gate.

The Lees was a large bungalow, quite pretty really and about a hundred years old, I would say.

My heart was thumping as I opened the gate, walked down the path and then stopped at the door. Taking a deep breath, I rang the bell and waited, feeling a bit faint as the anxiety in me rose to a fever pitch.

A few seconds later a woman opened the door, she was carrying a baby in her arms.

‘Hello?’

She was pretty, with blond hair and I would say, about the right age…

‘C…Carol Young?’ I asked, my voice sounding strange, even to my ears.

‘No love, I’m Andrea Sanderson; Carol moved about a year ago’

I broke down in tears.

Somehow, I found myself inside. I was on the sofa in the sitting room and I had a mug of tea in my hand. The baby had been put down in his cot and the lady, who was called Andrea, was sitting opposite me with a concerned expression on her face.

‘Are you feeling better?’ she asked, with concern in her voice.

‘Yes thanks. It was just the shock, did you know her?’

‘Not really. There was a divorce and the couple sold up. I think that they were going to split up the proceeds.’

‘Were there any children?’

‘Not that I know of; I never actually met her. Everything was sorted out through the estate agent. Is she a relative?’

‘My mum.’

‘Oh, you look a bit old for her to be your mother.’

‘She was a teenage mum.’

‘That explains it. So why weren’t you with her then?’

‘Erm, I was put in care when I was small. My mum couldn't cope, I think.’

‘Oh that's a shame. And you lost touch?’

‘Yes; this was the last address I had for her.’

‘That’s a pity. Hang on; I think I have a forwarding address for her...’

She left the room and I took the opportunity to dry my eyes and blow my nose on a tissue. I must have looked a state.

A few minutes later she came back with a folded piece of paper and handed it to me.

‘Thanks,’ I said, getting up, ‘you’ve been very kind.’

‘No problem. I hope that you find your mum.’

With that, she showed me out and gave me a big hug on the doorstep.

‘Don’t worry,’ she said, ‘I’m sure that it’ll all work out.’

‘I hope so; goodbye.’ I replied and with a slight wave, I went down the path and went back to the bus stop.

It had been a wise move not to wear makeup.

I had put the slip of paper in my bag. I had decided that I would look at it back at the hotel. My emotions were all over the place. If the address was somewhere like the Outer Hebrides or abroad, I think that I would have broken down again. I had to wait ten minutes for the bus, all the time I was wondering where my mum had gone and why she gotten a divorce. Andrea had said that as far as she was aware, Carol had no children; was I included in that?

I took little notice of the scenery as the bus made its way to the station. My mind was in a whirl of emotions and what positive thoughts I had had earlier had melted away leaving me feeling flat and drained.

All too soon, we arrived and I got off the bus and made my way back to the hotel. It was getting cooler now and more wintery, as the sun went behind the ever increasing clouds and the wind started to increase. I was glad of my coat and I zipped it up to my neck to keep out the cold.

On arrival at the hotel, I got my key from reception and then made my way back to my room.

As soon as I arrived, I took my coat off and made myself a cup of tea, to warm me up.

After taking a few sips of tea, I picked up my bag and pulled out the folded slip of paper. Taking a deep breath and with shaking hands, I unfolded it and looked at the address:

The Seashells, Beach Road, Penmarris, Devon.

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