Previously …

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.

And now the story continues…

‘Penmarris; never heard of it,’ I thought.’ At least it’s in this country.’

I opened up my iPad and looked on Google Maps. After a moment, there it was; a large village or very small town rather in Devon, Close to the Cornish Border. Unsurprisingly Beach Road was on the sea front. I went down to street view and annoyingly, like the houses in Ross, I couldn’t see house names because they had been blocked out.

I did take an opportunity of having a look around on street view and it all looked rather pretty and the scenery was stunning. I thought that Ross was nice, but, from what I could see, Penmarris was in another league. The harbour was nice and I panned around and saw all the boats in the harbour, including a huge yacht and I wondered if rich, St Tropez types brought their boats there.

This wasn’t getting me anywhere. I had to go to Penmarris to see my Mum. Once again, I had no idea if she was there, but I had gone through too much for me to stop now.

I searched for the train times and connections from Gloucester to Plymouth, the nearest station to Penmarris.

As I thought, there wasn't a direct connection. I had to go from Gloucester to Bristol Parkway station and from there to Plymouth via Exeter and that would take three to four hours, even if I caught the right connections. Then I would have to catch two buses and that would add another hour and a half to my journey. All in all, if I was unlucky, it could take five hours to get to Penmarris. Looking at the time, I would be hard pressed to get there before it got dark.

I had two more nights booked at the hotel. After a bit of intensive thought, I decided that I would stay in the hotel for one more night and cancel the third night.

The first train out of Gloucester to Bristol was 7.05am; I decided that I would have to get up early and make sure that I caught it.

I still had the rest of the day to do what I wanted and I decided that I would go for a walk into Ross and have a look around, the idea being that it would take my mind off my troubles.

I would have liked to have worn a skirt -- I had a nice denim one that I was dying to wear -- but I didn't have thick enough tights to wear under it and I did not fancy freezing, so I stayed dressed as I was, in jeans. Perhaps I could get some thicker tights in Ross?

Without further thought, I went off to have a look around Ross-On-Wye.

It was cold outside and I was glad of my coat. Walking towards the town centre, it was nice to see how clean everywhere was; the pavements, I mean. In London, where I used to live, it wasn’t very nice, with litter strewn around and rubbish everywhere, in and out of bins; even the buildings looked grubby.

Ross was a pretty little town and when I arrived at the centre, I found a sort of market square, only it wasn’t square, but a funny shape and there was a strange looking building in the middle of it with market stalls sheltered underneath; it was called Market House -- that figured.

Anyway, this isn’t a travel log, so back to the important bits. The shops were mostly small local ones, but there were some better known names there. I found a clothes shop called The Edinburgh Woollen Mill. As the name implies, it had a lot of woollen clothes for sale. My eyes lit up and I nearly drooled when I saw Christmas sale, up to 50% off! in the window.

I nearly fell over myself as I went in and immediately latched on to some jumpers that looked rather nice. I picked up a red one in my size (cos it’s a festive colour and I was trying to be festive) and then tried it on in the changing room and it looked great. Then I found a blue beanie hat that said Bad Hair Day on it and thought, why not? Then I found a long multi coloured scar which seemed to go well with everything, so that went into my basket too.

Finally, I found a pack of three thick tights in black that were ideal for my needs and were quickly added to the other things that I wanted to buy. The whole lot came to £55.99 and I was well pleased as I walked out of the shop. I seemed to be in a shopping frenzy, as next door was a shoe shop and there were some nice black calf high boots with a low heel. I tried them on and they fit like a glove -- you know what I mean! They were £60.00 and I wasn’t made of money, but the sales girl said that they were in the sale and were only £49.99 and I was sold on them.

it was funny, when I was in boy mode, I hated shopping and now, I couldn’t get enough of it!

As I left the shop, I realised that I was getting a bit hungry, so I went to the local Greggs, which is sort of a bakery with coffee and snack shop, ordered a sausage roll and coffee and went to sit in a corner and wondered how long my money would last, if I kept spending at this rate. Then I realised that I needed the clothes and I wouldn’t function very well without them; so, in affect they were an investment, weren’t they? In any case, I still had plenty of cash left and as long as I didn’t go too mad, I would last for a while longer without getting the begging bowl out.

I had visions of my being huddled up in a shop doorway; a cardboard box for a home, a cap on the ground for collecting the begging money and the obligatory poor little dog to add pathos…

I shook my head. No way was I going to let that happen, I would rather work at McDonalds…well I think I would!

Regarding the clothes situation, what I really wanted was some sort of short coat or jacket, as my puffa coat was rather long and not always practical for travelling, but, with great willpower, I decided to leave that for now and make do with what I bought already.

I sat there drinking my coffee and suddenly doubts seemed to filter into my mind and I wondered whether going to Penmarris was a good idea after all. I had already been disappointed at not finding my mother in Ross. I had psyched myself up so much for the meeting and all for nothing. I was now thinking of going a couple of hundred miles on what might be a wild-goose chase.

Then, for some strange reason, I thought about the memories that I had of my mum, sketchy and elusive as they were. I thought that I could remember her smell -- some sort of perfume maybe -- and her laugh and the cuddles, all too soon snatched away from me.

Were they real memories or just some sort of wishful thinking?

I liked to think that my memories of her were true and I decided that despite my misgivings and doubts, I just had to try to find her and I would seek her out if it meant travelling all over the country for her.

That was more like it. Being positive was less painful than negativity. I took a large bite out of my sausage roll and nearly choked on it. Another lesson, take smaller bites; it was more girlie and I would be less likely to choke death!

Before leaving Greggs, I swapped the trainers that I was wearing for my new boots. I wanted to break them in and thought that they would be more comfortable to wear in the cold weather rather than my thin, nylon trainers. The boots looked ace, rad and well bad, as cool girls say –well, I think they do anyway. So much to learn and too little time to learn it...

Thirty minutes later, I was back at the hotel. On my way in, the lady was in the reception area and I told her that I would be leaving the next morning. After a major sigh, she managed to sort out the cancellation for the third night that I had booked. That was good as I needed all the money I could get. By the scowl on her face, it was almost as if it was her money and that I had mugged her.

Leaving her, I made my way to my room. I was getting a bit fixated on money and maybe a little bit guilty about spending so much on clothes, but let’s face it I was going from zero, clothes wise and I needed to wear something.

Sitting on the bed, I tried to work out what to do next. I was still a bit hyper from all that had happened to me and I felt that I needed to do something. I still had the rest of that day and the evening to fill. In the end, I decided to practice doing my makeup; something that I believed needed a lot of practice to get right.

Tracy, the Boot’s girl had been nice, telling me what I should use, but I saw little of what she had actually been doing to my face and I really felt that I needed some hands on experience before going out and mixing with the general public. In the end I had the bright idea of going onto YouTube and looking at some videos showing how to apply makeup.

There were hundreds of videos to choose from and I spent over an hour sifting through, trying to get what I was looking for. I even looked at some of the manufacturer’s websites, but they were full of model types with perfect skins and plastic smiles.

In the end I found several very popular videos made by a teenager, just like me. She had a similar face to mine (but prettier) and she seemed to know what she was doing.

Once I had seen all the videos, I had some idea as to what to do, but I knew that following her techniques would take time, practice and patience and that I would have to look at those videos several times. Ideally, I would have liked someone to teach me and then I realised that all girls go through the learning phase and if I wanted to do it right, I would have to practice and practice until I was satisfied with my look and not rely on anyone else.

I decided to have a shower first and then had a thought. I had forgotten to buy a hair-dryer.

‘Blast.’

Then I had an idea.

I left my room and went out to reception.

‘Hi, have you a hair-dryer I can borrow?’ I asked the receptionist, who was doing a bit of intensive work on her rather long nails. How she could type with those talons, I would never know...

‘Isn’t there one in your room?’

‘No.’

‘There should be.’

‘Well, there isn’t.’

‘Okay, hang on.’

She put her file down with yet another sigh, and went out the back. I wondered if she was considering searching my room for the hidden hair-dryer; she didn’t seem to believe me.

Little Miss Ray Of Sunshine came back in and handed me a rather beaten up specimen.

‘There you are,’ she said with a rather fixed smile.

‘Thanks.’ I replied and then with a nod and more natural smile of my own, I left her to her nail filing and evilly wished that she broke one and then she would have to file the rest down to compensate.

I was getting a bit bitchy in my old age! I blamed the pills and that reminded me. I would have to get a supply from somewhere soon. There was always the internet. I happen to know that there are on line pharmacies that will do what they laughingly call an online consultation and will supply pills to anyone who give the right answers. The only problem with ordering online was that I would have to supply a permanent address.

I could always find a B&B and stay there for a week or two and then give that as my address. That was for the future. Now I wanted to have a shower and slap on the war paint!

I did consider having a bath, but showering was quicker and I wanted to get as much time in as possible to practice applying my makeup.

I won’t bore you with a blow by blow account of my attempts at making myself beautiful. All I will say is after four attempts including nearly stabbing myself in the eye; I started to make some progress and began to get a bit nearer to the results that Tracy in Boots (Not Puss in Boots) managed to get.

By the time I had finished, I was pleased enough to leave my makeup as it was and I got dressed in a lemon top, thick tights and denim skirt. I was hungry again and it was time for something to eat next door.

Being a bit peckish, I opted for an omelette and chips, followed by ice cream. I was getting more used to going out dressed as a girl. All this was new to me and I hadn’t done anything like this before. It was nice that I obviously passed okay and people didn’t run away screaming when they saw me. It all gave me confidence and I needed all the confidence I could get.

Going to bed that night in my satin jim-jams, I set my alarm on my phone for 5 am as I wanted to give myself plenty of time to catch the first train out of Gloucester. The previous night I had had trouble going off to sleep, but tonight, I was so tired; I went out like a light.

The next morning, my alarm woke me up with a start and it took a moment to realise where I was and what I was going to do that day. After groggily making myself a cup of tea, I gradually woke up a bit more and then, looking at the time, I realised that I had better get ready. I wasn’t hungry enough for breakfast and I decided that I would have something later. In any case the restaurant didn’t open until after 7 am, anyway.

I had decided the previous night that I wasn’t going to pretend to be a boy any more, even for my mother, if I was lucky enough to find her in Penmarris. She would have to take me as I was.

Ben was gone for good.

After my shower and drying my hair, I applied my makeup twice, as the first time didn’t quite look right and my lippy was all wonky.

My smallish breasts were somewhat itchy and I wished that I had some cream or something to ease the soreness, but I was a bit shy to go and ask at the chemist and would just put up with it, for now.

Looking out of the window, it was still dark, but it looked clear; no rain or snow, thank goodness. My phone said that it was going to be up to 10 degrees today so I decided on wearing what I now called my festive outfit, comprising of red jumper, denim skirt, black tights, boots, scarce and beanie hat. The hat would stop my hair from flying all over the place and anyway, it was nice and would keep my head warm. It didn’t take long to get dressed, but I had to be careful not to ruin my makeup when pulling on my jumper. Another thing to remember; do your makeup, after getting dressed and cover your clothes up when you do it.

Before I knew it, I had to go, as I wanted to arrive at the station in plenty of time. After packing my case carefully, I looked around the room and made sure that I had everything. I put on my coat, hat and scarf -- making sure that my hair was okay -- then picking up my key, I left the room with my luggage.

There wasn’t anyone in reception and wondered if the happy receptionist was still in her coffin. I left the key in the slot provided and went out into the coldish morning air.

There weren’t all that many people around at that time of the morning, not like London where there seemed to be traffic at all times of the day and night. I made it to the station in good time and the train for once was on time. There were a surprising number of people on the train and I assumed that many of them were commuters into Bristol. I managed to find a seat eventually, just beating a man with a briefcase and sat down with a sigh. The man was not well pleased, but that was his problem, not mine.

The first part of my journey had begun.

When I bought my new phone, I pleaded helplessness and the nice man in the shop transferred some of my music from my iPad to it; so I plugged in my ear buds and listened to the music whilst watching the scenery slip by. I was to be on the train for 55 minutes, if there were no delays, so I thought that I could relax for a bit.

My skirt was kind of short and had ridden up a little when I sat down. I was so pleased that I was wearing thick tights and the seat that I was in didn’t give anyone an eyeful of something they shouldn’t see! Another lesson, short skirts and train seats don’t mix very well.

The time went fast and it seemed like in no time we had arrived at Bristol Temple Meads Station.

A kind man helped me with my suitcase, as I was struggling a bit, what with everyone getting off at once. I wondered, if I had been a boy, whether he would have been as helpful.

I thanked him with a smile and then made my way to the platform where my next train to Exeter would arrive shortly.

In the end, the train was a bit late and there was a bit of a crowd on the station and in the scrum for seats, I missed out and had to stand for an hour. I didn’t mind too much, as I was by the door which obviously had a window and I could see out and once again, listen to the music on my phone.

The train made up the time lost and when we arrived at Exeter, I was the first one off. Luckily, the connecting train was on the other side of the platform and I was able to get on it and grab a nice window seat and get myself settled before many of my co-travellers were off the starting blocks.

One thing that I ought to mention in all this, were the stares that I occasionally got from some of the boys and men on my travels. I was very conscious of the fact that I was fully in girl mode and, although I say so myself, I thought that I was quite pretty. This seemed to draw attention to me and some of that attention wasn’t exactly welcome.

I suppose that I now understood more what girls and women had to put up to on a daily basis and how vulnerable we are to unwanted attention.

As I got nearer to my destination, I began to get more anxious that my mum would not be there or that I wouldn’t find her or maybe even worse, that she would be there, but would reject me. It was a terrible feeling, not helped by the fact that I was so unsure about my future.

I had left the home because I didn’t want to go to Charring House and also because I felt that I was in a situation of ‘go before you get thrown out’. My choices were limited; either stay in the system and take the chance that things would work out for me or leave and start afresh. I had always thought that when I was legally an adult, I would live as a woman and not as a man. The reason why I had decided to take the pill was because I was so scared of puberty, the wrong sort, that is.

I had a deep mistrust of the child care system and did not fit into the normal scheme of things. In the past, I had hit out against the care I had been given. Perhaps, if I had been placed with more permanent foster parents who would maybe understand what I was going through, I might have taken a chance and told them about who and what I really was. But I had no such luck with the couples I had been farmed out to and I had to admit that I was a far from ideal foster child.

Now, my future was in my hands. I had to consider the possibility that I could not stay with Mum for whatever reason. If that was the case, I had no intention of going back; I would go forward, try to find a place to stay and get a job and see where that took me.

We arrived at Plymouth just after mid-day. I had fallen to sleep about twenty minutes out and when I awoke, I felt more tired than I had prior to my nap. Getting off the train, I noticed that it was now considerably colder and I was glad of my woolly clothes and puffa coat.

Wheeling my suitcase behind me, I left the station and saw a Caffè Nero across the road. In the summer I was a cola and other cold drink fan, but in the winter, I just wanted something to warm me and sometimes wake me up. So, I thought that a latte or something would just do the trick.

I found a nice table inside and drank my coffee and nibbled at a Danish pastry. It was quite busy there and it was nice to sit and people watch for a while. There were four girls about my age on another table, giggling away, doing selfies, texting and talking at the same time. I smiled at them and one of then looked over at me and smiled back before turning back to her friends.

I sighed; it would be nice to have some friends like that. I had no friends, male or female. I was a bit of a loner, an odd ball if you like. Thinking more positively, I hoped that I would find some friends, now that I had stopped pretending to be a boy.

Plymouth bus station was about a ten minute walk from the railway station. After finishing my drink and delish pastry, I decided to go and get my bus.

I won’t bore you with my bus journey, all I will say is that the scenery was pretty and that we stopped lots of times and I had to change buses midway.

On the second bus, I was sitting up the front, near the driver. After going through a few villages, along lanes where the bus brushed against trees and bushes and somehow managed to get through very through some rather tight bends, the road opened out a bit.

The route was now quite hilly and we went from moorland into a thick wood and then out the other side. The sun suddenly came out as we went up yet another hill. At the top was a bus stop and an elderly couple got on, but I was paying more attention to the view though.

On the road was a sign that said:

Down below there it was.

The crescent of Penmarris Cove looked lovely. At its centre was the village itself and the harbour with boats bobbing about. At each end of the village there were unspoilt sandy beaches. The hillsides were dotted with colourful houses and bungalows. On the hill, overlooking the cove was a large imposing looking mansion and to the side a little nearer the village centre, I could see a church tower.

I didn’t have time to see more, as the bus moved off again, but it made me eager to see more of Penmarris and in particular, my mum.