The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2775 by Angharad Copyright© 2015 Angharad

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This is a work of fiction any mention of real people, places or institutions is purely coincidental and does not imply that they are as suggested in the story.
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“When are you playing next?” I asked Danni.

“Not until Sunday, if they pick me.”

“Why shouldn’t they, you’re their best player?”

“I know the coach knows about me and it shouldn’t make any difference but I think it does.”

“Want me to have a word with him?”

“Nah, it’s okay—beginning to feel soccer isn’t the b-all and end all of everything.”

“I thought you wanted to win a world cup winner’s medal.”

“Yeah—but if it gets out, I’m like finished anyway, aren’t I?”

“The FA are signed up to the code of practice which recognises trans players as their new gender if you meet the criterion, which you did.”

“Yeah but if the tabloids get hold of it my life will be a misery, won’t it?”

“Possibly. We’ll all help you deal with it if it does.”

“But if I stopped playin’ it would go away, wouldn’t it?”

“Darling, it’s too important to make a decision about at this time of night. Let’s wait until the morning and speak to your dad about it, or perhaps Gramps.”

“I doubt I’ll be able to sleep, Mummy.”

“Well you need to try, you’ve got school tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I know—if the tabloids expose me—all my friends in school—they’ll be...”

“They may be a bit surprised.”

“A bit, come off it, Mummy, they’ll never speak to me again.”

“In which case they were fair weather friends and no great loss. You may be pleasantly surprised when everything calmed down again.”

“That’s all right for you to say, I’ll bet you had loadsa friends when you were a schoolgirl.”

“Danni, I never had more than one or two right through school and university. I probably have more now than I did then.”

“But you were such a pretty girl.”

“Who was trying to cope with living as a boy, if you remember—you saw the journal kept by Mr Whitehead.”

“I saw him die, Mummy, if you remember.”

“Of course you did; poor Mr Whitehead. I wish I’d known about him before that day.”

“He didn’t want you to, so...”

“Okay, somethings are best left unsaid or unknown. C’mon, girl, up to bed.” I was going to add and brush your teeth again but that would just wake her up.

Now I had something to worry about, Danielle’s conundrum or should that be dilemma. I tried to caution her about this when she began to play schoolgirl soccer because I knew she was good and played like a boy. I know we agreed she should continue because she enjoyed it so much but we also knew it could backfire on all of us and that could have consequences all round the family.

I drifted off to sleep dreaming of all of us being accused of turning boys into girls and Danni saying it was all my fault for making him wear dresses and encouraging him to befriend Pia, who’s as mad as a box of frogs and who subsequently mutilated my son. I doubt anyone would understand my attempt at saturation therapy and see me as some dreadful emasculating woman, who because I’d been done myself, wanted others to do so too. An entirely erroneous conclusion. I would more likely try and talk someone out of it than encourage them to think about swapping genders, it’s far too complex for amateurs like me to pronounce upon. Just because I’ve walked the path myself doesn’t mean I know much about it.

I know the evidence tends to find against me, after all, even if i don’t count Trish and Julie who were in female role when I met them and have never changed back, I did help Sammi but it was obvious what she needed—a sympathetic, supportive and safe environment in which to experiment. The same with Billie and finally Danni. I’m well aware others might see that as trying to encourage them against their wishes

I tossed and turned trying to find sleep, which when it did occur only did so for a few minutes and showed all sorts of horrible dreams where Danni was in prison for being a boy in a girl’s team and was sent to a men’s prison. When I managed to get to see her, she was covered in tattoos and I burst into tears. I loathe the things and they all know it, Julie teases me quite regularly about getting a tramp stamp but so far has refrained because she knows it would upset me. I hate using moral blackmail to get my own way but I suspect her squeaky clean image would be damaged by some tattoos.

The morning seemed to have arrived before I was ready for it and only the children practically hauling me out of bed caused me to concentrate on waking up. A shower helped—a power shower—so may the force be with you.

Danielle was even harder to prise from the bed linen, she looked quite ill so I sent her back to bed and told the headmistress she wasn’t well. It wasn’t a complete lie because as I said, she looked quite poorly. I resolved to set her homework to do in her absence from school, which I hoped would be very temporary,

I wasn’t directly surprised at her appearance I didn’t feel too special myself, but I had to soldier on, or sojer on, as Daddy would pronounce it. Diane was making me tea as I arrived and she suggested I should have stayed in bed as I nearly swallowed her with a yawn.

“You look ill,” she said to me.

“I feel it, but it’s only tiredness.”

“Why don’t you get a crafty forty winks, I’ll take all your calls.”

“Because of that,” I said pointing to a pile of paperwork on my desk.

“It’ll wait an hour.”

“Let’s see what I can do,” I said after thanking her for my tea. I started in good intent but half an hour later she woke me up with another cuppa.

I felt awful and had to go and wash my face to wake myself up. However, the twenty or so minutes I’d zonked acted like a power nap and I got through until lunch time with so much as a yawn. I dined lightly, knowing I needed enough blood glucose to stay awake but not so much that I’d pool all my blood trying to digest the contents of my gut. I had a tuna salad with some wholemeal bread and butter which was just right. The yawns returned about the time I had to go to collect the girls.

Hannah noticed me yawning and asked if I was all right. I told her I hadn’t slept very well but would have an early night tonight to make up for it. “I would she said,” sounding like a maiden aunt, “an hour before midnight is worth two afterwards.”

“Is that true, Mum?” asked Danni, still looking pasty and all eyes.

“I don’t think so, although recent studies talk about certain times of the day being the times when certain hormones and so on are secreted by the body and which are thought to help it heal itself or promote growth.”

“I don’t wanna grow any taller,” said Danielle.

I just felt like going to bed and staying there until morning.