At Aunt Greta’s–
Two New Friends and…
by Gabi
Chapter 7 of a Continuing Saga…

I WAS IN THE KITCHEN with Auntie Greta when the ’phone rang. ‘Will you answer that for me please, Gaby?’

I picked up the handset saying, ‘494763…’

‘Is that my new sister Gaby?’ said a familiar voice.

‘Ti-i-i-immmmmm!’ I squealed gleefully.

Auntie Greta looked up and grinned, so I wonder if this had been arranged after what I had said earlier.

‘How’s the bubonic plague?’ I asked. ‘Does it make you feel awful?’

‘Doh! It’s not bubonic plague, it’s scarlet fever. Luckily the doctor says I’ve only got a mild dose. She stuck this huge hypodermic needle with antibiotic in my bum and it has brought my temperature down quite a lot. But I don’t want to talk about me, I want to know what happened to YOU.’

‘I’ve changed into a girl,’ I giggled.

‘You giggle like one, anyway. But then you always did act a bit girlishly.’

‘That’s coz I always felt deep down inside that I was one, but had the wrong body.’

‘So you don’t mind, then?’

‘No, I think it’s sooooo kewl. It’s what I always wanted and I’m loving every moment of it. And the clothes are sooo comfy.’

‘That’s kewl. I’m happy for you. So what are you wearing?’

‘A denim miniskirt and a pink tank top, bare legs and sandals and my hair is in a ponytail. Do you approve?’

‘Sounds perfect to me. I’m really looking forward to seeing you. Mum says you’re going to school as a girl.’

‘Well, I can’t really go as a boy, can I? I mean, I don’t have a willie any more, so I can’t wee like a boy now and anyway I don’t fancy changing in front of all those boys, especially that gross Kenneth Quinn. I’m worried about him anyway. He was always teasing me.’

‘Don’t worry, Gab, I’ll take care of that ugly fat oaf if he gives you any grief,’ my big brother said.

‘But you won’t be going back to school at the start of the term,’ I reminded him; ‘You’ll still be in quarantine, won’t you?’

‘I hadn’t thought about that, but the Doc says my temperature’s normal and my spots are nearly gone. Ooh, Gabs, you should see my tongue, It’s like a red strawberry.’

“Eeewwww! That’s sooooo gross!’

‘You really sound like a girl too, sis; you never used to speak like that before.’

‘That’s coz I had to pretend to be a boy. I’ve always had a girl brain.’

‘Yeah, I suppose you did now I think about it. With our model railway layout, you were never much interested in the trains, but you made fantastic scenery and the most beautiful houses which you even furnished and had people inside them.’

‘Well I never was allowed to have Barbies, so the houses on the layout were my dolls houses and it was such fun making all that tiny furniture.’

‘That’s kewl,’ he said. ‘Your efforts certainly made the layout special. Now that you’ll be allowed to have Barbies ’n stuff I s’pose you won’t want to do things on the railway any more.’

‘Don’t be silly, Timmy. I really enjoy it, and certainly don’t want to give it up.’

‘I’m glad. We’ve had a lot of fun together up in the attic. Mum said you didn’t feel too good today.’

‘Yeah, girl problem.’

‘You mean that girl problem–so soon?’

‘Yep. It’s sooooo BORing! Still Mummy’s taking me shopping this afters. I’ve gotta get a new school uniform.’

‘Poor you,’ Tim commiserated. ‘I hate shopping for clothes; it’s such a bore.’

‘No it’s not! Clothes shopping’s such fun.’

‘Ohmygod, Gabs, you really ARE a girl!’

‘Of course I am. I’ve always been one. Auntie G is making signals at me, so I think our lunch might be ready. She sends her love and hopes to see you soon. I hope I can see you soon too, I really miss my big bruv.’

‘I’m longing to meet my new li’l sis,’ he replied. ‘And I can hear Mrs Tate dishing up my lunch. ’Bye, Gabs, be good.’

I giggled. ‘Girls are always good, Timmy; you should know that. Take care and get well really-really soon. Love you. ’Bye now.’

‘You take care too, sis. ’Bye!’ and he was gone. I put the phone back on its rest with a happy feeling. My big brother didn’t mind that I was a girl, in fact he seemed quite pleased. I was, however, none too sure of the reception I might receive when I returned to school in a few days time.

V V V

I really enjoyed my lunch, the soup was excellent and Auntie’s freshly-knitted wholemeal loaf was gorgeous as always; I finished off with a banana, and then helped with the clearing and washing up in spite of the discomfort of my period pain. Actually the cramps had eased a lot and by now I was looking forward to my shopping expedition that afternoon with Mummy.

‘Do you want me to change, or will I be all right like this?’ I asked as I put the last two spoons in the cutlery drawer after I had dried them.

‘I think I’d like you to change your top, sweetheart. That tank top tends to show your bra straps more than I approve of for a girl of your age.’

‘Okay, Mummy. What d’you suggest?’

‘How about one of the tee-shirts with cap sleeves we bought the other day?’ she replied. ‘There’s a pale yellow, lilac or pink one you could choose; the lilac would look pretty. What do you think?’

‘Fine,’ I replied. ‘Anything else I should do?’

‘Yes. Change your pad, and put a spare one in your handbag in case of emergencies.’

‘I’ve already put two in,’ I replied.

‘Without my telling you? Clever girl.’

‘I remember what the nurse back in 1944 said about always being prepared. I’m just glad they aren’t as big as the sanitary towel she gave me.’

‘Things are a bit less conspicuous nowadays,’ Mummy said. ‘How are the cramps?’

‘So-so.’ I replied and pulled a face.

‘I’ll get you a paracetamol,’ Auntie Greta said, and disappeared upstairs, returning a couple of minutes. She part-filled a glass with water and gave it to me with a tablet from the packet of paracetamol she had fetched. I put the pill under my tongue and washed it down with a swig from the glass.

‘Thanks, Auntie,’ I said, giving her a hug.

‘You’re welcome, Gaby darling.’

Mummy came upstairs with me as my fashion consultant. As I stripped off my tank top, I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror on the dressing table and was surprised at my image; I was still unused to seeing myself wearing a bra, although I had got used to the feel of it so was not really aware it was there when I couldn’t see it. Mummy got out the lilac tee-shirt and passed it to me. I put it on and released my pony tail where it was trapped in the neck band, shaking my head as I did so.

‘We’ll need to get you some school shoes, love,’ Mummy told me, looking in my chest of drawers, ‘so it might be an idea to wear some socks.’

‘Okay,’ I replied, taking the white socks she had extracted. I sat on my bed, took off my sandals put on the socks, and replaced the sandals. I stood up and looked at myself in the long mirror on the wardrobe door.

‘Let me tidy your ponytail,’ Mummy said. I could tell she was loving every minute of having the daughter she had reconciled herself never to have. She brushed it out and replaced the scrunchie. ‘There you are, darling; as pretty as a picture. Give us a twirl.’

I twirled.

‘Lovely,’ said Mummy, giving me another hug.

V V V

It was just the two of us going shopping this time. As it was likely that we would have a few parcels and bags to take home we took the car, hoping that we could find a parking space not too far from John Lewis*. We were lucky and found one without too much trouble. Mummy locked the car and we set off for the store. Once inside it was straight up the escalator to the girl’s schoolwear department. As it was close to the start of the autumn term a number of mothers and their daughters were there. I cast an eye round and did not see anyone from Tuckton–my school–and sighed a sigh of relief.

‘What’s the matter, darling?’ Mummy asked.

‘I’m just relieved that nobody from my school is here; I don’t know if I’m ready to meet any of them yet and how I explain that I’m a girl.’

I thought that we decided when we saw Miss Morgan, and she agreed that you had actually been a girl all along but were very tomboyish, so you pretended to be a boy.’

‘Oh, yes. I forgot,’ I replied.

A sales lady approached us looking expectant. ‘Can I help you, Madam?’ she asked Mummy.

‘Yes. My daughter, Gaby here, needs a new school uniform.’

‘Which school. Madam?’ I noticed the lady had a plastic badge on her blouse which informed us that her name was Hilda.

‘Tuckton,’ Mummy replied. ‘We have a list with the items we need marked on it.’ She handed the list to the lady.

‘How old are you, Gaby,’ Hilda asked me, glancing down the list.

‘Nearly twelve, Miss,’ I replied. ‘My birthday’s next month.’

‘If you come this way,’ Hilda said. She led us through a door into another room in which there were a number of curtained cubicles, and three full-length mirrors. ‘I’ll fetch some things for you to try on,’ Hilda added and with that she was gone.

Mummy looked at me and smiled. ‘This shouldn’t take long,’ she said. I grinned back and gave her a hug.

Hilda returned with an armful of navy-blue clothes which turned out to be a selection of skirts. ‘Pop into one of the cubies with Mummy, Gaby, and try these on.’ She held the curtain open for us and closed it behind us. I unbuttoned my denim skirt, and stepped out of it. Mummy passed me one of the skirts. It was just an ordinary school skirt with knife pleats all round. It fastened at the waist with a button on the left hand side and a zip. On the right, hidden by one of the pleats was a zipped pocket. When I had finished putting it on Mummy held open the curtain for me and I went to look in one of the long mirrors. The skirt reached to my knees and was very modest and school girlish.

‘What d’you think, Mummy?’

‘You look very nice, darling, but somehow the tee-shirt spoils the effect.’

‘I’ll go and get a blouse, Madam,’ Hilda said and left us to it.

‘It’s a bit long,’ I said. ‘The other girls all wear them shorter than this.’

‘You’ll soon grow into it, darling,’ Mummy replied. ‘And you can always do what we used to do when I was at school and had to wear a similar skirt.’

‘What was that?

‘We used to fold the waistband over to make our skirts shorter; with our blouses covering the waistband, it didn’t show. It used to make our headmistress go ape!’ This made me giggle, as I could not imagine Mummy as a rebellious teenager.

Hilda returned with a white blouse in a cellophane packet which she passed to Mummy.

‘Slip off your tee, poppet,’ Mummy said, taking the blouse from the packet.

‘Out here?’ I asked, somewhat taken aback.

‘Well there’s just us and we are all girls,’ Mummy replied.

‘I’ll turn my back if she’s shy,’ Hilda said.

I slipped off my tee while Mummy undid the buttons on the blouse, and then held it out so I could slip my arms in the sleeves. As I tried to find the left sleeve, a girl and a lady, followed by another sales lady, came into the fitting room. The girl was wearing a sky-blue minidress and her brown hair was cut in a shoulder-length bob. Seeing the girl made me blush furiously because I recognised her and I panicked because she could see my bra. Her name was Angela Williamson and she was in the same class as me at school; also, she only knew me as a boy! I struggled even more to find the wretched sleeve.

I managed to find it eventually and began to fasten the buttons up the front of the shirt to hide my bra. Angela looked at me briefly, turned to her mother and whispered something, before reverting her gaze to me, when her jaw dropped and she stared at me open mouthed.

‘Gabriel?’ she queried, using my boy-name. ‘It is you, isn’t it, why are you wearing a girl’s uniform?’

‘Because I’m a girl, and these’–I pointed to my developing breasts–‘mean I can’t pretend to be a boy any more. I’m Gabrielle really, but I prefer Gaby.’

At this Mrs Williamson’s jaw dropped.

‘You mean you’ve always been a girl?’ Angela asked, incredulously. ‘Why on earth would you want to be a boy?’

‘She was always a tomboy,’ Mummy answered for me, ‘and wanted to be a boy like her brother Tim.’

‘Oh, like George in the Famous Five?’ Angela said.

‘Yeah, sort of,’ I replied, managing a giggle. ‘I loved playing with Tim and we made models together.’

Angela looked perplexed for a few seconds. ‘Oh, I thought you meant Timmy the Dog for a moment,’ she replied and we both burst into a fit of the giggles. I felt much happier after that.

‘Now, Angela,’ said Mrs Williamson, ‘why don’t we do what we’re here for, and when we’re all done we can go and have a cuppa, or you girls could have an ice cream if you prefer; then Gaby and her mother can tell us all about it. Is that all right with you, Mrs Williamson?’

‘I’m sure we’ll need a cuppa after this,’ said Mummy, ‘so that would be lovely.’

‘Okay, Mam,’ Angela agreed, and she and her mum headed for one of the other cubicles.

I did a couple of twirls in front of the mirror. I rather liked the way the skirt flared out when I did it quickly. ‘What d’you think, poppet?’ Mummy asked. ‘Like it?’

‘Yeah,’ I replied. ‘It’s nice to wear and I’m glad it’s got a pocket where I can keep a hanky.’

‘Most school skirts have pockets nowadays,’ Hilda remarked. ‘Would you like to try the other approved style? It is slightly straighter, with two box-pleats front and back.’

I returned to my cubicle and tried on one of the other skirts; it was the box-pleated one and it fastened like the other one and had a zipped pocket on the right hand side. It was shorter than the pleated skirt, coming to about six centimetres above my knees. When I left the cubicle, Angela was doing a twirl in front of one of the mirrors. She was wearing a skirt like mine, but no top save for her pale blue bra. She smiled at me unselfconsciously and I realised that I must try not to be shy in front of other girls.

‘What do you think, Mummy?’ I asked, striking a pose in front of one of the mirrors.

‘It’s very nice, but what do you think?’

‘I think I prefer it to the other one. It seems to fit better and it’s more the length I like,’ I replied.

‘I’d be happier if it was a bit longer,’ Mummy said, ‘then you won’t grow out of it so quickly.’

‘The skirt has a wide hem, Madam, so it can easily be lengthened as she grows,’ Hilda informed us.

‘So which do you prefer?’ Mummy asked.

‘I’m not sure, What do you think, Angela?’ I asked.

‘I think that suits you better, Gaby, and it doesn’t look like a PE skirt–unlike the other one you tried.’

‘Yeah, you’ve got a point. I’ll go for this one, Mummy.’

‘You sure, darling?’

I nodded.

‘Very well, we’ll have two like this one, please, and three of the blouses please, Hilda.’

‘Very good, Madam. What about white socks? Girls of Gaby’s age generally prefer knee-highs to ankle socks.’

‘We’ll take six pairs of knee highs and three of ankle socks,’ was Mummy’s reply.

‘Certainly, Madam,’ Hilda confirmed. ‘How about undies?’

‘We bought some new ones only last week,’ Mummy said. ‘What she needs now is PE kit.’

Hilda went out. She soon returned with a short pleated navy-blue skirt and the lighter blue tee shirt with the school badge printed on the chest that was the girls’ PE kit. ‘Do you wish to try them on?’

‘No,’ Mummy replied. ‘If they’re the same size as the other’s they’ll fit fine. We’ll have two skirts and three tees.’

‘Does she need gym knickers, Madam?’ Hilda asked.

‘Yes, she will. Do you have cotton ones?’

‘Yes, Madam, of course. How many pairs would you like?’

‘Three please. Now, Gaby, why don’t you go and change back into your own things, but I suggest you wear a pair of your new white knee-highs as we have to get you some new school shoes.’

‘Okay, Mummy,’ I replied cheerfully and disappeared into my cubicle. When I emerged, the two mums were paying for our various purchases, and Angela exited her cubicle at the same time as me.

‘I’ve got to get shoes too,’ she said, ‘so we can do it together.’

‘That’s good,’ I replied. ‘I like your dress.’

‘Good,’ she replied. ‘I like it too and you look so kewl in that skirt and top. Do you like wearing skirts?’

‘Yeah, I really-really do. I think I must have been feeble-starkers-bonkers, to think I wanted to be a boy.’

‘Well I always thought you were a boy–so did everybody else in our form. But you’re a really pretty girl.’

‘Thanks,’ I said, blushing again.

‘So what does your brother think about you deciding to be yourself?’ she asked.

‘He seemed very happy about it when I spoke to him on the ’phone this morning.’

‘Oh, is he away?’

‘No, he’s at home in his bed of sickness,’ I explained. ‘He’s got bubonic plague so I’m staying with my Auntie Greta until he is bug free.’

‘BUBONIC Plague!’ she squealed in horror.

‘No,’ I replied. ‘That’s just what I call it. Actually he’s got scarlet fever–he says his tongue looks like a bright pink strawberry.’

‘Eeewwww! Poor Tim,’ Angela sympathised, pulling a face. ‘Wasn’t it your Auntie who came and told us about being at our school during the Second World War? She came on her eNORmous motorbike.’

‘Yeah, that’s her,’ I answered. ‘She’s sooooo kewl.’ I grinned, and then felt a sudden pain down below; I pulled a face as and pressed my tummy with both hands in an attempt to relieve the pain.

‘Are you all right?’

‘Just a bit of a tummy ache,’ I replied.

‘Are you on?’ she whispered.

I nodded.

‘Poor you, I was on last week. I hate getting my period.’

‘It’s my first time–I started today.’

‘Horrible isn’t it. Mine started last term.’

‘I stayed in bed this morning with a hot-water bottle on my tummy. Look, our mums are waiting for us. They must want to leave.’

V V V

On our way out of John Lewis we passed the jewellery department and I noticed a sign saying FREE EAR PIERCING TODAY!. I really wanted my ears pierced.

‘Mummy, may I have my ears pierced, please? They’re doing it for free today.’

‘Would you like that?’ she asked.

I looked at Angela and saw she had studs in her ears. She gave me a nod. ‘Yes please, Mummy. Most of the girls at school have pierced ears.’

‘What do you think, Mary,’ Mummy asked Mrs Williamson.

‘I let Angela get hers done a year ago, Peggy,’ was the reply. So our mums were on first-name terms.

‘All right, sweetheart. You know you’ll have to take care of them and keep them clean so they don’t become infected.’

‘I will, Mummy,’ I assured her.

The lady who served us was called Megan. She showed me a selection of studs and a tray of really pretty earrings. I chose a pair of studs, each with a tiny pale pink stone, which Megan fitted to me using a sort of gun. She explained about rotating them regularly to help the holes heal up and supplied a bottle of cleaning stuff.

When we left John Lewis I was the proud owner of pierced ears and three sets of ear-rings including the pale pink studs. I was surprised that it didn’t hurt as much as I expected.

Our next stop was Stead and Simpson** for our school shoes. Once inside the shop, Angela dragged me over to a rack of shoes and started showing them to me.

‘Ooh, these are sooo kewl,’ she said, picking up a pair of pink strappy sandals with three-inch heels. What d’you think, Gabs?’

‘They’re nice, but I don’t think Miss Morgan would approve of them for school.’ We both giggled.

‘Come along, girls, or we won’t have time for those ice creams,’ Mrs Williamson called.

‘Aren’t these gorgeous, Mam,’ Angela said.

‘Yes, dear, very nice; but not today as we’re here for school shoes. And you have dozens of pairs of shoes.’

‘Oh, Ma-aaaaam!’ pleaded Angela. ‘A girl can never have too many shoes.’

‘Maybe, but it’s school shoes today, Angela,’ her mother said firmly.

‘Yes, Mam,’ Angela mumbled sulkily.

A sales assistant homed in on us. ‘Can I help you, ladies?’ she asked. I thought she looked quite young, probably in her first job after leaving school.

‘We are looking for school shoes for our daughters,’ Mrs Williamson replied.

The assistant took us to a different part of the shop, and another, older, shop assistant appeared from behind the scenes. We were asked to sit down while various styles of “sensible” shoes were shown to us.

I got a pair of Clarks black lace-up shoes with a chunky heel. They were very comfortable and looked smart. Angela got a very similar pair to mine, and I also got a pair of flat slip-ons that were “on special offer”. I also needed netball shoes and I should really have girls’ trainers now as well, but Mummy said we would go to our favourite sports shop for those tomorrow.

As we needed to take our packages and put them in the car, we agreed to meet Angela and Mrs Williamson at Polly Put The Kettle On, a tea room we liked where they made their own ice-cream which was absolutely GORgeous.

V V V

Polly Put The Kettle On is situated in the Market Square, where the town’s open-air market is held every Wednesday. It is easy to find Polly’s, as everyone calls it, because I has an enormous old-fashioned copper kettle hanging above the doorway. When I was younger I used to avoid walking directly underneath it in case it fell on me and squashed me. Mummy and I arrived first and asked for a table by the window. We told the waitress that we were being joined by friends and she showed us to a round table covered with a blue checked cloth. We only had to wait about three minutes for Mrs Williamson and Angela to arrive and I waved at them through the window.

Angela sat on my left so we could both watch what was happening outside. The centre of the square, where the market was set up every Wednesday, was used as a car park on other days, and there was a large statue of a Saxon king standing on a plinth right in the centre; I think he is King Ethelbert, or Ethelred–Ethel-something anyway, you know what peculiar names had back in those times. I remember seeing something about King Ethelred the Unready, and wondered at the time why he was so unprepared. Maybe it was like me when I took my Key Stage 2 SATs*** last term! Actually I didn’t do too badly, but I think we all felt unready at the time.

The waitress asked if we were having the full Afternoon Tea**** or if we had just come in for a pot of tea.

A typical afternoon tea spread

‘A pot of tea and a selection of cakes, I think,’ Mummy told her, ‘and I think the girls are longing for some of your wonderful ice-cream.’

She looked at us and I nodded and Angela went ‘Mmmm!’ which I fully agreed with.

‘Would you like a cake first, ladies?’ the waitress asked us, being called ladies making us giggle.

‘ ’Splease,’ I answered.

‘Yes please,’ replied Angela.

‘And what sort of ice-cream would you ladies like,’ the waitress asked, handing us a different menu. ‘I’ll leave you time to decide and get the tea and cakes first.’

The Ice-Cream menu at Polly’s was amazing. Apart from about a dozen different flavours of ice-cream there were specials like Neapolitan, chocolate sundae and knickerbocker glory, natch.

‘ What’re you going to have, Ange? I’m going to have a scoop of chocolate and a scoop of pistachio.’

‘I’m going to have a Nealopit–NeaPOLitan,’ she replied and giggled. ‘I always get tongue-tied with that word.’

Shortly afterwards our waitress brought a pot of tea and a large cake stand that was piled with the most scrummy looking cakes. ‘Have you decided which ices you would like, ladies?’ she asked us.

‘I’m going to have a Nealopit–NeaPOLitan,’ Angela answered, blushing.

‘I’d like a scoop of chocolate and a scoop of pistachio, please.’

‘I’ll bring them when you’ve eaten your cakes,’ the waitress said. ‘Make sure you leave room for your ices.’

‘We will,’ we chorused.

Mummy poured the tea and passed to cups to us and we then had to decide which cake we wanted–a very difficult decision. As I was trying to decide, Angela nudged me.

‘Look who’s looking in,’ she said.

I turned and saw Kristal Ball gazing at me with a very puzzled expression on her face. I grinned and gave her a wave. Then I realised that she had seen me for the first time in all my female glory.

I heard the bell that dinged every time the door was opened. I looked up to see Mrs Ball come in with her fourteen-year-old elder, the gruesome Kevin–a close mate of the oafish Quinn–followed by Kristal.

Kristal headed in our direction. ‘Hi, Angela,’ she said. ‘Hi, Gabriel! Seeing you both is soooo kewl. My horoscope said I was in for an eNORmous surprise today.’

‘Hi, Kristal,’ we replied together, just as the awful Kevin pointed at me and burst out laughing.

‘Hey, Chambers, you wally!’ he shouted–he was always a loud-mouth–‘Wot ya doin’ wearin’ a dress? Just you wait till Kenny Quinn hears about this, he’s gonna love it to bits!’ Then he cackled gleefully.

---

* John Lewis: A department store chain in England and Scotland.
** Stead and Simpson: A long-established chain of shoe shops in UK.
*** SATs: Standard Assessment Tests to assess a pupil’s educational progress in schools in England and Wales. See: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/National_Curriculum_assessment
**** Afternoon Tea: A formal light meal originating un UK usually taken between 3 and 5pm. See: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Afternoon_tea#Afternoon_tea

To be continued…

Elegantly proofed by Bonzi

Comments gratefully received