The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2809 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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“Could you have a word with Danielle?” I asked Julie as she took her coat off.

“What’s the silly cow done this time?”

I explained the situation as I understood it and how Danni was feeling. Julie rolled her eyes. “What d’you want me to tell her—that the boy in showing such poor taste isn’t worth the aggro?”

“Advise her of that fact but also she needs to stay friends with Cindy.”

“What for? If she grabbed some guy I fancied, I’ve have her eyes out the next day. Has Cindy been done yet?”

“No, she’s fourteen, they won’t do them until they’re at least eighteen.”

“So what’s Danni so upset about? He won’t be able to get beyond first base with her unreconstructed friend.”

“Yes, it had crossed my mind, not that I’m about to encourage youngsters to experiment with sex.”

“Why, it’s not like she could get pregnant, is it?”

“There are other nasty things that can happen to a young woman out there.”

“Tell me about it.” I remembered Julie had sacrificed herself to save Billie on a previous occasion, so she would know all about the seamier side of life.

“Will you talk to her?”

She rolled her eyes, “Course I will.”

“Thank you.”

“She’s my sister—unfortunately.”

I knew she didn’t mean that but to be anything other than offhand would look like she actually cared for somebody other than herself. She did, she was a very caring person.

Fifteen minutes later Danni came rushing down to the kitchen and entered shouting the odds according to Jacquie who’d just come back from university. Without apologising to her or David she ran out again and found me, not that I was lost, in my study.

“Why can’t you mind your own flipping business?”

“You are my business, missy.”

“You’re impossible,” she exclaimed and stormed out.

Julie sauntered in a little later. “That went down like a lead balloon. If she was twice as bright she wouldn’t make a halfwit.”

“She just came in here and told me I was impossible.”

“Nothing new there then.”

“I beg your pardon...”

“Why, wotcha done?” She sniffed several times as if trying to scent something. “You ain’t farted again, either that or your incontinence pads are working better than I thought.”

“D’you mind, there are youngsters here who might just believe you.”

“Well you’re so old.”

“I’m thirty two.”

“See what I mean?”

“No I don’t, you’re twenty three nearly.”

“Yeah but that’s a lot younger than thirty two.”

Sadly I agreed with her the problem is in being transgendered it takes us longer to mature. Given that I didn’t transition until I was twenty three, I felt I’d come a long way in a short time plus I was trying to give my transgender children more chance to grow up as women than I had. They don’t often show any gratitude for it, which isn’t what I want anyway, I just want them to grow up to be as natural women they can be.

“Yeah well go and make my ancient body a cuppa will you?”

“Ha, certainly, Mummy dear, wouldn’t want you to exert yourself, not at your age at any rate.” She strolled off chuckling to herself.

“Laughing at your own jokes is the first sign of insanity.”

“You should know.”

Unfortunately, she was probably the best footballer in the area, Danni, that is; so if she went out with a boy who played he’d be likely to remember. Not only that, but she’s fallen out with her best friend because of it.

Because she’s a teenager, everything is in black and white, yet in two or three years the balance will swing back to normal and the shades of grey, fifty or otherwise, that the rest of us see. But until then, we’ll have to put up with her impassioned feelings and their explosive responses.

I thought back to my own teen years and how I’d got upset when my parents reacted to my helping my friend out with the flooding. My mother initially thought it was funny, that with my long hair and Siân’s borrowed wellies I looked like a girl. When I confessed they all thought I was a girl, she roared with laughter. It was only when my dad suggested I was nothing better than a homosexual, did her opinion change. It was bad enough being laughed at when they then declared me an obviously practicing homosexual, I was incandescent with anger. Now I’d have laughed in their faces, then—I wanted to kill them I was so angry.

When I look back at memories like that, I was initially embarrassed to be mistaken for a girl, nowadays I’d be embarrassed to be anything but. Perspectives do change with time and experience. If only I’d understood that at Danni’s age. I was about her age when I realised people who considered they were the wrong sex could do something to resolve their issues and if necessary, change their bodies to ones which more closely resembled their self-image. My body had started changing a bit by itself, being wider hipped and narrower waisted than most of my peers.

Then again Danni’s issues are slightly different and I’m still not sure how transgender she actually is, except perhaps being trapped in a female looking body. Paradoxically, she seems to have taken to being a young woman like a duck to water, though Julie shares my suspicions, so it isn’t just me. I so hope I’m wrong or the realisation when it comes is going to be catastrophic. Thankfully, her ambition to get more England caps at soccer, give her a focus but she can’t be too open or honest with most people because their reaction might be unhelpful. It’s noticeable since they found out her original status, she hasn’t been called up to play for her country, even though she’s one of the best players they have—a sort of young female David Beckham, a goal making, midfield opportunist; who creates chances for others with pin point passing, set piece kicks and corners, but who is also prepared to have a go and score goals herself.

I was lost in my thoughts when I became aware of somebody watching me. It was Danielle. “Hello, sweetheart.”

“I—um came to say, sorry for being snotty.”

“That’s okay, at least you recognised it by yourself.”

“No she didn’t,” said Julie from just outside the door.

At least it demonstrated I understood some of what my kids were up to and experiencing.

“Anyway, you’re forgiven. It’s all part of the growing up process.”

“David said that dinner was ready,” called Julie.

“I think that gives us time for a quick hug, doesn’t it?” I said to Danielle holding open my arms.

“I’m sorry, Mummy,” she said flinging herself into them.

“That’s okay, sweetheart, but if you get mascara all down this top it won’t be...”