At Aunt Greta’s–
Girls Have More Fun
by Gabi
Chapter 8 of a Continuing Saga…

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

Kristal headed in our direction. ‘Hi, Angela,’ she said. ‘Hi, Gabriel! My horoscope said I was in for a big 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.

‘Kevin Ball!’ said his mother crossly. ‘Stop shouting this instant! I’m ashamed of you. Where are your manners? You really are the most uncouth little boy I’ve ever come across; I don’t know where you get it from. What made you verbally abuse that pretty little girl?’

‘IT is not a girl,’ retorted Kevin belligerently. ‘That freak is a boy who is in the same year as Kristal. Ask her.’

By now everyone in the tea room was staring at me, and my cheeks were burning hot. Angela reached out and took my hand and gave it a squeeze.

‘If I may say something, Mrs Ball?’ Mrs Williamson butted in. ‘Your son is wrong, Gabrielle is definitely female, both Angela and myself saw her in her undies when we were shopping for clothes in John Lewis and believe me, there’s nothing male about her.’

I smiled gratefully at my rescuer and noticed that Kevin’s face had taken on a very unattractive puce colour.

‘Mam’s right, Mrs Ball,’ said Angela, ‘Gaby and I were trying on clothes together and I’d never undress in front of a boy. And she’s on at the moment,’ she added quietly.

‘On what?’ asked Kevin rather too loudly.

‘Never you mind, young man, it does not concern the likes of you,’ replied his mother. ‘The less you say the better; I have never been so embarrassed in my life, and I am ashamed of having such a boorish oaf for a son. Not only that, you have embarrassed your sister and everybody else in here. Just you wait till I tell your father; I’ll ask him to forbid you from having anything to do with that Quinn boy and I reckon he’ll ground you for a minimum of two months. Now, apologise to Gabrielle, if you please.’

‘Sorry, Gabriel,’ mumbled Kevin.

‘I am sorry, Gabrielle.’ Mrs Ball corrected him. ‘Try to get her name right and don’t mumble; we all know–and are heartily fed up with–the way you normally shout.’

‘I am sorry, Gabrielle,’ he repeated sulkily.

‘That’s better. I suppose you realise that as we have to go straight home now, and that you have spoiled your sister’s treat?’

Kevin looked at the floor and rubbed the toe of his right shoe against the back of the left leg of his grey flannel trousers and said nothing.

‘Mrs Ball,’ Mummy said, ‘rather than Kristal losing her treat and spoiling her day, if you are willing to let her, she could join us and I will drop her at your house on our way back home.’

‘I couldn’t put you to all that trouble, Mrs err–Chambers, especially after the slobbish and embarrassing way my son has behaved towards your daughter.’

‘It’s no trouble and it would be a pity to spoil Kristal’s day, and your son’s not entirely to blame, because Gaby did present as a boy at school last year because she was such a tomboy.’

‘Yes, do let Kristal stay, Mrs Ball,’ I pleaded.

‘Well, Kristal?’ asked her mother. ‘Would you like to have tea with your friends?’

‘Yes pleeeease, Mum.’

‘Very well, you may. You’ll be a good girl, I know. Thank you so much, Mrs Chambers, and I apologise again for the son that I would like to disown. I’ll see you later, Kristal.’

‘I’ll see she gets home safely by six o’clock. Is that all right?’

‘That’ll be perfect,’ replied Mrs Ball. ‘Come on YOU!’ she added, prodding Kevin in the back and propelling him towards the door.

‘That dreadful boy! Somebody needs to take him in hand,’ said Mrs Williamson. ‘I’ve never seen such a disgusting display in my life.’

‘I agree,’ Mummy replied quietly. ‘If Tim ever behaved like that he’d never hear the end of it.’

Our waitress, whose name was Cherie, had been watching aghast as the scene had developed. She brought an extra chair and set it at the table next to me. Kristal was wearing a turquoise pinafore dress over a white blouse with a round collar and pale blue cardie.

‘You know, Gaby, you’re really pretty,’ Kristal said as she sat next to me. ‘I always had a feeling that you were really a girl, but I can’t understand why a girl would want to be a boy.

‘It was only because I admired my brother and wanted to be like him. We always played together so it was always boy games–boys don’t like playing with Barbies. We built a model railway together. He looked after the train side and I did the scenery and the houses. I even made tiny furniture for them and put tiny people inside.’

Cherie brought a place mat, cutlery and crockery and set them in front of Kristal.

‘Help yourself to a cake, Kristal,’ Mummy said, ‘and I’ll pour you a cup of tea. Will tea be all right for you or would you prefer something else?’

‘Tea would be lovely, thank you, Mrs Chambers,’ she replied, taking a gooey looking chocolate cake with cream oozing out of it.

‘She said it was like having loads of miniature dolls houses with tiny dolls in them, didn’t you, Gaby?’ Angela said.

‘Yes,’ I replied.

‘Ooh, I wish I could see it,’ Kristal said.

‘I’d love you to see it, but I’ll have to ask Tim. It can’t be soon, because I’m staying with my Auntie Greta just now, until Tim’s free of bugs.’

Kristal frowned. ‘Has he got nits?’

‘No. He caught scarlet fever at Scout camp, dear,’ Mummy explained, ‘so Gaby’s got to stay away from home until her brother’s germ-free. He won’t be returning to school for at least two weeks, and only then if the doctor gives him the all clear. By the way, Kristal, the girls are having ice creams afterwards so would you like to order yours?’

‘Ooh, yes please.’

Mummy signalled Cherie who brought the list of ice creams. Kristal studied the card for a minute or two then asked. ‘Please may I have a chocolate sundae with butterscotch sauce?’

‘Certainly, dear.’

‘I’ll go and arrange it for you,’ said Cherie with a smile and disappeared behind the scenes.

We could not chatter nineteen to the dozen while we ate our cakes, but we didn’t stop talking completely.

‘Gabs got her ears pierced this afternoon,’ Angela said.

‘Ooh, let’s have a look,’ asked Kristal. I pulled my hair back so she could see my right ear. “Very nice; they’re really pretty and the school won’t object to those either.’

Between mouthfuls of cake or swigs of tea I was brought up to speed on the some of the latest gossip about school friends–and enemies! It seems that Kevin had been spending too much time with Quinn during the holidays for the peace of mind of the rest of the Ball family, a fact confirmed by snatches of the two mums’ conversation I caught in lulls in our own chatter.

I decided that I really liked my two new friends, who I had never got to know properly before and we decided we would hang together once term started. After all, in spite of my “cover story” I had been a boy last term and didn’t take much notice of the girls. I was a bit worried how my erstwhile best friend, Michael Heard, was going to take the news that I was a girl–and, supposedly, always had been. He had been a really good friend to me and I would hate him to get hurt. I decided to talk to Mummy about it.

However, before I could worry about Michael’s possible reaction to the new me, our ices arrived and were set in front of us. They were huge, each with a fan-shaped Pompadour wafer stuck in the top of them. They seemed to be much larger than the ones I had had here when I was a boy so I began to think that being a girl could have its advantages. Hmmm.

We ate them slowly, savouring every mouthful and talking hardly at all. Occasionally we would grin, almost conspiratorially, at one another as if reading the other’s minds. I decided it must be a girl thing, as is it was not something I had ever sensed as a boy.

‘So, Kristal,’ asked Angela’s mum. ‘Are you all ready to go back to school?’

‘Almost, Mrs Williamson. I still need some new shoes; my old ones are getting very tight.’

‘That’s not good; it could cause you to have problems with your feet when you’re older,’ Mummy told her. ‘I gather by the comparative silence from you three that the ices meet your approval.’

‘Brilliant,’ said Angela.

‘Amazing,’ added Kristal.

‘Absolutely top hole!’ was what came out of my mouth.

‘Top hole?’ exclaimed Angela’s mum. ‘Where on earth did you learn that old-fashioned expression, Gaby? My grandmother told me she used to say that when she was a schoolgirl.’

I blushed as I remembered that I had heard one of my 1944 school chums saying it. ‘Oh, I was told it by Auntie Greta, she was at Tuckton School during the war,’ I replied after some quick thinking.

‘She came and talked to us last term and told us all about being a schoolgirl then,’ Angela added.

‘And she came on her big motorbike, didn’t she?’ Said Kristal.

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘We were rummaging in the loft a few days ago and we discovered her old school uniform. I tried it on and it fits me perfectly. Then she found one of her mummy’s old dresses from then so we both dressed up and pretended it was wartime again. We even made a wartime dish called Woolton Pie which was made from vegetables and Marmite.’

‘Eeeewww!’ said Kristal. ‘I hate vegetables, except chips. If I’d been given that in the war I’d have refused to eat it and had eggs and chips instead.’

‘Food was rationed then,’ Mummy said. ‘Gaby’s auntie was telling me that they were only allowed one egg a week–if they were lucky. So if you refused to eat the pie you would have had to go hungry, Kristal.’

‘Wow, I’m glad I wasn’t alive then,’ Kristal said.

‘And having to go out to the air-raid shelter in the middle of the night was awful,’ I chipped in, then realised I might have said too much and added, ‘Auntie Greta was telling me about it yesterday. Her best friend was killed by a doodlebug that hit her house just after she got home from school one afternoon.’

‘How dreadful,’ Angela said. ‘How old was she?’

‘The same age as us, eleven,’ I answered. In the brief silence that followed, Mummy asked Cherie for the bill.

‘That’s sooooo horrible,’ said Kristal.

‘Yes, Auntie didn’t know about it until she went to school next day,’ I said. ‘She heard the bomb, though. She was in the middle of her homework when the air-raid siren went off.’

‘She must have been sooooo scared,’ Angela remarked, and I only just stopped myself from saying that I was.

‘Come along, girls,’ said Mrs Williamson. ‘We ought to go so someone else can have our table. Shall we split the bill, Peggy?’

‘It’s my treat, Mary,’ Mummy replied taking her purse from her handbag. She gave Cherie some money. ‘Thank you very much, Cherie. We really enjoyed it.’

‘Thank you, Madam,’ replied Cherie. ‘I hope we will see you again soon,’

‘I’m sure you will,’ Mummy replied. ‘Have you got your handbag, Gabs?’

‘Yes, Mummy.’

‘I don’t know when I’ve enjoyed an afternoon better,’ Mummy said as we left Polly Put The Kettle On.

‘Thank you very much for a lovely tea, Mrs Chambers,’ said Angela. ‘It was lovely meeting the real Gaby at last.’

‘Yes, it was, Mrs Chambers,’ Kristal agreed. ‘Thank you very much.’

‘You’re very welcome, girls,’ was Mummy’s reply. ‘Maybe we could do it again some time.’

‘It would be fun for them,’ said Mary Williamson. ‘They seem to get on so well together. I’m sure they’re going to be great friends. Well, say goodbye to your friends, Angela, and we’ll go and rescue our car.’

‘’Bye, Kristal. ’Bye, Gaby, I’m so glad you’ve decided to be yourself at last.’

‘’Bye, Angela, see you at school, if not before,’ Kristal replied.

‘Bye, Angela,’ I mimicked. ‘Don’t forget I’m at my auntie’s until Tim’s bug-free.’

We three girls hugged, and Angela and her mum went off to find their car.

It only took us a minute or two to get to our car.

‘What’s your star sign, Gaby?’ asked Kristal, as we settled next to each other the back seat of the car and fastened our seat belts.

‘My what?’

‘What sign were you born under–when’s your birthday?’

‘Oh, 10th October.’

‘That means you’re Libra. Hmmm–interesting,’ she told me.

‘How come?’

‘Your sign is the scales, it means you like things to be balanced and in harmony.’

‘Doesn’t everyone?’

‘Not as much as Librans, they need things to be in harmony.’

‘What you mean like body and mind.’

‘Yeah, that’s a good example.’

‘Maybe it’s true then.’

‘What?’

‘The harmony thing.’

‘Of course it is. Librans sometimes have difficulty making decisions.’

‘I don’t believe that.’

‘So is that your decision then?’

‘It might be, why?’

‘Is it so difficult?’

‘What?’

‘Making a decision.’

‘Course not.’

‘So have you made one?’

‘About what?’

‘Astrology, is it real or is it all nonsense?’

‘I can’t say for sure…’

Kristal roared with laughter, ‘You are a typical Libran.’

I blushed and said, ‘I might be.’

Kristal laughed some more, ‘I’ll bet you’re artistic too, Librans often are.’

‘Sometimes, I like to paint and draw–and of course I love making model houses for our model railway layout.’

‘I think I’ve proved my point, Miss Libra.’

I sat there wondering if I’d just been had.

I heard a chuckle from Mummy and looked up to see her eyes smiling in the rear-view mirror. ‘That’s telling it to you straight, my girl,’ she chuckled. ‘That was fascinating, Kristal, you got her down to a tee. How long have you been into in astrology and how did you get interested in it?’

‘From my Gran really; she used to read her horoscope in the paper every day, and she always read mine to me from when I was little. I just wanted to know more about it.’

‘Well as I said, you got Gaby plumb to rights. I’m very impressed. Where do you live?’

‘Seafield Road, number 76; the house has a red tiled roof, a red gate and is called Bá¥llsholm. It was Daddy’s idea to call it that; he thought it sounded sort of Danish so the a has a little circle over it–he has a Danish grandma.’

Mummy turned the car into Seafield Road and I started looking for numbers. ‘It’s about fifty metres on the left,’ Kristal said. ‘A bit further…Here, this one!’

Mummy drew up by the curb and put on the handbrake. ‘Here you are, Miss Ball. Are you going to be an astrologer when you grow up? Your name is perfect for it.’

‘I know,’ she sighed. ‘That was Daddy, too; he’s got this peculiar sense of humour. It can be aw’fly embarrassing sometimes, ’specially when I first went to Tuckton; I used to get teased quite a lot.’

I felt sympathy with her and gave her hand a squeeze; she smiled at me and squeezed back. Yes, I liked Kristal. ‘Let’s get together before school starts,’ I suggested. The phone number at Auntie G’s is 949763. It’s in the book–Miss G B Chambers.’

‘Okay, Gabs. I’ll ring tomorrow when I know what has been planned.’

‘Auntie G is taking me to buy some netball shoes and some girl trainers. My old ones are boy ones and rather worn and are sooooo pongy!’

‘Eeeewww! You were trying to be a boy, weren’t you?’ she giggled. My response was to stick out my tongue.

‘See ya tomorrow, then,’ I said. As she undid her seat belt and got out of the car.

‘’Kay, see ya, Gabs. ’Bye.’

‘’Bye, Kris.’

She slammed the door and Mummy drove off.

* * *

The drive to Aunt Greta’s only took four minutes. We unloaded all my new things from the boot and carried them up to my room where Mummy and Auntie G helped me put them away. There was a delicious smell coming from the kitchen and I guessed that Auntie had been baking again.

As soon as we had finished in my room, I kissed Mummy goodbye and she hot-footed it home to relieve Mrs Tate and see how Timmy was. Why did I suddenly think of him as Timmy?–I hadn’t called him that since I was about six. Strange! Auntie and I returned to the kitchen where she began to make preparations for our supper. On wire racks on one of the kitchen units there one of Auntie’s special choc-cakes and another fresh loaf just out of the bread maker. Oooooh! The smell of freshly baked bread is so gorgeous.

‘So, did you have an enjoyable and successful afternoon, Gaby?’

‘Yes, it went really well–apart from one horrid moment.’

‘Why don’t you tell me from the beginning.’

So I told her about being surprised by Angela in the fitting room wearing only my bra and a skirt, and then going to Polly Put The Kettle On and then the Kevin Incident–sounds a bit like a spy movie, doesn’t it?–and Kristal stopping to have tea, cakes and ice cream with us while her mother took Kevin home in disgrace.

‘That Kevin Ball is a pest,’ Auntie remarked. ‘He’d be quite a decent boy if only he wasn’t always getting into trouble–mainly through mixing with the wrong type of friends.’

‘Like Kenneth Quinn,’ I added ruefully.

‘That’s right. So, what else happened?’

‘Well afterwards we dropped Kristal at her house, and on the way she told me all about me being a Lesbi–’ I hesitated, suddenly realising it was the wrong word–‘no, a Librarian–born under the sign of Libra–’

‘–Almost right, dear. You mean Libran not someone who works in the library!’

“Well, I nearly got it right,’ I replied. ‘She’s very clever and really knows heaps about, you know, astronomy.’

‘You mean astrology, Gabs,’ giggled Auntie. ‘Astronomy is the study of the heavenly bodies and is usually done with a telescope–’

‘–you mean like Kevin Ball and Kenneth Quinn studying the page three girls in The Sun?’ I giggled, and Auntie burst out laughing.

‘No, you loony,’ she said, shaking her head as if in pity, ‘the stars–whereas astrology is the study of the movements and relative positions of the stars and how they affect us human beings.’

‘The Daily Star has page three girls too–’ and I laughed too loud and felt a sudden cramp in my tum again, making me wince.

‘You okay, sweetie?’ Auntie asked, concerned.

‘Just my period. I had a sudden bad pain; I think I laughed too much.’

‘Maybe an early night would be a good idea, after all you’ve had quite a day of it what with going to school for me, starting your period, and a shopping trip and other excitements this afternoon. How would you like a poached egg on toast for your supper?’

‘That would be lovely, but I did have a boiled egg for breakfast.’

‘My boiled egg, you wretched girl! It was one Mrs Rea sent specially for me which I never remembered having. I asked Mummy about it next morning and she said I’d eaten it the day before. I remember because I started my period that day. I was puzzled about it for ages afterwards, and now I learn it was guzzled by my greedy little great niece.’ She looked at me, stuck out her tongue and burst out laughing. ‘At least it explains another missing episode of my childhood.’

‘You mean you have blank bits of memory?’ I asked.

‘Yes. Like I told you, I remembered neither the air-raid that killed Wendy nor writing that essay with your nineties speak at the end.’

‘Yikes! Are there any other things you can’t remember?’

‘I can’t remember any, but then I wouldn’t, would I?’

‘Oh, I was hoping you could, so I could be prepared for things.’

‘Yes, dear. But this isn’t getting anywhere nearer deciding what you want for your supper. If you’d like a poached egg, I don’t think it would hurt you. I must say I quite fancy one myself.’

Okay, then.’

‘Orrrrrrr–’ her eyes widened and she drew the word out for about a second, ‘–we could have scrambled egg with some smoked salmon strips in it.’

‘Oh, wow! That would be sooooo kewl,’ was my reply.

‘Good. That’s settled then. And I’m sure you’d like a glass of milk.’

‘’Splease.’

* * *

After helping Auntie to clear up after supper I went straight up to bed. I went to the loo, changed my pad then washed, cleaned my teeth and brushed my hair, putting it back in a ponytail so it didn’t tangle so much during the night. Then I donned my nightie and went to bed with my book which, you might remember was The Picts and The Martyrs by Arthur Ransome. Auntie brought me another hot water bottle to put on my tummy to ease my cramps and I settled down to read. I had been reading for nearly three quarters of an hour when Auntie came back and suggested I should try to get to sleep.

I had just reached the end of a chapter, so put my bookmark in the page, closed the book and put it on my bedside table. Auntie had brought me a glass of water and a paracetamol. I took the pill, she kissed me goodnight, tucked me in and left, closing the door behind her. Being quite tired, I was soon asleep.

* * *
The next day I went to school again with Judy and Susan. Miss Sterne told us the latest news about our troops advancing forward and driving the Germans back towards Germany. We were all happy about that because it really meant that, at last, the war was going our way and should be over soon. We had arithmetic and English before our mid-morning break and then history and gym, after which I would be going home for lunch.

History was all about dates and the kings and queens of England. We had to write down a sort of poem in our exercise books to memorise to help us remember the order they came in. It went:

Willy, Willy, Harry, Steve,
Harry, Dick, John, Harry-three,
One, two, three Neds, Richard two,
Henries four, five, six, then who?
Edward four, five, Dick the Bad,
Harries twain and Ned the lad…

It continued as far as Queen Victoria, but I can’t remember the rest of it. Then it was gym.

The boys had the use of the gym that morning so we were outside playing netball outside. We all took off our gymmers and ties, leaving us in our blouses and navy knickers and marched out to the tarmac-surfaced netball court in the playground. To my dismay, it was right next to the road with only a high wire mesh fence between us and the inquisitive eyes of passers-by. During the game a number of ladies passed and never gave us a second look, but there were some boys and two men with creepy eyes who just stared at us. I could feel myself blushing.

‘Are you all right, Grete?’ Susan asked. ‘How’s your curse?’

‘Not too bad thanks, Susie,’ I replied. ‘It’s just those men staring at us; they give me the creeps.’

‘Me too, but it only happens sometimes.’

In spite of the prying eyes I enjoyed playing netball, although I found leaping up to catch the ball caused my boobs to rub on my woolly vest which was uncomfortable as I was not wearing a bra. Afterwards I had to rush to the loo for a wee. There were several of us with the same idea, all rushing to get a cubicle. I was lucky that I got the last one. I went in, closed the door, but found that the bolt was missing. ‘Oh well,’ I thought, ‘we’re all girls here,’ and with my thumbs eased my knickers down to my knees before sitting “on the throne”.

Suddenly the door burst open and there was Lucy Barker, who took one look at me and screamed.

I looked down at myself and discovered to my horror that once again I had a PENIS!

I screamed…

---

To be continued…

Thanks to Bonzi’s Mum for astrological help and advice,
and to Bonzi, once again for his splendid proofing.
Any mistakes left are the responsibility of the author.

Comments gratefully received