This is the story of Penny. A closet Transwoman thrust into the outside world 24-7 when she would rather go and hide away. Perhaps the title should be Welcome to Penny’s Paranoid World…

From part four
A gentle knock on the bedroom door is accompanied by Clair’s voice softly asking if I am ready.
“Yep. I guess I am.”
I stand and turn to her as she slips in.
“Oh my. You’re lovely. Zoey will put a lead on poor Donald tonight if he takes a step towards you.”
“I’m sure he won’t.”
She grins at me. “Well anyway. Your date is here.”
““Funny, funny.” I say grinning. “I don’t have a date.”
Clair smirks at me. “Well, that’s not what John Farmer thinks. He’s waiting in the sitting room.”

“What!”

And now as they say, read on…

Clair raised her eyebrows at me. A smile playing on her lips.

“Well, I hear you were pretty friendly with him last night. Cuddling up on the sofa. You reap what you sow, girl.”

“No. I, I, I, I. I didn’t… I. Shit, what am I going to do.” Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Giggling Clair takes pity on me. “Relax baby girl, Evie sent him down with an umbrella because it’s raining.

My relief is palpable, but my heart is still thumping from the panic that was rising in me.

“Come on, you look adorable.” Says Clair as she opens my bedroom door.
Before I know it Clair with her hand in the small of my back has moved me into the hall and on into the sitting room where John Farmer is sitting on the sofa with Henry purring on his lap. Mother’s still asleep in her chair.

John shifts Henry back onto the sofa and the aging cat lazily sprawls over on his side watching us. John stands smiling. He is wearing a dark grey suit with a light blue silk tie. Very smart.

“Hello, again. It’s raining cats and dogs outside. I’ve brought a big umbrella.”

I nod, smiling, we touch hands. My minds a blank. Say something you idiot.

“It was just spitting when we got back earlier.”

He grins with a little shake of his head. “Not now I’m afraid. Anyway, are you ready?”

“I guess.”

“Well, we better not keep mother waiting, then.”

I nod and follow him out into the hall where he has a big golf umbrella ready to put up.

“Here.” Clair puts my zip up faun jacket over my shoulders. It could be for a man or a woman.

“Thanks.”

“Have fun,” she whispers in my ear. I look back smiling nervously at her. She gives my shoulders a hug. “It’ll be alright, don’t worry.” She whispers. “Enjoy yourself, be the girl you are.”

John has put the golf umbrella up outside and he holds it over the two of us as he leads me to his car. The rain is not too heavy, now. It is not far up to Evie’s, but you would still be soaked if you walked. I had intended to drive myself up to Apple Tree Farm.

The cars door handles extend from the side as we reached it.

“You have a Tesla!”

“Yes.” He laughs, and paused, looking down at me. “You know, you’re the first woman to know that.”

We settled in the seats. Then silently moved off.

“The first thing my mother said when I got it was, ‘How long is the electric cable, and what do you do when you go too far and pull the plug out the socket’. We both laugh politely. “Oh, and how many ‘AA’ batteries does it take! She asked.”

“Unfortunately it’s only leased, I have to hand it back in three years. I could buy it from them. But who knows what the batteries will be like then. And what they would cost to replace. This sort of car is such a new idea. Nobody knows, really. ”

“So, get another one?”

He laughs, “Yes, I wish.” Then adds half seriously, “Maybe. Who knows, I may be married again by then, and the first thing she will say when I tell her about it will be, ‘HOW MUCH!’”

He chuckles about this. On the big screen between us the top half was zoomed in on a map of our part the village, our position marked on the slowly moving map.

“That’s us!”

“Yes. You can do all sort… sorry. I tend to go on a bit about the things you can do on the screen any chance I get. The girls say in an exasperated voice when I tell them something about it, ‘Ooh, daddy. It’s just a car.’ They learnt that expression from their Gran.” He has a nice warm self-deprecating sort of laugh.”

“That’s alright. I think it’s rather cool.”

We turned into the farm and drove passed the house and a couple of cars parked by the front door to turn and reverse into an old low farm building and park next to Evie’s Audi. Getting out I could see beside it the battered Toyota Hilux Johnny was driving yesterday. As John put the umbrella up he pointed to the top of the range Range-Rover next to him.

“I remind dad every time he goes on about the Tesla, how much more he spent on getting his Range-Rover than I did.” He grins at me, “of course he does get to keep his!”

He waves a hand to encompass the building. “This use to be where they stored the horse drawn carts in the old days. Great Grandad use to tell me all about it when I was a little kid. What the farm was like in the Second World War when they still used horses. Now we use it to keep the cars dry. We keep the wagons and tractors are in the big shed over there, now.”

Evie hugs me as we enter the Hall.

“You look stunning, darling.”

“Thank-you. You don’t look too bad yourself.” I say as we look at each other. She is wearing a very similar dress, but hers is sleeveless and in a slightly darker blue. Their again she just about choose this one for me, so the same dress rule thing can not apply I guess.

She giggled. “Come on, come and meet everyone. David and Alison are not here yet, but they…”

We were interrupted by the doorbell. She turned back to the front door.

“That will be our missing doctor.

Oh flip. Just about everyone in the village has David Walker as there Doc. I have not even made an appointment yet to see him to tell him what I have done. Then he and a pretty dark haired woman who I guess is his wife come through the door out of the rain. They greet Evie and he sees me and does a double take worthy of ‘Babe’ Hardy in an old Laurel & Hardy short. He says something to Evie and she nods agreeing.

Ok. It does not mean it is about me. But I bet it is and I can feel myself going red faced.

“Hello Doc, hello Alison.” John is moving towards them taking me with him.

“Hello, John. Hello Penny.” David says smiling before turning to his wife. “Al, this is Penny, she looks after her mother here in the village and is far too modest about it as well.”

We exchange greetings. Alison giving me the once over. Me being very careful to not to look at her low cut top and her rather generous cleavage on show. We move into the sitting room and I am introduced to everyone else.

The first to do the cheek to cheek thing is Zoey and her husband Donald. Donald putting his hands on my shoulders when he did. He is not what I was expecting. At least she seems friendly to me today and looks really hot in an off shoulder red dress with a pear drop cup-out showing the crease of her cleavage and is wearing super high heels, while he is, well, kind of ordinary. Not the ladies’ man I was sort of expecting. I was thinking he would be like John in looks department. But he just looks nice but boring. Jill and Nigel Brown are the other farmers in the village here, and are a friendly couple. Jill has got the cleavage out as well.

It seems cleavage is the thing tonight for the ladies and I made a good choice with this dress in having the girls on show but covered up at the same time to get away with it.

“Penny!”

Trish rushes in from the hall and wraps me up in a big hug. With an arm around me she steers me away over to a tall distinguished man by the door who has a small clipped moustache rather like the leading man in a forties Hollywood movie. He is clearly watching my every move, but smiles when we get close. It is a nice smile, but I still have butterflies in my tummy. Of all the men here, he is the only one who knows my secret. Well, that is apart from Doc David.

“Penny, this is my husband, Malcom.”

“Hello Penny.” He takes my hand in a light shake. The sort you do with women. “I have some friends who can’t wait to meet you Sunday night. And I think they will be most pleased when they meet you.”

He has a soft educated Scottish voice.

“That’s good.” I warble and can’t stop myself adding. “I hope.”

He is still holding my hand and adds the other one in a gesture of comfort.

“Don’t worry. Their nice guys and gals.”

That soft Scott’s voice of his has that reassuring tone of caring doctors you see in tv documentaries have, but you never actually ever meet in real life. I wonder if I have finally fallen on my feet for once in my life and found two fantastic doctors. I was amazed when I met David when he came to see mother and realised he was that sort of doctor I could finally admit again who I really was. I had done that five months ago.

Trish leans in and whispered. “He wants a word later. Evie’s fixing it.”

I nod, I bet that makes two of them. My Doc I am sure wants a word with me later, too. Evie appears handing round sherry, I give a little shake of my head to her. Can’t stand the stuff. She smiles and turns the tray to move one glass pointedly towards me and I feel obliged to take it.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be ok.” She says quietly and winks at me. “Oh, I nearly forgot. I told the girls I would get you to pop up and see them. Up the stairs and follow the noise.”

I grin at Trish and Malcom. “I best go and see them.” And start to ease my way over to the hall door.

“Penny.”

I turn to find Donald MacTavish has given Zoey the slip and is within feet of me.

“Hello there, not leaving already are you. Just wanted to say hello. We live in such a small village, that everybody knows everybody else’s business. But you are a complete mystery to me. When did you move in?”

Somehow he is holding my elbow. How did that happen?

“Oh, Mother’s lived here for ages. I use to work away from here. But I’ve lived in the village on and off over the years.”

I take a sip of my sherry for something to do and am stealing myself not to pull a face, but discover it is a lager shandy instead of sherry, which makes me smile. I keep edging towards the door and Donald somehow keeps up close to me. Too close to me. I thinks Zoey is right. He is a Casanova when he gets the chance.

“So, what kind of work were you in.”

“I was a flying instructor.”

“Oh. Jumbo Jets or the RAF. Should I salute? I was only an airman in the A.T.C. as a kid. Am I talking to an officer?” He mock salutes me, smiling. “Mam?”

I shake my head, smiling. I think this is his idea of chatting me up, not him taking the piss. But I am not sure. I stop edging towards the door, what if he follows me out into the hall. What do I do then? Would he try and follow me up the stairs. Is he that bold?

“No. I taught members of the public, people like you and me, to fly Spam-cans.”

That confuses him.

“Small two and four seater planes with propellers. Not Biz jets or airliners.” I added.

No need to admit that this was a long time ago now, when I was young and foolish. In the end I gave it up and got a proper job. One that paid more than survival wages. Five years of my life down the drain. In the beginning I had driven a taxi at night to save up and get my private pilot’s licence, carried on saving like hell and got my IMC and night and instrument ratings and finally my instructor’s licence and got paid to teach people to fly. And at the end of it was still driving a taxi at night to make ends meet. My dream like so many others was to get into the airlines and fly jets, but it never happened and I grew disillusioned and gave up and stopped flying.

“Huh, spam-cans? What are they?”

Does he listen to what people say to him?

“Little planes. Two seaters like the Cessna’s 150’s and 152’s, the four seater 172’s, Piper Cherokee’s, Tomahark’s and twin engine Navajo’s when I got my Muiti-Rating, that sort of thing.

“Oh.” He still does not have a clue.

“Oh.” From me too. He has somehow backed me up against the wall without my noticing it. I’ve got nowhere else to go and he is enjoying the view down my cleavage. Ha! If he only knew he was looking at a pair of America’s finest handmade boobs.

“Donald, leave the poor girl alone.” Zoey had arrived beside him and taking his arm moved him away from me. Looking back to me she mouthed ‘Sorry’ as she led him off. I heard her asking why he could not behave for once and him replying ‘I was only being friendly, love’. Before I was through the door into the hall and going up the stairs before doc David could grab me for a word as well. I felt guilty about that as he really is a great doctor and I should have made an appointment to see him. But I was thinking more of Zoey at the moment and what she had to put up with.

It is not too difficult to find the girls. I can hear the twins chatting. They are in a room with bunk beds for them and a single for Emily. The beds are in an ‘L’ shape.

“Hi girls.”

“Hello.” The twins chorused back. Emily does say hello, but is much quieter.

“Sleeping at grans tonight.”

“Yes.”

I am smiling. I hope it looks friendly. Kids can tell a phony smile a mile off. Emily is holding a book and has one arm around a well hugged Tiger soft toy.

“He’s nice. What’s his name.”

“Tig.” Emily almost whispers to me.

I sit on the edge of her bed and stroke Tig’s head, then tap the cover of Emily’s book. “Favourite book.”

Emily nods.

“What’s it called.” I whisper to her. She holds it out to me. I turn it round to read the title.

“*The Tiger Who Eat Stories.*” The book was old, I guess from before John’s childhood.

“Em always has a story to go to bed. Gran said you would read her one.” The top bunk bed tells me.

“Ok, would you like that, Emily.” Em nods her head.

“Okay. Do you have a favourite chapter?”

“Em, likes them all.” Comes the helpfully advice from the bottom bunk. I have not a clue which twin is in which bed. I should have asked when I came in.

“Well, let’s start at the beginning then, shall we.”

Emily closes her eyes and snuggles down cuddling Tig.

“Oh, before we start.” I looked over at the bunk beds.

“Which one of you is in which?” I said grinning.

“Lizzy.” Said the top bunk.

“Eve” said the bottom bunk.

This was followed by giggling.

“Mmmm, Me thinks, it’s the other way round.”

This was followed by more intense giggling by the guilty.

“Thought so. Right.” I looked down at the book.

“The Tiger Who Eat Stories. Chapter one. A Surprise in the Bedroom.”

I glanced down an Emily holding Tig tight, her eyes closed, a smile on her face in contented bliss.

“Time for bed’, Timothy’s mother said. They climbed up the stairs, and went into the bedroom, and Timothy climbed into bed. To their surprise, at the end of the bed, was a small tiger. ‘Grrrr,’ said the tiger at the end of the bed. ‘Who are you?’ Asked Mother. ‘I’m Ti-Grrr’. Said the tiger. ‘And I eat stories, and I am hungry’. ‘Oh’, said Mother. ‘I’m just about to read a story to Timothy. Would you like to hear it too?’ ‘Yes’. Said the Tiger. ‘But it has to be a good one,’ he said, ‘or I die. Like this.’ And the tiger rolled over onto his back with his feet pointing straight up into the air with his eyes closed. Then he opened one eye looking at them. ‘See’, he said. ‘Like this’. ‘Oh’, Mother said. ‘Well. I only tell good stories’. ‘Good!’ Said the tiger, and slowly creeped up the bed to lay beside Timothy.”

“That was a good story, mumbled the tiger as he fell asleep.”

I looked down at Emily. She was fast asleep too, still tightly cuddling Tig. I glanced over at the twins. They were asleep as well. I carefully got up and quietly left the room just as John came up the stairs. I held up a finger so he talked softly.

“Thought we had lost you. How many?”

I smiled. “Three.”

“The Tiger That Eat Stories?”

I nodded.

He chuckled, “Em loves that book, so did I as a kid. I think it was mum’s when she was a kid.” He stuck his head in the door and quietly said. “Night girls.”

“Night dad.” The twins whispered back.

John joined me, and we headed back to the stairs I turned to him. “I thought they were asleep. They pretended to be asleep.”

“I know. They do it to their gran all the time and she never guesses.”

I have Malcom on my right and Evie on my left at the bottom of the table facing Johnny at the other end. John is opposite me with Trish beside him and David the Doc next to him. So I am well protected from awkward questions from those that do not know about the real me. Well, John does not know, but I do not think he would try and put me on the spot. As I think he quite likes me.

“Did I hear you tell Donald, you were a flying instructor, before you stopped to look after your mother?” Malcom was asking me.

“Yes. I was an instructor at ‘Jay-Air**’ at Biggin Hill.”

“And that was on planes with propellers on them.”

I nodded “Mmm.” Having just popped a Brussel sprout and part of a roast potato in my mouth.

“One of my colleagues fly’s. He has… now what did he call it. Oh yes, a Europa. Does that make sense?”

“Yes. It’s a kit plane. Looks nice, flies fast, but is a bit too small for my liking.”

We eat for a bit.

“You didn’t want to move on to Jets.” David asked looking over me.

I swallowed the piece of Yorkshire pudding I had on my fork moments earlier before replying.

“Oh. I think all private pilot instructors dream of moving up to the right seat of a 737. But most don’t, they can’t afford the cost of the training. You need a sugar daddy or parents with big pockets for that. Very few get an airline paying for a commercial rating. Most have to self-finance and end up with an enormous debt to pay off with no promise of work at the end of it.”

I saviour another of Evie’s perfectly cooked roast potato’s.

“So you never got to fly jets, then. Would you have liked to? That was Malcom again.

I grinned at them. “I wish. I did fly a little biz-jet once, though. That was a big thrill, great fun.”

“Only once. You didn’t crash it, did you?” John quipped, grinning at me.

I tried not to laugh. “No. I, did not.” And smiled at him.

“A friend had a positioning flight up to Glasgow to collect a client with their baby jet, a Cessna Mustang, which only needs one pilot, and he asked me if I would like to go along for the ride in the right seat up there. Had to make my own way home, though.”

“Thought he might put on the old auto-pilot and do some riding on the way up joining the mile high club, himself, no doubt.” Donald chuckled to himself under his breath, but everyone heard him. There was a silent pause, everyone but Donald noticed.

I kind of sighed, and continued. “Well anyway. He let me do the flying on the way up, while he worked the radios. It was great fun flying airways and taking off and landing a jet. Even a small one. It took forever coming back on the train. While he picked up this golfer, took him to France, and was back home at Biggin Hill before me!” I shrugged, “c’est la vie!”

They were good enough to chuckle. Then we went silence again as we continued to eat.

“Do you ever go back to visit. To the flying club.”

I looked up at John, a piece of roast beef poised on my fork, ready to be consumed. “No. The owner was driving home one night after I left and stopped at some traffic lights. Unfortunately the Polish lorry driver behind him didn’t. I was told his car was reduced to a two foot piece of crushed metal. His wife sold up and moved to the Algarve.”

“Horrible, that’s awful.” That was Alison, she had not said a thing for ages.

“Shades of Mr Solo.”

We looked across to her husband who added. “Goldfinger, the James Bond movie. After shooting the gangster Solo dead on the back seat of this brand new 63 Lincoln Continental. OddJob, the villain, drives into a scrap yard, parks up, and has it crushed into a two foot square block of metal and dropped into the back of a pick-up. Which he then drives back to his boss’s lair.”

He looks up grinning at us and then at his wife. “The American scrap workers could not believe the Bond people were going to crush a brand new Lincoln Continental. They were only just on sale and still quite rare in America at the time.”

I had forgotten David has prints of sixties American cars all over the walls of his surgery.

“Shame, lovely car.” Says John shaking his head.

Evie touches my arm smiling. “Quick, change the subject or John will start talking about his electric ‘teasmaid’ on wheels thing.”

“That’s a point John. How is the Tesla going?” Donald asks.

Evie groans, shaking her head at me. “Too late. Were doomed.”

The men begin a long discussion about the John’s Tesla and the new ‘X’ model that was now on sale. And comparing petrol and diesel cars with them and everything in between. Evie and I tune out and discover we both take our respective charges to the same beach in the small south coast town of ‘Bexly-on-Sea’.

“I take Mother there most Sundays, we have a beach hut. It is a nice way to while away the hours, and you can make a cup of tea when you want.”

“The girls look at those beach huts all the time and ask why we can’t have one. I’ve tried and tried, but their never is one for sale.”

“We bought ours ages ago. I think only two others have been sold since then. Most get past down in family’s. The council has about half of them and locals have to go on a waiting list to get the chance of renting one for a year and then go to the back of the list.”

“Which one in yours.”

“The blue and white one. Fifth from the carpark path end.”

Oh, I know the one. The girls think it’s pretty.”

I wonder if I dare ask. “We are going down Saturday, would you and the girls like to join us?”

“I’m sure they’d love it – John – You doing anything with the girls on Saturday?”

John looked up, “Sorry Mum. What did you say.”

“Thought I’d take the girls to Bexly-on-Sea, Saturday. Penny has a beach hut there.”

“Ok, sounds nice.” And his attention was back to car conversation he and his friends had been having since the main course and on into the dessert.

I helped Evie clear the table onto the trolley before we joined the rest of the girls in the conservatory for tea and coffee after taking a trolley to the men with tea and coffee on and inviting them to help themselves. Except she side-lines me into to the farm office at the end of the kitchen away from everyone else.

“David wanted a word. Good luck.”

I closed the door behind me feeling guilty for not seeing him yet. I forget it is only day three of full-time Penny. It already seems like it has been forever.

“Hello Penny. How are you?” He gets up a friendly smile on his face to take my hand and offer me the armchair. “I must admit I did wonder if we would ever get to meet. I didn’t think Paul would let go.”

“Hello David. I was going to ring the surgery to make an appointment, you know. I was just building up courage to walk in their like this.”

“That’s all right. You look perfectly ok, you don’t need to worry about that. No one knows here tonight, do they.”

He has a friendly boyish grin.

“So… you have started the real life test all by yourself, and by the looks you’re doing fine, and you’re coping with people like Donald MacTavish and his comments.” He grinned and confided. “One day a woman or her husband, or boyfriend is going to turn round to him and slug him one when he opens his mouth a bit too loud.” We sort of laughed and he pulls over a hard back chair to sit beside me.

“Big step forward tonight, don’t you think.”

I nodded. David had been mother’s doctor for nearly six years. Mine for only six months. He has never asked me why I had not moved over to the village surgery years before now. I had always implied to him I was going to move over, but never did. But six months ago when I had taken Mother to see him, I told him I was a transsexual and embarrassed to be telling him and others now that I was older. Its ok I said when you are nineteen and skinny as hell with long legs as I use to be and… but I lost my confidence and now I was old and felt stupid saying it.

He had just said don’t you think it’s about time we did something about it, then. And found a joining form in his desk and gave it to me. ‘Why don’t you fill in the form and hand it in at reception and we can start doing something about it.’ So I did and later that week had a long talk with him and he referred me to a gender clinic. A month later I received a letter from them says due to high demand it would just over a year before they could see me for a consultation. And here we were six months later.

I told David everything that had happened; the Piranha Club and Boundary Mills, having my hair done. How much I liked it. Going to the supermarket. The boys in the car, everything. He asked questions, I answered and agreed to visit the surgery next week. He would get Linda who worked reception to call me with an appointment time to check it was ok and he would arrange my name change at the surgery on my promise I would talk to my solicitor tomorrow about changing my name.

“I think I I’ve taken up enough of your time tonight. Al will think I’m planning to run away with you.” He said that with a smile and a twinkle in his eye. “If anyone asks, just say I wanted to talk about how Jenny was doing.”

I slipped out and almost bumped into Eve with a plate of cakes in each hand.

“Here, let me help.” I reached out for one of the plates.

“Thank-you Darling.” She looked at me concerned. “You okay.”

I nodded and smiled.

“Alright. You take that one into the men and come back and join us before the girls scoff this lot.”

The men were still around the dining room table, but the drinks trolley was close by them with the hard stuff on the table.

“Eve thought Gentlemen that you might like something to soak up all that alcohol.”

I smiled as they laughed and placed the large plate of small cakes on the table and ignored whatever it was Donald MacTavish said and wished them pleasant conversations and left them.

The rest of the evening flew by and before I knew it everyone was getting ready to leave. It was quite a pleasant evening out now. The rain having left the air smelling fresh.

“John, you’ll see Penny home?”

“It’s alright I’m fine.”

Not really truth, I don’t really want to walk the few hundred yards between our homes in these heels if I’m honest, but I’m too shy to say so.

“Here we are.” John brandishes the rolled up golf umbrella. “Better safe than sorry.”

I turn and wave to Eve when we get to the road, and shiver as we carry on. Damn, I left my coat behind and hug my arms.

“Here.”

Before I realise what he meant, he has dropped his jacket over my shoulders.

“Thank-you.”

Trish and Malcom drive past in there ‘S’ class Mercedes on their way home at the bottom of the village. Trish waving out the window and calling out “Night” as they pass. I wave back.

“Can you smell that.” John took in a big breath of air. “Wonderful.”

“What?” I said grinning, watching the disappearing ‘S’ Class. “Trish and Malcom’s diesel fumes.”

John laughed. “No. The smell of the sea. The rain has blown in from far out at sea. It leaves the smell of the ocean in the air.”

I had noticed. My father was a Chief engineering officer on P&O cruise ships. I spent most of my childhood holidays at sea on various P&O’s cruise liners, but mostly on Canberra when I was young.

Soon we were at my front door. Only then did I think of the situation I was in, would he expect me to kiss him goodnight? I’ve never kissed anyone before. I don’t even know how to kiss someone. What do I do, how do I act?

To be continued…

* ‘The Tiger Who Eat Stories’ was small book, I guess from the fifties or sixties that my Mother use to get from the public library to read to my younger sister when she was about six. They were lovely little stories, each chapter story featuring Timothy and the Tiger read by Timothy’s Mother with interruptions from both Timothy and the Tiger. Despite extensive searches I have not been able to find anyone who even remembers the book. As I would love to get a copy, but I guess they are all gone now. I sometimes wonder if the Calvin & Hobbes cartoonist Bill Watterson had ever seen the book as a boy.
** Jay-Air – There may be or have been a flying club or clubs called Jay-Air somewhere, but for this story it is a made up name and club.