At Aunt Greta’s–
Meeting Bryony
by Gabi
Chapter 13 of a Continuing Saga…

‘So, Bryan, what’s the problem?’ I asked gently.

‘Well, you used to pretend to be a boy until this term, and now you have decided to be yourself.’

‘Yeah,’ I replied. ‘I didn’t have much choice, coz these funny lumps started growing on my chest. So is there something you're unhappy about?’

‘Yeah. You see I gotta pretend to be a boy too, coz I’ve always known I’m a girl trapped in a boy’s body!’

I was somewhat flabbergasted that he–or should I say she?–should confide in me this way, and yet I also felt honoured that she felt she could trust me with such a secret. I looked at her: she had an oval face with delicate features and was dressed in Tuckton School’s regulation boy’s uniform–grey trousers, light blue shirt, school tie and a navy, V-necked woolly jumper with the school badge on the left breast–like ours. Her hair was long for a boy and was drawn back in a low ponytail at the nape of her neck, secured with a navy-blue elastic loop. Yes, she could easily pass for a girl in the right clothes and with her hair in a high ponytail.

We had walked away from the other kids and were on our own.

‘Are you asking me to help you?’ I enquired.

‘I dunno, it’s just that I’m so unhappy as a boy I don’t know what to do. And also I’m g-g-g-growing lumps on my ch-chest l-l-l-like b-b-b-bosoms.’

‘Like me,’ I added, sticking out my chest and smiling to give her some confidence. ‘You said you’re a girl inside a boy’s body?’ I was thinking about how I felt before my strange transformation as I slipped back in time to temporally occupy Auntie G’s girl body, that I had been a girl in a boy’s body.

‘Y-Yes, I’ve known for a l-l-long time.’

‘Have you ever told your mum about how you feel?’ I asked.

‘About f-f-f-four years ago, but she laughed and told me n-n-not to be s-s-silly.’

‘And you haven’t said anything to her since?’

‘N-no–I d-d-didn’t want her to l-l-laugh at m-m-me ag-g-gain,’ he replied sadly.

‘I think you should try to tell her again, because you are obviously unhappy as a boy and no proper mum wants her kid to be unhappy. Have you ever told anyone else–apart from me?’

‘I’ve got a girl cousin–Penny–’ she explained, ‘who lives in the country; her mum is Mummy’s twin sister, and I’ve often been to stay with her in the hols. Penny and I were born on the same day so we think of ourselves as twins, like our mums. When I was about seven, I was staying with her and there was a fancy dress party; we decided to go as twins–we look almost identical–so I wore one of her dresses with all the right undies and things, and she wore some of my stuff. Oh, Gaby, it felt sooo right wearing girls’ clothes; I knew they were what I should always wear. Since then we’ve often been sisters together. She’s never worn my clothes again–she says they’re too rough and uncomfortable, particularly the undies. That party was the first time I was Bryony.’

‘Is Bryony your girl-name?’

She blushed and nodded.

‘It’s a pretty name, and it suits you, Bryony,’ I said. ‘Would you like me to call you Bryony when nobody else is around.’

Bryony’s face lit up; she flung her arms around me and then, suddenly burst into tears. I wasn’t sure what to do so I patted her on the back and made there, there-noises like Mummy does to me when I’m upset. I dug a tissue out of my skirt pocket and gave it to her so she could mop up.

‘Now, Bryony, I want to help you, and I have an idea. You know Farah?’

‘The new Am-mmmm-erican girl?’

‘Yep. She told me that at her old school back in the States there was a kid like you who was originally a boy called Aron, and now she lives as and goes to school as a girl called Nora. She also said there’s a special name for people like Nora–and you–err, transgendered.’

‘Wow!’ exclaimed Bryony. ‘Nora’s sooooo lucky. I wish I could do something like that.’

‘Well, how about I get Farah to tell you about her? I know Nora’s in America and they’ll have different laws an’ stuff there, but my Mum’s a nurse an’ she might know someone who might be able to help you. But the first thing you must do is to tell your Mummy. If you’re nervous, I’ll come and help you. Does she know about your dressing as a girl sometimes when you’re at Penny’s?

‘I think so, coz Auntie Brenda–Penny’s mum–caught us a couple of times; we said we were playing dress-up. It didn’t seem to worry her.’

‘So if your mum were to ask you about it you could tell her that you feel right wearing girls’ clothes, couldn’t you?’ I suggested.

‘I s’pose so,’ he answered hesitantly, as the bell summoning us back to our lessons began to ring.

‘I’ll ask Farah to meet us together before we go home,’ I told him. ‘You’ll really like her and I’m sure she’ll try to help.’

* * *

As it was the first day of term we had the afternoon off as lessons really did not start until the next day, Friday, and even then they were a bit disorganised, serious work really starting after the weekend.

When we had finished getting ourselves organised for the term, we did some reading. If the choice of book had been left to us, we would have taken a month of Sundays arguing over which one it should be. But our teacher was well used to the ways of Year Seven students, and so we had the choice of either, Treasure Island, Treasure Island, or Treasure Island. So we read Treasure Island–in turn round the class–with occasional asides from Joe King and Angus Bull of, ‘Oh arr, Jim, Lad!’ and ’Pieces of eight!’ While Bryan was reading, the Android was heard to screech, ’Who’s a pretty boy, then?’ in a high-pitched parrot voice and Willie Philpot mumbled something about ‘Fairy Rose’, a nickname one of the boys had concocted for Bryan on a school trip to see King Henry VIII’s ship, Mary Rose, raised from the mud at the bottom of the Solent in 1982. She is now on display in her own museum Portsmouth. § Both remarks were rather cruel, particularly as Bryan tends to stammer when nervous.

H.M.S. Mary Rose

When the bell rang for the end of school that morning I introduced Bryan to Farah. We would be passing Brian’s house on our walk back to Auntie Greta’s so Bryan was happy to walk with us. We went to get our blazers from the changing rooms–Bryan, of course used the boys’ changing room–and agreed to meet outside in the playground.

We decided to go to the loo before leaving and while we were washing our hands and checking our hair in the mirror when two of the senior Year Ten girls, Juno Watt and Isla Mann came in.

‘Ohmygod,’ said Juno, giving me a “daggers” look, ‘We have a freak in our toilet. Surely it should be made to go somewhere else if it wants to pretend to be a girl.’

I could feel myself blushing, and Farah looked furious. “Excuse me,” she said, but you are sooo wrong. Gaby is a girl like any other, and she happens to be on at the moment.’

‘You don’t know what you’re talking about, whoever you are,’ retorted Juno. ‘Gabriel Chambers has always been a boy since he first started here in Reception. Who are you, anyway?’

‘I’m Farah Way from the States.’

‘You sure are,’ laughed Isla Mann and Juno giggled.

‘Very funny–NOT,’ I snapped back as Angela emerged from one of the cubicles.

‘I can confirm that Gaby is a girl,’ she told the two seniors.

‘So how come you know so much about her, Angela Williamson? I doubt very much that you’ve ever seen her naked,’ Juno responded.

‘Actually, I have,’ Angela replied, angrily; ‘after she was molested by three older boys from this school two days ago on the way to my house. She needed to take a shower coz she felt so dirty after what they tried to do to her. She’s got a slit and boobs just like me and you, unless you, Juno Watt, have got something different!’

Juno blushed deep puce as Farah sniggered, licked her forefinger and marked one up to Angela on an imaginary scoreboard, and my thoughts went along the lines of ‘Mie-ow!’

For a moment, Juno stood open-mouthed. ‘But…but…’ she stammered completely fazed by Angela’s outburst. ‘But G-Gabriel has always been a boy.’

‘Actually, I’ve always been a girl. I know it must sound really weird to you, but I admired my big brother, Tim, so much that I wanted to be just like him, so I pretended I was a boy.’

‘So what made you change your mind?’ Isla asked.

‘My body; my boobs started to show too much and I started my periods. D’you want me to prove it to you?’ I asked, reaching for the hem of my skirt.

‘OhmyGod, no!’ exclaimed Juno, looking alarmed. ‘Please don’t! I accept I was wrong. I hope you’ll forgive me, Gaby, I’m sooo sorry.’

‘And, Farah,’ Isla added, ‘I’m sorry I made fun of your name. You’re a visitor here and it was uncalled for and very rude of me.’

‘’Sokay,’ came the chirpy reply, ‘it’s been happening for as long as I can remember and normally I can get in my retaliation first. Say, Gabs, shouldn’t we be outta here, we’ve got someone waiting for us, remember?’

‘Oh bum! Yeah, okay. ’Bye, girls.’

‘’Bye,’ called Juno and Isla, disappearing into adjacent cubicles.

‘’By-eee,’ called Angela. ‘See, you guys, tomorrow.’

Bryan was waiting for us. ‘Sorry if we kept you waiting, Bryan,’ I said. ‘We had to go to the loo and got waylaid.’

‘D-d-don’t worry,’ he replied. ‘I only j-j-j-just g-g-got here m-m-myself. H-h-hi Farah. Has G-Gaby told you anything ab-b-b-bout me?’

‘Hi, Bryan, No, she hasn’t told me a thing.’

‘Let’s get outside the gate before you start, Bryan,’ I said, and we headed out of the gate and turned right.

‘O-k-k-kay,’ Bryan stuttered nervously. ‘A-actually, G-G-Gaby, I’d rather you t-t-told F-F-Farah f-f-for m-m-me.’

‘You sure?’

‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘I t-t-trust you.’

‘Okay.’ I took a look round to check nobody was in earshot. ‘Farah, you know you told me about that kid Nora at your school back in the States?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Well, Bryony has told me she’s a girl in a boy’s body.’

‘Who’s Bryony?’ queried Farah, looking puzzled for a moment before her face lit up. ‘You’re Bryony? Wow, that’s such a cute name.’ She gave Bryony a big friendly hug. ‘Let me guess, now that Gaby’s told you about Nora, you want to know more.’ At Bryony’s nod, “I’m not sure I can tell you much, but I’ll try. You’re gunna be real cute!’

‘Thanks,’ Bryony replied, lowering her eyes and blushing. ‘Anything you can tell me would be a help, you see, I don’t know where to start.’

‘Well, have you told your mom or dad? ’Cause that’s the first thing you need to do. My friend back in the States told her mom when she was about eight and they went to see the doc. straight away.’

‘I haven’t actually told Mummy that I’m a g-girl in a b-b-b-boy’s b-body, yet, but she knows I’m not h-h-happy ab-b-bout something. My dad ran off with his Personal Assistant nearly two years ago and we don’t even know where he is.’

‘Oh, Bryony, I’m so sorry to hear about your dad,’ I told her, ‘but you must tell your mum straight away, coz she can’t help you if she doesn’t know the problem. You said you think she might know about your dressing up with your cousin sometimes, so have you ever told her about how you feel right in girls’ clothes?’

‘Not yet,’ Bryony replied. ‘I’ve wanted to tell her for ages, but I’m scared in case she would be cross.’

‘If she loves you,’ I assured her, ‘she wouldn’t be cross–she’d want to know coz she’d not want you to be unhappy and does she know about you being Bryony?’

Bryony shook her head. ‘I haven’t dared tell her that either.’

‘Do you know who your doctor is?’ I asked.

‘Doctor MacNeish,’ Bryony replied. ‘She’s nice, I like her a lot.’

‘Oh, she’s our doctor, too,’ I said, ‘and yes, she’s really really kewl. I’m sure she’ll know exactly what you and your mum need to do.’

‘Ask your mom to look on the internet,’ Farah suggested. ‘Nora’s mom has gotten plenty of great advice just by Googling “transgendered children”. Get your mom to have a go, she’ll surely find something that could help.’

‘I’ll ask my Mum about it too,’ I said. ‘She knows about a doctor who understands your sort of problem from the time when she wondered if I might be a boy in a girl’s bod.’ I added, with bit of a white porky.’”¡ ‘Tell you what, Bryony, get your mum to ring mine, she knows quite a lot about it, so she’ll probably be able to help.’

‘You know, Gaby, I can’t understand why you ever thought you’d like to be a boy,’ Bryony observed.

‘Me neither,’ added Farah. ‘Seems real crazy to me, Gabs.’

‘Ermmm, yeah,’ I said, embarrassed. Not being able to think of a sensible answer I changed the subject. ‘So, Bryony, if the doctors decide you really are a girl in a boy’s bod, will you come to school as Bryony?’

‘Oh, wow, Gaby, that would be sooooo kewl,’ replied Bryony, sounding more girlie than ever. ‘That’s my fave dream; I wish it could come true.’

‘Well, it might,’ Farah chipped in. ‘I know that was Aron’s dream before she became Nora, and now she’s gotten what she wanted.’

‘How is it for her at school?’ Bryony asked. ‘I mean, does she get bullied a lot? That’s what I’m afraid of coz I get bullied and called names as a boy.’

‘She was bullied and called names quite a bit at first, but the bullies got tired of doing it when the teachers saw what was going on and sent them to the Principal.’

‘I reckon Miss Morgan will be okay with it,’ I added. ‘When we went to her to tell her that I was having to return as a girl this term she was fine about it.’

‘Y-Yes, b-but you are a g-g-girl,’ said Bryony. ‘S-She might say it was d-different f-f-for me.’

‘So what, you’re a girl too,’ said Farah. ‘You’re like my buddy in the States; okay, so you gotta boy’s body. So what, you like, gotta girl’s brain that makes you a girl, same as me ’n Gabs.’

Bryony smiled happily at Farah’s reply. She pulled her woolly jumper and shirt away from her chest and winced. “Is something wrong, Bryony?’ I asked.

‘I don’t know,’ came the reply. ‘Remember I said I’ve got a couple of small lumps growing on my chest and they’re itchy.’

‘Uh huh. Have you told your mom?’

‘I didn’t want to worry her. Why?’

‘How long has this been going on,’ I asked.

‘Just over six weeks.’

‘And you’ve not said ANYthing to your Mom?’ Farah asked, clearly amazed.

I looked at her, and she looked at me and nodded. It was plain that we both thought the same, having experienced something very similar.

‘Bryony, will you promise me something?’ I asked.

‘Depends what it is,’ came the cautious reply.

‘Tell your mum about your itchy chest. It could be important.’

‘I’m sure it is,’ Farah said. ‘and it would be a good time to tell your mom about your girl-brain-boy-body situation. The two things could be connected.’

Bryony stopped walking and looked thoughtful for a couple of seconds. ‘It must mean that I really am growing’–she stopped in mid-flow before finishing with a single word–‘BOOBS?’ before starting to walk again.

‘Yep. Like you said to me during break.’ We walked on in silence and past the house I thought the Roses lived.

‘Err, Bryony? Haven’t we just passed your house?’

‘Have we?’ she said, suddenly paying attention. ‘Sorry I was thinking about something, I never noticed where we were. Look, I’d like you to come in and meet Mummy.’

‘Okay,’ I agreed as we turned and retraced our steps, ‘but we can’t be long coz my Auntie is expecting us for lunch.’

‘Only for a minute or two, I promise,’ Bryony said, leading us through the gate, down the side of the house to the back door, which he opened. As we entered the neat kitchen our noses were greeted by a delicious smell of lunch cooking.

‘I’m home, Mummy.’

‘Just coming, darling,’ called a voice from beyond the kitchen door.

I could hear Mrs Rose’s footsteps approaching. She was not as tall as my mum; her brunette hair was shoulder-length and she had hazel eyes, was slightly plump and was wearing a denim skirt which reached just below her knees with a beige top. Seeing Farah and me she stopped in her tracks.

‘Really, Bryan, when you have guests, you should bring them in through the front door. I’m sure these pretty girls don’t want to see our tatty, untidy kitchen. Come through, girls, and Bryan can introduce you properly.’

* * *

She led us through to the front of the house. ‘Come into the lounge girls,’ she said. She turned and looked at Farah, and then at me. ‘I’m sure I’ve seen you before, my dear, but I can’t put a name to your face.’

‘She’s Gaby Chambers, Mummy,’ Bryony said, ‘and this,’ she held out her hand towards Farah, ‘is Farah Way from America.’

‘I’m pleased to meet you, Farah,’ she said shaking Farah’s hand.

‘’I’m glad to know you, too, Ms Rose,’ Farah replied.

‘Gaby Chambers, you have a brother called Tim? I always thought you were a boy.’

‘I wanted to be like Timmy,’ I admitted, ‘so I pretended to be a boy, but I can’t do that any more coz my shape is changing in rather obvious ways.’

‘Ah, the dreaded puberty,’ said Mrs Rose with a wry smile. ‘It seems to start younger and younger. So, Bryan, tell me why you brought your friends with you?’

‘Ermm, well, Gaby is staying with her auntie at the moment and she has to pass our house, so we walked back together and had a chat.’

‘And Farah is staying to have lunch an’ things at Auntie’s as her mum and dad are away till this evening,’ I added.

‘That’s nice for you, dears,’ said Mrs R. ‘And how long have you been in England, Farah?’

‘About a week, Mrs Rose.’

‘So this must be your first day as an English schoolgirl? I must say you look very smart in your uniform.’

‘Thank you Ma’am,’ replied a smiling Farah, bobbing a neat curtsy. ‘Actually, I don’t have a school uniform back home, most of us girls wear jeans like the guys and I thought having to wear one with a skirt here would suck, but when you’re the same as all the other girls it’s okay.’

‘If it’s any consolation, my dear, your uniform is a lot more attractive and feminine-looking than what I had to wear as a schoolgirl. You probably haven’t had time to decide whether you like your new school or not,

‘Seems okay, and the guys have been really cool, so far.’

‘Just the guys, but not the girls, eh?’ queried Mrs Rose.

‘Oh, sorry, Mrs Rose, when we say guys back home, that includes the girls.’

‘It’s all right, dear, it’s just that I’m not very au fait with today’s teenage language,’ Mrs Rose replied.

Farah looked a bit non-plussed at au fait and said. ‘Well, I find the kids over here have plenty strange words I don’t understand, and I guess I’m gunna have real trouble with your English spelling.’

‘You’ll soon get used to it,’ I told her. ‘I’ve almost gotten used to the way you speak already.’

Farah grinned and Mrs Rose looked quizzically at me. ‘Well, girls, would you like to stay for a bite of lunch?’ she asked.

‘That’s very kind of you, Mrs Rose, but my Aunt’s expecting us back for just that, but thank you very much for the invitation,’ I replied. ‘Actually we only came in because Bryan wanted us to meet you.’

‘Well I enjoyed meeting you very much, my dears. I’m sorry you can’t stay and eat with us; another time perhaps?’ She gave each of us a hug, and then Bryony escorted us to the door.

‘Thanks for coming in,’ she said. “I’m going to tell her while we have lunch.’

‘Good luck, Bry,’ I said.

‘Yeah, good luck,’ added Farah.

‘Give us a ring at my aunt’s if you like; her number’s 949763. She’s in the book if you forget, Miss G Chambers–same as me!’

‘Okay,’ Bryony replied. ‘And thanks for listening and not laughing at me.’

‘We wouldn’t do that, girlfriend,’ Farah assured her.

We each gave her a hug, then she opened the door and we headed for Auntie G’s.

* * *

It only took five minutes to walk back to Auntie’s. She must have been watching for us, because as we turned into the gate, the front door opened and there she was, waiting to welcome us.

‘There you are, girls, I expected you about ten minutes ago,’ she said as we entered the house. Our noses were greeted by the most delicious smell coming from the kitchen.

‘Sorry, Auntie, we walked back with Bryan Rose, and he asked us in to meet his mum,’ I explained, ‘and it’d have been rude to rush off.’

‘That’s all right, pet, I’m not cross. Bryan Rose, you said?’

‘Yes, Ms Ch–I mean, Auntie Greta. Sh–HE’s a nice kid,’ said Farah, blushing.

‘That slip of the tongue was interesting, Farah,’ Auntie replied, ‘because I’ve always thought Bryan was more like a girl than a boy.’

‘He told me he’s a girl in a boy’s body, ’ I explained. ‘and asked for help. Farah told me that she knows a kid like that back home in the States, so I suggested to Bryony that she asked about her.’

‘Bryony?’ queried Auntie.

‘That’s her girl name,’ Farah explained. ‘She told us how she’s always been a girl inside for as long as she can remember. I told her it was the same with my transgendered friend, Nora, back home.’

‘Has he–she told her mother about her feelings?’

‘She’s telling her now, so she can talk to Dr MacNeish about it,’ I answered.

‘That’s sensible. I’m sure Jean MacNeish will know exactly what to do, and Helen Rose would do well to talk to your, Mum, too, Gaby.’

‘Bryony’s gunna phone us later, and tell us how she got on telling her mom.’ Farah said. ‘Wow! That’s a great smell; is it our lunch?’

‘Yes, dear,’ chuckled Auntie G. ‘I’ve made a chicken casserole.’

‘Ooh, yummy, my fave. Auntie makes the best chick caserole I’ve ever tasted,’ I told Farah.

‘Well, it sure smells good. C’mon, Gabs, let’s go wash and tidy ourselves before it spoils.’

While we washed our hands together in the bathroom, I thought about Bryony telling her mum about being a girl trapped in a boy’s body and said, ‘I wish I could be a fly on the wall as as Bryony tells her mum about herself.’

‘Me too,’ added Farah.

* * *

Bryony closed the front door after waving goodbye to Gaby and Farah, and sighed because she was not looking forward to confessing all to her mum.

‘They’re nice girls, Bryan,’ Mrs Rose said, cheerfully. ‘ I can’t get over Gabriel being a girl all this time; I suppose she was just a tomboy. But I must admit that seeing her just now, I was struck by how pretty and feminine she was.’

‘She is pretty, isn’t she, Mummy?’

‘I’ve often think it’s a pity you aren’t a girl. I always wanted a daughter, and when you were in my tummy you were so quiet and placid that I was sure you were a girl baby. Your Auntie Brenda thought so too, because when we compared notes about you and Penny, we discovered that you both behaved exactly the same, whereas a friend of ours who had a boy at about the same time, told us she was sure she was having a boy as he seemed to be playing football in her tummy all the time. His elder sister had been very a placid baby while she was carrying her.’

Bryony smiled. Her mum had just given her the perfect opportunity to broach the subject foremost in her mind, so she took her courage in both hands and said, ‘Mummy, there’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you, like forever.’

‘Very well, darling. Let’s go and sit down in the lounge, shall we?’ In the lounge, they sat together on the sofa and Mrs Rose put an arm round Bryony. ‘So what’s this big confession?’

‘Well, actually, Mummy, it’s very hard for me to tell you this and I hope you’re not gonna be cross.’ She screwed up all her courage and it came out in a rush; ‘You see, Mummy, I am a girl. I’ve always known I’m a girl trapped in a boy’s body. Does that sound weird to you?’

Mrs Rose pondered for a moment or two and then said, ‘No. sweetheart, it doesn’t sound weird; you see, I’ve known for some time that you were different from other boys, and I did wonder, Bryony, after what you said a few years ago, if you might indeed be transgendered.’

Bryony’s jaw dropped and she looked wide-eyed at her mum.

‘There’s no need to look like a surprised codfish, darling. If you had been born a girl we were going to call you Bryony. I’m your Mummy, so I know you tend to prefer girlie things, and how you like dressing up when you go to stay with the Farthings. It was Auntie Brenda who told me you had a girl-name when you played dress-up with Penelope. After all, her mummy’s my own identical twin, and both of us have thought of late that there was more girl in you than boy. We actually wondered at one time if you might be gay.’

‘Farah has a friend in America who is trans-wotsit–’

‘–Transgendered, darling–’

‘Transgendered,’ Bryony repeated. ‘She used to be Aron, and now she lives and goes to school as a girl called Nora.’

‘Would you like to go to school as a girl, darling?’

Bryony nodded and whispered, ‘Yes,’ and added louder after a second or two, ‘But not just yet. Maybe I could be a girl at home to start with?’

‘Would you like that, sweetheart?’

Bryony nodded vigorously.

‘We’ll have to see what we can do, then,’ Mrs Rose replied, giving her daughter a hug. ‘Now, shall we go and have our lunch?’

‘Okay, but there’s one more thing I have to tell you.’

‘What’s that, Bryony?’

‘I’ve got, like, two small lumps on my chest that seem to be getting bigger.’

* * *

Our chicken casserole was soooo good. Farah and I really enjoyed it. Auntie had done carrots, peas and mashed potato to go with it. And for pudding Auntie made another of my faves.

‘Oh wow, spotted dick, kew-elle!’”  I squealed as she carried it through from the kitchen.

Spotted Dick

‘Spotted what?’ Farah exclaimed, wide-eyed.

‘Spotted dick,’ I repeated. ‘I lurve it, but some don’t. Netta Salmon in our class calls it potted sick.’

‘Eeeeewwwww,’ said Farah, pulling a face. ‘But I still don’t know what it IS.

‘It’s a traditional British pudding, Farah, and it really IS called spotted dick,’ Auntie explained. ‘I know it sounds a bit strange, and knowing modern slang a bit rude as well. Gaby, would you go and fetch the custard from the kitchen, please. It’s in the willow pattern jug on the counter by the stove. Be careful, poppet, it’ll be hot.’

‘Okay, Auntie.’

‘That smells soooo good,’ Farah was saying as I returned with the custard in its pretty jug.

‘I’ve always liked it, even when they gave it to us for lunch when I was at Tuckton School during the war.’

‘Yeah, Gabs and the guys told me how you came and gave them a talk about it last semester. I guess it was pretty scary with air-raids an’ stuff.’

‘They were terrifying at first, but strange as it may seem, after a month or so of getting them every night, I suppose we became a bit blasé about them. But it was the shortage of food that hurt us most. For us children the worst part of it was that sweets–I think you call it candy–was rationed. We were allowed just a quarter of a pound of sweets per week.’

‘OhmyGod, I’d have hated that,’ Farah said. ‘I’d have died without candy.’

‘Me too,’ I agreed. ‘But what about the doodlebugs, Auntie? They must’ve been really really scary?’

‘Wow, Auntie G, this desert is really great,’ Farah said. ‘What were doodlebugs?’

‘Flying bombs,’ I replied.

‘I suppose they were almost the forerunners of today’s guided missiles,’ Auntie said. ‘They were very scary as we could hear them coming and all we could do was to sit in the shelter waiting for the moment when the fuel ran out and the engine stopped and the bomb crashed on some poor family’s house or a factory or a school.’

‘I sure am glad I wasn’t alive then,’ Farah said. ‘I this dessert is one of the best I’ve ever tasted; the cake bit is soooo light. You’ll have to tell Mom how to cook it.’

We finished our pud and were clearing the dirty crocks to the kitchen when the ’phone rang. ‘I’ll get it, Auntie,’ I said, putting the pudding bowls on the counter above the dishwasher. I hurried to the ’phone and lifted the handset.

‘Hello, nine-four-nine-seven-six-three.’

‘Gaby? This is Bryony. I’ve told Mummy and we’re going to see Dr MacNeish after tea.’

---

 § Mary Rose King Henry VIII’s famous warship–the first ever to be able to fire a full broadside–was finally raised from the mud of the Solent after a long underwater excavation over several years on 11th October 1982. See: http://www.maryrose.org or http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mary_Rose

”¡ Porky: Cockney rhyming slang for a lie.–now used virtually all over England, if not the UK–Porky is a contraction of Porky Pie.
see: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rhyming_slang

”  Spotted Dick: A traditional English steamed suet pudding containing dried fruit–usually currants and raisins–and normally served with custard.

To be continued…

Thanks are due to Bonzi’s Mum once again for her splendid proofing
and Kaleigh and Annette, my trans-pond teen-girl consultants.
Any mistakes remaining are the entire responsibility of the author.

All comments gratefully received and eagerly perused.