Thanks as always to Robyn and Cressar, and to all of you who read and comment. Enjoy!

Part 3

I spot Poppy waiting for me at the bus stop just before she sees me. She's wearing a vintage dress, Doc Martins and an old leather jacket. The girl's got style and it makes me feel self conscious about my scruffy skin-tights, hoodie and duffel coat. The tight jeans pull against the lower half of my body as I walk, making me even more self-aware. There are curves where there shouldn’t be and something missing up front.

She's spotted me now and starts waving; I give her a little half wave of my hand, not wanting to seem stand-offish.

"Hey," she greets me and then catches me off guard by giving me a little hug, "glad you could make it. The Wicked Witch let Cinderella go to the ball, then?"

I mutter something about Julia, ‘Mum’, not being so bad. I still feel guilty about Friday and hanging out with a bunch of much younger girls doesn't help that. Still, these are the only people who are going to see me as an equal for a while.

"This is Esse," Poppy says, indicating a tall black girl hiding at the back of the bus stop.

"You the girl who punched Jessie?" Esse extends a hand to me, which I take, finding the gesture strangely formal, "and I hear you were drinking with some sixth form boys at the weekend?" I spot some Nigerian in her accent.

"Just the one, and he's a friend of the family," I mutter. After the week I've had I shouldn't protest, just take the street cred and run.

Esse smiles broadly revealing a mass of beautiful white teeth, "Girl, you got some big lady balls, I like you!" If only she knew.

We chat for a few minutes before the 86 arrives, then get on showing our passes. One plus I guess; I don't have to pay full price.

"Let’s go up top," Esse points to the stairs.

"Maybe not," Poppy says cautiously, "I don't feel like getting hassled by any boys today." She glances at me - perhaps she wants me to back her up?

Esse doesn't wait to hear my opinion, she just says, "I ain't letting no stinky boys tell me where I can sit," putting emphasis on the 'boys' part before storming on up the stairs.

We take the front four seats. I can remember sitting in the same place when I was a kid looking out the top front windows thinking it was like I was flying. It was probably the same bus route. I feel good having this little connection to my childhood, before it all went wrong.

A tall black teenage boy takes one of the seats behind us and starts to try and talk to us. I am glad when Esse tells him to get lost as I don't think I could have dealt with him. He says something to Esse I can't make out, but from the look on her face it’s disrespectful. He then turns to Poppy and me. "You two girls want to come sit with me? You can sit on my lap if you want, green eyes." I realise with a shock he's talking about me.

"I would," I reply, looking down at his lap, "but it doesn't look like there's much there to sit on." Both Poppy and Esse fall about laughing and the boy doesn't look too pleased. He turns back to look out the window muttering something about 'lesbians' and 'not dissing him'. Thankfully the bus fills up at the next two stops and we are left alone.

I actually find the shopping much more fun than I was expecting. I'm not all that into the clothes shops, although I do enjoy the commentary Poppy and Esse keep going on the other customers. I feel a bit bad when a middle-aged mum catches us giggling behind her back.

I cringe when the two girls show me a low cut dress that Esse thinks will suit me. I’ve been coping so far by wearing the sort of clothes that cover up this body. The way Poppy looks at me reminds me that out of sight doesn’t necessarily mean out of everyone’s mind. Suddenly I am aware of how my hips move and how the weight of my new breasts feel. Hell is other people.

I love the record shops, although I have to half drag the girls into Piccadilly Records. In the end I get fed up of Poppy following me around the aisle like a bored puppy.

"Look, we can go in a second," I say, "just let me pay for this." The two girls wait for me at the front door while I pay for the record. I get an idea; if I’m going to be hanging around with these two a lot then I need to educate them in the finer things. A couple of minutes later I’m with them and hand Poppy the bag. She looks a little stunned; "It's for you," I say, "it's an early Sugarcubes record, ‘Life's Too Good’." She looks even more confused.

"That's Björk, you'll love it." What seemed like a good idea two minutes ago is now making me feel like an idiot "Do you have something to play it on?" I ask.

"Yeah, I think my dad has an old record player somewhere," Poppy says, turning the bag over in her hands and looking at the album cover through the thin plastic, "but I could have just downloaded it from iTunes."

"It's not the same," I say with conviction, "those sound files are compressed so you lose so much of the depth and texture."

"You’re beginning to sound like my dad," Esse observed. "Where did you learn all this?"

"From my dad, before he died..." and my voice trails off. It's true, well most of it. My dad was a goner a long time before iTunes.
"Ain't you the lucky one Popsicle," Esse says to Poppy, "your new girlfriend’s already buying you presents!”

I feel my ears burning with embarrassment and when I look over at Poppy, she's blushing too.

For the rest of the afternoon I give in and let the girls drag me around clothes shops in the Arndale Centre. Not my favourite activity but I am enjoying their company. Poppy can actually be quite assertive and makes me try on several outfits even though we’re only window-shopping. In a large chain store she picks out a skirt for me to try on.

"No way are you getting me into that," I protest, looking at the black PVC miniskirt she's holding up.

"If you want me to listen to your dad record you are going to have to do what I say," she says firmly.

"okay then," I sigh. Well, it can't hurt I suppose.

The shop assistant, a lanky boy with spots and greasy hair, eyes us with a mixture of lust and mistrust as we approach the changing rooms.

“My friend wants to try something on," Esse tells him.

He nods. "How many items?"

"Just the one," adds Poppy, although I could have sworn I saw her pick up something else. Inside the changing room Esse pulls aside the curtain to one of the cubicles and Poppy hands me the skirt.

"Go on then,” she says with a wink, “let the tiger see the meat."

I take the skirt grumbling to myself as I do. How do I end up in these situations?

I totter nervously out of the cubicle feeling like I'm half naked. The skirt is tight and restricts my leg movement quite a bit.

"So," I say uncertainly, "what do you think?" I’m more than half expecting them to fall about laughing.

Esse wolf whistles. "Damn, for a short girl you have great legs."

"Hey!" I reply, "I'm not that short," although I must be at least a couple of inches shorter than both of them. I look nervously at Poppy who seems a little dazed.

"Turn around," she says and I do as I am told.

"That arse maybe way too skinny, but it’s still hot for a white chick…” says Esse. "Hell Poppy, I think Emmy might be converting me to your team."

I look back at over my shoulder at Poppy, unsure of her reaction.
"Damn it, Emmy," Poppy says, "you've got to have that skirt." This last part she says with so much conviction I start thinking how I will explain a new skirt it to Julia.

"I can't Poppy, I've spent all my money," I tell her. All the cash Julia gave me and I can't use my credit cards for fear they can be traced.

Poppy put a finger to her lips then says, "Go get changed."

I don't know what she has planned, is she going to buy it for me? I don't protest, I just get back into my jeans. Coming out again Poppy takes the skirt off me and shoves it into the front pouch of my hoodie then tells me to stick my hands in as well. I do as I am told, but shouldn't I be protesting? After all I am the adult here.

Poppy pulls out another skirt from her jacket pocket and taps the side of her nose. I let out a little laugh. We exit the changing rooms and Poppy hands the shop assistant the decoy skirt and numbered token, he just nods, Poppy says, "Not her size," and both Esse and me snigger.

"As soon as the alarm goes off run, we'll meet you in the food court," Esse whispers under her breath. I take a deep breath myself; I guess this is some sort of initiation test. I steel myself to run but even before the alarm goes off I feel a big strong hand grabs my arm. Another man is about to grab Poppy but I stick my leg out tripping him.

“Run!" I scream, making everyone in the shop look around. I’m pleased to see my new friends disappearing.

The mall cop on the floor gives me a dirty look. His friend with the meaty hands pulls mine out of my hoodie pouch and then shoves a hand inside.

"Fuck off, you perv!" I shout at him, hoping against hope to stop him. It doesn't work; he's already holding the skirt.

He grabs my arm and hauls me off; I see his friend grinning at me like the cat that got the mouse. Oh shit, I’m for it now.

My hands are handcuffed behind my back and I am sat on a bench in a windowless room looking at a bank of monitor screens. I notice ruefully that one of the monitors shows an aerial view of the women's changing rooms. Shit, I am bang to rights.

"Were you watching me change?" I say to my big lug of a captor, trying to get a rise out of him. I notice the lug has a name badge saying 'Artur' but he is 'The Lug' to me. I can still feel his hands taking the opportunity to wander all over my body as he half carried me up the stairs to the office. The thought makes me shudder.

He just shrugs. "Jan keeps an eye on the women's changing rooms," nodding to the door as a middle aged women carrying two plastic cups of coffee comes into the room. She hands one cup to The Lug and then turns to me.
"What are you doing stealing? You seem like a nice girl." Her tone is motherly, even sympathetic. I suspect she has teenagers of her own.

"Look," I sigh, swallowing down my pride, "can you call an Inspector Deepa Patil for me?"

"Who?" she asks, shooting a confused look at The Lug.

I take a deep breath and tell myself it's the only way. I cross my fingers hoping Deepa will understand and won’t tell Julia.

"There's a card in the back pocket of my jeans," I explain.

"There's no way I’m letting this little brat off, just because she has some relative in the regular cops," huffs The Lug. My guess is that he's some sort of frustrated copper wannabe. He's deluded if he thinks Deepa will view him as some sort of ‘colleague’.

"It's going to save you a lot of time and my wrists a lot of pain."

About an hour later my bottom is completely numb and I’m trying to judge whether Jan will let me go to the toilet or not. I know The Lug won't, the sadistic bastard - or worse, he'd want to come with me. Then the door swings open and some old guy, the store manager I guess, comes in with Julia and Deepa. Man, do they look angry.

"Hi Mum," I say sheepishly. So Deepa told on me, the rat!

Julia gives me a look that could bring down a rhino. "Don't you dare talk, not less you’re spoken to, young lady," she spits. I see The Lug grinning smugly from behind her back; I'd love to punch that bastard in the face.

The group splits into two; Deepa taking the store manager and The Lug to one side. I hear parts of what Deepa’s saying; "witness protection," and "building a case”, “a criminal prosecution would really hurt”, and finally "this gang are real nasty pieces of work."

On the other side of the room Julia and Jan are having a heart to heart. They keep giving me exasperated looks and occasionally I hear a little laughter. Finally the store manager comes over to me.

“Hello Emma, my name’s Jez," he says.

"Hi" I say half-heartedly. What sort of adult calls himself ‘Jez’?

"Emma," his voice is serious, "we take shoplifting very seriously here. Shoplifting is stealing, just like taking money from an old lady. You wouldn't take money from an old lady would you Emma?"

I shake my head whilst trying to look as contrite as possible. After ten minutes or so of a lecture on the rights and wrongs of stealing he finally comes to his point.
"I know from the inspector here that you've been going through a very difficult time recently, and that you've had to fit in a new place, which is hard for anyone. I am also assured that your mother will see to it that you are properly punished." I’m certain he's right about that. "So," he finishes, "I’m willing to let you off with a warning this time, if your mother is willing to pay for the item you took."

We all look at Julia who gives a stern little nod of the head.

"I can go?" I ask in as meek a voice as possible. I flash him my Bambi look with my big green eyes.

This time Jan smiles in a more friendly way. "Yes, after your mother has filled in a little paperwork you can go."

Several hours later I am back in my room with joint lectures from both Deepa and Julia ringing in my ears. They’ve threatened to send me to a boarding school if I keep putting myself in danger; I don't like the sound of that. Ruefully I think how it all started with a text in this room yesterday, which reminds me of my phone. What with my hands being cuffed and with Julia and Deepa tearing me a new one I haven't checked it since I was caught.

I pull it out of my back pocket and see there are more than a dozen unread texts. I scroll down them seeing that they’re all from Poppy. I start reading; at first they’re asking if I’m okay but after a couple they start becoming more frantic before descending into tearful (my guess) texts saying how sorry she is and how she wouldn't blame me if I never wanted to speak to her again.

I roll my eyes, the poor girl. I’m touched; I’m also glad she wasn't stupid enough to go back and hand herself in. I text her back:

Emma: "I'm safe and sound, was let off with a caution, (I don't explain why) "the wicked witch has me locked back in my tower though :-\ xx"

Minutes later I get a reply:

Poppy: "PHEW! I am soooooo glad. Sooooo sorry, can you forgive me? :-( :-( :-( xxxxxxxx"

Her text makes me smile.

Emma: "Nothing to forgive :-) I had fun today. They made Mum buy the skirt and promise to punish me. I think she is happier about the second part xxxx"

Poppy: "You've still got the skirt! Can't wait to see you in it again Jailbird ;-) xxxxxxxxx"

I smile at her unguarded enthusiasm, then I wonder if I should really be having a text conversation with a fifteen-year-old girl who has a crush on me, so I put the phone down. About ten minutes later it buzzes again only this time I don't recognise the number.
I open up the text, it just says "Hugs xxxx" but there is a photo attached. I enlarge the photo and see that it is the selfie Esse took of all three of us in the Arndale food court. I sit there looking at it for a while feeling just a little bit lighter.

-------------

London

Viktor is in the back office of the pool hall. He's in a bad mood; he has been hiding in dark shitholes like this for weeks now. Later he’s going to need some pussy before he goes stir crazy.

As he holds up his phone wondering who to call it vibrates with a new text message. It's from Artur; he wonders what that unless shit wants and how he got the number of this burner. He opens it up

Artur: The wife of that guy you are after is in Manchester with her bitch of a daughter

Attached is a blurred picture. It is badly taken but Viktor recognises the wife of Mark Healey and sees some little girl with her. Funny no one said anything about Mark having a daughter; maybe she’s from a previous marriage, or a niece maybe.

Why is this dickhead sending me this from a registered phone? Viktor thinks. What an idiot. The phone buzzes again.

Artur: I have an address

Viktor smiles; he’s going to have to get a message to the Madam, she’ll know what to do.

-------------

School is much better now. The tales of my weekend exploits have spread and I’ve been welcomed into Poppy's little gang with open arms. In fact on Monday Poppy presents me to each of her friends as if I’m some foreign dignitary on a special visit.

Just before we split to go to our different form rooms Poppy pulls me to one side. “I wanted to thanks you for my record,” she says, “dad played it for me, he says you’ve got great taste.”

“You’re close to your dad, aren’t you?” I ask.

“Well, he looked after us after mum had to go away, so yeah, I am a bit of a daddy’s girl,” I can see how she’d be the pride of any half cool farther, “and dad says you’re welcome around ours any time.” I catch more than just a little a hint.

As well as Poppy and Esse there's Tony, a shy gay Chinese kid, Peter the lanky arty kid with messy hair and Ian, both of whom I know from art classes. Peter jokes they are the token white, heterosexual guys in the group. Then there’s Paddy, real name Patricia. She’s Peter's best friend and is a bit of a militant lesbian. She isn't best pleased when I answer 'It's complicated' to her question about which side of the bed I sleep on.

Even some of the popular kids say hi, having heard the tale of me partying with a sixth former over the school grapevine. I am beginning to see Deepa's point about arranging the 'play-date' to help me fit in. She's a smart cookie that one; I may have to forgive her for dobbing me in over the Arndale Heist.

Speaking of Noah I see him a couple of times from across the way. The Sixth Form College backs onto the High School’s playing fields and shares some of the same buildings. The edge where the two meet is where the older school kids and some of the sixth formers go to smoke. He's always with his mates and I’m always too nervous to say hello. It's a shame because he seems like a fun guy, but I’m still freaked out by Deepa's revelation that I may have something in my mind that allows me to be controlled by the boy. I don't fancy being anyone's puppet on a string.

Home life is rather more difficult. Julia isn't too impressed that I won't rat out my friends from the Sunday heist. She probes me to see if Noah was there, but I can truthfully say no. Harder to explain is how I let two teenage girls persuade me to go into the changing rooms with them and model a short skirt for them.

On Wednesday I come home to find a strange man standing in our living room. The room is covered in files and notes so I assume he’s from Julia's work.

"Hi," I say nervously.

"Hi," he says back equally unsure.

We stand there for a few moments not knowing what to say until Julia comes back into the room.

"Oh, hi Emma, I wasn't expecting you back so soon," she looks a little startled to see me but recovers well.

"You told me to come straight home from school every day this week," the room is silent; I can hear the rain beating against the windows.

"This is Richard darling." I don't like the way Julia and Richard smile at each other. "He's my line manager at work. We are working on a big new case together so we thought we'd come here for some piece a quiet, if that's alright love?"

"I don't know why you’re asking me," I say petulantly, "it's your rules around here, not mine. You made that quite clear." I see the sad look on Julia's face and instantly feel bad. "It's okay," I say,trying to look cheerful, "I'll go to my room and do some homework. Good luck guys, hope you get the bad guys!"

As I leave the room I hear laughter and talking. I am glad Julia is so happy in her new job. When we first met we were both trying to make our way in the music business, me as a musician and then a producer, Julia as copyright lawyer. Once we moved down to London I slowly but surely rose up the ranks while still getting to do the fun stuff like hanging out with the talent. Julia on the other hand found herself working for a big firm of lawyers wrangling over complex contracts and dealing with big egos. Obviously the new job suits her. Maybe we could move up after all this was over?

By now it’s the middle of October and I’m easing into the rhythm of life. I’ve received my first monthly visit. Now I know how Hungary felt; it’s no fun being occupied by the Red Army! I become super aware of my new body, with my breasts feeling sore and real pain coming from the direction of my womb. It makes me ponder two things, firstly that it may be possible for me to create life, which really freaks me out and secondly, that this body was created for someone else, someone who had been expecting to live a full life in it. I wonder who that is, and what they’re doing now?

Weekday mornings I walk to school with Poppy and Esse, who both live nearby. I enjoy the journey and the clear head it gives me. This Monday is especially clear and fresh. The streets of Whalley Range are lined by large trees that drop a blanket of red and yellow leaves in the Autumn. I can think of nothing better than crunching through them. Esse picks up a handful and chucks them at Poppy who howls in laughter then chases her friend with two handfuls of leaves. When she catches her she stuffs leaves into her hood and they both fight. “Whose side are you on Emmy?” Esse shouts.

“Consider me Switzerland,” I laugh.

“War is coming Emmy, time to choose,” says Poppy. Then they both look at each other, evil expressions in their faces.

“Oh no,” I says stepping back a little.

“Oh yes,” they say in unison, bending down to pick up more leaves. I dash away taking advantage of my new young legs. The only problem is that I am looking backwards at the girls and not paying attention to where I am going so I end up slamming into someone and falling on my behind.

“Emma Riley!” I look up to see Noah grinning back at me. “We really must stop meeting like this,” he laughs.

“Don’t just stand there gawping, boy, give me a hand up,” I say stretching out my arm, hoping I’ve covered my embarrassment. The thought that my breasts, small as they are, have just collided with his hard chest is, well… very odd. He takes my arm and yanks me up. We end up standing a little too close and after a moment of awkward silence I step back a pace.

“It’s been a while, why haven’t you come over to say hi?” he asks, still grinning.

“Didn’t think you’d want some kid coming over and embarrassing you in front of the other sixth formers,” I say looking down at my shoes. I don’t say the real reasons; that I am ashamed and frightened by how I behaved the last time I was around him. Or that my wife, now acting as my mother, is jealous of him.

“Don’t be stupid, I told you it was fine,” I suddenly feel like a heel for not coming over, he’s just trying to be friendly. “Are you coming to the Halloween party at the Academy in a couple of weeks? My band is playing.”

The Academy is a venue on Oxford Road, near the university buildings. It’s run by the Student Union.

“You’re in a band, cool!” I say, surprising myself about how impressed I am, after all it was only a few months ago that I was producing tracks for all sorts.

“Calm down,” he says but he’s still smiling, “I’m only the bass player.”

“What sort of stuff do you play?”

“Punky New Wave stuff,” he says clearly happy to be impressing me.

“Awesome! Do you write your own songs?” I lean in towards him.

“A couple, with our lead singer,” he replies modestly.

“A regular Paul McCartney aren’t you,” I say laughing a little. “Look, can I bring my friends along too?” I say remembering the bro code (or is that the ‘sis code’?)

I look back and see Poppy and Esse hanging back, Poppy looking glum.

“Not a problem.” He takes his bag off his back and rummages around inside it, pulling out three tickets. “Here you go. We get some complimentary tickets, they want to be sure there’s a good crowd. You get cheap drinks if you come in costume.”

“Thanks,” I say reading the small print about costume. This year’s theme is Heroes, Heroines and Villains. We talk for a few more minutes about his band and then he disappears off to double French.

Esse and Poppy are waiting for me when he leaves. “What did he want,” says Poppy and I can’t help but notice the slight emphasis she puts on ‘he’.

“He gave me these,” I say, showing them the tickets. Poppy looks suspicious; “They’re for all three of us,” I point out but she still looks doubtful.

“Wow, Emmy, these are amazing. We have to go,” says Esse; Poppy looks like she feels outmanoeuvred.

“How come he has tickets to give away?” she says suspiciously.

“He’s in one of the bands,” I say hoping my friend will cheer up.

“Oh my God, which one?” asks an excited Esse.

I tell her the name, A-to-M, which I think is pretty stupid.

“What do you think it means?” Esse asks and the two of them debate for a while what it could be, Esse thinks it spells ‘Atom’. After a while I stop laughing and put them out of their misery.

“Urgh, disgusting!” they exclaim in unison.

I just roll my eyes and say, “Boys!”

As we get to the school gates I can see Esse is wearing Poppy down telling her about all the bands on the bill and how her brother loves them. Esse’s brother is something of a hero to both of them. He came out about two or three years ago, which is not easy in a Nigerian family, now they live with their mother and her sister in a small rented flat. Esse hasn’t seen her father since and says she doesn’t want to.

“Have you got a fake ID?” I realise Poppy is talking to me.

“No.” I really don’t; there’s no way I can use Mark Healey’s ID. No one’s going to believe I’m a man in his mid-thirties with a driving licence I think sadly.

“We got ones from a friend of Esse’ brother, Esse could ask for you, although it did cost us £50 each.” Esse nods her head in agreement.

“Hmmm, I think I might have an idea.”

I was surprised when Julia went for it; I am even more surprised when she gets off the phone with Deepa. “She says yes!”

“She’ll get me ID that says I am eighteen?” I ask, still not quite believing it.

“Sure, after all you are thirty six.” I’m slightly shocked to hear Julia admit it as she’s continued to insist on the whole ‘Emma and Mummy’ thing. “Anyhow, we both think it’s good for you to be getting out and spending time with other teenagers. It’s good for your state of mind and for your cover.”

Sounds like Deepa and Julia have been talking quite a lot. I haven’t seen much of Deepa since the whole ‘weekend from hell’. I know she’s been giving Julia updates on the case but as far as I can tell there’d been no major developments. It sounds like the gang have gone to ground.

“Well thanks,” I let out a sigh of relief. I wasn’t even sure she was going to let me go at all after I’d told her it was Noah who gave me the tickets.

“I think it’ll be good for you,” she reiterates. “No one knows how much longer we might have to keep this up for. We both need to find ways to cope.” The last part she says more to herself. “Anyway, I get to make your costume!”

Julia’s hobby is sewing and making crafty things, and over the last few years she’s got really good at it. I guess it has been a release for her as her job has become less and less creative and fun.

“You don’t have to,” I say. “I was thinking I wouldn’t do the costume…”

“Don’t be silly,” Julia interrupts, “you can’t pass on the cheaper drinks, not on the pocket money I give you.” My ‘allowance’ or ‘pocket money’ has become a source of tension between the two of us. As I can’t access my own accounts I have become dependent on what Julia gives me.

“No kidding, true dat,” I say sarcastically.

“Hmmm, now what shall we go for?” Julia ruminates, ignoring me.

“Spiderman maybe?” I suggest half-heartedly.

“I hate to break it to you, Emma, but you’re more of a Mary-Jane or Gwen Stacey than Peter Parker now.” I’m impressed she knows the names; clearly she’s been paying attention. “No, leave it with me,” she mutters seeming to have forgotten me again, “I’ll have to go to the sewing shop in Chorlton…”

Better not rock the boat, I figure, I don’t want my privileges revoked.

Poppy, Esse and the others aren’t best pleased when I tell them I can’t coordinate costumes with them. I feel especially bad when I hear Peter, Ian, Paddy and Tony have all forked out for tickets. I regret it even more now.

Julia has me standing on the coffee table as she moves around me putting pins in for the final adjustments.

“I can’t go out like this!” I whine almost stamping my foot. Julia swats my leg and tells me to stand still.

“I think you look great Emma,” says Richard sitting at the dinner table. I know he only trying to be helpful but I still shoot him a dirty look, sadly this only makes him laugh causing me greater embarrassment. He came over to drop off some files but Julia invited him in for a glass of wine and to share our tea. God Almighty, why do I have to have an audience for this?

Julia has gone to great lengths to create a panto Robin Hood costume for me. In traditional panto, the male lead is played by a young woman, while many of the female parts are played by men. Supposedly this is for comic effect; in reality it was so Victorian men could ogle women’s legs. Before Richard got here Julia told me she thought it was funny, that I would be a man pretending to be a woman pretending to be a man.

My costume consists of green tights, little green shorts (which I’m impressed Julia made herself) and a little too flattering tunic/top with a brown hood. I feel incredibly exposed; especially my legs and the way the top pushes my breasts forward. I’m also none to pleased with the sly look on Richards face when he thinks I’m not looking.

“Well, you do love your hoodies sweetheart,” Julia had laughed when she first showed me.

“Right,” Julia says now, “lets get your hat!”

“A hat!” I exclaim and Richard chuckles at my discomfort.

The big day has come. It’s a Saturday and I haven’t been able to concentrate on anything all day. I keep checking my phone until six and then it’s time to get dressed in the dreaded costume. Now I’m standing in the hall looking at myself in the long mirror. I have to admit I look good, if a little weird. I’m not sure if I am happy that the tunic fits me so well.

“Have fun sweetheart,” Julia gives me a hug as I pull on my duffel coat.

“Thanks,” I say half exasperated. She’s put a lot of work into the costume and I don’t want to seem ungrateful.

“Don’t forget, curfew is twelve,” she warns me.

“Oh come on,” I protest, “it’s the weekend!” I can see her will is weakening; she’s probably been looking forward to having the flat to herself. I put my hands together like I am praying and give her the big eyes. “Pleeeeese,” I beg, totally shamelessly.

“Hmmm… oh, alright then. But the rule is you call or text not later than eleven-thirty and let me know where you are, what’s happening and when you’ll be back,” she relents.

“Great,” I spring up in joy and kiss her on her cheek. “Love you!” I say, mortified inside at how bouncy and kid-like I am being. Guess I’m excited.

“Hmmm,” she seems very thoughtful, “well look here’s an extra twenty.”
She opens her purse and hands me a note. “Don’t walk home, take a taxi if you have to, I can pay when you get back if need be.”

“Thanks, Mum!” I say, walking out the door.

“Emma!” Julia calls after me.

I turn, “Yup,”

“This is not a game. I will come and drag you out of wherever you are if I don’t hear from you by eleven-thirty, okay?” Her voice is serious. I nod agreement and try to make it to the stairs.

“Emma,” again.

“Yes?” I sigh

“I love you too,” then she shuts the door and I’m out of there.

Two things are on my mind as I walk down to the bus stop. First, the strange chat with Julia. I could swear I saw a sad look in her eyes as I left. Second, the cool breeze that reaches my nether regions through the thin material of my shorts. It makes me all too aware of what I have, and haven’t down there. I put both thoughts out of my head when I see the gang are waiting for me.

I am almost hoarse with laughter by the time I reach them; their costumes are all too brilliant. Peter is wearing in a bow tie and a tweed jacket, (“A Whovian till I die,” as he puts it). Esse has come in a three-pointed hat, ruffled shirt, pantaloons and fancy jacket (“18th century white dudes, the biggest villains of them all”). Tony makes an excellent Asian Oscar Wilde, Ian a knight and Paddy looks good as a rather sheepish Wonder Woman. Poppy has excelled herself and come dressed all in black with a large white needle printed on the front of her jumper (“heroin(e) and a villain”). I later find out her uncle is an artist with all the stuff for screen-printing.

“So come on, lady, let’s see what you’ve got,” says Poppy, her arms folded.

“You’ve come as Kermit the Frog?” asks Esse pointing at my green tights.

“I wish,” I say, wondering how she knows the reference.

Slowly I unbutton my duffel coat and pass it to Tony, who’s the nearest. Finally I put on the little green felt hat and show them the little toy bow and arrow Julia gave me.

“Ta dah!”

They all go silent - surely it isn’t THAT bad, I think, “Just remember that my mum spent ages on this,” I warn them.

Peter speaks first. “Emma, I think you’ve given me a Time Lord boner,” he says getting a glare from Paddy. Without realising it I fold my arms under my breasts for comfort. A second later I drop them to my side when I realise they are holding my breasts up even further.

As we get on the bus Poppy and I hold back to let the others get on. Just before I reach the first step Poppy whispers to me, “I wish you had told me, I’d have come as the Sheriff of Nottingham so I could keep you under lock and key,” before pinching me on the bum. I’m not sure how well the girl knows the story of Robin Hood…

First we wait in line with the other kids, swigging gin from a hip flask Esse had hidden in her costume. The night is cold but not unpleasantly so. I am pleased for the excuse to keep my coat on and prying eyes away, although Poppy forces me to keep my ‘cute’ little hat on. We got here early because Noah’s band is one of the first on. I haven’t been this early for a gig since university.

I notice that bitch Jessie and her friend Chantel further down the line. I give Jessie a sarcastic smile when she looks in my direction. She looks at me like she knows exactly where she thinks I should be keeping Robin Hood’s bow and arrow. No good love, you’re on my turf now.

After a wait of about forty minutes we’re finally in! The venue is full of other kids, loud and excited. I doubt that we are the only under aged kids in here.

Peter and Esse, who are the tallest in the group, head to the bar and we take the coats to the cloakroom. Another wait and then we are back, Esse and Peter beam at us carrying plastic cup filled with, what I am guessing is, very watered down lager.

We drink and laugh and watch the first band get ready. I don’t think much of them when they start, a cheap rip-off of the Libertines mixed with the plodding of late Oasis. They must have a friend who helped select the line up. The audience don’t seem to mind; I guess they are just happy to be here, or anticipating what’s next. As we watch, Poppy takes my hand. I let her at first but then she tries to put her arm around my waist. I pull back, smiling at her but not knowing what to say. How do I explain that I have a wife waiting for me at home who is pretending to be my mum and that I am really thirty six and have some tackle downstairs I really don’t think she wants to see?

In the end I take the coward’s way out and head to the toilets. After a quick whizz I stare at myself in the large mirror pretending to check out my make up (applied by Julia). There in front of me is this girl, both me and a new person. This girl has friends, a life, even someone who likes her, and whom she might like back. I feel profoundly sad; at some point in the future I am going to kill that girl in the mirror. I have to fight back a tear. Maybe holding hands isn’t so bad, just so long as it doesn’t go any further. Maybe this girl deserves something in her short life before I end it.

My mind made up, I head back only to find Noah’s band setting up on stage. He even waves at me; I see Poppy turn around and she doesn’t look happy. She’s been talking with Esse. As the band start up I grab her by the hand pull her forwards.

“Let’s go to the front,” I mouth at her, smiling. She doesn’t seem sure but Esse waves us on.

At the front we sway and jump to the music, they aren’t bad. Friends can hold hands and dream of what could / couldn’t be, I figure. We’re dancing together but as the songs progress Poppy keeps pulling me to her. At first I don’t mind but then her hands are on my backside, squeezing my cheeks. Even without Julia at home it is too much, too possessive. I break free. Then I see tears in her eyes and she turns and runs out of the venue. I look back and see Esse behind giving me a dirty look. Shit, I’ve really fucked up; I forgot how open and vulnerable the teenage heart is. I go after her.

I finally find her outside leaning against a wall smoking a cigarette. As I approach she starts coughing her lungs out; I suspect this is one of her first.

“Hey,” I say.

“Hey,” she says back, her voice soft and frightened.

“You okay?” I ask, probably just as frightened as her.

“What do you care?” Now there’s defiance in her tone.

“I care a lot Pops.” Shit - I’m crying! “Look I’m new here, and when we left my old life, it was sudden.” I take a deep breath and promise myself that I will tell her as much of the truth as I can. I tell her that there was another relationship I left behind, that was broken too quickly, by events, so we didn’t have a proper ending. That I still feel guilty about it and that I need to go back and have that conversation.

It saddens me to my bones knowing how true it is. Suddenly I’m in floods of tears and begging her not to give up on me. Then she’s against me, pushing me against the wall. She uses her fingers to lift my chin and then we’re kissing. She is a passionate, assertive kisser and I find myself taking a submissive role.

Two rugby types wolf whistle at us and I show them my middle finger making Poppy laugh. After that the spell is broken.

“Do you want to go back inside?” Poppy asks. I shake my head; suddenly the gig doesn’t seem important.

“What if I walk you home?” Poppy suggests; the arcane chivalry of her offer touches me and I nod my head yes. She takes my hand then asks if that’s okay.

“Sure,” I say sounding goofy, “it’s just holding hands.” I’m not sure whom I am trying to remind. Poppy ducks back inside to get our coats, only now do I realise just how cold I am, and exposed. As I stand there a car drives past slowly. I can’t see who’s in there but I see the flash of a camera or a camera phone.

“What was that about?” says Poppy, making me jump.

“Just some shithead adding me to his wank bank,” I say, turning around.

“He better not,” says Poppy with exaggerated indignation, “this belongs to me,” she loops her fingers into the thin belt of my little shorts and pulls me to her kissing me quickly and taking me by surprise. Well, not quite yet.

Poppy reluctantly leaves me at the end of my road. The walk home took over an hour, with me hanging on to her hand the whole way. Before she leaves she pushes me against a tree and kisses me again. The girl really is assertive; I don’t remember any girls doing that to me the first time I was fifteen, I think with a smile on my face.

We left really early; it is still only eleven-fifteen. I decide to sneak back in as quietly as possible. I know I owe Julia a conversation but that can wait - I want to preserve as much of the night as possible. I ease the front door open and, once inside, close it as quietly as possible.

I see the light of the TV flickering in the living room and wonder if Julia has fallen asleep in front of it. I decide to risk checking and hope if Julia is awake she’ll let me slink off to bed without too many questions. But when I get to the living room it is silent and empty. The only sign of life is two half drunk glasses of wine on the coffee table. Funny, I think, Richard must have come round after I left; I hope it isn’t more work.

I go back out into the hall planning on listening to music on my headphone in my bedroom. Only now do I realise that the main bedroom door is ajar. Peeping inside I hear noises, soft music and whispered voices. I can’t help but look although I am terrified at what I will see.

Through the gloom of the candlelight, there’s only one still lit, I see two naked bodies pressed together. Julia and Richard are too focused on each other to notice me.

I go to the living room, frightened to walk past the main bedroom, and sit on the sofa my head in my hands. Suddenly I’m frightened that I will be discovered. I jump up and turn the TV off then sit back down resuming my former position. I’m crying; more than crying I’m weeping. I try to force my face deeper into my hands to cover the noise. I know I have no right to be upset, but still I am.

How long I’ve been sitting here for I don’t know. Time has stopped having any meaning, all I know is that I don’t want to move. Even breathing seems an enormous effort and I half wonder if I could end the pain by just stopping.
I only realise I am not alone when two arms go around me.

“Oh Emma, how long have you been here for?” It’s Julia. Looking up at the clock on the wall, I’d guess I have been sitting here from between thirty to forty five minutes.

“Richard just left and I saw your coat on the peg,” Julia is crying herself, “I am so sorry, I didn’t want…” her voice trails off to nothing.

“How long?” I ask; it’s clear she knows what I’m asking.

“Just a few weeks… I wasn’t sure yet, I wanted to tell you when the time was right.” I can see how upset she’s getting.

“It’s okay,” I say, smiling through the tears. “I just realised earlier tonight that we had reached the end. If it has come faster because of the situation I don’t know, but I think it has been coming for a while. I haven’t been there for you, not emotionally,” I stop because I am sobbing.

“I still love you,” says Julia, crushing me closer to her, “but I’m not in love with you, and I need to be with someone who makes me feel that way again.”

We hold each other for hours, talking about everything and nothing. I tell her about Poppy and how it is both weird and special. She tells me about Richard and how great he is. Eventually, at nearly three in the morning we go to bed together - not as husband and wife, or lovers, but as mother and daughter. As I fall asleep, her arm around me, I feel lighter than I have in a long time.