“Daleks. A big Dalek. We got to hide. It’ll kill us.”
Em was really frightened. But then when I was seven I hid behind the sofa when the Daleks came on a 19 inch tv screen during Dr Who. And I liked the Daleks. I turned and dropped down wrapping her in my arms in a big hug.

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 twelve
When we get in Henry is sprawled on the sofa in the late afternoon sun. Happy to get up and have a fuss and some nosh. I pick him up and he hangs over my shoulder like a dead cat watching everything behind us till we enter the kitchen and then he scrambles round to purr in my ear as I bend down to get his food from the cupboard. Jumping down to climb in over the packs of food to explore his food cupboard. All thought of food gone for the moment as he checks out a potential afternoon napping place!

And now as they say, read on…
With Henry happily eating. I make drinks for mother and me. Coffee for her, tea for me. And none of those stupid posh named teas, you know the kind. Breakfast delight, Afternoon Pick-me-up, Evening Dream and whatever other daft names they come up with. No. Good old PG Tips for me, Britain’s bestselling cuppa. Heaven on earth.

Mother takes her coffee from me and asks me if we are home yet. I tell her we are. We are in the lounge now, but I can tell she does not really believe me. This has been going on for a couple of months now. Gradually more and more. Her not being able to tell the difference between sitting in her chair in the lounge and still sitting in the car when we have been out. I reassure her again and she is happy as I point out the newsreader on the television.

“Oh, I thought that was the car window. Hmm.”

I sink in the sofa chair and relax. I will have my tea, and then when mother falls asleep will go round to Clair’s and do a quick nip around the outside. See the doors are still locked up. I can check inside tomorrow morning after breakfast. But for the minute I am just going to close my eyes and sit back sipping my tea.

“Aarrrgg…”

I shoot up, mug falling to the floor, having just tipped hot tea all over my right knee. I hop around hissing through my teeth while I pull my dress up relived I did not get tea on it and quickly pulling my tights down below my knees. I bend down and undone my shoe checking for tea on it. Good. Nothing spilt on it either. Get tea on these shoes and they would be ruined. The stains would never come out. Shoe off I get the wet tights off my right leg.

“…damn, damn, damn and double damn…and damn again…”

I hobble to the bathroom with my left high-heel still on. Seeing as I am now a 24-7 girl I am trying to not swear. Especially if I do end up the girl’s mother. Be a bad example. Well, we all have to have our dreams, don’t we. Before it would have been ‘Shit, shit, shit and...’ I don’t use the ‘F’ word. Years ago I use to say ‘Poo Sticks’. But no one knew I was swearing and they just thought I was weird!!

My knee is still stinging and I put a cold flannel on it. I do not want it to blister, I am sure it will not. Then I sit on the side of the bath to get my other shoe off along with the rest of my tights. This is not the first time I have done this. I am unfortunately a repeat offender. Falling asleep while holding a cup of tea and pouring it over myself, that is. But normally I have stockings on. Easier to take off. And they make me feel sexy. I love the look of my toes in old fashioned sheer nylon.

I go into the kitchen and get the foam carpet cleaner and head back to squirt it over the wet tea patch in the carpet. At least my Poppy mug is still in one piece after its suicidal leap to the floor. Mother God bless her is fast asleep. You could let off a nuclear explosion next to her and so long as it was not directly in front of her she would not hear it. My hopping and damning was not going to wake her up. I gently ease the half full coffee cup from her fingers before she copies me and ends up with coffee in her lap as well.

Oh hum. The bedside clock says it is five-forty, where did the night go. My eyes are tired, but I am wide awake. I have been for nearly the past three hours. Must have been a sleep. But I do not remember it. I got up and took mother to the loo at around ten to three. I am always worried I will not wake up when she wants to go to the loo in the night and she will have an accident, but I always do wake up. But the fear is still there. She was fast asleep almost as soon as she is back in her chair. But I stayed resolutely wide awake.

I keep thinking about what Evie said about the girls thinking I am their mother back from the dead to look after them. They almost called me mum at the beach. That must be why they gave me the strange looks the first time we met. When we arrived back from shopping at Boundry Mills. There was the woman in front of them from the photos in their sitting room of their mother. Therefore as they saw it. I had to be their mother come back to them. When you are only nine and seven. Reasons are simple, only reason I could be there was for them. I just did not know them for some reason. Why else would I be there. It was us unsuspecting adults that made it all complicated.

What a mess. We adults play our games with each other and forget that the children have minds of their own. Often adding two and two together and making five or six. Evie trying to set me up with John has sparked a whole new ball game for the girls. They must have realised their gran must have found me and was trying to bring us all back together again. No wonder Em came and climbed up in my lap that first evening. As far as she thought she was getting a cuddle from the mother she had never known for the first time. Oh Christ, it is so easy for them to be badly hurt by all of this. And it will all be my fault.

“Shit, shit, shit.” I just do not know what to do. But I am going to have to come clean with John about me, and god do I do not want to do that. But not just yet. I will wait until after they poke around inside me next week. Get that out of the way. Then I can work out how to do this with as little damage to the girls as possible.

Then I cry as that means the girls will be out of my life afterwards, as John will not want me anywhere near them after I have told him. He will see me as this weird freak then. But just saying nothing would be just making things worst.

Sometimes I wish Mother and Henry had passed away, then I could just slip away and join them. I miss having Mother to talk to. For her to be her old self again, to be able to chat the way we did, but if they were gone, then I could too and life’s misery for me would be over.

I’ve fallen asleep again and now time is short. I am supposed to be seeing my Doctor this morning at eleven to tell him what happened on Tuesday at The QAMC (Queen Ann’s Medical Centre). Eleven is tons of time away, but I take forever getting ready nowadays. At least I have got the passport photos, John Richards my solicitor wants. I got them yesterday as we were leaving the supermarket in the photo booth. Actually I had to do it twice, once for the ones I needed and then again with Em who wanted to be in the photos with me. She took those home with her. Another reason why the twins were not happy at missing out on going shopping with us yesterday when she showed them her photos of us messing about in the booth.

Just when I am about done make-up wise. Carol from the Mid-Steeping Medical Centre, phones to tell me my appointment has been cancelled. Doctor Walker has twisted his ankle stepping off the curb in the Medical Centre carpark and will be off for a few days.

“…I can fit you in with Doctor Kelham this morning, if you want at twelve-thirty. Or would you prefer to wait till Doctor Walker is available again.”

“I’ll wait if that’s ok, Carol.”

“Ok, Penny. I will ring you when we know when he will be back at the surgery.”

We say our good-byes and ring off. Well at least that gives me time to go and check Clair’s before we have a bite to eat before we head for town this afternoon to see John Richards at two. A quick check to make sure mother’s ok, and I grab the baby alarm and head next door.

The useful thing about the baby alarm is it has a five inch widescreen tv screen on it. Normally it sits on my bedside table plugged into the mains so I know if mother wakes during the night. But un-plugged I can carry it next door with me while checking Clair’s home is safe. The screen is normally off, but the sound is on and with the press of a button I can see her on screen if I hear a sound that makes me want to check she is all right.

It is strange walking through someone else’s home when they are not at their, even a home you have been a guest in many times. I’ve a feeling they are going to be quite a while in New Zealand with Kate as she recovers and has the baby. I think becoming a grandma is going to keep Clair there awhile. I better come round and dust and get the vacuum cleaner out every now and again.

As I lock Clair’s front door Evie calls out to me from the lane. She is going round to Trish’s for lunch. Just soup and a bread roll and a chat and suggests I bring Mother along and join them. She knows Trish will want to know how Tuesday went.

The kitchen is un-like John’s hi-tec kitchen or Evie’s farm house kitchen. Trish’s kitchen is American Shaker farm house style. All be it as seen through the eyes of an expensive kitchen designer. Mother was at a little table up against her wheelchair happy with her soup and soft roll pointing out to Fred who was sitting on the little table the birds and a couple squirrels playing in the garden that she could see out of the glass kitchen outside door. The one I last saw Melissa popping in and out of during Trish’s dinner party the night her husband Malcom’s colleagues at The Queen Ann’s Medical Centre took an interested in me.

The three of us are at one end of the big island in the middle of the kitchen sitting on high wood stools with little backs on them. I had just told Trish I am seventy-five percent girl against twenty-five percent boy. Enough to get me legally changed from Male to Female in the eyes of the government according to Malcom. Basically I am the oldest teenager in the village as I have not gone through puberty yet. Trish slips off her stool and comes and hugs me.

“Welcome to the club, girl.” She says smiling.

I try to bring up the subject of John and the girls and why I think I should carefully, slowly back off from them, but the two of them gang up on me and will not hear of it. Evie has already adopted me as her daughter-in-law I think, And Trish has appointed herself as my aunt.

We all move into the lounge with the club chairs from Canberra. I cannot help but smile and caress the one I am sitting in. Such pleasant happy memories of being on board her.

“Darling, I would never do anything to hurt my girls.” Evie’s voice broke into my thoughts.

“Humm, what?”

Trish laughs. “Remembering the old girl.”

Evie looks confused. But Trish and I do not need to name names. We both knew she meant Canberra.

“Um, yes.” I smile looking at Trish. “You know sometimes we are in the supermarket and passing the fridge cabinets and I hear a sound from them and I am back on board.”

Trish regales us with tales of her and Malcom’s nightmare trip to the ship-breaking yard at Gadani, Pakistan, where Canberra was scrapped in order to buy some of the chairs. She had only just arrived and they had to go on board climbing a roughly made wood ladder to go in the sea door and then up through a dark ship with hand held oil lanterns. It was really spooky, she said. They lowered the chairs off the Promenade Deck on ropes down into this little rowing boat as the ship-breaking yard is just a long beach with boats run aground on it.

“I just glad they had not started to cut her up yet. I couldn’t have bared to see that.”

“Still,” she added. “She looked beautiful in the bright sunshine and sparkling sea just off the shore where they had grounded.”

I remember seeing it on the BBC News. The ship breakers had so many cargo ships coming in to break they kept cutting them up first as Canberra looked so beautiful they did not want to start cutting her up. But their contract said they had too. She could not be sold back into service.

I get lucky and manage to park in front of my solicitors. Richards, Richards and Richards. That always makes me smile since two of them have been dead for at least twenty-five years. I had to leave mother with Evie and Trish as she had a bit of a tantrum, refusing to come. After four years where she panicked at the slightest thought she might lose sight of me. I must admit it is a bit of relief to have some moments to myself and not have one ear out listening for mother whatever else I am trying to do. All the same it does seem strangely disconcerting her not being here with me.

I guess this is how a mother with a new born baby feels the first time she leaves it at home in the care of her mother or a friend while she goes out. Joy at the freedom to just be herself for once along with guilt and worry about leaving her baby behind.

John Richards sees a large well-dressed man to the outside doors who looks like he should have the word THUG tattooed on his forehead and be a permanent guest of Her Majesty’s Pleasure (in prison).

John turns to me smiling with out stretched hands taking mine, holding me at arm’s length.

“Well. Look at you. The change is amazing and one hundred percent the right thing to do. Seeing you I cannot imagine you the other way, now.”

He move in closer and did the cheek to cheek thing and stood back still smiling. “Let’s go in my office.”

He led the way to the small lift they have the size of a cupboard. As we went up we talked about Mother and how she was doing.

“…the dementia is slowly getting worse. Just little things. She doesn’t really understand what’s on the news anymore. She use to love watching programs like Dad’s Army or M*A*S*H. but they are just moving pictures to her now... she thinks Dad’s Army is a documentary.”

In his office John turns and admires me again. “When you told me last week, I was worried you were making the wrong decision. But seeing you. I wonder how you managed to hide disguised as a male for so long.”

After that we got down to business. First John had me sign the Deed Poll to change my name. Then he had letters for me to sign which would go with coving letters from him and Malcom to the Bank, the DVLA (Driver and Vehicle Licensing Agency) in Swansea, the Passport office, and it seemed half a dozen other official bodies who had to be informed that a mistake was made at birth marking me down as male when I was actually always a female. The procedure was different to that of a male to female transsexual in official documentation.

I emerged two hours later having done everything I was required to do. Now it was in the hands of John. He would phone the bank this afternoon and email them a copy of the deed poll. I rang Evie to check on Mother. They were fine she told me. They were down by Trish’s little lake watching the ducks and the family of swans that had taken up residence last year on the little island in the lake.

I did not know if this was good or bad. Three months ago she would have had a massive panic attack at being away from me. It was further proof that the dementia was further along that she was no longer bothered. I had had a couple of times when she asked me who I was. I hope she still recognises Carol. She only sees her twice a year at best when she flies over from looking after her own family.

Friday was Getting Ready for Carol, Day. We are picking her up from Heathrow tonight. After my shower the first thing was to decide if it should be my own tiny boobs pushed up to within an inch of their life in the 3x max bra where I could look down on the swell of my own breasts, or should it be my stick on bouncy boobs that had that natural attention gathering movement in your bra you get under light clothing. Hmm! Airport terminals get hot don’t they. And I want to look as sexy as poss to greet my sister. So stick on boobs it is and the red lace underwired bra I like. Then time to hit my closet.

Mother is still enamoured with Trish’s swans. She keeps asking to go take her down to see them. Even telling her we are getting the bungalow ready for Carol coming home today and that we will be going to the airport later on, has not switched her mind from them. And she loves going to airports. Seeing everything that is happening.

I knew Trish’s house had a small man-made lake with a small island in the garden as I had looked at the village on Google’s street view and seen it. I think everybody has looked at their house on it at some time or another. I did not know Trish had swans though. I knew we had them on the river. I guess they had flown across one day and stayed.

When Trish and Evie called in at eleven for tea and coffee, I had forgotten they were coming. But I was ready for a break. Both from making up the bedroom for Carol (most of the time I use it for storage) and from Mother not giving up on asking to go see the swans.

“Why don’t Evie and I take her down to see them.” Trish offered when mother asked for the thousandth time to go see them, as we sat in the sun in the garden with our drinks.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. Jenny,” she turns to mother. “Would you like to go see the swans in my garden.”

“Yes please.” Mother’s face beamed.

Where had that little old lady who panicked the moment she could not see me, gone. They all looked at me. “Ok, I said.

“Penny, come to mine for tea. The twins are off to Brownie camp afterwards and they are still smarting at missing out on not going to the shops with us Wednesday.”

I agree, but I think mother will want to be home before then. There again she did spend quite a time at Trish’s yesterday. In the end Evie rings me up to remind me of the time. She has mother with her at the farmhouse with Henry on her lap. Both she tells me are fast asleep.

I told Evie I was getting ready and would not be long. A little white lie. I dashed into my room and start throwing off clothes and pull the wardrobe doors open and started going through my stuff. I want to be sexy and feminine. I’m wearing my red bra, so my pale red stockings and red summer dress with the fine mesh sleeves that carries on up to my neck from where the low scoop neck finishes, and my red pee-toe five inch sling-backs. I quickly got dressed and sat down to brush my long hair before staring on re-doing my make-up. The hair will blow sis away. She likes long hair, but hates having to look after, so wears hers to her shoulders. She will be so jealous.

“Wow! Do you have a hot date?” John exclaims as he and Johnny stare at me when I enter Evie’s kitchen. Johnny grabs Patch
as he skids round the kitchen door heading towards me to stop him jumping up me. Patch’s tail working overtime.

Johnny looks mischievously at me. “I would chase you round the kitchen table myself. If Evie wasn’t here. But she wouldn’t approve.” He grins as he says that looking at Evie.

“No,” I tell them. “Mother and I are off to pick-up my sister Carol from Heathrow Airport after tea. Evie has very kindly been looking after her while I got the bungalow ready.”

“Can I go too?” Em has slipped into the room behind the twins who are admiring my dress.

The twins respond instantly. “Hey, that’s not fair.”

“You went to the shops and we didn’t.” continues Lizzy, “You went with Mu…ow.”

Eve having kicked her on the ankle. Lizzy turning to her twin crossly was about to say something, then seeing Eve’s glare, realised what she had been about to say. I do not think anyone else realised. Well, Evie probable did. I look around to see if John had noticed. But he did not seem to have done so.

“Please Daddy.” Em was looking at John with big puppy dog eyes. That girl is going to break boy’s hearts when she gets older. I’m going to be holding them off with a pitchfork. John, no doubt use to it by now, just looks sternly at her. He give me a quick questioning look. I give a subtle nod.

“Well, I’m not the one to ask, really, am I.” He tells her. Biting her lip, Em comes and stands in front of me.

“Can I please come to the airport with you to meet Auntie Carol.”

“Course you can, darling.” Em screams in delight, hugs me, and rushes off to change out of her school dress.

“Can we come too?” The twins ask cautiously, already knowing the answer.

“Don’t you want to go to camp anymore, then.” John replies.

“Yes, we could go later on tonight, couldn’t we. Afterwards.” Is their slow reply. “We wouldn’t miss much.”

“And what about your friends we are dropping off as well?”

The twins are deflated. “Maybe we could all go to the beach hut on Sunday.” I say and then realise I did not ask John if that was ok. I look at him about to apologise, but he is grinning.

“That’s a great idea. We could all do with a day off. What do you think, Dad? Ready to pack your bucket and spade.” He asks Johnny. Who laughs and pretends to clip his son round the ear.

“Cheeky. What do you think, Evie.”

Evie just grins. “I think I’m going shopping tomorrow.

The Twins are in torment. “But, we’ll be still at camp till Wednesday.”

“Well. How about we go the week after when you will be back, instead.” I say and get two instantly happy girls. “Yes.”

After that we all settle down to the tea Evie has prepared. Johnny at the head, followed by the girls down one side. Then Evie at the other end of the table. On the other side; Mother next to Evie. Then me and John. Evie has even put little place cards in our assigned positions.

Em can hardly contain herself the way she has been bopping around in her car seat in the back trying to see everything as we head round the Western Perimeter Road at the top of Heathrow Airport. I had already booked the Terminal Five Business Parking as it was an easy way to get mothers wheelchair into the terminal and back via the Pods, but I think Emily will enjoy going on them as well.

As we walked the short distance to the glass Pod Station. One has just left and was starting to make its way up the ramp to cross over the Western Perimeter Road. I was just about to point it out to Em, when she screamed and grabbed my hand with both hands and tried to pull me back to the car, panicking.

“We got to hide.” She called out.

“What?”

“Daleks. A big Dalek. We got to hide. It’ll kill us.”

Em was really frightened. But then when I was seven I hid behind the sofa when the Daleks came on our 19 inch tv screen during Dr Who. And I liked the Daleks. I turned and dropped down wrapping her in my arms in a big hug.

“It’s ok. That’s not a Dalek…”

“It is. Mum, it is. It’s a big Dalek.” Panicked Em back. I hugged her tighter.

“No. it would be a very fat Dalek, if it was. It’s a Pod. It’s a little automatic car that takes us to the Airport where Aunty Carol’s plane will arrive.”

I moved my head back so she could see my face.

“I promise. I would never let anything happen to you. I would never let you not be safe.”

I still felt her grip me tighter. I looked over my shoulder and saw another one of the Pods was just starting down the ramp to the Pod Station.

“There’s one now. Let’s watch it.” I twisted round and held her tight to me.

“Shall we go over and watch it at its little station.”

“No.” She fiercely held onto me.

We stayed where we were and watched. As it pulled in, I could feel her tense up. When the doors opened and a businessman with his case came out, she let out a nervous little laugh, but I felt her relax a little.

“Shall we go and get in one. It’s getting a bit cold out now.” It had been nice and warm when we set off from Lower Steeping earlier. Now there was getting to be a bite in the air.

“Kay.” Em said nervously, gripping my hand as I stood up.

A couple of Pods were waiting in the Pod Station, their doors closed. I let Em peer through the glass into them first, before showing her the touch screen used to open there doors.

“Touch the screen.”

After looking up at me to make sure it was not some kind of trick. Em carefully, quickly touched the screen and pulled her hand back in case it bit back.

“Hello. Where do you want to go.” A soft friendly woman’s voice asked us.

I pointed to the Terminal five square and Em did a quick touch of the screen.

“Your going to Terminal five. Is that ok.” The woman’s soft voice asked us.

Em giggled. She was getting the hang of it, and it was no longer frightening. She pressed the ‘OK’ button and giggled some more as the woman asked us to ‘Please to board your Pod for Terminal Five’ as the Pods double doors slid open for us. Once inside, I showed her the door close button and the start button. She pressed both one after the other. As the Pod backed out. She got up and knelt on the seat to watch where we were going. Big Daleks all forgotten about. It was now an exciting ride. The Pod moved off doing a U turn around the concrete guide way and started up the ramp leading to the bridge over the Western Perimeter Road and Terminal Five in the distance. EM was thoroughly enjoying herself, now, and switched between kneeling on the seat watching where we were going and sitting on it and looking out the side windows in the doors.

“Look! Big planes. Did Aunty Carol come in one of them?”

She pointed to a row of parked British Airways 737’s and Airbuses parked against Terminal air bridges. Looking around in wonder at the approaching wall of glass that was Terminal five.

To be continued…