For the umpteenth time, I looked out of my bedroom window. There was no sign of my Dad.

He shouldn’t come home anyway. He was at work, and he was a doctor, a very busy doctor, with a general practice with thousands of patients. There were three other doctors at his practice, but he was the senior.

Just in case, because I liked to be careful, I looked on my phone’s Find My Phone app and saw that his phone was in the surgery. I had added his phone to my People list so that I could track him when he was out. He was rubbish with phones and for a GP, some technology has passed him by. I think that he doesn’t like the technology as it meant that he was always on call and he dreaded being called out, especially at night.

Anyway, I could see that despite my constant worries about being caught, I was still okay to carry on.

I looked at myself in the mirror and smiled.

I didn’t look too bad and, I think, a bit older than thirteen. Maybe fifteen or at a pinch, sixteen in dim light?

It helped that I wasn’t very tall for a boy, about the lower end of average for my age.

I had on a thin lemon sundress, nice and cool in the hot summer weather. Underneath was my padded training bra with removable pads, brought from Amazon and picked up from a locker in the nearest town. It gave me a bit of shape where I needed it. Questions would have been asked if it had been delivered at home!

My makeup was minimal, as I needed to sometimes get it off fast. Just some pink lippy, light foundation, a touch of blusher and eyeshadow. I didn’t bother with mascara as it can sometimes be difficult to get off in a hurry.

I put on my longish blond wig to finish things off and there I was, Sophie, not Tony.

A lot of girls liked jeans and tops, but not me, especially in the summer. I was a dress girl and proud of it.

I put on my small diamond magnetic earrings. My ears ached after a while wearing them, but I couldn’t have my ears pierced as my father would not approve. Boys should be boys and proud of it, so no ear piercings…yuk.

I lifted the hem of my dress and smiled.

Just below my panties, I had a small tattoo of a butterfly. Dad would go mental if he knew I had that!

Mum knew that I had it.

Mum was gone now. I hate cancer.

I sniffed. I missed her so much. She knew that I was a girl. She had found out one day when she came back from shopping too soon and found me in a dress that I had bought from a charity shop. She supported me when I told her that I was a girl no matter what I had between my legs.

She was going to have a chat with Dad about it, but before that happened, cancer came and everything else didn’t seem to matter anymore. It was an aggressive form of small cell cervical cancer, and she had little chance of recovery as it had spread…

I shook my head. Thinking about that and the fact that she died just three months later was a terrible time for me and Dad. how could I possibly tell him about me after that?

Dad threw himself into work and I was just miserable. Don’t think that he neglected me, he didn’t. He was so tender and loving, but he relied on me being adult about things and sort of treated me like one. I didn’t need a babysitter; I was obviously too old for that. I am intelligent and a good boy (as far as he was concerned) and I never caused any trouble at home or school.

I put on the fine silver necklace with the heart locket that Mum had given me in secret on my last birthday, just before she died. Inside was a tiny photo of Mum and Dad in better times. Also, there was a few strands of mum’s wonderful blond hair. When I wore that necklace, I always felt that she was close to me.

I sighed as I put on my white ankle socks. It was too hot for tights. I liked wearing them in the winter, but not during the height of Summer. I slipped my feet into my pure white trainers, and I was nearly done.

Going into my parent’s room, I opened a drawer and picked out Mum’s favourite perfume, which was still there. Dad didn’t want to get rid of Mum’s personal things yet and I could understand that as I didn’t want to see them go either.

A quick spritz on essential places and I was done. The fragrance was lovely and always reminded me of Mum. I nearly cried then. I missed her so much that it hurt.

I looked over to Dad’s bedside cabinet and saw the framed photo that I knew so well. It was of all of us on holiday in Portugal. We looked so happy and without a care in the world. For the first time, it struck me forcibly that I looked so much like my mother, but with shorter blond hair. I would have to dig out the old photos of her at my age and see if that was true.

I was feeling very emotional at that moment, and I was close to tears. I missed her so much as I knew Dad did too.

But I mustn’t cry and ruin my makeup. Mum wouldn’t want that. I hoped that she was somewhere up there, looking down at me and approving of me.

I wanted to tell Dad, but I just couldn’t add to his worry, now of all times. We were just getting over the worst of the Covid pandemic, and we were so lucky that neither of us nor any of our friends or relatives had caught that terrible infection. That was why Dad was still so very busy and tired when he came home.

Mum’s grandparents were still alive and living at home, thank goodness. They weren’t in a nursing home where people in some places had dropped like flies. Mum’s death had caused much heartache for them too and I don’t think that they would ever get over the fact that Mum had died before they did.

Dad’s parents died in a plane crash before I was born, so I obviously never got to meet them, which was a shame as Dad said that they were lovely, kind and funny.

I looked at the pretty watch on my wrist, a secret birthday present from Mum. It had taken me over an hour to get ready and I wondered how long I could stay dressed like this before Dad was on the way home.

I glanced at my phone on Dad’s bed. It showed that he was still in the surgery. He was about an hour away, so I had no worries about that score. Mind you, once again I looked out of the window to make sure that no one was coming to the house. We sometimes had a window cleaner who occasionally came on a Thursday; goodness knows what he would have said if he saw me dressed like this, even though I was sure that I passed okay.

All clear; that was good as I hated to have to change back into pretending to be a boy. Luckily, our house was well away from the road and down a longish drive, so no one could see me dressed as I was from the road, only up close.

I went downstairs and grabbed a coke from the fridge and a KitKat from the cupboard then I went back to my room and sat on the chair next to my desk, sweeping the hem of my dress under me as I did so. I didn’t want any unwanted creases.

We were still on half term, so it was nice that I was able to dress more often and for longer. I wondered what the boys at school would think of me if they ever saw the real me. I was in a private mixed school where bullying wasn’t tolerated. Boys wore blazers, shirts and trousers and girls, blazers, blouses and tartan skirts. No prize as to which uniform I would prefer to wear!

I thought back to the time when I realized that I was a girl and my thoughts that fate or something had played a cruel trick by putting me in the wrong body. I wasn’t very religious so I didn’t think it would be God. Would a god be that cruel?

All I know is that for as long as I remember, I was different. I always preferred the company of girls rather than boys and even at a very young age at nursery, I preferred to play dress up wearing girls rather than anything remotely like boys’ clothes.

I was evidently in what was considered a progressive nursery where you were allowed to “express yourself” so I wasn’t ever called out on it but suspect that Mum knew all about my strange dressing preferences. Come to think of it, Mum didn’t seem too surprised that she caught me wearing that charity shop dress.

So how long had she known?

I would never find out now as I couldn’t ask her.

I so wanted to talk to Dad about the fact that I was a girl in a boy’s body. I was so worried that I would start male puberty. I had read lots of things on Uncle Google about it. There are blockers you can get that stop nasty things like unwanted hair and voice breaking. A few boys in my year already had both and I would die if that happened to me.

Daily, I checked for signs of hair on my chest on nether regions, but all was clear at the moment and I was still singing soprano in the school choir, but that could change at any time.

Uncle Google told me about blockers. There were a few sites mentioned that I could get them, with no or few questions asked. I belonged to a few forums dedicated to kids who are like me. I had heard a few horror stories about these so-called online pharmacies. Evidently, the pills that you get might not be all that genuine. On reflection, I decided that I wouldn’t go behind Dad’s back and order pills that might do me more harm than good.

I glanced at my phone for the umpteenth time. Dad was still at work. I needn’t worry, he was always late home on a Thursday as that was an Asthma clinic day. We normally had a takeaway pizza on a Thursday. There was a place that Dad passed on the way home for that. He normally texted me to warm the plates up when he was on the way.

I suppose that I was a bit paranoid about getting caught out, even though I was always so careful. I kept my clothes and makeup in the attic hidden away behind some big boxes. Dad rarely went up there. I didn’t have that many clothes, mainly things brought online and from charity shops. Mum was going to get me more clothes and other essentials but that was before everything went pear-shaped.

I had some lovely nail varnish that she bought me but I hadn’t had the chance to try anything out yet. I was always worried about not having enough time to remove it or leaving tell-tale signs.

Maybe one day.

I stood up and walked over to the door. I loved the way I felt in these clothes and the way my skirt brushed against my legs. It wasn’t all about the clothes though. If I was wearing jeans and a t-shirt, I would still be a girl.

On the back of the door was a full-length mirror that had been there forever. Looking at myself, I smiled. This was the real me. I saw little sign of a boy. If only I could wave a magic wand and get rid of the horrid thing between my legs…

I stroked my hair and wished that it was real. Wigs are very hot and not the best thing to wear in the summer. At school we were expected to keep our hair short, well boys were anyway. The girls had no such restrictions. Mind you, they weren’t allowed jewellery or makeup, which was a shame.

I wished that I had the courage to tell Dad, but I couldn’t. Not while we were both suffering from losing Mum. Dad had so much on his plate, I couldn’t do anything to rock the boat. I only hoped that when the time came, I would have the courage to tell him. Would he be angry? Would he reject me?

I had read so many stories of children coming out to their parents and being rejected. I didn’t want to be one of those people.

I sighed. I do a lot of that. How many times have I nearly told him? I nearly did the previous week, funnily enough, it was a Thursday and we were eating pizza at the dining table. He looked so tired; I just couldn’t do it.

I gave myself a mental slap on the face. I was being gloomy and I didn’t want that. I was at home alone, wearing the clothes that I loved and being able to be my real self, as much as I could be anyway. I would have to make the most of the time I had.

‘Alexa play some fun music.’

I laughed as one of my favourite bands were playing and I started to dance and I soon lost myself in the loud thumpy music. After a while, I was getting a bit sweaty in the heat and I needed another drink.

‘Alexa, music off.’

I nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard a quiet cough behind me.

I turned around and there he was, leaning on the side of the door frame.

‘Dad!’

‘Hello.’

‘W…what?’

‘What am I doing here when I should be at work?’

I glanced at my phone on the bed. The app said that Dad was still at work!

‘Thought I was still at the surgery?’

I nodded. I couldn’t say anything. I felt numb. I had wanted to tell Dad but I was too scared about his reaction and there he was in the doorway, looking at me without any sort of expression on his face.

I sat on the bed and held my head in my hands. soon tears started and I couldn’t stop. I had had this pressure in me for so long and the worries that I had had for so long…

I could feel him sit down beside me.

He hugged me!

‘Now stop those tears. I’m not annoyed, I’m just pleased that this has now come out into the open, Sophie.’

Sophie, he called me Sophie!

I moved away from him and looked at him through my tears.

‘You knew?’ I sobbed.

‘Yes. I did. Now, go and wash your face. Panda eyes are not very pretty and come downstairs. I think that we need to talk, don’t we?’

‘D…do you want me to change back?’

‘Do you?’

‘What?’

‘Want to change back.’

I shook my head.

He smiled; I loved the way he smiled. He hadn’t done much of that lately.

‘Then come as you are Sophie.’

With that, he kissed my wet cheek and left the room.

~*~

Ten minutes later, I had made myself presentable and went downstairs. Dad was in the lounge, sitting in his favourite chair with a mug of that strong coffee that he loved so much. A glass of coke was on the coffee table for me.

Whilst I had repaired the damage to my face, I wondered what was going on. He could still reject me, but the expression on his face was kind and not angry. In a way, it was a bit of a relief, him finding me. I didn’t have to hide anymore. I only dreaded that he might tell me that I should no longer be a girl but have to pretend to be a boy again.

I couldn’t stand that thought and tried to stop overthinking as I reapplied my makeup, adding a touch of mascara as an afterthought. I could do nothing about my red eyes, but I did the best that I could to make myself look pretty. If I had more time, I would have painted my nails, but I would have to leave that for another time, if I had the chance to.

I sat down opposite him, being careful with my dress almost automatically, I hated those creases, and took a sip of my coke.

I didn’t know what to say so I said nothing.

Dad put his mug down and looked at me.

He shook his head.

Was this it, was he going to say something nasty?

My heart was beating hard. I wondered if he could hear it.

‘You look so much like Julie, a very young Julie. You know that we met when we were about your age?’

I nodded, still unable to speak. Where was this leading?

‘She was pretty and so are you. Cat got your tongue?’

I smiled and nodded. It was one of his favourite phrases. Maybe things weren’t all bad…

‘Ok, I’ll talk and perhaps answer a few questions that are going around in your head, okay?’

Once again I nodded. I didn’t want to say anything wrong, so I said nothing.

‘First of all, before Julie died, we had a long conversation about you. She made me aware of the fact that you consider yourself a girl and that you were born in the wrong body. I had suspicions about that from when you were much younger but had said nothing as, in some cases, it’s just a phase children go through by way of an experiment if you like. For others, like you, it isn’t a phase, it’s who you are.’

He took another sip of his drink and continued.

‘In my work as a GP. I have come across several children who felt as you do and many of them have been referred to specialists. Regrettably, Julie and I only spoke a few times about your situation and, as you know, Covid and other concerns had put me in a position of not having enough time to help you, for which I bitterly regret. But when many of my elder patients and some younger ones were seriously ill and dying, I had to prioritise.

‘Julie and I agreed that we would let you find your own way for a while and when you were ready, we would have a family discussion about what you wanted to do. Your Mum found you one day in a dress and that led to her being supportive of you. However, soon after she realised that she wasn’t well and you know the rest. In hindsight, I should have addressed your problems sooner and I’m sorry for that, but I’m here for you now. So, what do you want to do?’

‘Do?’

‘Yes, do you want to stay as Sophie or go back to Tony? I think I know the answer.’

‘I never was Tony.’

He nodded.

‘Well, we’ll get things rolling. I’ll refer you to a specialist and she will assess you. Don’t worry about that.’

I didn’t want my head taken apart and examined…

‘By the way, the specialist is my sister.’

‘Auntie Lucy?’

I knew that she was a doctor, but not that sort of one.

‘Yes. I have a feeling that Julie spoke to her on a number of occasions about you, so it won’t come as a surprise. Now, do you want to go out for a meal?’

‘Dressed like this?’

I had never been out in public as a girl.

‘If you want, no pressure. You don’t look any different from other girls your age after all.’

I nodded.

We went to a favourite of ours, a Chinese restaurant in the village, next to the pub on the green.

It was strange going out dressed as I was. I kept looking at people and wondered if they realised that I might not be as I seemed, but I had nothing to worry about as no one paid any attention to me.

So I relaxed.

As we sat waiting for our meal to arrive, I had one question.

‘Dad,’

‘Yes, sweetheart?’

I liked being called sweetheart. It was soppy, but nice.

‘Your phone.’

‘What about it?’

‘My app said that you were at the surgery.’

He smiled.

‘Your old dad isn’t as stupid as he looks. I have two phones and I kind of thought that you were um, dressing today, so I left the one you have a track on at work and came home early.’

‘How did you know I was dressing?

‘Julie said that that was the day that you liked most because I was normally working late.’

I looked at him and batted my now mascaraed eyelashes.

‘You aren’t old, well not too old anyway and you are ever so handsome. Daddy, I’ve seen this lovely dress in town, can I have it?

Dad, for some reason groaned and put his head in his hands.