This is my journal. I wrote it for me and no one else, but maybe one day others who might care for me might read this so I’ll try to make it legible and understandable. Sorry if I ramble on a bit or get side-tracked and moany at times!

I filled up my rucksack, as quietly as I could. I did not want to wake anyone up. I was lucky that I had my own bedroom.

I was soon going to be out of there. A house that I had grown to hate…

I was always told that there were no favourites in our family.

Mum and Dad loved us all we were told.

There was my brother Tommy, he was the eldest by three years and was the apple of Dad’s eye. They went fishing and to football matches together. He is now at university and doing very well.

Then there was my sister, Anne. Mum and she went shopping together and Mum taught her how to cook. They even went on a girlie weekend to some health farm. Anne is now in her final year at school and is at the top of her class and, of course, is the head girl.

I was, evidently, a difficult birth and Mum nearly died due to pre-eclampsia. Then, she had postpartum depression and she had effectively rejected me for months after the birth. I found all this out quite recently.

I was a mistake, an error. An unexpected addition to my family. A family who couldn’t really afford another mouth to feed.

So, in short, I wasn’t really wanted.

I never felt any real love from my parents. I was kept clean and looked after, yes, but love - no.

I wasn’t physically hurt or abused, just for the most part tolerated as a member of the family.

When I was younger, I wet the bed quite often…that was fun – not.

Why? Who knows. We never went to the doctor about it. I think my parents were embarrassed. I think that it was just a sign of the problems I had with my family and what they had with me.

One time, in the evening a few years ago, I had a nightmare, I can’t remember the details, but I came downstairs to see Mum and Dad. The lounge door was open and I could hear them talking. I remember every word.

‘Why did we have Chris? We took precautions, I was on the pill. Having him led to all our problems. I lost my job at the bank due to my depression. You were demoted as you spent so much time off work looking after me, him and the other kids. We still have a huge mortgage and God knows when we will be able to pay it off.’

‘I know Margaret. It would have been better if he had never been born. He was always crying, wetting the bed and being weak and not like any boy I’ve ever known. He’s bullied at school, small and wimpy for his age and doesn’t like any sports, except for tennis for some reason. I dragged him fishing once and he got all snivelly when I caught a fish and killed it. Not like Tommy, now there’s a real boy.’

Mum sighed.

‘Oh Bob, I know I shouldn’t think it, but I wish he was never born. I don’t love him; I can’t love him. When I look at him, it’s like he is someone else’s kid.’

‘I know love, I kind of feel the same, even though I feel guilty about feeling that way. Never mind, only a few more years and he’ll leave home, hopefully. He’s bright, I give him that. We’ll have to encourage him to go to university…

With that, I went back upstairs, quietly closed the door and cried my eyes out. I was 14 years old.

Now I was 16. I had my birthday the week before. I had waited until I was 16 for a reason. I could leave home without my parent’s permission. Also, the day after my birthday, I had received a letter that changed things for me, but more of that later.

I had planned things very carefully. I had some money. My grandmother had died several months before and had left us some money for all of us. She had been kind to me and I loved and missed her very much. She loved me more than my parents or siblings ever did and I had spent many happy weekends and some school holidays with her, out of the way of my family. They never objected to my staying with her and were probably glad to get rid of me when they could. My siblings were never really interested in staying or even visiting her. I think my parents had issues with Grandma too and rarely mentioned her in my presence.

Grandma, despite everything, left her house to my parents and they sold it and this helped to ease their money problems. It didn’t stop them not liking or wanting me. I think, by that time, all was lost between us and I gave up hope that they would ever show me any love or affection. I accepted that fact and this helped me make my decision regarding my future.

Grandma also left some money for us all which was put in our relevant savings accounts. I could not access my account by myself until I was 16.

My parents never knew that Grandma had also opened another account at the bank for me and had been topping it up for years. I had a bank debit card and could if I wished draw money out without my parents knowing. That was useful in many ways.

Once I became 16, I could take money out of the savings account set up for all of us kids on the death of Grandma, without Mum and Dad’s permission.

All in all, I was pretty well off for a teenager and I wanted to put that money to use.

I put in a few necessary clothes, my toilet bag, iPad and laptop in the rucksack and I was ready. Looking at my watch, I saw that it was just after 1 am. Time for me to go.

I quietly opened the door of my bedroom and peeked out. All was dark. I shut the door behind me and crept downstairs avoiding the step that creaked when you stepped on it and I was soon out of the front door and walking down the road. I had left a note by the biscuit barrel in the kitchen. I didn’t want them to think about trying to find me and I had made it clear that I wanted nothing to do with them.

I left the house that Friday, a house that I had lived in all my life, without a backward glance.

I had planned things as well as possible. Living in London meant that there was reasonable public transport at night. I caught a late bus, I was the only passenger and as I sat and watched the roads go by, I started to relax. It was only a few stops to my destination.

I got off the bus and crossed the road. I had chosen a Premier Inn, as I could pay in advance and as it's manned 24 hours, there was no problem getting in. I already had the entry card to my room, I had sorted that out earlier in the day, so there was no problem there. The lady behind the desk looked almost asleep and paid little attention to me.

I was on the first-floor room 129 and I soon let myself in, switched the lights on and sat down on the bed with a sigh.

Over in the corner was a small case that I had picked up from Paddington Left Luggage, I had left another larger one there. All my best clothes were in those cases. Clothes that I had bought over the previous year and had stored up in the loft, where no one had any idea that I had stored them. They were safe up there as the only things stored there were Christmas Decorations and the old unused stuff that we should have got rid of years ago.

It was one of my “jobs” to go up there and get the Christmas decorations down or put anything unwanted up there. Everyone else didn’t fancy it was dusty and cobwebby. So it was perfect for my undercover activities.

A short while back, I had been off school with supposed flu. Of course, my parents knew nothing of this, and as I had a perfect attendance record up to that time, it had not been questioned by the authorities at my school. I was an excellent pupil and had obtained 5 good grades in GCSE. I had no friends and sort of threw myself into my work. There was a certain amount of bullying in my school and I had suffered a bit, but I managed, somehow not to let it affect my work.

My fictional flu had allowed me to make my arrangements. I had picked up the cases from the attic whilst everyone was out and not expected to be back for several hours. I then stored them at Paddington Station for a few weeks at a very reasonable price.

So here I was in the hotel on the first day of my independent life. I went to the door and put out the “do not disturb” sign on the door handle and then I closed and locked the door.

I yawned. I was rather tired not used to being up so late.

I decided to have a shower as I felt a little grubby after my nocturnal travels and then get ready for bed.

The shower woke me up a bit, but I knew that I needed to go to bed as I had a lot to do the following day.

I put one of the cases on the bed and opened it. I rummaged around a bit, picked out my favourite nightie, a pink satin strappy one and slipped it on together with the matching panties.

Surprised?

I suppose I need to explain. When I was 6 years old, I started to question why I was a boy when I didn’t feel like one. Silly really as how would I know that? Anyway, you don’t expect to be rational at that age. I asked Mum about it and she just told me not to be silly. I was a boy and that was that.

I was a scared little thing at that age and I didn’t argue the point, although I did raise the question a few times over the years, always to be told off about it. I looked at my sister, who was as girlie a girl as you can imagine, heavily into pink and wanting to look lovely and feminine at all times. Mum loved this as she could treat her darling daughter almost like a real-life dress-up doll.

I was jealous, really jealous for years and I felt a sense of things being so unfair. I was a girl, as far as I was concerned. Yes, my body was one of a boy, but in my head, I was 100% girl. It wasn’t just the clothes; it was the fact that I felt like a girl. How can I explain, it’s so difficult.

How does a girl feel? Everyone is different and I read somewhere that everyone has a certain amount of femininity in them, boy or girl. I looked at my brother, he was aggressive, and muscular, even when young. He played rough and tumble. He was into rugby of all things and wasn’t squeamish about going fishing. He wanted to be like Dad and was ever getting into fights at school and at one time, he was a bit of a bully.

How did that compare to me?

I have always been gentle. I hate anything sporty, except tennis, which I am not bad at. One of the only good things my parents did for me was to allow me to join a tennis club and I could spend time away from them at the club. The only bad thing was I couldn’t wear tennis skirts! My loving parents (sic) never bothered to watch me play and to this day I think that they just wanted me to be out of their hair. Well, that was going to happen permanently now.

I keep myself clean and tidy. I have quite long hair tied up normally in a low ponytail and I wash it every other day. A few times my parents told me to get my hair cut, but gave up after I flatly refused. They couldn’t be bothered to press the point. The school didn’t like it, but as there were no rules about the length of hair for boys, they reluctantly let it go. Of course, I was bullied about it, even though several boys had long hair in my year group, but I was the weakest as far as the bullies were concerned, so I was the one to catch all the flack.

I looked at the girls in my school and I felt so sad that they were able to wear the girls' uniform of a skirt and blouse and I had to wear the hated trousers. Then of course there was my sister and her friends, who could wear skirts, dresses, jeans or whatever they wanted but I wasn’t allowed to express the real me.

I won’t go on. I can see from writing this journal that I’m beginning to sound a bit whiny and anyway, anyone reading this probably gets the message that I was not a happy bunny.

As I grew up, I started to wear my sisters' old clothes after she had thrown them out. One of my “jobs” was to empty the bins for the refuse collection and at times, Mum and sister dear had a regular clear-out of her old clothes. I was in the happy position of picking out what I considered the nice stuff that she had thrown out and would fit me. These clothes I hid in the attic at the back in an old suitcase, safe from prying eyes.

I wore the clothes when I chose, which was never often enough for me. Of course, I bought my own underclothes as it would have been too yucky to use any of hers!

I also went to a few charity shops well away from home and bought a few things here and there, although I felt very uncomfortable doing that.

My family never knew about my dressing habits. They never talked about my occasional complaints when I was little about me being a girl. After a bit, I just stopped mentioning it.

Anyway, as I think that I’ve gone on a bit about my past, I’ll move to the present and hopeful future.

On my 15th birthday, I decided that I would leave home as soon as I could. Looking into the subject, I saw that when I was 16, I could move out. I would have to try to find a place to live and also, by law, I had to continue my education. I would have to find a college somewhere that would have me. I kept all this secret and made my plans. Grandma knew this as I talked to her about things, but not about being a girl as the last thing I wanted was her possible rejection.

Grandma knew about how my parents treated me, but could do little about it. I’m pretty sure that she had rowed about it and that was why she was not welcome at our house and the only contact we had was through my visits to her. She tried to care and look out for me at a distance and for that, I was truly grateful.

Anyway, back to my plans. As I have already mentioned, I wasn’t short of money, due to Grandma, I also had a largish amount in the savings account which, up to then, I couldn’t touch as it was under the control of my parents due to my age.

Now I was 16 and in the position to change my future, if I could.

All my plans were about leaving home, but I wasn’t sure about what I would do once I had left. I had a vague idea of moving as far away as possible, finding a 6th form college that would accept me and getting a part-time job maybe in McDonald’s or somewhere similar to help pay for things, as my savings wouldn’t last forever and renting was expensive.

A big snag was getting accommodation somehow because it was difficult due to my age, but I was sure it was doable if I tried hard enough.

Ever the optimist!

As the year went by, going towards my 16th birthday, I began to worry about how I was going to fulfil my dreams. I just had no idea where I could live. A 16-year-old has little hope of finding a rental property due age. I had visions of living in a tent or caravan, not nice in the winter!

So there were quite a few obstacles, not helped by things getting worse at home in as much as I was virtually ignored by my family.

On my 16th birthday, there was no fanfare. I got cards and money, as usual. No presents or celebrations for me. Mum, by that time, had a part-time job at a pharmacy. It was half-term and my brother stayed at college and sister dear spent most of the days out and about with her brainless friends. Dad was at work a lot and that meant that I was at home alone for most of the days.

I was a bit down as I was worried that I might not be able to leave home. I just didn’t know where to go and importantly, where I was going to live.

As I already mentioned, renting a property would be difficult as there were hoops to go through to do that and as far as I could see, no one would rent out to someone of my age and lack of references. The only way forward might be to get a job that included accommodation.

I was so desperate to get away, I eventually decided to just go somewhere, anywhere, stay in a hotel for a while and just take my chances.

I was feeling particularly depressed the day after my birthday and was sitting eating a late breakfast, and watching the morning news when the doorbell rang.

I answered the door, still in my jim-jams. It was the postman.

‘There you are love,’ he said smiling, handing me a large thick envelope.

‘Thank you.’ I said smiling.

I shut the door, still smiling. It was nice that he saw a girl and not a boy! The long hair and my looks helped and I had on many occasions been taken for a girl and I just loved that.

I was surprised when I saw that the envelope was addressed to me, Chris Latham.

After finishing my cornflakes before they got too soggy, I went into the lounge and sat down on the settee.

I slit open the envelope and pulled a whole load of papers. On top was a note from a solicitor.

Dear Chris,

Please read the enclosed letter from your grandmother.

You can contact me with any questions in confidence at the above address.

Regards
Antonia Ponsworthy.

I put down the note. To say I was puzzled would be an understatement.

I saw a lavender-coloured envelope. It had the name Christine on it…

Christine!

My heart sort of flipped.

How did she know, what was all this about?

With shaking hands, I opened the envelope and pulled out the sheets of paper and started reading.

Dear Christine,

Don’t be surprised at my knowing your real name, I’ll explain shortly.
By now, I am no longer with you and have moved on to a hopefully better place.

I have known since you were very young that you were a bit different from other boys. At one time, when your mother and I were actually closer, she said to me that you came out with what she considered to be a ridiculous thing, that you said that you were a girl. She poured scorn on this statement and made a joke of it.

I tried to tell her that some children were like that. It might be a phase or temporary thing, but with certain children, they believe it to be true and I said that she should be aware of that.

Of course, she wouldn’t listen to me. In fact, she thought that it was a disgusting notion, (her words).

I know that she wasn’t as loving a mother as she should have been, but understand that she nearly died having you and it somehow did something to her that affected her relationship with you. The fact that your dad, brother and sister feel the same saddens me.

The times that you stayed with me have been lovely. I could see that you are a lovely, caring person and could also see the beauty that you have. It may be the rose-tinted glasses thing, but I don’t think so. You never have acted like a boy and you are, in my opinion, more girlie than your sister, and that’s saying something.

One day last year, you were staying with me for a week and I asked you to go to the shop for a bottle of milk. I was tidying your room and I accidentally knocked a notebook you had off your bedside table. It fell open on a page that I couldn’t help but read.

It said how unhappy you were and that you were a girl and not a boy. You were Christine and not the hated Christopher. You also said that you would leave home as soon as you could as none of your family loved or wanted you.

I closed the notebook and put it back on your bedside table. I apologise for reading it. I felt guilty for doing so, but in a way, I was glad.

I thought long and hard about talking to you about this, but felt that it was your business and if you wanted to talk about it, you would.

For quite some time, I considered what I could do for you and I came to this decision.

As you know, I have left my house and a proportion of my estate to your parents. I also left funds for your siblings and you.

What I have not left them is my cottage in Cornwall.

You didn’t know about that, did you? It was handed down to me by your Grandad’s parents. You never knew Arthur, your Grandad, he died in an accident before you were born, but I stayed close to his mum and dad and they were kind enough to leave me their cottage in Porthlowen, Cornwall when they passed away.

I did not mention anything about the cottage, as I had plans for it that didn’t involve your parents, brother or sister. I was going to move there some time ago as I used to live near there and most of my family came from around there, but my worries about you stayed my hands. I have stayed there several times though, and just love it. I have had some people looking after the upkeep of it when I was not there and it is, I believe, in a very good state of repair, although I have not been there for some time due to my illness.

All this is a bit long-winded Christine, yes, I’ll call you that, as I am sure that is who you consider yourself to be.

I think that you have been dealt a very rough time throughout your life and I hope to be something of a fairy Godmother if you like.

I have left you the cottage in a sealed part of the will. You deserve it more than anyone else in the family in my opinion. As you are still a minor, you cannot own the property in your own right. Normally, your parents would hold the property in trust for you until you are 18. However, I do not think that your parents would look after your best interests, so I have arranged for my solicitors to act on your behalf and become trustees of the property on your behalf, as long as you are happy with that.

I do love it there and hope that you will too, should you decide to move there.

I think that you will want to leave home at the earliest possible time when you are over 16 and this is why you should receive this letter on or just after your 16th birthday, so you can decide as to how you wish to proceed.

I suggest that you contact the solicitor and sign the relevant forms so that you can do what you need to do. The solicitor I use is very close to me and you can trust her.

Part of the instructions are that you are able to live in the cottage if you wish and they will look after paying the standing bills until you are 18. These are all covered as part of the package regarding the cottage.

I hope that I have done the right thing. Maybe you will have made your peace with your parents by the time you read this, but somehow, I doubt it.

Anyway honey, I hope that you are happy with what I have done for you. I wish I could have done more for you as you grew up and this is a way of compensating for this.

Let me say finally, that I love you more than anyone else and know that you are a lovely girl, no matter what your family says.

God protect you and keep you from harm. If there is an afterlife, be assured that I will look out for you and try to keep you from harm.

Your loving Grandma Gladys XXXXX

I cried my eyes out and it took a long time to pull myself together.

After I got over the shock of reading the letter from Grandma, I had a look at the other items in the large envelope.

There were lots of forms, leaflets and long legal papers that I had no idea about. I suppose I was still in shock and as I tried to make sense of everything, I almost felt overwhelmed by it all.

I saw the letter from the solicitor. I noticed that the solicitor was only a few miles away on the High Street. There was a phone number and a name. Using my mobile, I rang the number.

After a few rings, it was answered.

A lady answered.

‘Ponsworthy, Fletcher and Ponsworthy, how may I help you?’

‘Erm, I received a letter from you and I need some help.’

‘OK, is there a name on the letter?’

‘Yes, it’s signed Antonia Ponsworthy.’

‘Okay, please hold.’

A few moments later she came back.

‘Hello Chris, It might be best if you pop in to see us. When are you available?’

‘Most times when I’m not at school. We are on half term at the moment, is there a chance that she might see me soon?’

‘Hang on, I’ll check with her.’

I was put on hold and listened to some awful music whilst I waited.

A few moments later, she was back.

‘Hello Chris, I have spoken to Antonia. She has had a cancellation for this afternoon, can you make it at 3 o’clock?’

‘Yes, that’s great!’ I replied.

‘You know where we are?’

‘Yes.’

‘OK see you then.’

I put the phone down. Things were moving quickly!

I had a shower and then went to my room to get dressed.

I frowned slightly as I put on my compression vest.

Compression vest?

The internet is a fine thing. You can find out a lot on the internet, not all of it good, but some things are very helpful for people with my problems.

Ever since I turned into a teenager, I had worried about the changes that would occur as I matured. It was all very well believing myself to be a girl, but my body might not agree with that and at any moment, might change me into a hairy, muscley person with a deep voice, acne and an attitude. I saw this from my brother and what I saw, I didn’t like.

I knew that I was a late developer and at 14 I had no body hair and my voice hadn’t broken. It was only a matter of time before I started turning into my yucky brother, sprouting hair and muscles. I just needed to stop anything from happening.

You can buy a lot on the internet. I had looked at several sites and forums regarding my worries and had found out that there are places where you can obtain drugs without a prescription that might help me avoid the dreaded body changes. Now, I’m not stupid and know that there are some risks to this. That is why I asked the advice of those who have used these drugs safely and importantly, the right type and where to get them from.

Several girls used one online pharmacy and have had good results without turning into pumpkins, werewolves or getting dreadful after-effects. It would be great to be able to go to my GP and ask for the drugs, but I did not want my parents to know about me and I did not think that I would be able to obtain the drugs without a huge amount of problems. Anyway, my GP was of the old school and not exactly supportive. His main mantra was that I would grow out of it, whatever “it” was.

The main “it” I had was that I considered that I was a girl and when I mentioned that fact to him, when I was seeing him for a tummy bug, was, you guessed, I would grow out of it.

So, in desperation, I ordered some puberty blockers and have been using them ever since. My breasts, small though they are, started to grow about six months from the start of the treatment. This was strange but not unwelcome, except for the fact that I could not bare my chest in public. I thought that blockers would stop any changes in my body and I certainly didn’t expect my breasts to grow larger. However, I did read that some boys had what they call Gynecomastia, a bit of a mouthful, but not that unusual. I was just pleased that my growing breasts helped make me feel even more girlie.

I loved my growing breasts though, as it made me feel all the more girlie. Although my nipples tended to be a bit itchy!

So, back to the compression vest. I didn’t like it. I would have preferred to wear a bra, but at that time, it wasn’t possible.

I sighed and then smiled as I remembered all that had happened today. I was going to see a solicitor and find out a bit more about the cottage.

I wondered what it was like. I hoped that it was ok. It was a way to allow me to leave home and not worry about where I would live.

I would have loved to have gone out dressed as a girl, but I had never done that and anyway, knowing my luck, I would have been seen by someone who knew me or worse someone in my family!

The morning went slowly and I kept looking at the clock. I had a sandwich for lunch and then looked at the letter Grandma had written for the fourth time and then at the other papers. I couldn’t make any head or tail of them. They could have been written in a foreign language for all the sense they made. Eventually, I just put the lot back in the envelope and waited for the time to go.

At five minutes to three, I was outside the solicitors' office. I looked at my watch. I was a bit early but, I just couldn’t wait any longer, so I pushed the door open and went in.

The lady in reception looked up from her screen.

‘Can I help you?’

‘I’m Chris…’

‘Hello Chris. Take a seat. I’ll let Antonia know that you are here.’

I sat down and waited. Only a few moments later a lady came out of a side door.

She came over to me, smiling.

‘Hello Chris, come this way.’

I followed her as she went down a corridor and into her office.

‘Take a seat Chris.’

She was, I would say in her thirties and quite pretty with an open face that smiled a lot. I instinctively liked her.

‘Would you like a drink?’

‘No thanks,’

‘Right, let’s get down to it, shall we?’

I nodded, feeling nervous and maybe a bit over my head about all that was happening.

‘I suppose it was a bit of a surprise when you got your letter?’

‘Yes, I couldn’t believe it.’

‘I bet. Well, it’s all true. Anyway, before we start, have you got any proof of identity? I have to ask, unfortunately.’

I searched through my pockets and found my school pass and handed it over to her.

She had a quick look and handed it back to me.

‘That’s fine. In my job, you have to be careful. Can I have your envelope?’

I handed it over.

She took out the contents and sorted them out on her desk.

‘Right, it’s all here. I can understand that this is all a bit confusing, so let me tell you about what happened.

She sat back in her chair and looked at me.

‘First, let me say that your grandmother confided in me about your circumstances and she didn’t think that you would mind. You need someone on your side, I would say. Secondly, I am slightly related to you as a distant cousin and also Auntie Gladys was my Godmother.’

‘Oh.’ I said, surprised.

‘Mmm, anyway, I owe her a lot, but I won’t go into that, it’s all about you at the moment.’

She looked at me.

‘I understand that you have problems with your gender?’

I nodded, feeling my face go red.

She smiled slightly.

‘You are very pretty; did you know that?’

I shook my head. I didn’t think I was pretty, pretty ordinary maybe, but not pretty.

‘It must be hard pretending to be a boy.’

For some reason, I started crying.

She immediately left her seat, came over, knelt down and hugged me. It was nice. I was not used to being hugged.

After a few minutes, she let me go and then handed me a box of tissues.

‘I’ll go and get us a cup of tea; will you be alright?’

I nodded and she left the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

I found it very easy to cry. It’s a girl thing I think. Boys like my brother consider themselves too tough to cry. I didn’t have that problem.

It was a bit of a revelation that she was a distant cousin and Goddaughter to Grandma. It made it all a bit easier to let myself go a bit.

Trust had always been an issue for me. Up to now, I had no one to confide in. I didn’t even talk about things to Grandma. I now wish that I had.

Antonia came back in with a tray. She put it down on her desk and handed me a mug of tea.

‘Help yourself to sugar and biscuits,’

I had one sugar, stirred the mug and then picked out a chocolate Hobnob.

She smiled.

‘My favourites too. Now,’ she said as she stirred her mug, ‘where shall I begin?

‘Your Grandma contacted me some time ago for advice. She wasn’t happy about how you were being treated. She knew about your unique circumstances and how things were with your family. As far as we were aware, you were not being abused, although that is questionable as there is such a thing as mental abuse. We would have been on shaky ground because of a lack of proof. Anyway, at the time, it was felt that you would soon become 16 and then things might be able to change for you. Although not as straightforward as when you become a legal adult at 18, being 16 relaxes the rules somewhat regarding what you can and cannot do. Is that fairy clear?’

I nodded.

‘I couldn’t wait until I was 16 as I have always intended to get out and find somewhere else to live, if I could.’

‘Exactly. I think that was what Auntie Gladys thought too. Anyway, when she made her will part of it included what is called a secret trust. In simple terms, that means that she stipulated that certain items would not be in the open will and would not form part of that will but would be included in that trust. I am the trustee of that secret trust, it stated that you would become the owner of the cottage and a few other things when you attain the age of 18. You cannot own the property until then. Normally, your parent would be trustees to act on your behalf until then, but your Grandma frankly was not happy with that possibility and asked if I would be your trustee, with your agreement.’

I nodded. Half of this was going over my head, but I got the general gist of it. I too would not want my parents to have anything to do with it!

‘As you are now 16, you can legally leave home. If you wish, you could live in your cottage, it’s up to you. You can either stay there or go somewhere else. When you are 18 you can keep it or sell it. What do you think?

‘Is it in the middle of nowhere?’

‘No, it's part of a large coastal village that gets quite a lot of visitors in the summer.’

‘Do you think that I might get some part-time work?’

‘I should think so, especially in the busy seasons. What sort of work?’

‘I don’t know yet.’

‘Well, I’m sure you can find something. Now, I have some questions for you and you don’t need to answer, but it would be helpful for me to know.’

‘What is it?’

‘After what I’ve said, do you still intend to leave home?’

‘Oh yes!’

She smiled.

‘I thought so. Do you want to go and live in the cottage?’

‘Yes, as long as it's liveable and not a wreck.’

‘It’s been well maintained. Up until the end of June, it had been rented out as a holiday home. I continued that arrangement after your grandma died. You need to know that I had power of attorney for her and was also an executor of her will. As secret trustee of her estate, I have been looking after her and your interests in this matter.’

Once again, a lot of what she said went over my head, but I got the gist of it. She was looking after me and the property, I think!

‘I would definitely like to live there, if I can.’

‘You can,’ she replied smiling, ‘more questions, I’m afraid and this is a bit delicate, so apologies if I overstep the mark slightly, but I need to know.’

‘Go on,’ I said, worrying about what she might say.

‘When you move, will it be as Christopher or Christine?’

‘Christine, I suppose, although it’s a bit too much like Christopher for my liking.’ I said promptly.

She looked at me for a moment.

‘Are you sure you want to present as a girl? It’s a cruel world out there.’

‘I know, but I can’t live a lie. I’m a girl, no matter what the law or anyone else says.’

‘What does your doctor say?’

I kept quiet.

‘Your doctor?’

‘What about him?’

‘Come on Chris. You know what I’m saying.’

I took a deep breath.

‘Last year, I went to him with a tummy ache and I mentioned the fact that I was a girl and not a boy.’

‘And?’

I felt those damned tears welling up again.

‘H… he said that I… it’s just a phase and I should grow out of it.’

‘Was that it?’

‘Yes.’

‘So, no referral?’

‘No.’

She looked at me critically.

‘If you don’t mind me saying, you do look quite feminine even in boys' clothes and your voice hasn’t broken yet. It might be an idea to get a sympathetic doctor to have a look at you. Do you want me to find out a doctor in Cornwall near where you will live that might be a bit more sympathetic?’

‘You’d do that for me?’ I sniffed.

‘Of course, you’re family.’

That did it for me and I had a full-on waterworks moment.

I didn’t mention the fact that I was on some drugs. I felt a bit ashamed of that, but I had to take the drugs or become like my dad and brother, something that I could not contemplate.

After more liberal use of her box of tissues, I calmed down a bit.

‘Feeling better?’

I nodded.

‘Okay, the final question is, now you are 16, you can change your name legally without parental consent. Do you want to do that?’

‘Yes, I’ve thought about it, a lot. I thought that Christine would be a good name as it is similar to Christopher and less complicated to change and it could always be shortened to Chris. But Chris is so much to do with my past and the bad things that have happened to me, so I think that I want a complete change.’

‘Understandable, a clean break.’

‘That’s right, so I want to be called Emma, I’ve always liked that name and I want to use Grandma’s surname, Penhaligon. A bit of a mouthful, but that was her name.’

‘Yes, she married into the name, very Cornish, but you don’t want to keep your present surname?’

‘No.’

‘Are you sure?’

I nodded. I was very sure.

‘It’s a bit of a hassle changing your name, what with having to inform relevant institutions, you know, banks and all that, although not as bad as it used to be. Mind you, if you are sure, I can help out with that.’

‘Can you?’

‘Of course. We can get the ball rolling and start to sort that out now, if you like?’

‘Please, if you don’t mind.’

‘Wait here, I won’t be a moment.’

She left me alone with my thoughts. Maybe Christine could be my second name as it was a connection to my old life. I know, I am full of contradictions. A girl can change her mind, can’t she?

I liked Emma because it's nice, simple and feminine. In school, we had a few lessons about Jane Austin’s Emma and I liked the name ever since.

Antonia came back in with some papers.

‘Are you sure about this?’

‘Yes, I need to break from my past and this helps.’

‘Right, you have a lot of papers to sign so let’s get cracking!’

I lost count of the things that I had to sign. I didn’t look at what I was signing for, but I trusted Antonia to look after my interests and I had to trust someone so why not her? Anyway, Grandma wouldn’t have used her if she wasn’t a good person and anyway, she was family – well, the good part of the family anyway!

Eventually, we were done and I had changed my name to Emma Christine Penhaligon, it took some getting used to, but the names were growing on me. I didn’t fancy being a Smith or Jones, not that there’s any real problem with that, only I wanted to be a bit different and have a definite connection to Grandma.

Antonia had another appointment, so things got wrapped up quickly. She gave me her card and scribbled her private mobile number and email address on the back.

‘Call whenever you like. I won’t ring you at home, but I have your mobile number and email address so if I need to contact you, I can do so. Don’t be a stranger Emma, I want to get to know you a lot more!’

I smiled at her using my new name and we hugged and soon I was back on the street, with a new purpose in life!

So, here I was in a hotel dressed as Emma and hoping that the future would be much better than the past. I was really tired. I wasn’t used to being up so late.

I sent a message to Antonia, letting her know about my movements and then put the phone in airplane mode as I didn’t want any calls and set the alarm on the phone for 6 am. I had a lot to do the next day!

I got under the covers and went to sleep wondering what the next day would bring.

To be continued..?

Please leave comments and let me know if you want this to continue. Oh, and if you can, please do the kudo-thingie... thanks! ~Sue