This one's not for the faint of heart. Over the course of the story there will be death, suicide attempts, a fair amount of physical and mental abuse, some egregious torture and a hefty dollop of foul language, but hopefully a happy ending. Actually, the last bit's a given since it's me doing the writing, but between here and the end is a rocky road, so please if any of the above is likely to be triggering for you, please, please think twice about reading.

Chapter 4

A gentle nudge brought us back to the world.

“Sorry, Abri,” the doctor said. “It’s time for your appointment.”

“My what?”

“With the gender clinic. We need to get you there.”

“Okay.” I reached out for Max and found her snuggling inside me. Between us we had that certainty of being a girl, which was different for me and one of the differences between us we’d worked on resolving.

Yeah, I know what I said, but it’s complicated. Max and I both had that sense of always having been a girl. It has something to do with brain structure, I think, and my old brain had pretty much the same structure as Max’s, at least in this regard, so we’d always had that sense in our lives. The difference was I had over fifty years of convincing myself to ignore it, so our merging had brought me back to the point where it was present in my life and this time something to be embraced. In doing so, I had become more... Max. In other ways he had become more me. The difference between us remained, but the lines were blurring.

A nurse helped me into a plush dressing gown and a porter held a wheelchair ready for me. I didn’t mind. It was like being a princess having servants to do everything for me. I could only wish for a dress to complete the picture.

The gender clinic was restful in an unusual way. Pale yellow walls, a soft carpet on the floor and cartoon pictures about the place of elephants and hippos wearing tutus along with far cuter animals wearing jackets and waistcoats. It felt like an odd statement to be making at this stage, but I supposed this was a place for more than just pre-teens like us. We didn’t have long to wait before we were called through.

I let Max take the lead with the interview. After all, it felt like I’d been doing so a lot recently, and this was supposed to be a partnership. Besides which, if we ended up speaking to a child psychologist with the precociousness of a sixty something year old, there was no telling how he might react.

Yes, of course I know how old I am – was. Of course I do. I’m... I was... I mean I had to be more than sixty-five, didn’t it? Otherwise they wouldn’t have been able to retire me, would they? Unless I’d taken early retirement. But I wouldn’t have done that, because then I’d have lost my excuse to avoid Christmas, so of course I knew how old I was.

I was twelve.

All those years of living. Except what memories did I have for all that time? Memories are of, you know, memorable things. What did I have in my past to remember? The day Karen and I met. I could still feel the breathlessness when I first laid eyes on her. I’d been unable to speak. She’d thought it was sweet how she’d had to ask me out. I could still feel the way that had felt. Like the ground falling away beneath me. She’d made me feel so helpless.

She’d grown tired of that before I did.

So many of my memories were of Karen, at least in the early part of our relationship. Those feelings of being swept away, of being gloriously out of control. Those feelings of near despair when she’d wanted something from me I didn’t know how to give. That near disaster when I’d tried to show her the me behind the mask, then the long, long run of faking it till I could make it. Only I never could. The curdling of all that was good between us, turned sour through being buried away from the light of day. The strain of maintaining the facade wearing thin and threadbare. All the promise of love and joy turned to bitterness and ashes.

For all the misery, my years with Karen had still contained the most happiness I’d known. Looking further back, my childhood had been similarly marred, from that short lived moment of hope when I’d set eyes on Mum in one of her prettier dresses and felt the thrill at the prospect of one day looking as wonderful. Of the harsh reality delivered to me when I’d been caught trying that same dress on. Of the years of struggle hiding that inner part of me from my parents, like smothering an excitable puppy who doesn’t know why it cannot be free to explore.

When I’d left home there had been times when hope had flared briefly. Arriving at university, settling in my first home, meeting Karen. All held the promise that I would, at last, be able to let the puppy in me loose, but always there had been no sense that my deeper self would find the acceptance it craved. No-one in my generation or my parents’ before that had either inclination or capacity to understand or accept what I held inside me. All I could do was hold onto the beautiful creature within and smother it until it was still.

It felt like there were no others like me in the world, that I was utterly alone. What was more likely was that the others like myself had become as accomplished as I was at hiding. I mean sure there were the Stanley Baxters and Dame Ednas in the world, but they’d just found their own way of hiding. I was no extrovert, and neither, I suspected were many like me.

It had worried me that I seemed to be losing touch with the details of my life, but the more I thought about it, the more I realised I had very few memories I really wanted to hold onto. It felt I had lived most of my life under a dark cloud.

“It’s like I’ve been living my life under a dark cloud,” Max said. “I have this part of me inside that wants to escape and bounce about like a little puppy, and my mum and dad won’t let it. So it feels like the best part of me is being suffocated.”

I drew back from my musings.

‘You know, the point of letting you have a say is that you use your words,’ I said to my inner partner.

‘I can’t help it if you say things so much better than me,’ he replied with a mental grin, ‘or that you think them so loud.’

It seemed I did have a knack for saying things. The therapist was sold on Max’s tale. The hair probably helped; it was seriously cute.

He asked a few more questions and I couldn’t help but think my way through the responses I’d have given. Which meant Max couldn’t help listening in and passing them on.

It took us just half an hour to convince him. I had my repeat prescription for blockers and a letter of recommendation for me to attend regular sessions with a gender dysphoria support group for youngsters my age.

‘Do we have to go to the support group?’ Max whined. I kid you not, a mental whine is so much worse than the physical thing.

‘For one thing, it sounds like a good place to make friends,’ I said. ‘For another, we’re likely to meet people who are further along than us and could pick up a few useful tips...’

‘Like what?’

‘Do you know how to be a girl? I mean, I get that we’ve both wanted this all out lives, but it’s not as if either of us have had any practice. Do you know how to sit properly in a skirt? I know for a fact you could do with a few tips on how to do your makeup.’

‘I’m probably a bit young for makeup.’

‘That’s true. Besides, I’m pretty sure Uncle Peter will be able to teach us most of what we need to know?’

‘Really?’

‘Really. He’s a dancer. Another reason to go will be because there may be someone we can help. That’s the whole point of support groups. Sometimes you get the help, sometimes you do the helping.’

‘I suppose they won’t be that bothered if we turn up in a dress, will they?’

‘Honestly, I don’t think many people are going to bothered, unless we outright tell them about us.’

‘Won’t we have to?’

‘I don’t see why we should. I mean, I don’t know any other young girls with embarrassing physical defects going around announcing them to all and sundry.’

‘An embarrassing physical defect. Is that what we’re calling it now?’

‘We’ve just had a doctor who specialises in our condition more or less confirm that we are actually a girl. Do girl’s generally have what we have between our legs?’

‘Well, no, but...’

‘But nothing. If we’re a girl and we have something down there that shouldn’t be, then it has to be a deformity, doesn’t it? Not something we can do much about right now or for some years to come, so get used to it being there and don’t let it bother us or anyone else.’

‘I suppose.’

“There you go miss.” The porter who’d wheeled us to and from the meeting stopped the wheelchair and applied the brake.

“Thank you,” I said, offering him my brightest smile. It was amazing to see how his mood lifted as a result.

‘So what happens now?’ Max asked as we climbed back into bed.

‘I’m not entirely sure. I imagine when the doctor comes by later, we’ll see how soon we can start taking the pills. I’m not sure how urgent it is, because different people start puberty at different times...’

‘No, that’s not what I mean.’

That made me sit up and pay attention. I’d become accustomed to hearing his thoughts and feeling his feelings, it bothered me that I had so evidently missed something.

I could feel him in me as a small knot of pain and settled around him as gently as I could.

‘I’m sorry, Max. Today feels so much like a victory to me I’d forgotten there are casualties in any war. You’re thinking about your mum and dad, aren’t you?’ I didn’t really need to ask. Now that I was focussing on him, I could feel it.

‘Mum used to do this, you know?’ Again he didn’t need to fill in any of the subtext. He needed the hug.

‘It’s not the same with me, I imagine.’

‘No, it’s... nice. Only...’

‘She’s your mum.’

The silence stretched out.

‘She hasn’t done this for a while. Dad, I suppose. ‘He’s growing into a man. He needs to learn to stand on his own two feet.’ That rubbish, you know? I really thought after what she said in the courtroom that she might have changed.’

‘If she saw us as a girl, maybe she’d be more inclined to put her arms around us?’ The knot wasn’t so tight now, except that meant I could feel the effects of it too. Still, I’d rather be sharing his pain than just looking on helplessly.

I felt him smile at that. ‘You’d make a great mum, you know that?’

‘Yeah, well maybe give it a few years first. I mean, I am only twelve.’

That turned the smile into a giggle and the knot into a loose tangle of muddle thoughts.

‘I don’t know what’s going to happen for sure, Max. Dad will probably tell himself good riddance to bad rubbish because his pride and arrogance won’t let him consider he’s wrong.’

‘Yeah, well, good riddance to bad rubbish. I don’t think I’m going to miss him that much.’

That made me smile. I could feel him tapping into my strength, and he was welcome to it.

‘Mum will most likely miss us and eventually she’ll be ready to meet us on our terms. In the meantime, we have to accept the help Uncle Peter’s ready to give, and I’m ready to bet that’ll be a lot, and get on with making the best of our life.

‘When we see Mum next, we’ll be her daughter. Hopefully she’ll see that as a good thing and we can mend a few fences, yeah?” I tightened my mental squeeze and felt him settle deeper into me.

Yeah, pronouns. They didn’t really matter so much to my generation. Max was a him because that’s the way he’d always been, but that didn’t stop him being a girl too. Get hung up on pronouns and you end up fighting the wrong battle.

We were tired. A lot had happened and stress was as exhausting as exercise. Probably more so. I closed our eyes and we were asleep.

We roused to the sound and smell of dinner arriving. Sausage and mash with peas and gravy. Max wasn’t so keen on the peas, but reluctantly agreed to my hiding them in the mash and gravy when I said that girls tended to be more about the veg than the meat. The mash was out of a packet which I’ve never much liked. It has a sort of artificial flavour that doesn’t agree with my taste buds, so I was glad of the peas and gravy to mask the unpleasantness.

The sausages were welcome. Something to get my teeth into at long last. Something with a little flavour.

I found a small paper cup with a tablet in it on the tray too.

“Is this...?” I asked the nurse who’d been helping me sit up.

“Your new prescription, yes. Take it once you’ve finished eating.”

Which was after I’d emptied half my plate. Maybe my stomach had shrunk in the time I’d been in hospital. Maybe this was normal for Max, after all he was rather scrawny. There was something of the Gerald in me wanted to put away that third sausage, but I resolved to let Max lead the way when it came to quantities of food. I’d still try to influence him when it came to vegetable content and maybe between us we’d end up with the figure and complexion we wanted.

The pill went down easily, eagerly even, just as the doctor came into the room.

“I’m relying on you to tell me if anything doesn’t feel right. Upset stomach, dizziness, anything at all. There are other tablets we can try, and we need to make sure you get the right one for you. You’re likely to be taking them for a long time, you know?”

“Yes doctor. Thank you for everything you’ve done for us – me, I mean.”

“You did most of it Abri. It takes a lot of courage to stand up to your parents. Now, you should get some rest. As I understand things, your uncle will be here in the morning.”

“Doctor, I’ve been resting for days now. Is there something else I can be doing?”

He glanced at the clock which read half past nine.

“Well, we’re past the watershed, so I can’t let you watch TV I’m afraid.”

“Could I maybe have a book or magazine?”

“I’ll see what I can do, but I want your lights out by ten.”

“But that’s only half an hour. I’ve been asleep for the last three.”

“Alright,” he laughed. “Half ten. No later. It’s good to hear you arguing back, Abri. It’s a sign things are getting better.”

He disappeared for a couple of minutes, returning with a handful of magazines that were largely pink in appearance. One, with the title ‘Cute’, grabbed Max’s attention. It was no real intellectual challenge, but I could feel his pleasure in it. Guilty pleasure once upon a time, now a very real permitted pleasure, which made it all the more enjoyable. I rode along on his wave of enjoyment, content enough with the second-hand experience. I’d have preferred something a little more substantial, but it had been a long day and I was happy enough just to drift.

Ten thirty came and went. Eventually one of the nurses popped her head in, eased the magazine out of our unresisting grasp and switched out the lights. Max was dozing inside us and I was only barely aware of what was going on about us. Needless to say, sleep followed swiftly enough.

Peter didn’t arrive until late morning, which shouldn’t have come as much of a surprise, given that he had a two hour drive to get to us, and possibly a half hour hunting around for somewhere to park when he arrived, then who knew how long finding his way to our ward.

We’d already eaten a reasonable breakfast and more or less finished the magazine when I caught a movement out of the corner of our eye and there he was, hurrying towards us, a concerned look on his face.

I climbed out of bed and stuck my head through the door. He’d most likely seen me through the glass wall of my room, but I was eager to greet him.

“Hello Uncle Peter, it’s great seeing you again.”

“Max, what...? You look... What’s going on here? I had this confusing message about you needing someone to look after you. Max, why do you look like a...?”

“Girl? Kind of that’s who I am now, Uncle Peter. Mum and Dad aren’t to happy about it.”

“I can imagine they’re not. I’m surprised they’re... They’re not, are they? That’s what this is all about.”

“Kind of, yeah.” Have you ever noticed when you get nervous, you start adding in the same redundant phrase, like unnecessary punctuation? “Come in and sit down. This is kind of a long story.” There, I did it again. Did you notice?

Peter followed me into the room. He looked good. Smartly dressed, no weight on his shoulders. The one good thing I’d done with my life.

‘And now there’s me,’ Max whispered into my mind.

The one good thing I’d done with my death.

I let Max tell the first part. I could see the details in our shared mind, but he’d lived it. He talked about how it had weighed on him. Common experience that, except I’d buried my feelings. He’d tried to bring them to the surface. The rare times he’d spoken to Dad about it had ended with a smacking. The less rare times he’d spoken to Mum had ended with her in tears – and later a smacking which he eventually connected. The more frequent times when he’d taken matters into his own hands and borrowed a few of Mum’s things. Sometimes he’d got away with it. Others had been followed by a screaming row and a brutal smacking. Bruises, usually where no-one could see. Aching arms that hinted at the possibility of fractures. Green stick fractures they called them, in young bones. The brittle outer part would crack, but the soft marrow would be strong enough to hold things together. Never a doctor to confirm the injury, because then there would be awkward questions. Just several weeks of tenderness and discomfort that eventually eased.

Then Christmas Eve. That awful burgundy velvet suit and bow tie. He’d have looked better in one of Mum’s frocks, and he’d set out to prove it. Okay, he hadn’t done so great with the makeup. It hadn’t been dreadful – yes it had – but he’d looked at himself in the dressing table mirror and he’d seen the way his dad would have reacted as well as his mum and everyone else.

His cousin’s would have laughed. He could have coped with that. Stupid people laughed at what they didn’t understand, what was different, what didn’t make sense in their narrow minded world. It stung but you didn’t blame a wasp for reacting in accordance with its nature.

What would have been harder was the response of those who thought they knew better, who didn’t know anything at all. Especially when they were the ones closest to you.

“I know exactly what you mean,” Peter said. I could see the shadows of storm filled memories building at the back of his eyes.

“So, I saw this bottle of pills on Mum’s side of the bed,” Max continued. “Sleeping pills. Two thirds of a bottle. I figured that would do it. Maybe a bit horrible to swallow them all, but then I’d fall asleep and never wake up. No more pain, no more angry Dad, no more tearful Mum, no more pretending to be someone I wasn’t. I could even go out as I wanted to, as I’d always felt I was. I took the bottle into the bathroom, locked the door, put the lid down on the toilet and sat. You know, it’s stupid just how much a simple thing like that feels so much more right when you’re wearing a dress? Even when it’s loads too big for you and all the wrong style.

“Granddad and grandmum keep a plastic cup on the sink with their toothbrushes and toothpaste in it.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I emptied it out and filled it with water, then I started swallowing pills. Three or four from the bottle then enough water to wash them down. Rinse and repeat. I don’t even know if I emptied the bottle. When I woke up, I was here with a plastic tube down my throat.”

“Oh Max!”

“Would you mind? I kind of like Abrielle. Abri for short.”

“That’s a lovely name. Is it French? Where did you come by it?’

“Uncle Gerald told me.”

“Unc... When did you see him? You know he’s...”

“Dead? Yes. Do you believe in miracles, Uncle Peter?”

“I should think so. Uncle Gerald was a miracle for me a while ago.”

“Yeah, me too. Only much more recently. You may think I’m making this up, but Uncle Gerald had his heart attack about the same time I took all those pills. I really died, and I was drifting away into a future of loneliness and misery, only he was there. He was wearing a sort of red nightdress. It kind of looked a bit silly on him, but that was sort of the reason I was upset enough to do what I did. I could see myself in the future still feeling like a girl on the inside, but with this big, ugly man-body. No hope of ever being pretty or of looking good in a pretty dress, you know?”

“Don’t tell him I’m here,’ I whispered to Max. I don’t know why, except maybe I didn’t want what they were going through to be any more complicated than it was already. Max acknowledged my words and carried on.

“Anyway, Uncle Gerald persuaded me that taking my own life wouldn’t solve my problems. He said I still had a lot to live for and that I should fight for the life I wanted. The life that would make me feel less messed up and more at peace. He eased me back into my body and I woke up.”

“With the bruise on your face?”

“Dad trying to wake me up, or so he said. The doctor seemed to think it was a little hard for trying to revive me.”

“I should say. I always thought your dad had a mean streak in him.”

“Yeah, so anyway...”

He batted his way through the events that led to us going to court, the decisions that were made and the way Mum had broken her promises almost immediately. The phone call, and the way things had followed on from there.

“So neither your mum nor your dad currently have parental responsibility for you.”

“The judge felt that since they wouldn’t even allow me to test to see if I was trans, that they were nore likely to be harmful than supportive of me. I’m aware you had a similar falling out with your dad, and wondered if you’d be prepared to think about taking on the responsibility. Kind of.” Nerves taking over again.

“Well of course I’ll do everything I can. You’re family and family looks after family. Not just that but you’re family who’s had to deal with one of the less pleasant sides of our family which means we have that little bit more in common. I just don’t know what’s going to be involved in making it work.”

“I think my doctor might be able to help there. He was present when we were in court and I think he kept the bit of paper the judge issued. I’m not sure if it’s him or the hospital who are officially looking after me now that Mum and Dad are out of the picture, but he should know what to do.”

“I expect he’s a little busy right now, eh?”

“I should think so.”

“Well, what are we going to do while we wait for him?”

“I don’t know.” Delivered in the dismissive way only a preteen can manage.

‘Ask him about himself,’ I suggested. ‘Where does he live, what does he do, does he live with anyone?’

“I suppose, if I’m going to stay with you, maybe I should know a bit more about you.”

He smiled. “My favourite topic,” he said. “Well, you know I’m a couple of years older than your mum?”

“Yeah. She likes to brag about how she got married before you.”

“Yeah, but look what she married. It struck me as worth waiting a little longer if it meant finding the right person. I think you’re going to love him. He’s the sweetest guy you’ll ever meet, apart from me of course...”

“What’s his name?”

“Paul. Just a minute.” He fiddled with his phone for a second then passed it across. The man in the photograph was wearing a chef’s hat and apron. He had dark hair, kind eyes and an embarrassed smile. I liked him immediately. “This was a couple’s cooking evening we did together. Paul’s a whizz in the kitchen, which is just as well because I burn cornflakes.”

Max snorted. “You’re not supposed to cook them, silly.”

“Is that right? I knew I was doing something wrong.”

It felt so good to hear Max laughing. Perhaps a little odd since I was connected to the throat that was laughing. It felt like this was going to work and maybe I was surplus to requirements. I wasn’t consciously aware of holding to anything, but I felt myself easing my hold.

I don’t know what I expected to happen, maybe drift off into oblivion or something, but I just stayed. I mean when it comes down to it, maybe that’s what I should have expected to happen. You know, when you let go of your hold on things usually, you just stay connected to your body.

Only this wasn’t. My body that is. It had started out as Max’s and I suppose a part of me felt I was just along for the ride, that maybe I could just let go.

‘Yeah, it doesn’t work like that,’ Max murmured in my ear. Peter was in the middle of an anecdote I’d heard months ago, so I didn’t have to listen in. Neither did Max since he had access to my memories.

‘What do you mean?’ I asked.

‘I felt the same way a couple of times. You know, like I gave up my rights to this life when I killed myself, so when you were doing such a good job of challenging my parents, I figured you’d do a lot better with my life than I ever would, so I figured I’d let go and leave you to it. We’re kind of stuck with things the way they are I think.’

‘Does that bother you?’

‘No. I can’t think of anyone I’d rather be stuck with. As long as you don’t mind.’

‘Not at all. Come here.’

He settled into that mental hug we did where we blended into each other.

“Am I boring you?” Peter asked.

We reviewed what he’d just said and picked up together on what came next. If we’d had a mouth each we’d have done an impressive job of speaking in unison. It came across well enough even so with us both getting to the punchline without realising Max wouldn’t have known it.

“How do you know the end of that story?”

Max dived deep, avoiding the question by avoiding having to answer at all. There was only one answer that had half a chance of working.

“You know I told you about Uncle Gerald coming to me after I died?”

His eyes grew wide. “No way. You actually believe that was true?”

“He told me where to find his body. The police still don’t know how I know, and, you know, he actually died while I was in hospital, while everyone was waiting for me to wake up. I mean, I get why you don’t want to believe, why you’d prefer for my subconscious to have made it up, but... Well let’s just say that the deeper you look, the harder it will be to explain unless you actually believe that Uncle Gerald came to me after we’d both died.”

“He’s not still with you, is he?”

“If he were, he’d probably tell you to get it in touch with Wilford and Peters, solicitors, and make sure they were aware that Gerald was dead.”

“Do you have a number?”

“No, but Google does.”

He tapped away at his phone then placed a call. The number would have been local to where he lived, as had I before Christmas.

“Yes, good morning. I wonder if you can help me. Do you have any dealings with a Mr Gerald Lassiter?”

‘Will,’ I mouthed at him.

“Er, like do you hold a will in his name? You do. Are you aware that Mr Lassiter passed away on Christmas Eve? No he was visiting his brother in...” he gave the name of the town where we were currently. The conversation continued from the other end for a few minutes, ending with Peter saying, “Not at all. I’ll wait to hear from you then, shall I?”

“Gerald?” He knew better than to call me Gerry. Anyone who cares about me knew that much.

“I can’t begin to tell you how complicated it is, Peter. I wouldn’t have complicated your life with it if I hadn’t overstepped just now.”

“But Max...”

“He’s here too. I never told you about myself did I? Too used to keeping it hidden, I suppose. I’m not sure how much of it was divine providence, but I had a massive heart attack about the same time Max decided he couldn’t go on. We’ve been given a second chance. Max, or Abri rather, with his youthfulness and the promises the modern age offers, and me with the strength of purpose to make sure he gets it.

“We’ve kind of ended up sharing. I’m not sure how it’s supposed to work, but it feels like the more we try, the more we become each other.

“I don’t really know what to say. I’m in here, I can’t deny it and I’m pretty sure you’d have spotted me sooner or later. The thing is the more I’m in here, the more we – Max and I – become one person, and while it seems unlikely, the more that happens, the more we kind of turn into a twelve year old kid who just wants to be a girl.

“I was thinking about my life earlier today, and most of my memories are depressing. They’re things I’d like to forget, and they’re things I find I am forgetting. I couldn’t remember how old I was earlier – I mean the Gerald me – but the more I thought about it, the less I cared. I’m twelve, Uncle Peter, and almost all the memories I have of being that older person are fading, because they’re not memories I particularly want to hold onto.

“If I were you, I’d forget I was ever here, because a lot of who I was is fading, and the best of who I am is gradually becoming the kid you see in front of you right now. I mean, potentially I’ll have more of a propensity for reading and I might be a little more in your face when fighting for Abri’s rights, but I’m already a lot like Max, and it would please me if I could become more like him as we become more of a her.

“I don’t know if that makes much sense.”

“More than you know. I’m glad you’re alright though. I’d hate to think of you being dead.”

“You’ll be glad of that in a while. I never bothered with a will for most of my life because I never cared who got what I left behind, but a few years ago, I met someone who changed my mind on that.”

“Oh no, you didn’t.”

“Sorry Peter. I know it will most likely piss Collin off, but that wasn’t the reason I did it. If I hadn’t bothered with a will, he’d have inherited everything I own. As it is, he’s going to have to come to terms with why I’d give most of it to the one person in his family he chooses to ignore.”

“Most of it?”

“I left him something, just so he has to sit in the same room as you while the will is read, at least as long as he’s prepared to acknowledge you.”

“This gets worse and worse.”

“I’m sorry Peter, but the only way things will get better between you is if you talk to each other. He may not, but at least he’ll have some food for thought. Maybe it’ll be the start of something. I know it’ll be hard for you, but please trust my motivation.”

“Can’t I just give him everything?”

“I’m sure there’s a way you could, but if you’re going to look after Abri, having a house with a fully paid up mortgage and a little nest egg in the bank will probably come in handy.”

“You’re a bastard, you know that?”

“Language, Peter, please. I have a twelve-year-old in here with me.”

‘Who has access to every rude word you ever said in here.’

“Oh fuck!”

“Whatever happened to mind the language?”

“Max just reminded me she has access to the depths of filth I’ve accumulated in my long life.”

“Can she quote literature like you?”

“Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments; love is not love that alters when it alteration finds, or bends with the remover to remove.

“The problem is, how will you know whether it’s me you’re listening to or Max.”

“Yeah, you really are a bastard.”

“One who has his parents’ marriage certificate stored away with his birth certificate, so good luck proving any of that.”

“Well, we can’t sit around here all day. Where is this doctor of yours? Hang on while I ask one of the nurses.”

He left the room.

‘He’s not mad with us, is he?’

‘No. Well, maybe me a little bit, but no, not really. Peter has too gentle a heart to be angry with anyone.’

‘Not even his dad?’

‘No, not even his dad, which makes him perfect for us. If anyone understands the way you feel about your father, it’ll be Peter, and he’ll make sure you don’t turn bitter, not that I think you’re in any danger of that.’

“Well, that sorts one thing out,” Peter said, sticking his head back in our room. “Dr Rasheed is going to be busy with his rounds for at least another hour, so why don’t we go see what we can find you in the hospital shop?”

The shop in question turned out to be more of an arcade, offering something of anything someone in hospital might want. The range of choices on any one thing was fairly limited, but we did find a powder blue knitted dress and some white woollen tights in my size, along with a duffle coat that I decided I didn’t dislike and a pair of blue t-bar shoes. Underwear as well, since Max and I were determined to leave behind as much as we could of our old life.

I tried not to look at the prices as they were rung up on the checkout, but I couldn’t help myself. Not unreasonable, I thought, although there would be a lot of the same to come. I didn’t feel too badly about it, since my bequest to Peter would end up covering several times over the cost of looking after us.

I wore the clothes out of the shop, carrying the hospital gown and dressing gown in the provided carrier bag. Apart from my excursion into nightwear, this was my first time in a dress, and very much my first time out in public. Max’s too, and I could feel his nervousness as much as I could my own. While Peter was emptying his bank account on our behalf, I turned us to face a large window where our reflection looked back at us in enough detail.

‘I only see a girl,’ I said.

‘Yeah, but we’re not one, are we? I mean you can feel what’s filling out our pants.’

‘I feel it, but it’s small enough, and the drugs will help to keep it that way. We’re going to have to get used to it, because the law won’t let us do anything about it for six years, so what say we fake it till we make it? I mean the hairstyle helps a bunch, and your tendency to under-eat goes quite a long way too. Unless someone decides to look up our skirt, no-one should suspect a thing.’

“Come on princess,” Peter said, coming up behind us. “Save the admiring yourself in front of a mirror for when we have more time. You look very pretty, so why don’t we go show all the doctors and nurses?”

He said it so matter of factly I couldn’t help but feel at ease. I took hold of his hand and let him lead me back to the ward.

Where the nurses couldn’t help but make a fuss of Max and me, and I couldn’t help but love it. The doctor was present and asked Peter to wait until he he’d finished his rounds, which meant I had another fifteen minutes of being told how cute I looked.

When the doctor and Peter finally came out of their huddle, I was so enjoying the attention I didn’t want to leave.

“Ready to go?” Uncle Peter asked.

To which my response, looking around at all the smiling nurses, was, “Do we have to?”

The doctor smiled. “There’s very little more I can do for you Abri. The judge gave me guardianship over you, which was unusual enough and only intended to last until I found someone in your family who could take over. I’m satisfied that your uncle fits this role, so I’ve passed on guardianship to him. If it doesn’t work out for any reason, you have the judge’s number as well as mine,” he handed me a business card with it on. “If you feel the need, just pick up a phone, but I have a good feeling here. It would be good to hear from you once things are settled, but I don’t expect there to be any problems going forward.

“Your bruises are well on the way to mending, you have your prescription, or at least your uncle does, so I expect your life will unfold from here in the way you want rather than your parents. I wish you well, but your family,” he waved at Uncle Peter, “should be able to determine what that means from here.”

I threw my arms around him. I didn’t quite come up to his chest, but however awkward he felt about it, I still owed him my thanks.

Peter led me out to where his car had accumulated quite a parking fee.

“You’d better have left me more than a piggy bank full of loose change old man,” he said as he held open the front passenger door for me to clamber in.

I had my seatbelt done up by the time he slid in beside me. “Well, now that you’ve informed my solicitor of my demise, I expect you’ll find out quite soon. He’ll contact your dad to declare the date on my will and give him a chance to come up with anything newer, then he’ll arrange for a reading. What day is it today?”

“Thursday.”

“Probably Monday or Tuesday next week then. I suggest you make sure you can take time off on either one for the reading of the will.”

“Can’t you just tell me what you’ve left me?”

“I wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise. Besides, I’m not here, remember? Just Max, now Abrielle.”

“We have a private girls’ school near us. I don’t rate the local comprehensive, so will I be able to afford to send you to the better one? Can you at least tell me that?”

“Worth making enquiries, if you think it’s worth the money.”

I wouldn’t be drawn on the subject so we spent most of the next two hours driving in silence. He kept looking at me with his frustrated face and I just smiled back. Eventually he caved in and smiled at me.

“I don’t suppose it really matters. If you go to the comprehensive then it’ll be you that has to cope. Either way, I think Paul and I will enjoy having a youngster about the place. We hadn’t quite got there, but we were heading towards that conversation about adopting. Having a family member just makes it better. No paperwork for one thing.”

“Tell me about Paul,” I said, and that was all it took. The rest of the journey was about how they’d met and how wonderful Paul was. I was really looking forward to meeting him when we pulled into a roadside parking space outside an old Victorian terraced house.

“Let me do the talking to start with,” Peter said, so I held back while he unlocked the front door.

Paul greeted him before he had the door fully open. Arms around his neck, fully lip-locked. Either the neighbours were okay with alternative lifestyles or my uncle and... uncle didn’t care.

“Where have you been?” Paul asked. “I was so worried.”

“Well, you know that conversation we haven’t quite had about adopting? I’d like to introduce you to my niece, Abrielle. She’s having issues with her parents – my brother-in-law is a lot of an arsehole. It may end up being longish term.”

I’ll give Paul his due. Whatever greeting he still had in mind for his significant other, he forgot it and walked past to where I was standing shyly on the path. He crouched down and gave me his full attention.

“Hi,” he said. “Welcome.” He waved at the open door behind him. “It isn’t much, but we call it home. If you like, you can too.”

I threw my arms around his neck. Actually, it was probably more Max than me, but he’d been worrying about the welcome we were going to receive. Waterworks flowed and we clung on tight until Paul said, very carefully. “Er, ow.”

“I thought she could have the guest room,” Peter said, watching on with a smile as I disengaged from my quarry. “She doesn’t have anything more than she’s standing up in, so I thought I could take her to Tesco’s and see if we could get her some nightwear. I just wanted to introduce you first and make sure it was okay.”

“Are you kidding? Of course it’s okay. I’ll sort out the room and put on some extra pasta. Dinner in an hour okay?”

The growl in my stomach suggested sooner would be better, but I nodded.

Tesco’s didn’t have much more of a kiddie’s selection than the hospital shop had, but they did have a tee-shirt nighty with a cute kitten on the front. Peter bought one a size larger than I needed on the expectation that I’d grow into it soon enough. He also bought me a fluffy white dressing gown with bunnies on the front, also a size too large, and a pair of slippers.

He added a few things to the basket, like a bottle of wine and a few family sized packets of chocolates. Bounties for one, since he remembered I had a thing for them, then a mix of other stuff since he couldn’t be sure if Max shared my taste.

I mean he could have asked, but I wasn’t about to point him in any one direction because I could hear Max inside me saying, ‘Ooh, I like those. Oh, and those. Those are good too.’ The future boded well in terms of chocolate-fest, although I wasn’t sure how Paul would react. I’d just have to show I could be mature about how much chocolate I could eat.

Yeah, right!

Food was on it’s way to the table when we returned. I suspect a little stealth texting between my new guardians, but I didn’t care. I was famished and ready to eat whatever appeared in front of me.

Which, since it was spaghetti, was perfectly fine. I mean maybe there were more peas than Max would have preferred, but they mixed in well enough with the mince and went down without messing with the flavour. Much.

The chocolates didn’t appear for pudding – No surprise from my perspective, but some disappointment from Max’s. Instead we had apple and blackberry pie with custard, which definitely appealed to me. Less so Max, but then we ran out of room before we finished, which was okay by him.

Once we’d all finished eating, Paul disappeared upstairs. Shortly afterwards the sound of bathwater running reached us.

“Don’t you think you should share the whole truth about me before he finds out for himself?” I asked.

“Maybe you’re right. Should we do that now?” He pulled out a small plastic container of pills and handed me one. “One a day with your evening meal, I think.”

“Yeah. Yes, I mean.” I washed the pill down with what was left of my glass of water. “What do you mean should we do it now?” Emphasis on the we.

“Don’t you dare leave me on my own with something like that.”

I smiled and slipped out of my chair, carrying my plate across to the kitchen sink.

“You know, I remember you being a lot less of an arsehole,” Peter said, adding his plate to mine.

“Why don’t we go put him out of our misery then?” I said, taking his hand. “Better from you or me?”

He sighed. At the bathroom door he reclaimed his limb and used it to lift his partner away from where he’d been checking the temperature of the water.

“There is one thing we didn’t tell you yet,” Peter said.

Paul’s eyes drifted over towards me, the unasked question hovering in their depths.

Self conscious nerves paralyzed my vocal cords so I resorted to the only option remaining. I raised the hem of my dress and lowered my pants and tights until my uncomfortable truth lay exposed, shrivelled and near invisible though it was.

“Oh,” he said.

“Please don’t be angry,” I said. “I wanted to see if you’d notice first.”

“Well,” Paul said after a long pause, “I suppose it goes some way towards explaining how anyone could be so much of an arsehole he’d kick his daughter out of his house.”

“Not actually the kind of arsehole he was being,” I said. “He wanted to keep on pretending he had a son.”

“Oh.” Again. Same flat inflection.

I didn’t know how to take his reaction until I saw his tears. He dropped to his knees and held out his arms, inviting me in for a welcome hug while Peter rescued the bath.