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 5

“You’re not mad, are you?” I asked some time later, all sweet smelling and wrapped up in Tesco’s kitteny finest, teeth tasting of minty freshness.

“With you? No. Maybe a little with Peter, but I’ll forgive him before we go to sleep.” He tucked my bedding in leaving me feeling snug and safe.

“He’s lucky to have you,” I said with a sleepy smile.

“I’m lucky to have him,” he replied automatically. “And we’re both lucky to have you.”

“What happens now?”

He kissed me on the forehead. “Only good things, little one. Only good things. Now, sweet dreams.”

He turned out the light and I drifted into soft, sweet-smelling oblivion.

In which I was floating on a cloud. Large, white, fluffy with the texture of cotton wool. The Earth drifted by so far below I couldn’t make out any details, but that didn’t matter. What did was up here.

I stood up on the springy surface of the cloud and looked around me. There were a few other clouds about, but nothing close, and with no one on them. In fact there was no-one up here apart from me and...

I turned to look at where I’d been laying and there I was still, sleeping peacefully. There were two of us. Twins, at least to look at, except...

Max lay sleeping peacefully, wearing his mother’s dress while I had on my red nightdress. This didn’t feel right.

A flash lit the sky behind me. I turned to find the few other clouds merging, darkening. There was a figure standing in their midst. Tall. So tall. Dark and threatening. He was coming closer.

Another flash of lightning and this time a low grumbling to accompany it. The dark cloud was drawing nearer, the figure on top of it taking on a progressively more demonic appearance.

“You said you’d never leave me,” Max said accusingly from behind me.

“I wouldn’t. I won’t,” I replied, except we were somehow drifting apart.

“Come here you little pissant,” a deep voice sounded from the immense creature, “you’re mine.”

I turned to find a dark demon figure towering over me, wearing Max’s father’s face.”

“You can’t have him,” I yelled, stepping between him and Max, or at least trying to.

“He’s a suicide,” the monster growled. “He’s mine forever. Whereas you. You’re just dead. You can go to hell.”

He waved a hand and the cloud vanished underneath me. I fell, screaming, with the sound of Max’s scream receding above me.

Light surrounded me and I was fighting with bedclothes. Strong arms engulfed me and a soothing voice – Peter’s, “It’s alright, I have you. It was just a dream. You’re alright.”

‘Max? Max, where are you?’

‘Uncle Gerald? I thought you...’

‘Thank God. I thought so too. Hang on.’

I squirmed in Peter’s grasp. “I’m okay,” I said, my words muffled against his chest. “It was... horrible, but I’m okay.”

“Is that Max speaking or Gerald?”

“It’s Abri, Uncle Peter. It’s both of us.”

“You want to talk about it? Sometimes it helps.”

I was ready to say no, but I could feel Max nodding inside me.

I described what I’d experienced, sensing Max’s own dream as I did so. Same dream, but his perspective. Ending with his demon dad snatching him up in its taloned grasp. I could feel it crushing him. I added his account to my own. The terror of falling alongside the horror of that suffocating squeeze.

“Sounds ghastly,” Paul said from the doorway. “I’ll make some hot chocolate.”

“It was only a dream, Abri. I know it felt real, but it wasn’t.”

I knew. In my head I knew, but my heart was hammering away like a steam train and my veins were filled with adrenaline even so. I put my arms around Peter and squeezed with all my diminutive strength.

He lifted me out of bed and carried me downstairs, snagging my dressing gown on the way.

“So would anyone like to tell me who Max is?” Paul asked, placing a mug in front of me. “Or Gerald?”

I’d been afraid he might have heard that. Oh well, story time. “Max is who I was,” I said. “It’s the name my parents gave me. I never liked it. Gerald is sort of like a make believe friend. It was him who came up with my new name.” If you’re going to lie, commit to it and keep it as close to the truth as you can. “Gerald’s sort of a ghost who came to me when I needed him.”

“Gerald? Isn’t that the name of your uncle?” Paul asked Peter. “The one who helped you out?”

“Yes, it was.”

“Granddad’s brother,” I said. “The one who never came for Christmas. I guess I always thought of him as a bit of a ghost.

“Anyway, my Gerald’s a bit like me. You know, sort of a girl with all the wrong bits, so we’re both happier like this.”

Paul didn’t look convinced, but he let it slide. It was likely one of us would slip up again and give him another chance at the truth, but not tonight. For now, we sipped at our drinks. I waited for my heart rate to subside, which it did slowly, helped by the calming influence of the hot chocolate.

“You know, bad dreams are often our subconscious telling us what we’re afraid of,” Paul said. “Like I used to have nightmares about finding myself standing in front of the class at school with everyone laughing at me because I was wearing short shorts and a pink sequined top.”

“You never told me that,” Peter said.

“It was a long time ago, before I came out and learned to be comfortable with who I am.”

“So you’re saying I’m worried about my dad coming after me?” I said. I could have let Max do it, but he was still struggling with his memories of the dream.

“What do you think?”

“I don’t really know. I mean what if he does come after us like he did in the hospital. What if he finds a different lawyer friend who doesn’t care so much about what’s right or wrong, or maybe someone who’s more inclined to believe Dad?”

“Then I suppose we need to line up our own army of legal warriors. We’re relatively safe for now because nobody in the family other than Uncle Gerald ever bothered to find out where we live.”

“So how did the judge find you?” Paul asked.

“Er, I told him,” I said. “I told him your name and that you lived near to Uncle Gerald. He was able get the general location from the police report and then narrow it down from there.”

“Well, hopefully none of Mike’s friends are that resourceful. I’ll get in touch with Gerald’s solicitor tomorrow and see if he can recommend anyone who might be able to help us out.

“When it comes down to it, the law is on our side, Abri. If they come with police, I have documents to prove Paul and I have guardianship. If they don’t then they have no legal authority to take you from us. Either way, you are safe here, okay?”

“Okay, I suppose.”

“Great,” Paul said, standing up and collecting all the mugs. “Let’s see what we can do with the rest of the night, shall we?”

“Could we leave a light on?” I asked on Max’s behalf.

So they left the hall light on and Max and I kept the door slightly ajar.

‘I got you,’ I murmured to Max, holding him in my best mental hug. I could still feel him quivering, but he settled eventually. I stayed awake for as long as I could, keeping an eye on his dreams. After an hour with nothing to worry me, I let sleep take over.

“Where the fuck is he?”

Not the most pleasant way to wake up, especially when it brought about a panicked reaction from the person i was sharing a body with.

“You’re not welcome here, Mike.”

“I don’t give a shit. Get out of my way. I’m fetching my son.”

“You take one step inside this house and I’ll treat you like any other trespasser.”

“And what? Call the police? They’d be interested to know why the fuck my twelve year old son is staying with a couple of nonces like you, especially when they find what the fuck you have him wearing.”

“I’d be happy enough to call the police if you really want me to, but I wasn’t thinking we needed to go that far.”

“Get out of my way. What the fuck!”

“Sorry, don’t I quite meet your expectations for a weak, effeminate poofta? You’re not welcome, Mike. Come around again and I will get the police involved.”

“Next time I come back, I’ll bring fucking backup.”

The door slammed shut.

“It’s okay, Abri. He’s gone.” I don’t know how he knew I was there, standing at the top of the stairs. “Fancy some breakfast?”

“He said he’d be back.”

“He did, which is why I need to make a few phone calls. Toast alright? We have jam, marmalade and lemon curd.”

“Do you have any chocolate spread?” This from Max.

“Not for breakfast, love,” Peter laughed. “Strawberry or blackcurrant jam though.”

“Strawberry please. How did you, you know, stop him from coming in? He’s pretty strong, my dad.” Again Max talking. I was happy to let him do so. Better than have him hide inside our head.”

“Do you know what I do for a living?”

“You dance, don’t you?” Okay, I might have given him a bit of a nudge there.

“Do you know how fit you have to be to make a living from contemporary dance?”

He did look well muscled. Certainly more than when he’d left my home to make his way in the world.

Two slices of buttered toast appeared in front of me alongside a jar of strawberry jam.

“I won’t eat both of these,” I said, spreading a thin layer of sticky yum on one of them.

He grabbed the other and took a mammoth bite out of it. He had his phone in his hand, searching his call history. He read a number out to me. I roused long enough to confirm it as my solicitor’s, then settled back to enjoy Max enjoying his breakfast.

“Hello, this is Peter Lassiter. We spoke yesterday. Yes, well alright, but I had a question of my own... No tomorrow at nine should be fine. My father?” He ran off a string of numbers that I recognised as my brother’s – or grandfather’s, or whatever. “Yes, I need some legal advice and was hoping you could either give it to me or suggest someone else who could.

“Yes, I’m currently looking after my niece because her father, my brother-in-law, has been hitting her and the courts gave custody over to me... His mother? Full disclosure, my niece is transgendered. I have a letter to show the doctor’s diagnosis. Neither of my niece’s parents are prepared to support her, despite the mother assuring the judge she would. Yes, well, I just had the father on my doorstep trying to barge into my house to fetch ‘his son’ as he put it. I kept him out... No, no violence, but he threatened to return with reinforcements... No I’m not entirely sure what he meant, but I’d suspect either police or a lawyer... Yes. Yes. I see. Yes, er, how much would that cost? Really, that’s very kind. Yes, of course. Mike and Lisa Baxter. Er,” he looked at me and mouthed ‘address’, which Max gave him. “Yes, legal name is Max Baxter. Is that it? Er, I could photograph them and send them through to you. Just a minute.” He grabbed a pen and pad of paper and scribbled something down. “No, you’ve been immensely helpful. Of course. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He hung up. “Well, that was easier than I expected. I just need to...” he went to his jacket hanging by the door and dug out the papers the doctor had given him. Photographed them with his phone and added them to an email he sent to the scrawled address on the pad.

“However did we get by without these things?” he muttered to himself, keying in the last few digits “Well, that appears to be the important things out of the way. Let’s sort out the inconsequential ones, like where are we going to send you to school?”

“Not the comprehensive,” Paul said, entering the kitchen in full flamboyant splendour, complete with floral robe and hot pink silk pyjamas. “That place is a zoo.”

“That leaves us with the girls’ school then,” Peter said, “as long as you’re sure we can afford it.”

“We’ll figure it out. Cut a few corners, eat out less.”

There wouldn’t be an issue once the will was sorted, but let that come as a surprise.

“Would they really let me go to the girls’ school?” I asked.

“You’re a girl aren’t you?” Paul sniffed. “Besides isn’t your friend always saying they want to show more diversity?”

“She is.” Paul had the phone to his ear. “Maddy, good morning. Happy New Year to you too, when it comes. Listen, do you have room for one more in year twelve...? Starting this term, yes. My niece, Abrielle. Probably permanent. Yeah, should have mentioned, this’ll be a tick in your diversity box. She’s trans. No she was born a boy. No, still physically a boy, but you wouldn’t know it to look at her. I’m pretty sure she’ll do whatever you ask. I can bring her in today if you want... No, tomorrow will be fine, only not in the morning. No, one o’clock will be fine. See you then.”

“Look, it’s not even half past eight and we’re pretty much done.”

“Pretty much done my delicate pink tush. Give me that.”

Paul grabbed the phone and spent several minutes calling doctors, dentists and a few other places I wouldn’t have thought of. Nine thirty came and went before he handed the phone back.

“Now we’re done, apart from a bunch of shopping.”

“We do need to get her some clothes,” Peter said.

“Not just that. School things too.”

“We’ll sort the uniform once Madeline confirms her place.”

“In the meantime, she’d going to need pens, pencils, ruler, calculator, pencil case, bag to put it all in. Not just that, but a girl doesn’t get by on clothes alone, and you missed Christmas didn’t you Abri?”

“Well...”

“You want to bankrupt us even before we’ve signed her up for a private school?”

“If I know you and Maddy, she’ll offer you some sort of scholarship deal to make it affordable. And even if she doesn’t, that’s no reason to skimp on hospitality is it? I mean whether Abrielle’s going to be a short term guest or long term part of our family, we do want her to feel at home.”

“I suppose we’re going to buy her a phone and a computer next.”

“Why ever not? Most kid’s have them for school these days.”

“I don’t know what planet you live on.”

“Twenty-first century Earth. You should try it sometime.”

“Mum and Dad wouldn’t let me have a phone,” Max said.

“There you are then,” Paul said triumphantly. “If ever you needed a better reason to agree with me.”

“Fine. Why don’t we go and get dressed, then we can head into town and empty our savings account.”

It didn’t take long to get dressed. Fresh knickers and tights and the same woollen dress over the top. Peter was also quicker than his companion.

“Do you have my prescription?” I asked Peter when we were alone again.

“Yes, the doctor gave it to me before we left. That is a point though. We need to drop it in to the local chemists.”

“They’re not likely to have something like that on the shelves though, are they?”

“No, but we have enough tablets to last a week, which should be enough time for them to put in an order.”

“You don’t need to spend so much on me, you know? I don’t need a computer or a phone.”

“Tell that to my significant other. He’s the one who’ll use any excuse to spend. We’ll get by. We were saving for a holiday in Italy, so we have money to spare.”

“Well, don’t give up on the holiday.”

“What are you saying?”

“Find out tomorrow.”

“Don’t tell me. You left me that bloody retirement watch they gave you, and it’s worth more than it looks?”

“No, It’s a cheap, nasty thing that’s worth a lot less than it looks, and that’s what I left to your dad.”

“Hang on, you’re not saying...?”

“I’m not saying anything. Wait till tomorrow.”

“What about tomorrow?” Paul moved with the silence of a panther and had a bat’s ears.

“I was saying I don’t want to rush over things that are going to cost a lot,” I said. “We can look at what’s there maybe, but I’d rather wait a day or so before buying.”

“You could learn from her, you know,” Peter said.

Paul pouted, but it was all part of the game. Kind of like surfing, taking things to the edge but never going too far.

“So, why aren’t we ready?” Paul asked.

“I’m just waiting for an email,” Peter said.

“Well, best you check to make sure you haven’t missed it then.”

Paul fished out his phone with a wry smile, just as it beeped. “There it is,” he smiled. “We can go now.”

Paul helped me into my coat while Peter dug out his keys.

“There’s the little fucker, and look what he’s fucking well wearing.” Apparently Dad hadn’t gone far. Either that or he’d found his reinforcements and come back.

Peter’s car chirped at the side of the road. “Get in, Abri,” he said grimly. “Paul, you too.”

We didn’t argue. Dad’s reinforcements were heavily built and grim looking.

Peter joined us in the car, pressing the thingumy that locked all the doors.

Dad and his friends surrounded the car making it impossible for us to drive away. Dad tapped on the window.

Peter dialled his phone and held it up to his ear. “Police please. Yes hello. I’m in my car with my partner and twelve year old niece. We’ve been surrounded by half a dozen men who are acting aggressively towards us. They have us surrounded so we can’t drive off and one of them’s knocking on my window trying to get me to respond. No, I have no intention of doing so.” He gave them the address then turned to Dad, showing him the phone. “The police are on their way,” he said.

They were too. I could already hear the sirens. First one patrol car then three appeared, approaching from opposite directions, leaving Dad and his mates nowhere to go. Another couple of cars arrived and they were now outnumbered.

With Dad and his gang led off to one side and raising their voices in protest at the way they were being treated, a couple of police officers, one man and one woman, approached us and invited us to step out of the car.

Peter explained all that had happened to the policeman while the WPC took me to one side.

I could feel Max trembling inside me. In fact he was trembling outside as well. The policewoman rubbed my shoulder gently trying to calm me.

“He’s my dad,” I explained. “He’s been hitting me because he doesn’t like that I want to be a girl. A judge gave Uncle Peter custody of me, but Dad turned up today to try and take me back. He’ll probably be telling your friends that it’s wrong for me to be dressing like this or for my uncles to be looking after me because they’re... Well they’re together.”

“Well, he can tell them what he likes. There’s nothing wrong with two men being together and you look very pretty.”

“Yes, well that’s the thing. I’m...”

“Also doing nothing wrong. If you feel this strongly that you should be a girl, then that’s what you should be. Listen, we’ll get everything sorted in a few minutes. I’ve been listening to my colleague talking to your uncle, and you’re not in any trouble.”

“What about my dad?”

“Well, if he’s in trouble, then it’s his fault.”

“But...”

“Do you think what he did just now was right?”

“Well, no but...”

“Did he make you feel scared?”

“Yes, but...”

“Do you think he should be allowed to act like this?”

“No, but he’s my dad.”

“Well, best he learn to act like it. Listen, stick with your uncle and everything will be alright.”

“Really?”

“Really. Looks like we’re about done. You really do look very pretty, you know?”

The Max in me blushed. I managed a shy smile. Paul had been hovering nearby. He moved in to put his arm around me at the WPC’s invitation. Peter joined us shortly afterwards.

“Right, sorry about that. Are we ready to go?”

“What’s going to happen to them?”

“Well it didn’t get to the point where a crime was committed, so I’d imagine they’ll spend a short while down at the local station – how short will depend on how cooperative they are – then they’ll be let go. I imagine they’ll want to keep your dad for a while longer just to make certain he understands the implications should he come anywhere near any of us or our house again, but he’ll be home in time for tea.”

He pulled out into relatively heavy traffic and we eased our way slowly into the town centre.

Paul had some very clear ideas on how he wanted his new daughter to dress, one of the most emphatic being that I should never again have to wear the same outfit two days in a row. He had an excellent eye for colour and style and, in spite of the constant free for all of shopping in the midst of sale-mania, Max and I found our wardrobe growing alarmingly. Skirts, tops and dresses for the most part, which thrilled us both, but a also a fair selection of tee-shirts with shorts, jeans and something called leggings which delighted Max and confused me. I’d long since avoided any but the most superficial interest in women’s clothing for my own peace of mind, so a considerable number of the new things in turn surprised, intrigued and alarmed me.

The early New Year’s sale took much of the sting out of the cost of our shopping spree, but Peter’s credit card was showing signs of wear and his face had developed a slight tick by the time Paul decided we’d invested enough in my wardrobe. We then found a toy store and Paul gave us a generous budget to spend. I let Max have most of it since I felt I’d outgrown toys, but I did ask for a small amount to be held in reserve for a supply of books.

Max spent all of the budget, picking out a wide selection of girl’s things he’d been denied for so long. I didn’t begrudge him the spend. Books were what libraries were for and I’d get by.

Then there was the computer. Lots of choice there, most of which I didn’t understand. Homework and internet was mostly what I would be using it for, with the internet heavily limited for someone my age. I certainly didn’t need anything special for that, which then meant what I was looking at fell into the realm of multi-deals, including one which offered a Kindle with a three month trial subscription to Kindle Unlimited.

And with the money we save there, the next shop we visited was a phone shop. I was never going to be trusted with one of the showcase newest models, but the amount Paul had in mind to spend afforded me a very serviceable smart phone, complete with sparkly pink and purple case.

My contract included unlimited texts, the young person’s go-to method of communication, and a reasonable allowance for voice and data. The school they wanted to send me to had a strict no phones policy, so I wasn’t going to get to use it much away from home anyway.

Peter looked shell shocked by the time we arrived back home, and I have to admit I felt it a bit too.

“Think of it is an advance on all the good karma we’re owed from taking this little sweetheart in,” Paul told him as he helped me carry all my new things up to my room.

The place was cramped, even when half my new clothes were consigned to storage in the box room. Max preferred to think of it as cosy, but I was holding out on the following day’s surprises for an improvement in our situation.

Much of the afternoon was taken up setting up my new electronics, which largely involved me waiting about while Peter did all the button pushing. I persuaded him to set up the Kindle first so I could at least read something while I was waiting, which didn’t impress Max much, but he agreed to the time share, which I would honour once he had something he could play with. Fortunately for me, Peter took a long time with the computer and phone, ensuring they were child friendly, before handing them over. By the time he did, Max had settled into a contented state, listening as I read him something I thought we’d both enjoy – inside our head, you understand.

We did unpack and explore the delights of girly toys, and we changed into something special for dinner at Paul’s suggestion.

Bath and early bed. Half an hour to read, only I was tired out and couldn’t keep my eyes open, so put the reader aside after only ten minutes.

Which of course meant I woke early. After Max as it turned out, so I roused to find us dressing a couple of dolls we’d put in nightclothes before taking them to bed.

‘I thought we could call this one Cosette,’ he said showing me his favourite.

‘Then this one will be Eponine,’

‘I don’t know why you like her. She’s mean to Cosette.’

‘She doesn’t know any better. I mean, consider her parents. Later in the book she makes a sacrifice for the man she loves without him ever knowing.’

‘Why would she do that?’

‘True love isn’t conditional on getting something back.’

‘Like with you and me?’

‘I’m not sure it’s quite the same. I get something quite significant out of this relationship.’

‘But you would have made the sacrifice even if you hadn’t, wouldn’t you?’

‘No comment.’

‘That means yes.’ Said with a degree of mental smugness.

“Would you like some breakfast?”

We looked up to find Peter standing in the doorway. We were hungry, so nodded enthusiastically.

“The dolls can come too if you like.”

More toast, this time tried with blackcurrant jam. Not to Max’s taste, and I’ll admit, not as good as I remember. Different taste buds, more inclined to sweetness. Peter noticed the lack of enthusiasm and took the toast from our fingers, placing a freshly buttered slice on our plate and the jar of strawberry jam beside it. I chose not to notice the smile he fought to hide.

“You alright to stay here with Paul this morning?” he asked.

“I don’t see why not,” I answered, “as long as Paul’s okay with it.”

“He’ll love it. I’ll pick you up to go to the school around twelve-thirty. It would be best if you wore something smart but not showy, yes?”

“No party dresses,” I said, “I get it.”

“I still find it hard to believe that you’re Gerald.”

“Only part of me, and that a part that’s fading. And should we really be talking about this with Mr Mega-Ears in the house?”

“The way he was snoring when I got up, I think we should be safe.”

“I do not snore,” Paul said around a colossal yawn. “Safe from what?”

I let Peter dig us out. He’d dug the hole we were in, so I was happy for him to fix things.

“You are impossible when it comes to planning a surprise, you know that?”

“I already told you, I hate surprises. They cause wrinkles.”

“Is that why you sneak about listening in on other people’s probably private conversations then? In case they’re planning a surprise?”

“I most certainly do not sneak about listening to other people’s conversations. If you can’t hear when someone’s up and moving about, that’s hardly my problem. Where’s the coffee?”

Peter poured him a mug, added milk and handed it across. I missed coffee, but twelve was a little young to start. I sipped on my orange juice and contented myself with the thought that I’d be reunited with my favourite vice soon enough.

Paul sat and inhaled the steam from his mug. “Alright, sweetheart, what would you like to do this morning while our man is out there doing whatever he has planned?”

I knew the young person’s response to this and shrugged.

“Well, I was planning on doing some baking. I’d be glad of some help if you’re up for it.”

Another shrug. “Okay.”

“That’s what I love about young people these days: the enthusiasm. ‘Thank you Auntie Paul, I’d love to!’”

“Thank you Auntie Paul, I’d love to!” I parroted, copying her inflections and everything.

Peter grinned and finished his drink. “I’d better get going and leave you girls to your fun.”

“Comfy clothes you won’t mind getting dirty, and these girls,” she picked up Cosette, “might want to steer clear of the kitchen while we’re working.”

I gathered the dolls. I’d eaten and drunk my fill, so next bit was getting dressed. Baths and showers were a last thing before bed thing, so I didn’t have to bother with anything of that sort. I settled for the jeggings and a fairly non-descript tee-shirt.

Paul found me five minutes later sitting on my bed and crying. He was perceptive though and spotted what was wrong right away.

“There are ways to tuck it out of the way so it doesn’t show, but maybe not something you want to do every day. Maybe not right now, eh? If you want to wear the jeggings, maybe try this.” He held out a tee-shirt that was a couple of sizes too big. “Trust me, the off the shoulder look is well in right now.”

I took off the tee-shirt I was wearing and replaced it with the larger one. The neck was big enough that it naturally slipped off one of my shoulders and, more importantly, it fell to the top of my thighs, hiding the small bulge in my crotch that had upset us, Max in particular.

Paul moved us in front of the mirror and smiled at our reflection. “Better?”

We nodded. Certainly Max was feeling better. I was kicking myself for not thinking of it – either the problem or the solution.

“We are going to have to grow you a thicker skin if you’re going to survive in that world out there.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I suppose crying is a child’s response to something going wrong, because children get used to having grown ups solve their problems for them...”

“I am not a child,” Max said with enough indignation for both of us.

“No, you’re not, which means when something happens that upsets you, rather than sitting down and crying about it, it would be better if you tried to figure out a solution.

“Blokes have this thing where they’re expected to solve their own problems, or at least they like to make it seem that way. Us girls learned a long time ago that it works better if we’re more open about helping each other, so don’t ever feel like you’re on your own. Sometimes the most grown up thing you can do is admit you need help.”

“Is that how you see yourself then? As a girl?”

“Well no. Except maybe a bit. I’m certainly not a typical man, and I learned a long while ago that I’d never make it through life being me and doing it on my own. So I suppose I am a bit of a girl, not that I show it the way you do. I mean, I have been known to rock a frock from time to time, but on the whole I’m happy being a guy. On my terms though. If I need to be a girl to take advantage of the whole girl support network thing, then I’ll be a girl too.

“The thing is, Abri, you know it’s going to take a few years before we can deal with that little chappy of yours?”

“Yeah. Six years. Half a lifetime.”

“True, but your lifetime hasn’t been such a long one so far, has it? The important thing – one important thing – is to make sure you don’t wish the next six years away just waiting for the time when you can get rid of it. You are what you are right now, and you need to grasp hold of life the way you are and live it right now.

“That means people will see through to what makes you different from time to time, and some of them won’t be very nice about it. You have to decide now what you’re going to do about it when they do.

“You see that?” He pointed at the mirror, at my reflection. “You like what you see?” I hesitated a moment, but nodded. “And what do you see?” I didn’t know how to answer that. “Do you see a pretty young girl with an embarrassing growth, or do you see a boy in a dress?”

“I’m a girl,” I said putting all the conviction I could find into the statement.

“So when you undress to take a bath and catch sight of that thing you hate so much, or when you put on a piece of clothing you were looking forward to wearing and it shows through, what are you going to tell yourself?”

“I’m a girl.”

“And if you can’t think of a way to hide the bit that suggests otherwise?”

“Ask Aunty Paul for help?”

He smiled. “Or anyone else in your group of friends. What about if someone tells you you’re a boy and you shouldn’t be dressing like that? That only a freak would do something like that? What will you tell yourself then?”

“That I’m a girl.”

“And what will you say to the arsehole who’s trying to tell you otherwise?”

“I’ll probably just smile and walk away,” I said.

“And if you need any more proof that what you’re telling yourself is true, take it from that, because that has to be the most mature girly response going. Me, I’d probably break his nose, or have a go at least, because sometimes I listen to my testosterone.”

“Is that why you and Peter keep on the way you do?”

“What do you mean? How do Peter and I keep on?”

“The constant little grumbles. The mini fights you always seem to be having.”

“Oh that. That’s nothing. Just a bit of fun. A pissing contest sort of, I suppose.”

“Challenging each other to see who’s top dog?”

“Yes, but I’ll always let Peter win. He’s happier in the dominant role, and I’m happier with him there.”

“Then why...?”

“I don’t know. Maybe to prove to myself that I could win if I tried. Maybe to keep him on his toes. Maybe to win a few rounds. Does it bother you?”

“No. It never feels like it’s going to get out of hand, and I can see how much you love each other in the way you handle the things you say to each other.”

“Yes, well...” He looked embarrassed for a moment. “We’d better get baking, otherwise Peter will be back and we won’t have anything to show, and that would never do.”

We headed down to the kitchen where he put an apron on me. None of the full sized ones covered me well enough to help, so he ended up giving a smaller one in pink gingham with frills and hearts all over it. I didn’t really need anything to make me feel more girly, but I loved it anyway.

“So, tell me about Gerald,” he said as he lifted packets of ingredients down from various cupboards.

“G-Gerald?”

“Your imaginary ghost I think you said, only I was a little curious about what Peter said earlier.”

“Er...”

“What did he mean when he said he found it hard to believe that you were Gerald?”

“Fuck, I hate keeping secrets!”

“Abrielle!” Every syllable enunciated separately. Max was pretty shocked too.

“I’m sorry. I’ve never been good with secrets and I’ve spent way to much of my life learning that every time I try to keep something hidden, it goes horribly wrong.”

“What are you going on about?”

“I honestly thought it would be easier if we tried not to tell anyone about it, because it’s so bloody unbelievable.”

“Abri, would you please curb your language.”

“It’s not Abri, at least not for the moment. You wanted to know about Gerald, well here I am. What would you like to know?”

“I’d like to know what on Earth is going on.”

“Fine. Only let’s get your baking started while we’re at it. I never was very good at it, so let’s see if I can learn something.”

He gave me instructions for how much flour to weigh out and to sieve it into a bowl. I followed them while he measured out the butter and put aside a few eggs.

“Tell me what you know about what happened in Peter’s family this Christmas,” I said as I spooned out the flour.

Paul gave me a brief account covering Max’s suicide attempt, my slightly more successful heart attack and the brouhaha that arose from my fighting to be seen as a trans-girl.

“Did you hear any details of how I – Gerald – was found?”

“No.” He took me through the process of mixing the ingredients, which I managed with considerably more delicacy and patience than usual. “Well, Peter did say there was some matter of shame involved, but spared me the details. I mean, Gerald meant a lot to Peter. I suspect he wanted us to keep the memory alive.”

“Gerald was transgendered too. He came from a generation that kept things like that hidden, so he lived all his life frustrated and twisted out of shape.”

“How would you know?”

“Because about the time when I – Max – was putting on my mother’s Christmas dress and swallowing down all her sleeping pills, the other me – Gerald – had just finished a rather large Chinese meal for two by myself and most of a bottle of Malbec. I’d changed into a red, cotton nightdress and had paused in my reading of a new novel on my Kindle, to listen with some focus to Pink Floyd’s Animals. Supreme irony that my heart attack took me just as I was listening to dogs around the time my heart decided to give out on me – you know, ‘Do have a good drown, as you go down all alone, dragged down by the stone.’”

“That doesn’t sound like the sort of music you’d be interested in.”

“Max, maybe not, but Gerald...”

“I don’t understand.”

“There was a bloke waiting when my, for want of a better term, ghost stepped out of my body. He said I had an opportunity to help Max who’d just stepped out of his. The deal was we go back together or not at all. The alternative would not have been great for Max.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know who put you up to this, but I’m not prepared to listen to any more.”

“Fine by me. You brought it up, remember. Last word on the matter. Peter’s gone to the reading of Gerald’s will. Would you like me to tell you how it’s going to turn out?”

“No. I don’t want anything more to do with this.”

“Scared you’ll have to face up to the possibility that the impossible things I’ve been saying might have some grounding in the truth?”

“Scared to hear what lengths you’d go to to perpetrate a... whatever this is.”

“You think this is some sort of scam involving Peter’s suicidal nephew and reclusive uncle? How’s that going to work?”

I let him stew while we finished mixing the cake. I worked on the butter icing while he put the tins in the oven.

“Alright, let’s say you are Gerald. Peter told me what you said to him when your neighbours started spreading rumours about you and your gay nephew.”

“I told him you don’t turn your back on family. I may have said a few other things too, but that was the gist of it.”

“Alright, what’s in the will? I’ll admit that there’s no way Max would know.”

“Collin gets my retirement watch as a reminder of the excuse I used to avoid him at Christmas for so many years. Peter gets everything else. That’s my house, the balance of the mortgage paid by the buildings and properties insurance upon notification of my death, all the contents, which includes quite a selection of women’s clothes, and all my savings, currently around a hundred and nineteen thousand pounds. There’ll be inheritance tax, of course, so the final sum will be quite a lot smaller. The house is worth about three hundred thousand, so I think you’ll end up paying tax on forty-four grand. At forty percent, that’s just over seventeen and a half grand. That’ll give you about a hundred thousand cash on top of the house and contents.”

Paul sat down very abruptly on the floor.

“So, as I was telling Peter yesterday after you were so insistent on sending me to the girls’ school, I think you should still be able to afford the holiday in Italy you were planning. I wouldn’t mind coming too if you can sort out my passport in time. I rather liked the holiday Karen and I spent in Florence, despite the company.

“Actually, that’s unfair. Karen was great. I was the arsehole.”

“You really are...”

“Why don’t you wait until Peter gets back to confirm what I said?”

“I’m not sure I need to. I mean, what twelve year old talks like that or knows anything at all about inheritance tax?”

I shrugged. “It starts seeming important as you approach the end of your life.”

We made a couple of batches of cookies while the cake baked, then cleaned down the kitchen while the cookies did there thing.

“Peter said I should wear something smart but not flashy for the school visit this afternoon.”

“Why don’t you go and sort something out then? I’ll get some drinks together and we can try out the cookies.”

“I want to try the cake.”

“And suddenly you sound like a twelve year old.”

“Well, Max is in here too. We’re sort of growing into each other and it would seem a little weird if we ended up with a mental age closer to Gerald’s.”

“This is very confusing.”

“Not that confusing. I’d just like to have a slice of cake instead of a cookie. It’s simple really.”

“Except we haven’t iced the cake yet, and I was hoping we could share it later when we’re all together. Either a congratulations for getting into the school or a commiseration for not.”

“I suppose that’s fair. Alright, a cookie would be great thanks.”

“And to drink?”

“Milk please. Nothing else really goes with cookies.”

I found a short, black and grey tartan skirt and a white woollen top along with some white woollen tights. Not job interview smart, but smart enough for the occasion, I thought. With a black pair of T-bars to match the black in the tartan, it looked pretty good.

It earned me a nod of approval from Paul, and we sat daintily eating and drinking until Peter came home.

He sat out in the car until Paul noticed and took a cup of tea out to him. I trailed along.

“He left us everything,” he said to Paul.

“I know, he told me.”

“What?”

“I heard you two talking this morning. You’re not very good at keeping secrets. How did your dad react?”

“As you’d expect. Bloody livid would be a fair description. He chased off ranting about how it wasn’t right and that he’d be contesting the will.”

“Can he do that?”

“Sure. The silly old fart can waste his money any way he wants. The document was properly signed and witnessed, so the only way it can be overthrown is if a different one with a more recent date can be found.”

“He won’t find one,” I said, “so let’s hope he isn’t stupid enough to try and forge one.”

“That was pretty rough of you, cutting him out completely.”

“Not completely. I left him the watch.”

“Yeah. What was it you said?”

I shrugged. “I think I said something about how let down I’d felt when that was all they’d given me after decades of hard work and loyal service, and maybe whenever he looked at it he’d have an inkling of how let down you must have felt when he kicked you out. I think I may have ended by saying that at least one of us has to show you that you are worthy of love.

“Hey, you wouldn’t let me go round and tell him face to face what I thought of him. I was so angry I had to do something.”

“I doubt he’s ever going to forgive you for this, you know. Or me.”

“So share it with him. It’s only money after all. I’d rather see the two of you reconciled. Just not yet though. Wait till he’s found out that he can’t take it from you first.”

“You scare the shit out of me sometimes, you know that?”

“Watch your language in front of the kid,” I said with a smile, knowing full well how delighted Max felt. “When do we need to be at the school?”

Peter checked his watch. “Half an hour. If you’re ready, you should jump in.”

“Let me grab my phone.”

“What do you need that for?”

‘Something to do while you’re talking about all the boring bits.”

I dashed back into the house while Paul shared an intimate moment with his husband. They were kissing when I came back.