Previously…

I heard her move, was she leaving me, not able to face someone like me. Had I failed…?

Then, I drew my breath in as I felt her arms around me and through my tears, I looked up into her face. She was crying too. She didn’t have to say anything because I knew instantly that she accepted me for who, and what, I was–a woman. Our lips met and I could taste the saltiness of our combined tears as we cemented our love, a love that I dearly hoped would last the test of time.

And now the story continues…

Our lips parted. Her sweet, pretty face was flushed. Her lipstick had smudged and I wondered if mine had too. She grabbed a couple of tissues from a box on the small table and gently wiped away my tears. I did the same for her; it was such a tender moment.

‘So, you don’t think I’m a freak?’

‘Don’t you dare say that again, Sam. You’re no more a freak than I am. I love you for what’s in your heart and soul and when I look at you, all I see is an attractive woman, trying her hardest to blossom despite all the bad things that have happened to her.’

I touched her smooth face with my hand; I thought that it was so wonderful that she felt like that about me. All my worries seemed to fly away as I gazed at her sweet face.

‘It must’ve been hard for you also,’ I suggested.

‘When?’

‘When you discovered that you was a girl and not a boy?’

‘It was in a way, but, you see, I wasn’t really like other boys. I was always smaller, gentler and not into the rough and tumble which is normally part of being a boy.’

I speculated on just how tough it must have been–finding out that he was, in fact, a she.

‘Then,’ she continued, ‘I began getting a few aches and pains down below–nothing specific but just a general feeling of being unwell.’

We stood up and, holding hands, strolled down the steps into the garden. The borders were vibrant with colour and the Lily pond was still and tranquil. I could see fish swimming around in the crystal-clear water, the light reflecting on their golden and silver bodies. It was so peaceful here; there were several cats around, but mostly they were asleep in the warm sun and weren’t disturbed by our leisurely saunter through Abby’s enchanting garden.

‘So, what happened next?’ I asked.

‘You know how, at school, boys tend to compare each other’s manly attributes?’

‘Yes, I know exactly what you mean.’

‘Like in the showers where boys sort of compare each other–big being beautiful, I suppose even at that ridiculously young age. Well you must have gone through all that. Anyway, my manhood wasn’t much to write home about compared to even the smallest boy. Then there was my chest–when I was about eleven, I became aware of it getting itchy and sore.’

‘It must have been awkward hiding everything.’

‘It certainly was, and you must remember, I still thought that I was a hundred percent male. Imagine how I felt when on top of everything, my breasts started budding. I hid them at first–even from my parents–by wearing loose tee-shirts and sweaters. Then, one day I was playing football–I was useless, but it was part of the games lesson so I had no choice but to play–anyway, someone kicked the ball at me and it hit me in the chest. The pain was so bad that I blacked out. I woke up in hospital and discovered what was really happening with my body. As soon as the doctors saw my chest and how pathetic I was down below, they did some tests. They x-rayed me and then did an ultrasound scan which showed that I was intersexed. I couldn’t believe it and neither could my parents. We didn’t know what to do but the doctors explained that I had all the female bits except my vagina’s opening was closed by a layer of skin; my male organs were non-functioning except as somewhere to wee through. After some soul searching by my parents and long talks with me, it was decided that the best thing for me was to have corrective surgery so I could be a fully-functioning girl.’

‘Was it a hard decision to make?’

‘Not really. All my life I’d felt like a square peg in a round hole, so I suppose the decision was inevitable. I couldn’t be a proper boy, but I could be a proper girl. Anyway, here I am, a women and happy to be one.’

We settled on a bench overlooking a small lawn and flower beds.

‘So,’ I asked, ‘where do we go from here?’

She gazed at me and kissed me gently on the lips, sending more tingles down my spine, which was something that Olivia had not succeded in doing for years. ‘Where would you like to go from here?’ she asked.

‘I don’t want to let you out of my sight, now I’ve found you, but I suppose we should be sensible and grown up about it.’ A wisp of hair had flopped over her eyes so I brushed it aside with my hand.

‘I suppose,’ she sighed.

We looked at each other being all serious and glum and then began to giggle.

‘This is no good.’ I sighed. ‘I want to be near you always and joined at the hip at least, but we must to be sensible. Let’s take it slowly; I might have habits you don’t like and you might pick your nose or something–’

That set us off giggling like schoolgirls once more and only stopped when we embraced warmly and explored each other’s soft, willing mouths again.

We spent a long time discussing our hopes and fears. It turned out that we had so much in common–our love of the arts, the countryside and Penmarris in particular and many other things.

I stayed with her for the rest of the day deriving pleasure from her company and looking after the cats and kittens. It was one of the happiest days of my life and I sincerely hoped it would be the first of many. We realised, however, that we needed to be careful. We had both been hurt in our lives, Abby in a failed relationship a few years ago and me by Olivia. We had to try to hold back for a while so we could make sure that we were not making a dreadful mistake.

We agreed to see each other every day and, work permitting, spend as much time as possible together. That way, we would learn and grow closer and then, who knows what might happen.

We kissed and embraced each other passionately as we bade our farewells, whispering soft endearments and our love for each other. Finally, wrenching myself away, I returned home to my cottage and my thoughts.

I was so pleased I had taken my courage in both hands and opened up my heart to her. I unlocked my front door and made for the kitchen. Making myself a cup of tea, I seemed to be on autopilot as my thoughts kept returning to Abby.

I went upstairs and sat on the balcony overlooking the harbour to drink my tea. It was getting later now and the sun was dipping towards the horizon of the now calm sea. Holidaymakers were packing up their paraphernalia before going back to their hotels and B&Bs, and locals were wending their way home after a busy day in the shops, tea rooms and souvenir kiosks. Penmarris tended to slow down after about five o’clock and that seemed appropriate. Who wanted discos and rowdy beach parties stretching into the wee small hours? This just wasn’t that sort of place. I was getting hungry but, once again, didn’t fancy cooking. I could have cod and chips, but I’d had that last night. I smiled to myself as I realised that I hadn’t had the other delicacy I loved so much.

I picked up my bag, put on a cardie as there was a slight chill in air now and set off down to the harbour. The smell emanating from the fish and chip shop made my mouth water, as usual, and I wondered how much money I would make if I bottled it and sold it an eBay?

I entered the brightly-lit shop and there was the girl I had seen this morning on the lifeboat–the coxswain–serving behind the counter.

‘Hello.’ I greeted her.

She looked up from turning over the chips in the fryer and smiled.

‘Hello. Samantha, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, that’s me, my friends call me Sam. Hey, didn’t I see you on the lifeboat this morning?’

‘Yeah, ’Twere a bugger of a weather wern it? I’m Grace, by the way.

‘Hi, Grace, nice to know you,’ I replied.

‘Just make sure you don’t make any quips about Grace Darling;¹ I’ve got right pee’d off with them over the years; it’s been goin’ on ever since I was a schoolgirl.’ She grinned.

‘I don’t know how you dare to do it.’

‘Do what?’

‘Go out in mountainous seas to rescue people in distress.’

‘’T’s in me blood I s’pose. Both me Dad and me Granddad before ’im were cox’ns so I’m the third cox’n in the fam’ly. Y’see, when I was a littl’un I was a tomboy and Dad used to take me out in our boat and taught me all the sandbanks and hazards round about here. Most times when I wasn’t in school I hung out around the lifeboat house, so I got to learn all about the boat, and help out, like, by cleanin’ and helpin’ the mechanic, and yearning to be old enough so I could join the crew and serve under me Dad.’

‘Well I think it’s such a marvellous thing you do–you all do, and sooo brave.’

‘Gaarn, don’t be daft. So, what’ll ya have, Sam?’

‘Erm, haddock and chips?’

‘Haddock’s off, m’dyearr; do y’a nice bit o’ cod, though?’

‘Can I have a saveloy² and chips?’

‘Coming up, Sam.’

Grace did her stuff and handed me a parcel containing my supper. I paid her saying, ‘Thanks, Grace,’ and left the shop.

I found an empty bench overlooking the harbour to eat my saveloy–which for the uninitiated is a large sort of sausage–and chips. My thoughts, as usual were about Abby and I was looking forward to seeing her again tomorrow…

‘Hello, Sam.’

Startled, I looked up and there was Katie. ‘Hi, Katie, fancy a chip?’

‘Trying to give them up–oh, go on then, one or two won’t make that much difference to my hips.’

She sat beside me and started making inroads into my meal.

‘Hey, leave some for me.’ I chided her.

‘You’ll thank me tomorrow.’

‘I doubt it and leave my saveloy alone–’

‘Spoil sport.’

‘If you’re that hungry; go buy some of your own.’

‘That’s okay, I’ll make do with yours.’

‘I had an interesting chat with our cox’n girl in the chippy,’ I told Katie.

‘Grace?’

‘Yeah, she’s the bravest girl I’ve ever met; amazing, isn’t she?’

Katie started giggling; ‘I hope you didn’t tell her that,’ she said, and I had to think back for a moment before I realised what I had said and began giggling too.

With Katie’s unwelcome help, I finished my meal and, after throwing the remains in the waste bin I sat down next to her again.

‘Is your phone working?’ She asked.

I took it from my bag and found it was dead as a dodo. What with everything going on, I had forgotten to charge it.

‘No, why?’

‘I’ve been trying to get you today. I’ve had a phone call from your father-in-law.’

My stomach dropped through the floor making my choice of meal somewhat iffy.

‘Nigel? What did he want?’

‘To meet with you?’

‘Me? Why?’

‘I don’t know. He tried to get me to give him your address; naturally, I declined to give him such personal information.’

‘Good; how did he take it?’

‘Well he was a bit abusive, but after I mentioned the fact that all calls were recorded, he seemed to quieten down slightly.’

‘I wonder why he wants to see me?’

‘Probably to try pressuring you into not divorcing Olivia, or something. I don’t know.’

‘Well at least you’ve put him off. The last thing I want is to see him now.’

‘Oh.’

‘What do you mean, “Oh”?’ I countered.

She appeared rather embarrassed. ‘I said that I’d have a word with you and, subject to your approval, he could meet you in my office tomorrow at eleven.’

‘Why did you say that?’ I asked.

She looked at me and smiled. ‘It’s always useful to know how the enemy’s thinking. If you see him tomorrow, I suggest that it will only happen if I’m present. He might behave rather better with me there and we’ll also get some idea of his plans. What do you think?’

I didn’t really want to see him, but I could see the sense in it. How would he react when he sees that Tom is no longer a man but a woman, I had no idea, but I wasn’t going to roll over for him or his precious daughter any more. So I made the decision.

‘I’ll be there at eleven.’

_________________________

1 Grace Darling: Grace Darling was 22 years old when she risked her life in an open boat to help the survivors of the wrecked SS Forfarshire on 7 September 1838. With her father, she rowed for over a mile through raging seas to reach them. The courage that Grace and her family showed on that day is now legendary. see: Grace Darling Story. 2 Saveloy: A large pork sausage, often battered then deep-fried and served with chips (French fries in US). see: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saveloy