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 9

It didn’t take long to leave the number, with explicit instructions to give it to Mum and definitely not the arsehole. The nurse who took it from me assured me there was no chance of her making that mistake.

That done, Peter and I left the ward with one last smile and wave in Mum’s direction.

“I wouldn’t be doing my dad duty if I didn’t tell you to be careful about her.” Peter only spoke once we were at the lift.

“I wouldn’t be doing my daughter duty if I didn’t listen to you. It’s okay, Dad, I want to help her, but there’s only so far I’m prepared to go.”

“I forget how wise a head you have on your shoulders.”

“It’s kind of a mess at times, and I get the impression the hormones aren’t going to help.”

“You don’t have to take them.”

“Yes I do.”

“Yes. I suppose you do. Overall, nothing too bad yet?”

“Itchy chest. Unless Paul’s changed the detergent he uses?”

“Not as far as I know. You’re okay with all the emotional rollercoaster thing.”

I shrugged. “Actually enjoying it more than anything. It’s a wild ride at times, but then the same can be said for rollercoasters, and I love those. Or maybe I should say used to love. I haven’t been on one since I started using the patches. Maybe be a little too much to cope with right now.”

“Never know until you try.”

We reached the foyer where Mike and Paul were glowering at each other from a distance. Paul’s expression had a hint of smugness behind the anger.

Peter leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, probably more to get a rise out of Mike than anything.

“How did it go?” Paul asked us.

“Better than it might have if he’d stayed outside the door, so thank you.” I reached in to kiss him on the other cheek. That was enough to cause Mike to turn away in disgust.

“Can we visit again soon?” I asked Peter, probably a little late since it would have been easier to arrange while we were on the ward.

“That might be problematic,” he answered. “I had a word with the nurses while you were having your chat and it seems like Mike was already making arrangements to have her released.”

“He probably doesn’t want to risk making the same mistake he did with me.”

“Maybe. Or it may simply be that this hospital is a long way from their home, same as us. He can’t easily visit here, so it’s simpler to bring her home.”

“And leave her on her own while he’s at work.”

“Again, maybe, but maybe he’s making arrangements for her to be looked after at home.”

“Can we make sure?”

“I doubt Mike’s going to accept any interference from us. Paul hasn’t done much to promote positive relations between us, and neither of us helped just now.

“You left your mobile number with her just now. If she needs our help, she'll be in touch .”

“I suppose.” I didn’t like it, but I had little enough choice on the matter.

We found a taxi easily enough and headed back to the pub. Peter ordered room service, which meant I could enjoy a glass of wine with my meal. Max wasn’t too keen, and if I were going to be honest, my younger taste buds hadn’t adapted as much as I’d hoped. Still it left us with a gentle buzz, which meant that the early bedtime led rapidly enough to sleep.

Morning, with a breakfast of scrambled egg on toast, left us all awake and alert enough for the drive home. It was lengthy, but without incident, unless you counted the text that appeared on my phone just as we were pulling up on the drive.

“Mum’s asked to meet up,” I said once the engine was off. “She says she’s home, but would love it if we could meet up in the park near theirs anytime I like.”

“That would mean a couple of hours’ drive, Abri. I don’t know when I’d find the time to do that.”

“I could take the train.”

“Not on your own sweetheart. I don’t trust them.”

“Paul could come.”

“Paul has a life of his own.

“Leave it for now. We’ll talk about what’s possible once we've had a rest. Maybe next weekend if she can get away from her jailer.”

“That’s not very nice.” Paul standing up for Mike of all things? “I know one or two people in the prison services and they’re not at all like him.” Okay, so maybe not.

“Can I text her and ask?”

“If you like,” Paul sniffed. “Try not to be too obvious in case Little Hitler is screening her communications.”

I gave it some thought. ‘Do you know when the park’s open over the weekend?’ Not the most imaginative of questions since I already knew, but it had been some years.

My phone beeped. ‘Usually until sunset. If you remember, I like to feed the ducks around four on Sunday.’

The lake was just next to the play area. Sunday afternoon used to involve a short walk and a longish play if I wanted, as long as I could show I’d finished my homework.

They hired rowing boats from the north shore, and the playground was on the south, which gave us a safe way to approach.

‘I’ve often wondered what playing on those swings would be like in a skirt,’ I sent back. ‘No promises, but maybe next Sunday.’

That was all I could do. A week was a long time to wait, especially given what she’d been through, but it would have to do. Besides, as Peter had said, there was no guarantee she was being honest.

I helped Paul with dinner. Something light since the pub food hadn’t been great for any of our figures, then we found a family film to watch with me snuggling up between the dads. I’m not sure how much they minded, but they seemed happy enough to make it a three way snuggle.

Peter was back to rehearsing for his next show the following morning, while Paul settled back into his normal routine at home. A lot of that meant keeping the house tidy and being available for me should the need arise. The combination of those two meant I ended up with the lioness’s share of the household chores (have you ever noticed how they do ALL the hard work in the pride) leaving Paul to focus on things only he could do.

I didn’t mind. He’d put so much of his life on hold for my sake over the previous four and a bit years, it only felt right I should pay something back.

That was an area where Max and I didn’t quite meet eye to eye. I mean he was grateful for all the kindness and effort the dads had shown us, and he wanted to give something back, but his limit was considerably lower than mine.

I had my own plans, but they could wait until the end of the summer. I hadn’t received any replies from the organisations I hoped to work with , so I had time to spare.

It wasn’t all child slavery. There were a lot of things we did together, like the garden, which was loads of funs, and doing what we could to keep the neighbours happy and pro us. Plus he’d offer little incentives and rewards, usually of the retail therapy variety.

The drugs began to kick in during that week. I noticed myself growing for one thing, and my body started changing shape for another. Every morning I’d look in the mirror and search for even the slightest hint of change. The acne wasn’t welcome but it was manageable. My skin was already child soft, but it became girl soft with subtle changes to the distribution of my weight. My boobs were definitely growing, though not significantly in just a week. I still made use of the chicken fillets Paul had put into my wedding outfit. They augmented my appearance in a pleasing manner, but I was definitely heading towards the stage when my cleavage would soon be all my own.

By the time the weekend came round I could see the changes beginning to form. Most of it more of the same: fuller lips, thicker hair, subtle changes to the shape of my face which looked less child-like and more... well, it’s overused in TG circles, but nothing else would fit... more feminine.

The changes to my body were less obvious, but they were there to see if you looked for them.

I’d worried about this stage a little. I knew there had been the possibility that my body wouldn’t respond so well to the female hormones, that I might lose my hair, that the changes would be minimal. There were long term health issues to worry about like blood clots, but my doctor had suggested hormone cream or patches over pills because the risk was less. I was still happy with the way the patches were working out.

For now, it seemed that the absence of testosterone in my system meant there was no clash between opposing hormones, and my body simply set about growing me into adulthood with the building blocks it had available.

My male bits shrivelled until it became easier and less uncomfortable to tuck them away, so by the following weekend I felt confident enough to appear in public in quite short skirts. Nothing scandalous, but no longer than halfway down my thighs.

Sunday saw me in a short denim skirt and white cotton gypsy top. Lots of smooth skin on show – still showing a fair amount of tan courtesy of the holiday as well as some very girly tan lines from my swimming costume. Best of all was how gloriously cool everything felt in the summer heat. The bra was a necessary evil and I suspected always would be. For now it held those pieces of silicone gel tucked under the existing and gradually expanding soft flesh on my chest.

Paul gave me a delighted smile when I came downstairs for breakfast. My gestures had become naturally girly over my years at the girls’ school, and I felt myself slotting ever more completely into my life. There was so little to remind me where I had come from.

“There’s my little angel,” he said, causing Peter to look up from his paper. He smiled indulgently.

I dipped my head, embarrassed by the attention. A curtain of long honey blonde hair slid in front of my reddening face. It was naturally a sort of mousey colour, but the dads had finally permitted me to dye it, and I was delighted with the results.

“One more thing we’re going to have to pay for on a regular basis,” Peter teased. “Honestly, if we’d had any idea how much you were going to cost when you came into our lives...”

“Then we’d have done it anyway,” Paul said. “Pancakes?”

I nodded, brushing the hair out of my face. Sunday was the one day of the week we permitted ourselves a day off from the ‘fight against flab’ as Paul called it. Not so much an issue for Peter and me. Him because he burned off so many calories at rehearsal every day, me because I had the appetite of a mouse, but we showed solidarity most days.

“Peter and I thought you might like to go for a drive after lunch. There’s a park a couple of hours away from here with a boating lake.”

I smiled. All teeth and sheer delight. “I’ll text Mum, just in case she has other plans,” I said, reaching for teenage accessory number one.

“There are a few things I’d like to get from the shops this morning. We can leave the lord of the manor to his newspaper if he doesn’t mind us taking the car.”

By way of response, Peter threw the keys across from where he was sitting. Paul caught them easily and placed a small pancake in front of me. The size was my choice. If it had been any larger, I’d have left most of it.

I settled into the passenger seat and looked wistfully over at the steering wheel as Paul started the car. He gave me an understanding smile.

“Soon, Abrielle. You’ll be seventeen again soon enough. I take it you’d like driving lessons for your birthday next year?”

I smiled at him. I loved the way he read me so easily.

“How would you feel about me having a small motor scooter?”

“Less happy. I have no doubt you’ll be safe on it, but there are thousands of idiots out there who wouldn’t be as thoughtful. It would only take one accident. Maybe you wouldn’t die, but you’d almost certainly be left with some permanent scarring. Do you think that would be worth it?”

He was right. As Gerald, my time on motorcycles had been brief, but it had involved several minor prangs. Ice, oil, idiots speeding past badly parked lorries. No permanent damage, but it could easily have happened. I looked down into my lap.

“A few months on public transport won’t hurt. If you like, we can get you a provisional licence and get you through the theory test over the summer, then it’ll depend on how quickly you can impress your instructor.”

“You know, given how great you are with kids, Paul, you should think about teaching.”

“Good God, no! Whatever made you think I was that much of a masochist?”

“You put up with me.”

“And you are a very rare delight, sweetheart. Too many of the kids you come across these days are like Lily and Pam; spoilt, selfish and in many cases sadistic.” We arrived at the local shopping centre and parked. “I did have an ulterior motive in asking you to come out with me today though. Follow me.”

He led me to a small jewellery shop where, a couple of sharp stabs later, I came out with a some cute little silver dolphin studs pinned to my earlobes.

Just being out and about was a pleasure. Something I’d been doing for years now, but somehow this felt different. Eyes turned my way. Hungry eyes belonging to boys my age, envious eyes belonging to their girlfriends, smiling eyes that drew out the smile inside me from almost everyone else. For over four years now, I’d been a girl. Small, mousey, invisible. Now I was turning into a pretty girl. Partly from my effort with the hair and clothes and pectoral augmentation, but also to an increasingly large extent, from the hormones flooding my bloodstream. They left me feeling soft and sweet as much as they were turning me into much the same. Every small change, the gentle pinch of the new studs in my ears included, reminded me I was a girl. Every admiring glance I received boosted my confidence and self worth. The studs had come with a slim, silver necklace with matching dolphin pendant, which Paul had paid for without comment. I think the delicacy of it more than anything delighted me. As Gerald, I’d offered up some of Karen’s finer jewellery to my neck, but it had contrasted too much. As fragile and graceful as the necklaces were, they only served to show how oversized and clumsy I was. Now the slender elegance of the silver chain enhanced my own dainty features. The phrase 'high on life' sprang to mind and I wondered how soon I’d come down from it.

Not too soon, I hoped.

The rest of the shopping was drudge work, but I swept through it on a wave of natural endorphins. Back home Peter made appropriate comments about my new adornments before I tied myself into an apron and set about peeling and chopping vegetables for lunch.

We were done and fed by one thirty. Mum had responded to my text with a thumbs up and a smiley face. Emojis seemed out of character for her, which put me on my guard, but not enough to change my mind about going.

We parked at the north end of the park and hired a rowboat for a couple of hours. Paul and I sat back to watch with some admiration – and maybe avarice on Paul’s part – how his muscular body made easy work of rowing us across the lake.

I spotted Mum when we were halfway across. She didn’t look particularly happy. On the one hand, unsurprising since she’d attempted to take her own life a week ago. On the other hand, she’d been eager to see me again, so shouldn’t that factor in?

If I’d voiced my concerns Peter would probably have just turned around, so I kept my worries to myself.

“Stay close?” I asked as I stepped ashore on the south bank of the lake.

“Sure,” Peter said, holding my hand till I was safely on land.

I approached the bench where Mum was sitting. She looked up, but there was no happiness there.

“Mum? Are you okay?” I asked, settling onto the bench beside her.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” she said.

I’ve never been a fan of clichés, but it really did feel like the blood turned to ice in my veins. A large figure settled a little too close beside me on the other side. I breathed in the sickly sweet smell of too little deodorant losing a battle against too much perspiration. I wanted to run, but terror paralysed me.

“Alright you fucking little shit,” Mike growled in my ear, “let’s see you get out of this.”

I swallowed twice, fighting for some measure of control. “You know, the injunction’s still in effect, don’t you?” I managed to squeak out.

“Oh, I’m just out for a walk with the missus,” he said. “What judge is going to believe you didn’t approach us?”

“I suppose it depends on what you choose to do next...”

“What makes you think I’m going to do anything other than sit here and enjoy the view?”

“Past experience?” I don’t know where I found the courage to answer him back like that, but it seemed even a minor act of defiance was enough to start the fear draining from me. I caught sight of the brief flash of temper behind his eyes and felt the cold terror rising again. I needed to be cautious.

I looked around for Peter and Paul and found them still in the rowing boat talking to a park warden.

“I figured you’d bring your bodyguards with you,” Mike said when he noticed where I was looking. “You know how easy it is to get hold of a uniform like that?”

I looked again. The warden looked vaguely familiar. It had been nearly five years ago, but I wasn’t about to forget the bunch of goons Mike had brought with him when he’d first tried to take me back.

“The thing is,” he continued, evidently enjoying his moment to brag, “when you have a uniform on, you can say pretty much whatever you like and most people will believe you. Your dads, I think you call them, are currently being told that they can’t land their boat there.”

And by the looks of them, they were believing what they were told.

“What do you plan to do?”

“Oh, just what I said: Sit here with my darling wife for a while, then leave. If I were you, I’d worry about what my cousins were planning.”

“I thought they’d still be on their honeymoons.”

“You think they went on honeymoon after that shit show you pulled?”

Actually I had. “What happened?”

He laughed, not in a nice way. “Their blushing brides decided they didn’t want anything more to do with them after all that unpleasantness. They snuck out of the hotel and ran off together. Fucking lesbians eh?”

“That’s not funny,” I said primly. I made to stand up, but a heavy hand landed on my shoulder. I knew it would be pointless to fight so I settled back onto the bench.

“That's right, you little shit. Just sit back and wait. It won’t be long.”

I felt more than heard a sob from Mum and reached surreptitiously for her hand, giving it a squeeze. She squeezed back almost desperately.

“What makes you think you’ll get away with this?” I wanted to sound defiant, but I could hear the tremor in my voice.

From the quiet chuckle in his voice and the tightening squeeze from Mum’s hand, we all could.

“Look around you, sweetie,” he snarled the term of endearment. “No-one’s looking at us. Not even your dads?”

I looked out into the lake and found Peter and Paul rowing towards the north bank. Paul glanced back from time to time, but he was already too far away for me to make out any details in his expression.

“As far as anyone knows we’re just like any other happy family here.”

“What do you think would happen if I were to scream?” I asked.

“Oh, I don’t know. You’d probably be able to get away, but your mummy wouldn’t. She’d still be with me tomorrow morning, and what, with her being in a suicidal state the other day, I have to wonder what she might try.”

Mum shuddered beside me.

“Why are you doing this?” I asked. “I haven’t done anything to hurt you, and Mum definitely hasn’t.”

“Oh, is that so? What you’re doing right now, sitting there in that fucking dress, turns my stomach. Then both you and your Mum pull this shit with the pills to try and make me feel sorry for you. You are a fucking boy, Max, and you should fucking well accept that.”

I wanted to argue, but I remembered the anger in his eyes. I didn’t want to tempt bringing that all the way to the surface.

Then again, if I could drag this out... Peter was rowing like his life depended on it, which... maybe not his life. How long would it take him to get back to the jetty and run back here? We thought we’d been so clever using the rowing boat. Chance of scoping out the area safely, only Mike had kept hidden until I'd stepped off the boat and settled next to my mother, and he’d come up with the plan of how to use it against us.

“Well, one of us is wrong...”

“Yes, you are.”

“I was going to say that we’re stuck in a Mexican standoff. We both think we’re right. Neither of us is prepared to give in to the other. Which means we have two options. Either we agree on an independent third party to decide which of us is right – an option which could well switch the focus of the argument – or we could agree to stay out of each other’s lives like we’ve been doing these last few years. I don’t know about you, but that’s been working out quite well for me.”

“Yeah, well not so well for us. Your mum won’t stop fucking moping about her lost little boy, and even when you’re not around I can’t help thinking about how you shamed me, so I think we’ll go for option three.”

“Which is?”

“You accept that your father knows what’s best for you and do what I say. You stop taking those fucking pills and go back to being our son.”

“Well, I don’t know how you plan to pull that off. If the last few years show anything it’s that the law protects people like me from people like you.”

“British law maybe, but I’ve just been offered a contract out in Saudi Arabia, and you and your mum are coming with me. You know what they do to poofs out there, don’t you?”

I had a fair idea and it was definitely not something I wanted to experience first hand. As far as I knew, Saudi had no official laws against LGBTQ people, but they weren’t tolerated. I remembered researching an essay in which I’d read of several incidents where transwomen had been arrested and beaten severely with clubs and hosepipes, on occasions to death. Looking as I did, even dressed in male clothes, I was likely to end up on someone’s radar.

“You realise what a fuckload of trouble you’ll be in when you get caught?” I asked.

“Better make sure I’m not caught then, hadn’t I? Right, that’s our signal. Time to go.” He stood up, grabbing my upper arm in his massive hand. Well massive to me, but then everything was.

Mum stood up without any prompting. I glanced over at her. Everything about her stance spoke of defeat. The way her shoulders slumped, the way her head hung bowed, the expression on her face, everything.

“We don’t have to go with him, Mum.”

“I’m sorry dear, he’s my husband. I made a vow.”

“Which I’m sure no-one’s going to hold you to given the sort of person he is.”

“No darling, it doesn’t work like that.”

“No, it works like this,” Mike said through teeth gritted into an artificial grin. “You come with us to that van over there, or the next time you’ll hear anything about your mother, the news will be worse than last time. You get my drift?”

I couldn’t leave her with him and the dads wouldn’t get to us in time. If I struggled, he’d probably do the dad with a naughty daughter routine and I was small enough that he’d probably get away with it. I didn’t like it, but I was, stuck with doing things his way for now.

I slipped a hand surreptitiously into my handbag and triple pressed the power button my phone. It vibrated in my fingers, telling me it was doing as I wanted.

“So, what made you decide on Saudi Arabia?” I asked, more for the dads’ benefit than anything. “Is the Middle East the only place you can find a country full of bigots like you?”

“Shut your fucking trap and head for that van.”

“Which one?”

“The fucking white one, dick.”

No dicks here, or at least nothing to speak about.

“Which white one? Do you mean...” I reeled off the number plate on the closest one ahead of us.

He gave me a sharp look and stuck his hand in my bag, fishing out the mobile. It was locked and showing nothing, but he wasn’t stupid.

“Think you're fucking clever, don’t you? Well you fucking ain’t.”

He tossed the phone into a nearby bush and dragged me the last few yards to the van.

The doors opened to reveal Lily and Pam. Their smiles were not welcoming. They grabbed me and hauled me on board. I couldn’t resist them any more than I could my father.

“Make it quick,” he told them. “The little fuck used his phone somehow without my seeing.”

He slammed the door. I was vaguely aware when the van pulled out, but a little more preoccupied with what the twins were doing. One of them was undressing me from the feet up while the other had a battery powered hair trimmer which she used to attack my hair.

I gave up struggling once she’d mowed off the first strip and waved it in my face. The damage was done. Whatever else she did, I wasn’t going to keep the last five years of growth.

I felt a tugging at my skirt as the other twin cut it from hem to waistband.

“Leave the underwear,” the first said. “If they make him strip at the airport it’ll just mean he’ll get his first beating sooner.”

She made quick work of the rest of my hair leaving me with a full buzz cut. No frills, but that was part of the idea, I suspected. The scissors made short work of my tee-shirt and they sat back to survey their handiwork, laughing openly at me, the androgynous boy with the shaved head in his knickers and bra.

They threw a pair of shorts at me along with a spiderman tee-shirt and a pair of flip flops. Appropriate clothing for the summer with nothing saying little boy like a spiderman tee-shirt.

“He still looks like a girl,” one of them said. Pam I think. She tended to dye her hair darker.

“Yeah,” Lily said. “The bra’s padded. We’d better get rid of it.” She flourished her scissors.

I reached behind myself and unhooked it through my tee-shirt, pulling the straps through my sleeves and reaching up under the front of the shirt to remove it along with the silicone enhancement. It wasn’t so much that I wanted to preserve the bra for any reason – I fully expected to lose it – but I didn’t trust Lily with those scissors.

“He even moves like a girl,” Pam scoffed.

“Yeah, and just getting rid of the bra doesn’t do much for his appearance. Is he wearing makeup?”

“Yeah. Let’s sort that out.”

Several cotton wipes with one of the many options on creamy goo for removing the small amount of makeup I was wearing came and went. The van slowed to a stop just as they were finishing with the last. They surveyed their efforts just as the back door swung open.

“Fucking hell, is that the best you can do?”

“You didn’t give us much to work with, Uncle Mike. I challenge anyone to do better.”

“Fuck, it’ll have to do. Come here you fucking prick, we need to go.”

I’m sure I mentioned something about the absence of prick.

Max wasn’t too keen on my dark sense of humour, but then he was turning into a gibbering wreck with the way things were falling apart.

‘Hang in there,’ I told him. It was rare I spoke to him directly these days. ‘Everything’s going to be alright.’

‘How? How is anything going to be alright?’

‘The dads know what’s happening to us. This van’s registration...’

‘Which we’re about to abandon.’

‘But it will serve as proof that we’ve been abducted, and the dads know where the arsehole’s taking us. They’ll follow. It may take a while, but they’ll follow.’

Mike grabbed our – my – arm and pulled me out of the van. “You’d better fuck off,” he said to the twins. “I’m guessing the boys in blue will be looking for this van.”

“Where are we?” Pam (I think) asked.

“Just round the corner from where I picked you up. The carpark you used should be down that way and turn left.” He pointed with his free hand.

“You pay us what you agreed,” Lily said.

“Fuck, of course! When we get to Jeddah.”

“No. I want it now. It’ll be impossible to chase you up when you’re in the land of the terminally oppressed.”

“Fuck! Well I’m not hanging about. You want it now, one of you fucking come with us.”

The twins exchanged a brief glance before Pam headed off to fetch the car and Lilly joined us down a narrow lane, which led onto a wider road where a red saloon sat parked next to an expired parking metre – assuming anyone had bothered putting any money into it in the first place.

Mike removed a handful of parking tickets from the windscreen and dropped them in the gutter.

Mum and I were bundled in the back while Lily and Mike sat up front. My appearance shocked Mum out of her depression, but seemed to push her into a fugue state instead. There was a blankness to her expression, and she didn’t respond when I tried speaking to her or when I shook her.

Heathrow was a couple of hours drive away and neither Mike nor Lily felt much inclined to travel the whole distance together. The two of them started arguing as soon as they climbed into the car. It gave me the opportunity to search Mum’s handbag without being noticed, not that I gained much by it. She didn’t have her mobile on her, possibly because her husband didn’t trust her, and all I was able to steal was a little money and a notepad and pen. The shorts had pockets but they were light enough that I’d probably only get away with hiding the cash and a sheet of paper or two, so I had to figure out what would be worth writing before we got to the airport.

I had time though. Mike pulled into a service station just outside of town and begrudgingly paid the twins what he owed them. We left Lily at the station and drove on in silence for about half an hour before he spoke.

“What the fuck’s the matter with her?” he asked, tilting the rear view mirror to get a better look at Mum.

“I don’t think she likes what the twins did to me.”

“It’s a fucking improvement if you ask me.”

“I didn’t, but then when did you ever care about what anyone else thought?”

“Watch out you little cunt, or I'll make you fucking regret it.”

Never much cared for the C word, but I wouldn’t have minded having one just then.

“Go right ahead. I don’t have enough hair to hide the bruises you might give me, and it might just be enough to persuade someone to stop you.”

He sneered at me. “I can wait,” he said. “This time tomorrow we'll be in a place where no-one’ll give a shit how badly I bruise you. Now shut the fuck up.”

“I didn’t say anything until you talked to me.”

“And now I’m not fucking talking to you.”

It suited me. I thought about what I might write and set about putting pen to paper without drawing shit face’s attention. Not my best penmanship, but then it wasn’t easy to write in a moving vehicle while pretending you were doing nothing.

I had about a dozen notes written by the time the signs for Heathrow indicated we were getting close. I Would have preferred more, but we seemed to have acquired Max’s tendency towards travel sickness and I’d had to pause my efforts frequently to keep my lunch down.

I carefully and quietly tore out the sheets of paper and tucked the pen and notebook back into Mum’s handbag. She continued to stare into nothing and didn’t seem to notice. There wasn’t much else to do except watch the world go by, which at least settled my stomach before we arrived at the long term parking.

Mike lifted a coupe of suitcases out of the boot and told me to bring Mum. She seemed content enough to follow whoever led her.

“What if I don’t?” I asked.

“Then I’ll give you a thick fucking ear and you can drag one of these fucking cases while I hold her fucking hand.”

Not time to go full rebel yet. I took Mum’s hand and followed him towards the terminal.

“Whose car was that?” I asked idly as we exited the carpark.

“Why do you fucking care?”

“I don’t really, only if it’s a rental, you know they’re going to charge you for all the parking violations.”

“Yeah, well I borrowed it, so they’re somebody else’s problem now.”

Borrowed most probably meant nicked, but that wouldn’t help. By the time the authorities figured that out, we’d be beyond their jurisdiction.

“I need the loo,” I said.

“Hold it.”

“What if I can't?”

“Then piss yourself and see if i care.”

“I expect you will when the little kid sitting next to you on the flight smells of wee.”

“Fucking hell, what is your problem?”

“Girl’s plumbing isn’t as good as guy’s.”

“You are not a fucking girl.”

“Keep telling yourself that.” I pulled Mum towards the ladies.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He pointed me towards the gents. “And leave your mum.”

It had been years since I’d set foot inside a gents public toilet and my nose wrinkled involuntarily at the stench.

“You sure you’re in the right place, love?” a random stranger asked.

“Tell me about it,” I said, managing without effort to sound like a girl. “My father won’t let me use the ladies.”

“You’re one of them, er...”

“Transgendered kids, yes. Look, I’m okay with fitting in with what other people want, and I understand why a lot of women don’t like the idea of people like me using their facilities. If you feel uncomfortable with me being in here, I can go and use one of the stalls, but it’s not really why I’m in here.”

“Oh?”

I pulled out one of my notebook pages. “Yeah, the guy outside is my biological father and as transphobic as they come. I’ve had an injunction keeping him from coming anywhere near me for the past five years, but today he’s trying to kidnap me and take me to Saudi.”

“So lock yourself in here then?” He finished with his business and zipped himself up. It turned out he was one of the rare ones who washed his hands.

“It’s not quite that simple. My mum’s in a delicate state and he’s taking her too. He’s already as much as threatened her if I don’t go with him. Look, could you please take this and call the number on it. It’s my legal guardian’s number.” I’d had Peter’s number in my memory since he came to stay with me, and he hadn’t changed it in all that time. The phone a couple of times, but not the phone number. “Just tell him what I said. We’re heading to Jeddah as far as I know.”

He took the paper uncertainty and looked at me.

“What’s taking so long, Max?” Mike’s querulous voice sounded from outside.

The man sighed and nodded. Not the overwhelming promise of support I’d been hoping for but better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick.

Max gave me the mental equivalent of an odd look so I referred him to my mental library of trivia and Monty Python quotes.

I actually did need the loo, so after a brief detour to leave one of my notes in every stall – some on the cistern, some tucked into the loo roll dispenser, some tucked into the lock on the door – I sat down in the last one to go.

As an afterthought, once I’d finished my business and cleaned myself up, I took the time to tuck everything away as well as I could and to check the hormone patch behind my left thigh. I didn’t have any spares, so it was going to have to last me. Right now it was as well hidden as I could hope, so I left it where it was. The money I’d taken from Mum’s purse also went into my pants.

Mike was waiting for me when I emerged, brandishing the note I’d given to the guy I’d just met.

“You got any more of these on you?” He roughly checked my pockets and came away with the few I still hadn't distributed. He then checked the other stalls and retrieved the ones I’d left on the cisterns and the backs of the doors.

Alright, so maybe a poke in the eye might have been preferable. I still had the notes in the loo roll dispensers, but they’d have to wait for someone in need of more than a piddle, and would rely on them being curious about the extra piece of paper.

Mike marched us through check-in and security, where I was treated to a close and sceptical inspection every time my passport came out. It was six years older and I’d changed a lot in that time – Less so during my time on the blockers, but the hormones were coming into their own. I returned the looks with a tight simpering smile and was let through each time, the last one with a comment to Mike that maybe he should update my passport soon.

We made it to the boarding lounge hours before the flight, so now it was down to the dads and what breadcrumbs they’d been able to follow.

About an hour and a half later, a couple of security guards approached us. They addressed Mike, which I suppose was understandable since I looked so young and Mum looked so out of it.

“We’ve been informed that you have a legal injunction against you preventing you from approaching your daughter.”

“Yes, but this is my son.”

One of the security officers looked at me uncertainty.

“I’m transgendered,” I explained. “I was born his son, but I am currently legally female, except on old documents like the passport he has for me. I’m still the person he’s not allowed to approach.”

Mike’s eyes flashed with the promise of future violence. He had a contingency for this though.

“Yeah,” he said, “but you said you were prepared to overlook all that so you could come with us and look after your mum until she was better. You said you were worried about what might happen to her if you didn’t come.”

“I still don’t understand why Mum and I can’t stay here though. Uncle Peter would look after us both and I could care for her here.”

“She’s my wife and she’s coming with me. The question is whether or not you come as well.”

“What’s wrong with her?” the second security guard asked.

“She tried to kill herself last week,” I said. “Makes you wonder why anyone would take someone in that state to live in a country that oppresses women, doesn’t it?”

“Well, there’s not much we can do about that,” he replied. “We can take you away from him if you like, but we don’t have any authority to do anything to help your mum.”

“I want to bring assault charges against him. He cut off all my hair and dressed me like this.”

“I most certainly did not. That was your cousins, and if I’d had any idea...”

“But you did. You fucking paid them to do it.” F word a little gratuitous, but might just fall into Paul’s category of appropriate use.

“We can’t get involved in that sort of thing,” the first security guard said. “Now, are you coming with us or what?”

“I can’t leave my mum.”

“Then there’s not much we can do.”

“You can get some actual police here.”

“Sorry love. This counts as international territory. Outside UK law, and so far no-ones broken airport rules.”

“Then let my dads in to talk to me.”

“I thought he was your dad.:

“My guardians then.”

“Sorry, they can’t come through without a valid ticket and passport.”

“Can you at least take them a message from me?”

“Well...”

“Look, he’s shaved my head against my will and dressed me up like a fucking boy...”

“I didn’t...”

“Your fucking money did. If he’ll do that to me in broad daylight then there’s no telling what he’ll do to my mum. I can’t leave her. You can’t or won’t do anything to stop him from getting away with what is frankly criminal, then the least you can bloody well do is tell my dads...”

“I’m your dad.”

“You’re a fucking wanker who happened to land some of his spunk in my mum’s vagina one time. My dads are the people who care for me and make sure I stay safe, which if you gave a fucking rat’s arse would mean you wouldn’t be trying to take Mum and me to fucking Saudi Arabia.” I turned back to the guards. “The least you can do is tell my dads what’s going on so they can come up with a plan to fucking well save us.”

“Young lady...”

“He’s a fucking boy!” This from Mike who'd been growing progressively angrier with every insult I threw at him.

“Whatever." One of the security guards had found the limit of his patience. "All of you. If you keep behaving in this manner, we’re going to have to detain you.”

“Fine by me, as long as you hold him and my mum too.”

“No, it’s fine.” Mike made a Herculean effort to keep calm. “We won’t cause any more trouble. You won’t either, Max, if you want to stay close to your mum.”

“It all rather depends on these two,” I said. I made a note of reading their name badges out loud. “I’m sorry for shouting, but I'm the victim here and you’re nor even offering to do the smallest thing to help. Honestly, if anything happens to me or my mum because of you, I’ll make sure your inaction gets noted.”

“What’s your message?”

“Hang on.” I fished in Mum’s bag for the notebook and pen and scrawled out a short missive.

“Your, er, dads wanted you to have this back.” The younger of the two offered me my phone. It had survived its short flight into the bushes with only minor scuff marks.

“And what do you think this arsehole’s going to do the moment you’re gone? Who do you think threw it away in the first place? No. Please take it back to my dads. They can give it to me when they come fetch me from wherever we’re going.”

They didn’t much like it, but at least if they took the phone it committed them to finding Peter and Paul with my note.

Mike didn’t like it either. “You are going to get such a fucking hiding for that lot when we get where we're going.”

“You think you’re scaring me? It’s been a few years since anyone raised a hand to me, but I remember what it was like, and it wasn’t that bad.”

“That’s ‘cos I never really laid into you before.”

“Yeah, try telling yourself that. You see this?” I pointed at my head. "You’ve already done the worst you can do.”

“Yeah, well you keep telling yourself that, then we’ll see when we get where we’re going, eh?”

After that it was a bit anticlimactic. A few of our fellow passengers kept giving us the evil eye for disrupting their wonderful travel experience. Mum remained unchanged and Mike settled into a sullen silence. When our gate opened, he grabbed Mum by the upper arm and pretty much dragged her to the front of the queue. I had no real choice but to follow.