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Previously...

‘I’ll have you know, I have like, talent. Only the other day, Miss Merchant in home economics said that she was surprised at how high my cake rose.’

She looked at me and I looked at her, and in seconds we were in the middle of a giggle fest!

My eyes were streaming and Claire was rolling about on the floor when I heard a cough. Looking up with watering eyes, I could see Mummy looking at us with a quizzical look.

‘Girls, please can you keep the noise down: the twins are trying to sleep, and so is Jeff.’

We calmed down a bit. ‘Sorry, Mummy,.’ I gasped.

‘Mmm. Right, Claire, off to bed; you’ve got school in the morning, oh, and have you done your homework?’

‘Erm–like, goodnight, all.’ With that she shot out of the room like a rat up a drainpipe.

Mummy came and sat on the bed. ‘It’s nice to see you a bit more cheerful.’

‘Yes, Claire’s funny and makes me laugh; she cheered me up lots.’

‘You okay about tomorrow?’

‘Sort of. I’m wondering what the manager’s going to say.’

‘Well, just remember, you can’t change what or who you are. If others have a problem, it’s their concern, not yours, so don’t worry. Now you’d better get some sleep. Goodnight, sweetie.’

‘’Night, Mum.’

I yawned and she kissed me on the cheek and settled me down.

The light was switched off and as I cuddled my rabbit and thinking that I’d have preferred to be cuddling Andrew or Andrea, I fell asleep.

And now the story continues…

The next morning I awoke feeling a bit stiff and sore. I got out of bed and went to the bathroom. After doing the necessary–which luckily, no longer stung–I took off my nightie and had a shower. As the water flowed down my body, I still thought it felt somewhat strange that I had breasts and no male bits dangling below. I hadn’t really felt around or touched very intimately any of new my girl bits. I don’t know why, but I felt a bit peculiar about it all. Things had moved so fast over this last month that I suppose I wasn’t yet totally in tune with my new female body.

Mummy said that we would be having a chat soon about my ‘new’ body and what it meant to me. That sounded a bit sinister but there was no use worrying about it!

After drying myself with a towel and hairdryer, I pulled the curtains back and looked out of the window. It was a dry, overcast day, typical for the winter. The only reason I liked the winter was because of the football. In the summer, I looked forward to wearing pretty dresses, skirts and tops. I know I can do that now, but only for indoors. A sun dress would not be appropriate to wear outside unless it was covered in layers of warmer clothing!

Anyway, this morning I was going for a walk around the grounds. It was still early and the others, liking their beds too much, wouldn’t be up so soon.

I quickly put on my bra, cami top and thick angora sweater. Then some thickish hold-up stockings–I couldn’t wear tights or jeans yet–too tender, and a long blue denim skirt. I had some calf length boots–‘borrowed’ from Mummy and then I was nearly done. I carefully applied a minimum of makeup, covering my sweater with a towel to stop any accidents. Then, after brushing my hair, I nodded at my reflection, not bad, considering.

I wonder if Mummy will take me to the salon? I thought, I need to have some serious work done on my hair and nails, now that I’m out as a real girl.

I smiled at that thought. No more hiding and trying to be something I’m not!

After a final look at myself, I put on my coat and made my way downstairs. I could here some noises from the kitchen and went in to see who was about.

‘Hi, Mummy!’

She looked up and smiled. She was eating cornflakes and had a steaming cup of something in front of her.

‘Hello, sweetie. You’re up early.’

‘I could say the same for you.’

‘The little ones are waking up earlier and earlier. I just wanted a quiet half hour before all hell breaks loose. How are you feeling?’

‘Not bad, still a bit sore. I thought that I would go for a walk in the grounds. I need to get fit again quickly.’

‘Well, don’t overdo it. You’re still recovering and we don’t want you to have any complications, do we?

‘Yes, Mummy–I mean no, Mummy.’

‘Don’t say “yes, Mummy–no, Mummy,” me like that. I’m only thinking of you.’

I went over and gave her a hug. ‘Sorry, Mummy, I know that you care.’

‘Okay; well, just listen to me. What time is Mr. McPherson coming?’

‘About ten,’

‘Are you worried?’

‘A wee bit. I don’t know what’s going to happen. It’s not knowing that’s so hard. Once a decision has been made, I can get on with things. Now, I just don’t know if I’m coming or going.’

‘Well you’ll know soon enough, love.’

‘I had better go. See you later.’

‘Okay, don’t be too long though and don’t strain yourself.’

‘I won’t.’ I kissed her on the cheek and left through the kitchen door.

It was quite cold outside and I shivered slightly as the cold wind hit my face–and other parts. As I strolled along the gravel path beside of the house, I thought about what Mummy said. I was worried about the outcome of my meeting with Mr. McPherson. I wondered how he would react to seeing me in girls’ clothes. I had made my mind up last night that I would wear a pretty dress and make an effort with my hair and makeup. I didn’t want any mistakes in identity–I was a girl and proud of it!

That made me think of Mum–my natural mum. I wondered if she was up there looking down at me and if she would approve of what I was doing. I know she was proud of me and that she knew I was a girl inside, but as far as she was concerned, she had given birth to a boy and knew nothing of the problems with my gender. Looking back–even in the darkest times when my father beat us–I still think that she realised that I wasn’t really a normal boy.

I looked up at the old oak tree over in the corner of the grounds. It was huge and the gardener said that it was hundreds of years old and had a preservation order on it. Suddenly, the clouds parted and a ray of sunshine hit it. It was as if a searchlight had been switched on. I could see every detail of the tree, down to the smallest twig. I smiled: as far as I was concerned it was a sign. My mum had heard and this was her way of showing me her approval. You might say it was a coincidence, but I don’t think so. I waited until the clouds covered the sun again and then I continued my walk–with a warm feeling in my tummy.

After another twenty minutes, I was getting tired and a bit sore, so I headed back inside.

When I arrived back indoors, it was as if I had entered a madhouse: Claire and Andrew were getting in each other’s way, making toast, Mummy was feeding the twins and Daddy was trying to drink a cup of coffee and read the newspaper–how he even tried to do that with all the noise, I would never know.

I went up to my room, took off my coat and struggled with my boots. Eventually I got them off without too many swear words. Being somewhat hot after my efforts and the fact that the central heating made me feel that was more like the Sahara Desert or Death Valley temperature-wise rather than a house, I decided to remove my rather thick sweater before becoming par boiled.

All this activity made my hair look like something out of the Rocky Horror Show, so I spent precious minutes brushing it into something resembling á¼ber-cool. I just had to get Mummy to take me to the salon. Claire should go too, as her hair has spit ends and looks like a thatch sometimes–Meooow!

Finally, when I arrived downstairs, things had quietened down somewhat. Claire and Andrew were disappearing out of the door with Daddy closely behind, a piece of toast in mouth and a hangdog expression clear on his face as another taxi job was about to commence.

Mummy was hosing down the kids; the stewed whatever-it-was being as much on the outside of the little darlings as inside their tummies.

I perched on a stool and grabbed the cornflakes, trying not to look too much at the icky goings on over by the sink.

Daddy had left the newspaper on the table and I picked it up and naturally turned immediately to the sports pages.

I just had to be on the back page, didn’t I?

WHAT IS WRONG WITH MARK HURST?

Is his career over just after it started?

Concerns have been raised over the health of Melchester’s wunderkind, Mark Hurst. Just six weeks short of his sixteenth birthday, he had a horrific injury on the playing field in the game against Cranley United that left observers wondering if he will ever be able to play again. It was estimated that the ball hit Mark at least 90 miles an hour. Because of his age and confidentiality issues, we were unable to ascertain the exact nature of his injuries, but as millions of men saw the slow-mo replays on Match Of The Day, and most–including my self–crossed our legs and felt a bit sick at the sight of such a shocking injury.

Mark Hurst, burst on the scene just a short while ago. He is one of the finest prospects of his generation and the England Manager, Olaf Johannsen, has already earmarked him for the under 21 team and shortly after that he was expected to feature in the squad for the world cup.

Attendances have soared at home matches since he became part of the team and even away from home; people have flocked to see the wonderful skills of this very young player.

Sources close to the club have said, in confidence, that there are concerns for the long term health of “Markie” as many of his devoted fans call him.

We asked Malcolm McFrazier, former Scottish international and TV pundit about Mark’s prospects.

‘He is a player who has a very positive influence on other players and the team as a whole. He has the ability and skill to lift all the other players around him. It’s not just the wonder goals, it’s the all round play that makes Mark such a gifted player. His passing skills and the way he reads the game, puts him in the class of Lepe. He is willing to help the defence and be a midfield dynamite. The fact that he is only 15 makes him almost unique in football. He plays like veteran of 30. What sort of player will he be in few years time? Who knows. If he gets over his present injury and stays healthy, I can see him being one of the top players not only in the UK but worldwide.’

Only time will tell if he makes a full recovery from his injuries and we will keep you up to date with developments as and when they arise.

I put the paper down with disgust.

‘What crap.’

Mummy looked up from drying the twins.

‘Susan, please don’t talk like that and certainly not in front of the twins!’

‘Sorry, Mummy, it’s just they talk such rubbish in the papers sometimes.’

‘Tell me something new. I suppose it’s about you?’

‘Yes, they think that I’m the best thing since sliced bread. Wunderkind and all that rubbish!’

‘Well you are good–special even, otherwise, why do you think everyone is so enthusiastic about you.

‘I’m just someone with a bit of skill and lucky enough to score a few fluke goals.’

‘It’s that bit of skill and so called fluke goals that make you special. Don’t keep putting yourself down like that, Susan. Accept that you have a gift and make the most of it. If you don’t, you will regret it when you are too old to play.’

‘Yes, Mummy,’ I sighed.

I finished my breakfast, then went upstairs to change. I had delayed changing until after breakfast because I didn’t want any accidents on the dress I intended to wear. What with the twins and their Exocet accuracy at throwing things around and my nervousness, I was not prepared to take any chances.

The dress was aubergine in colour and was made by Jenny Dyer of London. Mummy saw it in the sales and bought it for me. When I first saw it, I didn’t think that it would suit me, but when I tried it on, I could see that it was just perfect. It reached just above the knee in what is called Grecian style. It was a silk mix jersey dress with smocked, elasticated empire line. It fitted me like a glove and showed my shape to perfection, including my bust line.

If there was anything to show Mr. McPherson that I was now all girl, this would!

I was just in my bra and panties, when I put on my face. I chose slightly heavier makeup than usual, I suppose because I wanted to emphasise my girlishness. After the foundation, I added a bit of colour to my rather washed out face by some carefully applied blusher. Then I turned my attention to my eyes, and because I wanted to make them look bigger and more doe-eyed I paid them a lot of attention. Two tones of eye shadow and careful use of mascara helped give me the effect I wanted. Once I was satisfied, I used lip liner to make my lips look slightly bigger than usual and filled them in first with some pink Max Factor lipstick and then finally some high sheen gloss.

I nodded at my reflection once I had finished. I was rather proud of my efforts, but looking at the clock, I knew that time was running out!

I slipped on some nude hold-up stockings and shivered slightly as I ran them up my freshly-shaved legs. I didn’t have much hair on my legs, but removing the few that I had, made such a difference to the sensations I felt.

Stepping into my dress and I pulled it up–wiggling my bottom–as I did so. I swear that my bum was getting bigger, making me smile because, “happiness is a well shaped bottom,” in my book!

I sat on the bed and slipped on my shoes. They were black, court style with a fairly low heel, because the last thing I wanted was to break my legs coming down the stairs!

After teasing and brushing my hair until it shone, I inserted my tiny diamond earrings in my ears and then put the small gold cross and chain, that used to be my mum’s, around my neck. I also wore my mum’s lovely gold watch on my wrist. Looking at it and feeling the cross and chain next to my skin, made me feel like she was with me now, at a time where I would need as much help as I could get.

I heard the front door bell and my heart missed a beat. Stepping back, I gave myself a critical look in the full length mirror. I saw was a rather pretty girl, slightly older than my age, just ready to go and party. I smiled at my reflection and hoped I hadn’t overdone it. But there was no time for regrets as I had to go downstairs and meet the boss who, until a short time ago, thought that his up-and-coming new star was a boy.

There was a knock on the door. ‘Come in,’ I called.

Mummy entered and after raising her eyebrows said, ‘Taking no prisoners today, then, sweetie?’

‘I—I thought he should see the real me. I didn’t want him to think I was just a boy in a dress.’

‘There is no way he’s going to see anything other than a very pretty young girl. He’s downstairs now with your father and the publicity man. Are you ready?’

‘As ready as I’ll ever be.’

‘Come on, then.’

She went out again and after I had one final look at my reflection and removed a tiny spec from my dress, I followed her downstairs and into the sitting room. My heart was beating nineteen to the dozen and I nearly turned around there and then, but I just took a deep breath and walked in.

Daddy was looking at his laptop with Mr. McPherson and the other man who I hadn’t met yet. Over in the corner was John Prentiss reading a letter or something. He looked up and smiled at me as soon as he saw me.

‘Susan! You look lovely!’

‘Thanks,’ I said quietly as the others turned around and looked at me.

I could hear audible gasps, but as I was staring at the rather interesting pattern on the carpet, I didn’t see their expressions.

‘Bloody hell,’ exclaimed Mr. McPherson.

I winced at that; I did look silly then? I thought…

He came over to me and with a finger on my chin, lifted my face so that I was looking into his.

‘Susan then, is it?’

I nodded.

‘Mmm, ye’re much prettier than I thought ye’d be, lassie. What I did think was that ye might look like a wee boy wearin’ a dress, but that’s a lang way frae the truth. Ye could’a knock’d me doon wi’ a feather, seeing ye.’

He looked over at the other man.

‘What d’ye think, Trevor. Och sorry, lass, this is Trevor Withers, publicity director.’

‘Hello.’ I said quietly at the thin grey-haired man in a suit. He had a pleasant smile and didn’t look too shocked at the wunderkind wearing a dress.

‘Hi, Susan. We haven’t met but would have anyway at some stage and now this has happened, we need to talk about the ramifications. Oh and Sandy, in answer to your question, I think we have a problem.’

John Prentiss walked over and said, ‘Look, let’s all sit down and have a chat. Susan, d’you want your mother in on this too?’

I looked across to Daddy who nodded slightly.

‘Yes, please.’

‘Could you go and get her then and we’ll get some seats organised.’

I left the room, breathing easier than when I entered. At least they had seen the real me now and no one had screamed horrifically at the sight!

Mummy was talking to Mrs Moon in the kitchen.

‘Hello, Mrs M.’ I said, ‘Mummy, could you come through to the sitting room?’

‘Okay, dear, won’t be a minute.’

I went back and saw that some chairs had been arranged around in a circle. I sat in one, making sure to smooth my dress under me as I sat down.

‘Mummy won’t be a minute.’

Mr McPherson looked at me and shook his head.

‘I cannae get o’er ye, lassie. Ye still look like Mark, but only as much as a twin sister would look. How are ye aches and pains?’

‘Better thanks. I should be able to start training soon.’

‘Hmm, that’s what we need tae talk aboot…’

Just then Mummy came in with Mrs Moon. They were carrying trays with teas and coffees. I had a coke–of course.

‘Here we are,’ she said.

After we all had our drinks and Mrs M had left to go and see to the children, we got down to business. John Prentiss more or less chaired the meeting as he had arranged it.

‘Right, everyone. We can all see the problem facing us. Mark was a player who was destined to go to the top. Now, it turns out that Mark is in fact Susan, a fully functioning girl and if I may say so, a very pretty one. I have spoken to Susan, Jeff and Josie here and they have decided that we can’t just pretend that Susan is Mark. It’s cards-on-the-table time and we have to face facts that there would be problems for Susan if she attempts to pursue a career in the premier league.’

He stopped for a moment to take a drink of his some tea.

‘I have talked to a few people at league level on the quiet and, naming no names; I was told that this type of problem has only risen once before. It’s slightly different, but a teenager who happened to be a genetic male, but transgendered, wanted to play in women’s football. The case went all the way up to FIFA and it was decided that she could not play in women’s football because of the fact that she was deemed physically stronger than a naturally born women and therefore might put them at a disadvantage––’

‘That’s ridiculous.’ I interrupted, ‘there are strong men and boys and weak ones playing football and the same with girls’ teams, this isn’t like a being in a race!’

John looked at me and smiled, ‘I agree with you. Don’t shoot the messenger.’

‘Sorry,’ I said, feeling a bit ashamed at my outburst.

‘That’s all right. Anyway, you happen to be intersexed which is slightly different. Jeff and I have looked into this and I believe, Jeff, you have spoken to some lawyers?’

I looked at Daddy. He hadn’t told me about this.

Daddy opened a file on his lap and pulled out some papers.

‘Yes, sorry about not saying anything to you, Susan. You’ve had enough on your plate of late and I wanted you to concentrate on getting better. I know Melchester have spoken to their legal team already on this and I’ve also taken counsel’s opinion from a barrister in chambers. The general consensus is that Susan’s position is unique. The reason why there is such a fuss about gender and sport is because of possible unfair advantage. For example, in athletics, if a transgendered or intersexed runner who is predominantly male runs in a women’s race, it would be deemed unfair to the other–genetic female–competitors: stronger physique and all that. But the other way around, there would not be any unfair advantage as it would be assumed that the person in question would be physically weaker than the opposition. Is all that clear?’

We all nodded.

‘Team sports are slightly different, as Susan has pointed out; this isn’t a race we are talking about. But as there is no precedence for this situation, the barrister says that we should go ahead and do what we wish and if necessary test the case in court, if it ever came to it. Susan could stay and play with the team as she has no advantage over the male players, in fact it may be deemed the other way around.’

‘So the lass can still pay for us?’ said Sandy–oops I mean Mr. McPherson.

‘Yes, that’s counsel’s opinion, but we have other problems and I think Trevor wants to talk about that.’

‘Yes,’ said Trevor, ‘though, purely in business terms this would do the club and football in general a great deal of good. Susan has said that she does not want to hide the fact that she is a girl. Is that right Susan?’

‘Yes; I’m fed up with hiding who I am.’

‘Right, so we have to come out in the open and tell the world that because of a small birth defect that was not recognised at the time, Mark has always been, de facto, a genetic girl. We can arrange interviews with some of our tame newspapers, TV and radio stations and we can sell up the fact that Susan here is going to be a girl who can match and beat men at their own game. For too long in this country, women’s football has been considered not as important as men’s. Many women play and the sport is growing. The level of expertise has come on in leaps and bounds over the last ten years. But, sponsorship is hard to get and air time on TV is pitiful. Susan could be the means to open the women’s game up to a wider audience and make it mainstream.’

‘Our ladies’ team are great. I just wish that more people would go and watch ’em,’ Mr. McPherson said strongly.

‘Exactly; but there is a downside, Susan.’ Trevor looked at me and smiled. ‘The downside is that you would become one of the most recognised people in the country–even more than you are already. You’d be hounded by the press and other media and there are bound to be crackpots out there who’ll think that you shouldn’t be playing football, full stop. You will have to try to protect your privacy somehow. This house is good for that as it has walls and fences all round and the house is not visible from the road. Your age is in your favour because the media have to be very careful how they behave while you’re a minor. I can’t say the same for the paparazzi though. Another thing, just as important is how your team mates treat you.’

‘With respect or they are out,’ growled Mr Mac.

I smiled at that, knowing that the lads would rather walk on glass than experience the wrath of our volatile Scots manager.

‘Also,’ continued Trevor, ‘we don’t know how apposing players and supporters will treat you. It could be okay, but there are always mindless thugs, on and off the field and you have to be prepared for some nasty things happening. Well that’s it.’

‘Thanks, Trevor,’ said John, ‘any more thoughts?’

‘Does anyone know if I would be allowed to play in the England ladies team if I was playing full time in a men’s team?’ I asked.

‘I don’t know,’ Trevor replied. ‘Someone would have to look into that. Personally I don’t see why not, but there might be objections from FIFA, we just don’t know. It’s a unique case.’

Daddy looked at me and smiled encouragingly.

‘The only other thing is that if Susan doesn’t want to go through with playing for the men’s team, she should be able to play for the ladies as she is a fully functioning genetic girl. Also if FIFA or the FA don’t give her a choice and decide that she can’t play for the men’s team or try to cover her in red tape, they can’t argue against her playing for Melchester Women.’

‘True. Susan, whatever is decided, you have a future in football,’ said John, ‘and you don’t have to worry about making ends meet. I am sure that we can do some sponsorship deals, books, magazines, articles and interviews and that will leave you with a tidy sum.’

Mummy coughed and we all looked at her.

‘I don’t really want my daughter to become part of a media circus unless she is happy to do so. Susan, what do you think? Everyone has had their say and you know the plusses and minuses. The decision is yours and yours alone. Do you want to have a think about it?’

‘Can you give me a few minutes; I’ll be up in my room. I won’t be long?’

‘Okay, honey, there’s no rush’

I smiled around at the faces and then got up quietly and went upstairs. I closed the door of my room and went and sat on the bed.

I had heard a lot about what I could and could not do and, to be honest, I was scared of making a decision like this. I wondered what my mum would do and then realised that she was never strong at making decisions–that’s why she stayed with my stepfather so long. I gazed at her framed photo standing on my bedside table. I missed her so much still and yet I had to move on and make my own decisions in life. I thought about at the alternatives: I could try my best to carry on being a professional footballer in a male environment, or alternatively I could try my luck in the women’s team, or I suppose I could turn my back on all of this and go back to playing football in the park. I smiled ruefully, realising that I was beyond park football now and things would never be the same for me again, now I was ‘known’.

I stood up and stared out of the window. The day was still rather damp and grim. Fleetingly I thought of just packing up quietly and leaving, but I could never do that–I loved my family and friends too much. I went over to my chest of drawers and took out a lacy hanky. As I blew my nose, my eyes fell on the large photo of me just after scoring a goal for Melchester at Manethorpe. I had my hands in the air and I was being mobbed by my team mates. The joy on my face was something else. I smiled at the photo and just nodded.

As I rejoined them downstairs, they were just quietly talking. They looked up. I took a deep breath and said it;

‘When can I start training again, boss?’

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To Be Continued...

Please leave comments...thanks! ~Sue

My thanks go to the brilliant and lovely Gabi for editing and pulling the story into shape.