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The journey takes about ten minutes. Mary lives in a late Victorian terrace house near the centre of town. We approach the house from the rear, cycling down the passageway behind the houses to the back gate.

The gate is unlocked by Jill and we file through into the small rear yard. We store and lock our bikes in a metal shed. There isn’t much room, the small shed taking up half the space. The remainder of the yard is occupied by a metal garden set of a table and four chairs. Several potted plants are dotted around to give some greenery to the otherwise plain concrete paving slab yard. There is a passage up the side of the building past the bathroom and kitchen to the back door, which we enter.

The kitchen is long and thin. The bathroom is on the other end of the kitchen, built onto the rear of the building as an extension.

We enter the back room of the terrace. The only window in the room overlooks the passage beside the kitchen, so there isn’t much natural daylight. The room is configured as a dining room. There is also a small two-seater settee and an old television.

Jill and Wendy immediately head through to the stairs, which go up between the front and back rooms, and disappear to the upper floor.

“Wendy is going to borrow my bed tonight, we will be sleeping in the front room in sleeping bags,” Mary states. “Dump your bags in the corner for now while we cook dinner.”

Mary instructs us to start preparing things while she takes her own bag upstairs. Alison heads to the kitchen to start cooking. We get a frying pan out and start it heating up with some oil. I fill and boil the kettle as Alison gets a second pan out and measures out some rice.

Mary comes back, gets the chicken pieces out of the fridge, and dices them before adding to the hot frying pan. I add hot water to the pan with the rice and when it comes back to the boil, I put the timer on.

Once the meat is cooked through and browned, we add a couple of jars of sweet and sour sauce. It then simmers while the rice finishes cooking. Under Mary’s directions, Alison and I set five places at the table and put some plates in the oven to warm.

While we wait, we discuss the movies we want to watch from the selection available. I am not a big watcher of movies and don’t own many DVDs. I do watch them on television, but as we don’t subscribe to the movie channels, I’ve only seen the ones that have been on the terrestrial stations.

After some discussion, we settle on watching three films. The first - ‘Monty Python’s Meaning of Life’ - is one I have seen, but the other two I haven’t, which I am surprised about. Technically, we’re not quite old enough to watch it according to its rating, but there is nothing in it that is that shocking.

The second film is called ‘Juno’, and is about a teen pregnancy. None of us have watched it, but having seen the trailers, it looks interesting. We will finish up, if we’re still awake, with ‘Dirty Dancing’. I’m not a huge lover of chick flicks - I don’t mind admitting I have slightly masculine tastes in that I like action films - but I do love this one.

When everything is ready, I am sent up to the middle bedroom to inform the two elder girls that dinner is served.

There are three bedrooms, one above the front room, one above the back room, and one above the kitchen. The third bedroom is small and can only be accessed by going through the middle bedroom. Mary’s mother has the front bedroom. Mary and Jill share the middle room and the back bedroom is set up as a study room and walk-in closet.

The door is open and I knock on the doorframe as I poke my head round the door. Jill and Wendy are sitting on one of the beds looking a magazine. The three of us head downstairs, where Mary and Alison are carrying the plates to the table.

“You said earlier you had a lesbian fling. Who was she?” Mary asks while we are eating, “Anybody we know?”

“I’m not the kind of person to kiss and tell,” I state.

“Go on, we won’t tell anybody,” Jill says.

“My cousin Emily,” I reply going red.

“You snogged your own cousin?” Alison asks.

“Have you never heard of kissing cousins?” I reply jokingly, “When you live in the back of beyond, it’s compulsory.”

“So how far did you get?” Mary probes. I simply go redder and take a mouthful of chicken.

“Stop pushing, or are you willing to expose your own love life?” Jill asks her sister.

“What love life?” Mary replies, “You won’t let me have one. You’re afraid I might get laid before you do.”

“Technically we should all still be virgins,” Alison replies, “We’re all underage.”

“Not for much longer, I turn sixteen in two months,” Wendy replies.

“I suppose it depends on your definition of virgin,” I say, “If you take it to mean an intact hymen, then you can lose that by simply masturbating, or something as mundane as falling off a bike. If on the other hand you take it to mean penetrated by an actual cock, then no amount of lesbian activities are ever going to count.”

“I would take losing your virginity to mean somebody else bringing you to climax as opposed to self-gratification,” Jill answers.

“Using that designation, what are you Jasmine?” Wendy asks.

“By that classification, I’m no longer a virgin,” I reply. “I’m not going to elaborate further, unless you’re going to explain how Jill knows you are excellent at spanking.”

This time it’s Wendy’s turn to go red. I have already been blushing throughout the meal.

“Spoilsport, I was looking forward to all the lurid details of some hot lesbian action,” Mary replies. “We’ll have to make do with spying on you two instead,” she says pointing at the older girls.

“You think we would be daft enough to do anything while you’re here?” Jill responds. “If you want to find out what it’s like, you’ll have to find out for yourself.”

“Count me out. I’ve been there, done that, and don’t fancy a repeat,” I state to Mary, “But if you and Alison want to sixty-nine each other all night then I won’t object, just keep the noise down while I sleep.”

“Yuck, no thanks,” Alison replies, “I have no inclination to put my tongue anywhere near where you’re suggesting. I don’t have anything against lesbians, but I don’t want to take part myself.”

It would appear that the sleepover is not going to turn into an orgy after all. After finishing the sweet and sour chicken, we move onto apple pie and ice cream.

“Is that why Julie is being such a bitch to you? She thinks you’re gay?” Alison asks.

“Partially,” I cautiously answer, “she thinks I’m a sexual predator and therefore should be banned from the changing rooms.”

“That surprises me,” Mary states, “I know a few of the people from that karate club she goes too. One of the instructors is gay and recently got married in a civil partnership. I wouldn’t have thought Julie would have a problem with it.”

“There is another reason,” I say sighing. “I have a few skeletons in my closet that I don’t want people to know about. She thinks I’m being dishonest and should reveal them.”

“She’s blackmailing you?” Jill asks, “You know the best way of stopping blackmail is to reveal the secret yourself.”

“I know, and it’s only a matter of time before my history is revealed, but I’m scared. Not only would I be in serious physical danger, I’m frightened that everybody, including you, will hate me,” I say as I start to cry.

“She’s not exaggerating,” Wendy replies. “You remember me telling you about my friend Mike, the one who got beaten up by his parents when he came out. He’s Jasmine’s brother. They will go mad when they find out about her experimentation.”

A sudden shocked look comes over Jill’s face. On seeing her friend’s reaction Wendy pulls a face and swears under her breath. Jill gets up, walks round the table and envelopes me in a big hug. “You poor girl, I hadn’t realised the connection. No wonder you’re scared. They don’t know you’re here, do they?”

I look at Wendy and she mouths, “Sorry,” to me. I quickly finish the last few spoonfuls of dessert while Jill returns to her seat. Mary and Alison are looking on puzzled by Jill’s strange reaction.

“I might as well get this over with,” I state with a sigh. “Wendy has obviously told you about my older brother Mike. I guess that she also told you that Mike has one sibling. A younger brother called Simon.”

I look down at the table and hold my breath, waiting for the screaming. Nothing happens. I slowly raise my head to see the raised eyebrows of Mary and Alison. I see a smile spread across Mary’s face.

“You’re Mike’s brother?” Alison asks sounding confused, “You’re a boy? You don’t look like a boy when naked.”

“No I’m not a boy,” I reply as calmly as possible, despite my racing heart, “I’m definitely a girl, I just happen to be a male girl. I know that sounds like an oxymoron but it isn’t. Physical sex is only one measure of a person’s gender. It is also how you see yourself and how you interact with other people. Internally I visualise myself as a girl and my behaviour patterns and thought processes match a more feminine role. I am certainly more comfortable when presenting myself as a girl, and when treated as such.”

“I can vouch for that,” Wendy states, “I have known Simon for years, but have only recently met Jasmine. You’ve never actually met Simon. He is a very sad, withdrawn, timid person. He pretends to act tough and masculine, but is frankly useless at it. In his last school, he was regarded as a sissy and didn’t have any close friends, and was an outcast that didn’t fit in. However, when she presents herself as a girl she is a lot more relaxed, natural, outgoing, and doesn’t have any problem fitting in and making friends.”

Crying, I nod my head in agreement, “The last few weeks have been the happiest of my life. To be able finally to be myself without having to hide my feelings has been wonderful. I have gone to a lot of trouble to make myself pass as a girl, including hiding certain bits of my anatomy in order to be able to use the girls’ changing rooms.”

Looking round the room at Mary and Alison I ask the question I have been dreading, “Now that you know my secret, can I still call you my friends?”

“Of course, this makes no difference to me,” Mary replies, “I’m cool. It does explain some of the weird things like the incident at the pool earlier. I like you for who you are, not what you look like.”

“I’ve spent time pretending to be a boy when I had my hair cut off,” Alison says, “So I have firsthand experience of the difference in treatment you can receive. It’s subtle but there is a difference in perception and behaviour. I agree with Mary, yes it’s weird, but I can live with it. Now let’s get the washing up done so we can watch some movies. We need some comedy to lighten the mood.”

I smile, nod and thank the girls. Jill and Wendy volunteer to do the cleaning as we did the cooking, so we proceed through to the front room while they clear up.

The front room has a three-seater couch and two chairs round the edge. In the corner of the room is a 32-inch flat screen TV and DVD player. I note that they have Cable TV. The Freeview digital signal is notoriously weak in this area, and the analogue signal is often unwatchable without a signal booster. At home, we have satellite, as the Cable service is only available in town.

The first movie is one only I have seen before, the other two never experiencing the stalwart of British comedy that is Monty Python. Cue shocked expressions of ‘did they really do that in a film?’ and endless giggling at the surreal humour.

I prove my geekyness by joining in on the choruses of ‘Every sperm is sacred’. My voice has thankfully never broken, so I can almost pull off a choirboy-style rendition. Singing isn’t something I do very often, and I’m not sure if I was in tune, but it was enjoyable nevertheless.

The film has lightened the mood no end. We then move on to the second film, ‘Juno’. As Alison goes to put the DVD in the machine, she pauses and asks, “Are we sure we want to watch this one?”

She is specifically looking at me, and I wonder why she is hesitant. “Sure, why not?” I reply.

“I was worried that you may find it upsetting,” Alison answers, “but if you are okay then it should be an interesting movie.”

I think carefully about what I know about the film to see why it might be upsetting. It is about a girl who gets pregnant and gives the baby up for adoption. I suddenly twig why Alison thinks it may upset me.

“If you’re worried I might be upset because I can’t get pregnant, don’t be. I know that my only option for children is adoption. If anything, I can identify with the childless couple, even if not with Juno,” I reply.

We sit and watch the film. We are all on the three-seater couch with our feet up on beanbags and stools. I am in the middle with Alison and Mary on either side, wrapping their arms around me for support. I think they are worried I might break down in tears again. Wendy and Jill have gone back upstairs to listen to music, read magazines, and gossip.

The film looked interesting from the trailers, but it dragged a bit in full. Alison and Mary got slightly emotional, more so than I did. I have taken a conscious decision to remove myself from the breeding population. Although I am slightly saddened by knowing I will never reproduce, it isn’t something I can do anything about anymore, therefore I’m not going to let it upset me.

It is getting late by the time the second movie finishes. The third will take us slightly past midnight. Mary suggests getting the sleeping bags out and changing into our sleepwear. Mary heads upstairs. Alison takes her bag into the bathroom to change and use the facilities.

While Alison and Mary change, I unroll my sleeping bag and place my pillow in position. When I hear Alison leave the bathroom, I head through the dining room and kitchen to take her place. I use the loo and strip off. I dress in my new silk pyjamas and put my dressing gown on before washing and brushing my teeth.

Having folded my clothes and put them in my bag, I head through to the front room where Mary and Alison are sorting out the sleeping arrangements. Seeing that I have returned, Mary heads through to the bathroom.

Alison is wearing a long t-shirt that comes down to her knees. Mary is wearing a set of pink satin pyjamas. I put the DVD of ‘Dirty Dancing’ into the player and set it going. The trailers can be playing while we get ready. I then pause the movie once it actually begins.

When Mary returns we do the final sleeping arrangements. We have put the seat cushions from the couch and chairs onto the floor, and laid the sleeping bags on top. I take my dressing gown off and reveal my pyjamas.

The other two aren’t bothering with dressing gowns, as the house is warm enough not to need them, but I’m slightly embarrassed that my nightclothes aren’t the usual garments worn by someone my age. They are luxury silk items and not something I would have thought the others would wear.

I certainly get a reaction when I take my gown off. Both girls are impressed at my clothes and investigate.

“Wow,” Alison states on seeing my pyjamas, “they’re really nice, are they real silk?”

I nod and Mary strokes the fabric on my arm and says, “I wish I could afford a pair like those, they’re gorgeous.”

I explain that I can’t normally wear girls’ nightclothes at home, so I’ve treated myself to a single pair of real luxury items. It’s the first time I’ve worn them. My initial nervousness over my choice of nightwear soon evaporates as my companions jealously state they want some.

We set the movie going and settle down in our sleeping bags. About a quarter of an hour into the film, Mary’s mother comes home and drunkenly stumbles through the room, slightly worse for wear. I can see that Mary is embarrassed and annoyed at her mother’s behaviour. Jill comes down and helps her mother to bed - she looks annoyed as well - and I get the impression that the will be an argument upstairs out of our sight.

Mary admits her family is the model of dysfunctionality. Her father divorced her mother two years ago and ran off with another woman. Her mother is barely able to hold down a job, and likes to drink. Jill has to hold the family purse strings otherwise they would be penniless if she let her mother keep control of the cash. Jill has confiscated all the bankcards so that only she can withdraw money.

While the other girls may be used to late nights, I’m an early to bed, early to rise, kind of girl. I am therefore exhausted and slowly start drifting off to sleep. I can vaguely remember the end of the film, but I may have been dreaming it from memory. What I do know is that I suddenly found myself visualising being up on the stage and being caught by Patrick Swayze.

Despite my late night I still awaken before the others, although not as early as I usually do when working. I wake up about seven in the morning. I untangle myself from the sleeping bag and carefully climb over the other girls. I head through the dining room and kitchen to the bathroom to use the loo and have a quick wash. I won’t be bothering with a shower this morning.

I emerge from the bathroom and put the kettle on for a cup of tea. I know many young people don’t drink tea anymore, in fact there is a whole section of society that now drinks nothing but beer, but I like a brew in the mornings.

I am soon joined by Wendy, who like me is an early riser due to the farming lifestyle.

“I thought I heard movement,” Wendy states as she gets two mugs out of the cupboard and finds the teabags.

“I hope I didn’t wake anyone, I’m trying to be quiet,” I say.

“I was already awake reading, have been for the last hour,” Wendy replies.

Wendy then suggests making breakfast for everybody. Jill has apparently stocked up on eggs, bread and bacon for the purposes of the sleepover. It would appear that they normally only have toast or cereal, but thought their guests might like more. Wendy and I both usually have larger breakfasts, but because we both work, and have to cycle several miles each day, we burn more calories than the average couch potato teenager does.

Wendy finds the frying pan and puts it on the cooker ready to use when the others awake. The kettle has now boiled so I make a cuppa.

We have just sat down at the dining room table when the sound of the Crazy Frog can be heard emanating from above us, followed shortly afterwards by swearing. Wendy swears under her breath and dashes up the stairs at high speed. I guess it must be her mobile phone making the racket.

The combination of the phone and the pounding of feet running up the stairs has the effect of waking the other girls. I am soon joined by the partially awake Alison and Mary. I ask them if they want a drink. Alison opts for a cup of instant coffee, while Mary plumps for chilled apple juice from the fridge.

Wendy comes back down the stairs a couple of minutes later, fully dressed and with Jill in tow.

“Jasmine, you need to make yourself scarce for a few minutes. My mother is on her way over to pick my bike and me up. My grandfather has been taken ill and my parents need to head down to Cambridge as soon as possible. It looks bad. I won’t be going with them, but I need to be on the farm to look after the cattle. Jason and your parents are supposed to be coming to help, but they have their own stock to take care of first,” Wendy explains.

“Sounds like an all hands to the pump situation,” I state, “Do you need my help? I can come with you if you need a hand.”

“How do we explain your presence?” Wendy asks.

“I’m staying the night at Greg’s remember, that’s only a couple of blocks from here. You called me when you heard and I came over to meet you,” I state. “Be getting our bikes out while I quickly get dressed. I brought a set of boy clothes in case of an emergency. This counts.”

I swiftly grab my rucksack and dash back into the bathroom to change. I have been wearing my headscarf in case Mary’s mother sees me, but there is no sign of her getting up, so I switch into boy mode by leaving my head uncovered and putting tape over my earrings. I don the jeans and white shirt that I have in my bag and make sure I have all my girl clothes hidden at the bottom of the rucksack.

When I come back out, Wendy hands me some toast, which I eat while finishing drinking my tea. In the meantime, Alison and Mary are carrying our two bikes through the house from the shed. They put them on a dustsheet in the front room. I just hope that Susan, Wendy’s mother, doesn’t question my bike, as it’s the girls’ road version not my normal boys’ mountain variety.

Jill rolls my sleeping bag and puts it in my rucksack with my pillow while I finish my breakfast. I am washing my hands after eating the toast when a car pulls up outside. Wendy calls out that her mother is here and we both head through to the front room as Susan rings the bell.

Mary answers the door and lets the woman in. She is surprised to see me but Wendy quickly covers me by saying that I was staying at a friend’s nearby and that she called me, as we discussed.

Susan’s car is parked outside blocking the road, so there isn’t time to stop and argue. Both sides of the road are full of parked cars, so there is nowhere for her to park, so she has simply stopped in the middle of the road, blocking it for all other traffic. We swiftly put the two bikes into the trailer that is being towed on the back, and get in, putting our bags on the back seat.

Waving goodbye to our friends, we start to drive off to Wendy and Susan’s farm. I am sitting in the back with the bags while Susan and Wendy are up front.

“Wendy, can I borrow your mobile for a sec?” I ask.

“Sure, it’s in the left hand pocket of my bag,” she replies.

I locate the device and phone home to let them know what is going on. My father answers the phone. He has just popped back into the kitchen after milking the cows. I explain what is happening and that I’m with Wendy. I give him the same reason as Susan for why I’m here and not where I said I would be. He seems to accept this, and states that if I help then he won’t need to rush over, as we should be able to manage between us. My mother has taken Susan’s place working in the dairy shop this morning. All the farmers’ wives take turns in that role.

We arrive in the farmyard. Mr Bancroft, Wendy’s father, is loading their other car with suitcases. Seeing us he calls out, “The first lot of cows are in milking, the second and third lots are waiting in the holding pen round the side.”

After finishing loading the car and kissing Wendy goodbye, her parents disappear off down the road. Susan’s father has had a massive heart attack, and is being taken into surgery for an emergency angioplasty. If that fails then the only choice is a full-blown bypass. It is looking uncertain if he will survive. I hope that they get to the hospital in time and he is okay. It is just under one hundred miles away, and it will take at least two and a half hours to reach there.

Wendy and I are left alone at the farm to see to the cows. The first batch is nearing completion and we set to work with the second. We herd the first lot into a separate field, and then move half the remaining animals into the milking shed, hooking up the apparatus to the udders.

By the time the second lot have been milked, we are joined by reinforcements in the shape of Alison, Mary and Jill. They left shortly after we did and cycled over here to offer their assistance. They haven’t ever helped before, but they figured we could do with the moral support if nothing else.

I whisper an idea into Wendy’s ear, and she nods her agreement. After swapping the cows over to the final lot, we instruct our guests to hose down the holding pen, removing the manure the cows have left behind on the concrete.

You can’t make omelettes without breaking eggs, and you can’t work on a farm without shovelling shit.

While our friends clean up the mess outside we see to the cows and move them outside after they have given up the last of their milk. I then herd the cows back to pasture while Wendy oversees the cleaning of the milking apparatus with the assistance of the other girls.

On this farm, there are only cows to deal with. Thankfully, there are no sheep or goats, like on our farm. They do, however, have double the number of cows we have.

Jill has brought her sleeping bag with her. She intends to stay with Wendy until her parents’ return, both to keep her company and to act as another pair of hands to run the farm.

After milking the cows, we head into the kitchen for a drink when the phone rings. Wendy answers and after a brief conversation hands the phone to me. It’s my father checking that we are all right. He isn’t going to be able to come and help as he is running our own farm alone while my mother takes Susan’s turn at the shop.

I tell him that Wendy has Jill to help, and they will be able to manage if needed. I enquire if he needs any help. The cottages have been vacated and need cleaning, so he requests that I fulfil my normal duties. If I finish in time, then I will be able to assist in the next milking cycle.

I call out to Alison and Mary, asking them if they fancy helping me with some chores. They seem to be happy to tag along, so I inform my father that I have some assistants and should be able to get the cottages sorted in record time.

Having unloaded the bikes from the trailer, we wheel it into the double garage where it is stored. Wendy then asks me to reverse her mother’s car into the garage as well. Wendy has never driven, but knows that I often drive the buggies and on occasion have driven the Land Rover across the fields.

The three of us then head out of the farm, with me leading the way. The first stop I make is the woodland. I ask the girls to wait at the gate while I quickly swap bikes. I don’t bother to unload my girl things. I will sort them out later and hide them at home.

Having swapped rides, I lead the girls to our farmyard. My father is out in the fields so we have the house to ourselves. I give them the quick tour. It feels weird being in boy mode around my friends, so I decide that my payment for the girl’s assistance will be them seeing me dressed in the French maids uniform. At least that is what I will tell my parents if they see me and ask what I’m doing.

I show my friends where we keep the towels and duvet covers and instruct them to load up the required amount into crates while I change into the uniform. Returning to the kitchen, I get a laugh as I parade catwalk style through the room. I have discarded my scarf and I’ve left the wig off, as I don’t want to be caught wearing it by my parents. The only thing on my head is the small bonnet that comes with the outfit. I know that I look slightly stupid, especially with my own hair on show, it gives the impression that I’m a drag artist.

Having piled everything I need on the kitchen table I walk across to the barn, hitch the trailer onto the two-seater buggy, and ride it to the back door. We then load the goods into the trailer. The three of us then squeeze into the two seats. It is a tight fit for Mary and Alison to share the passenger seat, but we manage.

I then drive us carefully to the cottages. I still go reasonably fast, enough to get the girls squealing, but nowhere near as fast as I normally go. These buggies can reach sixty miles an hour, but I am barely going twenty-five today.

Arriving at the cottages, we then proceed to work our way through each of them. We share the workload of vacuuming, dusting, washing, and switching linen. The entire job takes only half the time as normal. It is getting on for midday by the time we complete our work. We load the buggy with the dirty linen and ride back to the farm.

On hearing us arriving, my father comes out of the kitchen door to greet us. He does a double take when he sees me once again dressed as a girl.

“Simon, why on earth are you dressed like that?” he asks.

“The girls heard about me wearing this last week and only agreed to help if I wore the uniform,” I state. “They have been sniggering all morning, but at least it motivates them to work.”

“You have a very cute butt, especially when bent over dusting,” Mary cheekily adds.

I swat her as we climb out of the vehicle. Ignoring the looks of my father, I grab one of the crates of dirty linen and lead the girls into the utility room to load up the machine with the first batch of washing.

“You best change out of those clothes before your mother sees you,” my father tells me, “I don’t mind you messing about with your friends, as long as you trust them not to spread any nasty rumours about you. Your mother certainly won’t approve though.”

I decide I have pushed my luck as far as I can and head up to my room to change. I come back down in boy mode in a pair of jeans and a shirt.

We proceed to make some sandwiches for lunch. My father takes his into the office while he does some paperwork, leaving us alone in the lounge to eat ours. We gossip as we eat. I deliberately steer the conversation off anything to do with my dual identity. Instead, we discuss living on the farm.

In the afternoon, we cycle back over to the Bancroft’s farm. We help Wendy and Jill to do the chores associated with keeping the farm running. Once all the animals have been seen to, Alison and Mary head home before it gets dark. I stay with Wendy and Jill, who is staying the night, until it starts to get dark, before returning home.

Sunday is a busy day. We not only have our own farm to attend, we also go back over to give Wendy a hand, although to be fair, she is managing with Jill’s help. It is possible to manage single-handedly, it just takes a lot longer. Several of the other farmers in our consortium also drop by to lend a hand.

Wendy receives a phone call mid-morning with an update on her grandfather. He’s out of surgery and recovering well. Her parents will be returning late this evening.

On Monday, I have another P.E. lesson. This time we are instructed to wear our outside kit. The girls are then led once again to the hockey pitch. I note that the boys are playing football, a sport that I hate.

We start with dribbling, learning how to control the ball with our sticks. We then get into pairs and practice passing the ball between us. I team up with Alison. We then learn how to tackle. The second half of the lesson is spent in an actual game. Mrs Hargreaves hands out coloured vests that we put on to denote our teams.

At least this is one-step better than being a boy. The boys’ kit includes reversible shirts that have a stripe on one side. To change teams you have to take it off and wear it inside out, not pleasant when the weather turns cold. As it’s inappropriate for girls to bare their chests, we don’t have this issue. We also are allowed to wear sweaters over our shirts, meaning we keep warmer than the boys do.

I’m enjoying myself and I’m able to play quite well. As I have yet to go through puberty, I don’t have much of a physical advantage over the girls. However, working on the farm does mean I am fitter than average.

Everything is going well until near the end of the second half of the game. Julie is on the opposing team. I gain possession of the ball and she heads straight for me. I swiftly pass the ball before she reaches me, but she has already started to swing her stick and it connects with my left foot with a loud crack. The force of her attack sweeps my feet from under me and I land heavily on my side. Luckily, my shoe took the blow rather than my ankle.

Mrs Hargreaves immediately blows her whistle and angrily starts shouting at Julie, who doesn’t look in the least bit sorry. I had jumped in the air when I saw her swing at me. Julie’s hockey stick was at least a foot in the air and would have hit my shins just below the knee if I hadn’t had such quick reactions. Unfortunately, I didn’t quite jump high enough to clear her strike.

I roll onto my back and sit up, rubbing my arm where I landed on it. Alison and Mary are immediately by my side to see if I am okay. Mrs Hargreaves comes over to see if I am all right. I try to put weight on my injured foot and wince in pain. My shoe and sock are removed to reveal a large bruise that is already starting to swell.

Mrs Hargreaves looks at her watch. “You two,” she states, indicating Mary and Alison, “help her back to the changing rooms and run that foot under cold water. You,” indicating Julie, “are going to run laps of the pitch, get moving or you will be adding detention as well. That was a bloody stupid thing to do and could have caused serious injury. The rest of you, get back to the game.”

The girls help me to my feet. We link arms round our shoulders and I hop back to the changing room carrying my sock and shoe with me. Mary fills a sink with cold water and holds me while I lift my foot into it. The pain is receding and the cold water helps to stop the swelling.

“The bitch did that on purpose,” states Alison angrily. “Just what is her problem? You have done nothing improper; in fact I notice that you have gone out of your way not to look at anybody.”

I take my foot out of the sink and try to put weight on it. I wince as a pain shoots up my leg. I hop over to the bench and sit down. We are soon joined by the rest of the girls as Mrs Hargreaves leads them into the changing room before heading into her office and returning with the first aid kit.

Mrs Hargreaves takes a close look at my ankle, feeling to see if anything is broken. “Take a shower, but try not to put too much weight on your foot. I will bandage it up for you. If you are still in pain by the end of the day, get your parents to take you up the hospital for an X-ray.”

Alison and Mary have now stripped naked and after whispering between them decide to help me in and out of the shower. I remove my clothes and they take an arm each over their shoulders and practically carry me into the showers. I carefully stand on one leg and clean myself, while they do the same, before they lift me and carry me back to the bench. I sit and dry off while Mrs Hargreaves bandages my foot and carefully fits my shoe over it.

I stand up, still naked except for the one shoe, and try walking. As long as I don’t put too much weight on it, I can limp along. By now, all the other girls are dressed and are sat waiting for the bell to ring. I have no doubt that all eyes are on me, and I am certain Julie and friends are paying close attention to my crotch. Julie looks annoyed but has the sense not to challenge me further. She is not stupid enough to accuse me of being a boy in front of all these people, especially Mrs Hargreaves, when I am standing there naked without any sign of male genitals being present.

I swiftly dress myself. As I do so, the bell rings and Mrs Hargreaves permits the other girls to leave. Mary and Alison stay with me while I finish dressing. They take my bags - I have two: one for my sports kit, the other for my books - and help me limp off to my final lesson of the day.