The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2417 by Angharad Copyright© 2014 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

“Done a bit of research on you,” said the DI, “You used to be a bloke, is that why you tried to give both those men sex-change operations?”

“If that’s what you think, I’d prefer to talk to an officer who’s less transphobic.”

“I’m not any phobic, but the rumour is that you changed a bunch of kids you adopted into girls.”

“I’m not here to discuss rumours, but I did adopt several transgender children because no one else would, and I gave them space to explore gender roles. We agreed as a family that we’d accept whatever they felt themselves to be and let them choose names, clothes and pronouns accordingly.”

“You think a seven year old can decide what sex they should be?”

“We took advice from an experienced paediatric psychiatrist, who supervised the whole procedure.”

“Giving a sex change to a kid—don’t you think that’s unhealthy?”

“Not as unhealthy as forcing them to be something they clearly are not because that’s what convention dictates.”

“But you waited until you were an adult before you did it.”

“Because my parents refused to recognize the signs I presented.”

He shook his head.

“I preferred to play with dolls and tea sets. I swapped a football for a doll. I played dress up in nursery, I was the Virgin Mary in the school nativity play.”

“So if you turned out all right by changing over as an adult, why didn’t you make your children do the same?”

“I’m AIS, which means my body doesn’t recognize testosterone. I didn’t have a male puberty, I had a female one when I started on oestrogen, but my body was already feminine from the hormones I produced naturally.”

“Did you check if any of your children were the same?”

“Some of them are natural females, the rest were not AIS.”

“What is that?”

“Androgen Insensitivity Syndrome; in extreme cases the child grows up with the body of a female and isn’t aware there’s anything wrong until they don’t menstruate after puberty.”

He looked deep in thought. “Is that what happened to Elizabeth the first?”

“Possibly, they suggest Wallis Simpson and Jamie Lee-Curtis are prime examples.”

“You perhaps should include yourself in that category. I apologise for drawing erroneous conclusions, but you are a very unusual lady—quite the tomboy at times. I mean, how many women would think of making a bow and arrows from bits of stick and a ball of string?”

“I don’t honestly know, but in my parent’s zeal to make me boy, I was spoon fed Biggles’ books, and he repaired his Sopwith camel with a rubber band and some chewing gum, so I suppose it encouraged me to think of improvising repairs on bicycles—the ten pound note to repair a tear in a tyre, shoving grass into a tyre that was without an inner-tube, using string or a cable-tie to repair cables or gears and so on.”

“So making weapons would be easy to an amateur engineer?”

“I don’t know, but that’s what happened.”

“When you made them you presumably had the intention of causing deliberate harm, did you not?”

“My primary aim was to protect Danni and myself from the two men who declared they were going to hurt us and were firing bullets at the notices we’d just put up and then at us.”

“They said the notices were already damaged when they got there.”

“Danielle and I had only just put them up, hence the hammer and nails.”

“So they were lying?”

“Yes.”

“And you were still putting the notices up when they fired upon you?”

“No, we’d finished by a few minutes and they shot at the notices first, then at us when I told them it was illegal to shoot on a nature reserve.”

“It’s illegal to shoot at people wherever you are in this country.”

“Did you know your daughter took photos of them shooting at you?”

“Did she?” I didn’t know.

“So why can’t you accept I acted in self defence?”

“Because you made weapons and that means you were intending to use them.”

“In self defence, which is what I did.”

“Okay, you can go, Lady Cameron, but don’t leave town without telling us first.”

“I’m supposed to be going to Menorca for two weeks.”

“Out of the question.”

We’ll see, I felt like saying but held my tongue. No point in giving away my plans. I drove home to a delicious meal that David had cooked us for lunch. I wasn’t that hungry but the others were, so it soon disappeared.

The day remained fine and quite warm, so we did the laundry and got it line dried, it smells so much nicer than indoor drying.

“What did the police want?” asked Stella, direct as usual.

“Me to confess to trying to turn the two attackers into girls.”

“By shooting them in the shoulder?”

“That was the second shot, the first did stick in his groin.”

“Deliberately?”

“No, too small a target, I was aiming for his leg.”

“You sure?”

“Of course I am, what sort of woman d’you think I am?”

“A very brave one.”

“Eh?” she completely wrong footed me.

“It takes balls to stand and fight against overwhelming force,” she smiled at me, “and you still have them, metaphorically of course.”

I gave her a frown and she fell about laughing. “You are so predictable, Cathy. You’re female now, so get over it.”

She’s never understood the way that such remarks wound and how hypersensitive we are about them, and no matter how often I tell her she forgets or ignores it. I just try to ignore it but it’s still hurtful, like criticizing a woman for being unable to bear children or even to get pregnant—which would also hurt me. I can’t seem to win.

“The copper seemed to think I enjoy turning boys into girls.”

“It does seem a huge coincidence in this family, but that’s all it is. Look, they all seem happier as girls…”

“Except Danni,” I interrupted.

“Danni’s case was a little different, but she seems to be adapting to life as a young woman.”

“Who does?” asked Danni walking through the kitchen.

“We were discussing the interview with the police your mum had.”

“Oh yeah, what of it?”

“He accused her of turning boys into girls…” continued Stella and Danni rolled her eyes.

“They mostly did it theirselves,” she interjected, “’cept me of course, but coulda been worse. If I grow up to be as cool a woman as Mummy, I’ll be quite proud of myself, like I am of her. You’re a kewel jewel of a woman, Ma.” She gave me a huge hug and with tears in her eyes added, “I was really frightened in that wood, but I knew as long as you were there we’d be safe.”

“I think you might have had a bit more confidence in me than I did, kiddo; but thanks for saying so.” I hugged her back and we all chuckled a little.

Ten minutes later I was back to my emails listening to the Sibelius violin concerto and while Nigel Kennedy played the fiddle, I played the professor, acting of course.