Tamara's Début   Part One   by Shiraz

Author's note: I am dedicating the reposting of Tamara's Debut to the memory of Gabi Bunton who edited this and other stories before her untimely death. RIP.
 
 
Friday 14th November 2014
 
Tom was walking from his school's dining room when John Hibbert, another sixth former, caught up. Despite his size, Tom was a relatively fast walker and he often used this to good effect in order to avoid unnecessary conversations.

"Tommy, have you heard?"

"Heard what John?"

"About the play?"

"What play?"

"The one at the theatre."

"What theatre?"

This conversation was rapidly going nowhere, Tom decided that he would get away.

"Got to go John, expecting a call from my folks."

"Okay Tommy, check out the web."

Tom reached his room on the third floor, using the stairs, a few minutes later. The school had installed a lift several years earlier under the disability legislation but no-one had ever needed it, so only the staff used it - it was effectively off-limits to all the students.

Tom had lied to John, his parents were somewhere in Europe this Friday night and would probably not call before Sunday, it was always like that. Sometimes, however, he did get an email from them.

First, he checked out the web. In this case it referred to St Andrew's internal website. On the front page was a notice asking for sixth form students to help out with a production of West Side Story at The Mill Theatre in Thurso. The notice did not say what part in the production the students would play, but did state that any students involved in the play would lose Wednesday and Friday evenings, plus all day Saturday, for the rest of November until the 12th of December when the play opened. Three nights were planned, depending on ticket sales.

The notice said to meet at the theatre on Millbank Road at ten the following day and to dress casually. The web notice added that an additional minibus would be available for students going into Thurso at 9am.

Tom then checked his emails and was not overly surprised that there was indeed one from his father. The brevity was not uncommon, "In Geneva. Speak Sun. Dad." It reminded Tom of a telegram where you paid by the word, not that he'd ever seen one. The next email was from Sarah Bonney who owned a clothes shop in Thurso.

Sarah seemed to know a bit more about the school than Tom did at times. In this case her email, timed several hours earlier, informed him that the Mill Players were asking for help from the school and hoped a few would go to the theatre on the Saturday morning. She suggested to Tom that it would be a good idea if he went to the shop first and to go to the theatre afterwards. She said for him to dress 'as usual'.

Tom shut the computer down and tried to watch some TV, but couldn't keep his eyes open. Reluctantly he got ready for bed and was asleep by nine thirty.
 
 
Saturday 15th November
 
Tom was up at seven the following morning and dragged himself into the shower. He spent extra time conditioning his shoulder length black hair, normally tied up into a short pony tail before heading back to get dressed. As with most Saturday mornings he reached for the suitcase that held his secret clothing stash. A pair of knickers went on first, then he picked up a bra. A week earlier he had insisted he would never wear a bra, but now he was holding a 32A training bra.

This is what Sarah had meant by the 'usual' clothing. Tom had felt for years that he should have been a girl but couldn't express himself at the all boys school. Sarah's shop, however, gave Tom a chance to be Tamara for a few hours each Saturday. Sarah had sent him home last weekend with a carrier bag of bits. He'd spent so much time going through the bag that he'd almost missed dinner. In the bag he'd found a selection of lingerie and a note from Sarah.
 

"Dear Tammy, I know you are uncomfortable with the idea of wearing a bra but you need to dress more like a sixteen year old girl than an eighteen year old boy. No-one is going to see you under a sweatshirt and a coat. Don't do this for me, do it for yourself.
Lots of love,
Sarah."

 
Tom had replied to Sarah's note by email the previous Sunday morning and they'd spent several days arguing, no discussing, the merits and risks. Tom was very logical normally, the trouble was that, as Tammy, logic went out of the window and emotions took over. It was true that Tammy did not consider herself to be eighteen, when Tammy was around she looked short for eighteen so always gave her age as sixteen.

Tom fastened the bra, he'd practised each evening for the past week, then pulled a camisole over it. He tugged on some tights and finished with his worn jeans and a sweatshirt. Finally he put some sports socks over the tights and stuck his feet into a pair of comfortable deck shoes that he wore around school outside of teaching hours. Then it was to the dining room for breakfast. The school clock sounded eight am as he reached there.

"Hey, Tommy?"

Tom glanced round, John was catching up.

"Did you check the web?"

"Morning John, Yes. I'll probably go there to see what's up. I've got some things to do in town first though."

"See you on the bus then."

Tom took his normal place after collecting a tray of cold breakfast provisions, washed down with a mug of coffee. He went to the school office and put his name down for permission to go to the theatre, even though he had authority for when he went into Thurso each Saturday. Schools love admin.

Outside the wind was up. The breakfast notices, always read by one of the deputy heads, had today warned of 80mph winds in the Scottish Highlands. Tom walked back to his room and made a check on his appearance before pulling on a winter coat and swapping his deck shoes for trainers.

On the way out the door he picked up his shoulder bag that held his make-up, as well as the more expected items like water, camera, music and spare scrunchies. The bag was unisex in look and didn't raise too many questions amongst the school's population. His seniority helped too.

He made it back downstairs, by the main entrance just before nine and walked out to the first minibus. Normally he would be one of three sixth formers on this bus, most went into town later for 'lunch'. Today however, fourteen sixth formers filled the first bus, many of the lower years might struggle to get into town before the 10am bus.

Tom put his bag on his lap then switched on his MP3 player and lost himself in some Jean-Michel Jarre "Equinoxe", it had a relaxing effect on him. He was jolted back into life as the minibus pulled up on Olrig Street. Today it's final destination was Mill Lane. Tom slipped past the other 17 and 18 year olds who alighted there and headed to Reids' Bakery for two pastries, before hurrying to Bonney's Boutique in a side street.

Once inside he slipped the bolt and went to the back of the store. Sarah was by the kettle.

"Do you have time for a coffee?'

"They said to be at the theatre at ten, so I ought to go straight there."

"You have plenty of time Tammy. I'm told they only want a couple of scenery-shifters, not actors. Once the boys have had the health and safety talk they'll probably be sent away. They want you later."

"Me?"

"Yes, do you remember last Saturday? You were spotted by Jill Davison from the theatre company. They were looking for a girl to play Anita. Your face is perfect, and you won't need much done to your hair."

"Sarah, you must be joking, me, out there?" Tom pointed towards the door.

"Tammy, I'm serious. You can do this. You need to do this if you're ever to survive in the real world. You have natural beauty, you just need to recognise it for yourself."

"I think I need that coffee." "Coming right up."

They sat to drink their coffee but Sarah noticed it was by now almost ten, so she took her coffee into the shop with instructions for Tom to change clothes.

What Tom found was not his normal dress, instead a mid length denim skirt and a woolly jumper. He wanted to ask Sarah but heard the shop door opening and the first customers arriving. Still wondering about the theatre and Sarah's odd statement he undressed and Tamara took over.

After she'd finished her simple make-up, Tamara took a look in the mirror full-length mirror and saw a teenage girl, 16 or 17 years old, stood there. A pair of loop earings completed the look. Outside of Tom's room, Tamara had never dressed like this, and certainly never this well. There was a call from Sarah and Tammy rushed to the shop, forgetting everything.

"Ah Tammy, this is Jill Davison."

"Pleased to meet you Ms Davison."

"Tammy, I just wanted a chat with you before we throw you into the lions' den. Have you done any acting before?"

"Just some small school plays, nothing else."

"And can you sing?"

This was one of Tom's strengths, but not one he bragged about. Tammy would have a different outlook. "Yes, why?"

"There's several songs, including a solo, and we only have 4 weeks to get ready."

"But why me?"

"Sarah told me all about you, about your natural beauty. I came in last Saturday but couldn't speak to you as you had to deal with that little problem."

The previous week Tammy had become very scared when the headmaster's wife had entered the shop. Sarah had covered for Tammy by suggesting it was the wrong time of the month.

"I'd like you to come down to the theatre at one for a try-out. Oh, do you speak Spanish?"

"Por qué?"

"Pardon?"

"That was Spanish for 'why'!"

"Right, because your character is Puerto Rican. Have you ever seen West Side Story?"

"No, but I know most of the songs."

"Right, I'll see you at one."

Jill Davison left, but Tammy was now having second thoughts, despite appearing to be very confident just a minute earlier. Now, however, was not the time to ask Sarah any questions as there was a steady stream of customers. They sat for a coffee and a pastry after Sarah turned the sign around just before one.

"Sarah, what exactly did you tell Mrs Davison?"

"If you mean did I tell her you were an eighteen year old boy, then no I didn't. As far as she's concerned you are my sixteen year old niece and I am your guardian whilst you are in Thurso.

"Oh, so almost the truth then. So what are we going to tell the school?"

"That's easy, so far as they are concerned, Tom Smart will be working in Wardrobe."

"With who?"

"With me, I look after the costumes. I need someone to carry them, hang them, get them ready. In practice I do it all myself, but what's the school going to know?"

"What about the other boys?"

"No more than four of them will get picked, that's the number of unfilled places. They will be so busy they'll not look for you."

"But what about this?" Tammy looked down and flared her skirt. "I can't leave the school like this and I can't arrive at the theatre as a boy!"

"Tammy, don't worry about that now. Get your bag, I need to drive you round to the theatre."

Tammy and Sarah made sure the front door was locked then headed out the storeroom exit, where Sarah had left her car. Five minutes later they pulled up by the old mill. Sarah, sensing Tammy's butterflies, ushered her in through the stage door. Sarah introduced her to Iain Brown, the director.

"Good afternoon Sarah. I take it this beauty is your niece?" Sarah nodded.

"Well, good afternoon Tammy. Jill was not kidding me when she said you'd be perfect for the part of Anita. Come this way and we'll try a few songs."

They walked over to a piano at one side of the stage where the musical director sat. Sandy Franklin was about twenty five and a brunette.

"Hello Tammy, can you stand there. Here's the lyric sheets. Ready?"

"Erm, yes."

She launched straight into 'America' but stopped a few bars in.

"No, no, no. You are Puerto Rican, sing like one."

Another few bars and she stopped again. "Better, but with more feeling, feeling."

Guessing what she meant, and pulling on Tom's knowledge of Spanish, she made it through the song at next attempt, breathless.

"We would have to do some work on that one, but you have promise. Now, the next one is 'A boy like that'."

Tammy worked for another hour before being dismissed finally noticing that another girl with black hair was waiting to audition. Tammy walked out of the theatre and back into the town, forgetting how she was dressed. Ten minutes later she was in Sarah's shop.

There were several ladies in the shop, two of them were waiting to pay. Sarah gestured towards the till and Tammy immediately started helping the first customer there. She had finished the second customer when the Headmaster's wife walked in the shop. The previous weekend Tammy had panicked when she'd seen Mrs McIntosh. This time she wanted to run but somehow stayed there. Mrs McIntosh browsed the rails before selecting a long purple skirt before heading into the changing room to try it on. Tammy looked over at Sarah, who was tidying up the shelves, and pointed at the store room.

Sarah took a moment to realise what Tammy meant and then followed her to the store room.

"She's back. What am I going to say if she speaks to me?"

"Just be friendly, she'll not recognise you."

"Can't you say I'm still on my period?"

"Don't be daft, you don't know anything about that do you? I'll have to educate you but for now, get back out there. I want you to tidy the jeans near the door. They're a mess."

Tammy started refolding the jeans.

"Tammy?" She spun round, Mrs McIntosh was stood there.

"Yes?"

"I understand you tested for the play earlier?"

"Yes Mrs McIntosh."

"I told Jill you'd be perfect." The Head's wife turned back so she could speak to Sarah, who was now stood at the till with a smile on her face. The phone rang and Sarah answered.

"Yes it is, oh she is? Ten? Right, she'll be there."

Sarah had a bigger smile on her face when she put the phone down. "You got the part. They want you there at ten tomorrow."

"But at ten I'm in the chapel! I mean, how can I get here?" Tammy just realised that Mrs McIntosh was still stood in the shop.

"Oh child, don't worry about that. I'm sure your aunt could help."

Tammy just stayed quiet, waiting for Sarah to intervene.

"Yes Mrs McIntosh, I'll sort that out. Can I ask your help on another matter?"

"Certainly."

"I've asked Tom Smart to help me with the wardrobe department. He'll be needed at the first fittings tomorrow morning. Could you take this letter and arrange him to be excused for the day?"

"I'll have to speak to my husband of course, it is his school after all." She laughed lightly, Tammy and Sarah joined in, for the sake of politeness. With that she paid for the skirt and headed out into the street.

"Tammy, I think you should get changed. You have a bus to catch."

"Okay, but how do I get here in the morning?"

"I'll come for you at nine. Can you send me an email later to confirm the school's okay with it?"

Tammy headed back to change and a few minutes later Tom walked back into the store. Sarah was just about to lock the door when their last customer returned.

"I was just about to ask if you'd seen Tom Smart today, but I see you're here. Has Tammy gone?"

"Yes Mrs McIntosh." Tom made an effort to use his southern accent to avoid discovery.

"I'm going back to the school now, would you like a lift?"

"If it's not too much trouble."

"Not at all. Are you ready?"

Sarah was walking back from the store-room with Tom's bag, into which she'd dropped a carrier bag. "I just need my bag. Thank you Sarah."

"Let's go. I'm in the carpark."

Tom wanted a quiet ride back on the bus but couldn't refuse the Head's wife. He ended up being probed about how he knew Sarah, and why he was in wardrobe and not on the stage. He gave her the prepared story of meeting her in the bakery and being asked to help in the storeroom whilst Sarah's daughter was in University. Then the subject of Tammy arose.

They were just coming through the school gates and Tom thought a quick reply would do. She had other ideas.

"What do you know about Tammy?"

"She helps her aunt on a Saturday and goes to a school near here. Apart from that we don't talk."

"Haven't you thought about meeting her of an evening? You might be able to get permission to go into town after dinner as you're in the Upper Sixth."

"I hadn't thought about it, plus a taxi wouldn't be cheap."

"I see."

Tom could sense that Mrs McIntosh was fishing for more information. Was she suspicious or was she trying to act as matchmaker? She pulled up and cut the ignition.

"It's gone five, you had best get changed for dinner."

"Yes Mrs McIntosh."

Tom escaped the car and bolted back inside, making a point of signing back in, something he was slack about.

Tom showered and dressed for the Saturday evening meal. It wasn't normally formal but a couple of the old boys were guests for the weekend so the head had suggested 'smart' wear. That meant suits for the older boys. Tom was uncomfortable in a tie but wore it out of a sense of duty. Dinner included several speeches aimed at the sixth form about careers. One old boy was in the Diplomatic Service, although Tom suspected this was a cover story, realising immediately that right now his own life was a cover. But which way round?

Tom was just about to leave the hall when the Head walked up. He had Sarah's letter in his hand.

"Mr Smart, are you doing this willingly?"

"Yes sir."

"I am just a little concerned that this is not appropriate for a young man."

"Sir, as you know my father wants me to go into international trade, but I have to learn somewhere. I deal with the stock control and ordering at the shop. Working with Ms Bonney has given me an outlook on small business, I am also happy to help her with the theatre."

"Smart, that is what I hoped you'd say. I'm now happy to endorse this. Will you include your experiences in your coursework?"

"Yes sir, definitely."

"Right, to expedite matters I have granted permission for you and two others, Hibbert and Small, to leave the premises at times when you do not have classes, but you must sign out. Understand?"

"Yes Headmaster."

The Head turned and headed back to the small group he had left. Tom, whilst excited, was also full of dread. What had he agreed to do?

Back in his room Tom checked his emails and sent Sarah a summary of his conversation with the head. A swift reply confirmed the nine o'clock pickup, and asked that he wore decent looking jeans, not the same ones as that morning.
 
 
Sunday 16th November
 
The following morning Tom was laying out his clothing for the day on his bed, including his lingerie when there was a knock at the door. He rapidly threw the duvet over the dainty items before heading for the door.

"Morning Tommy," said John Hibbert. "I hear you get to play with the frocks."

"Yeh, but I also get to see the girls at close quarters."

"Not so bad then. I'm going to understudy Lt. Schrank so I have to learn the part."

"When you're not moving scenery around?"

John gave Tom a stare and rapidly changed the subject.

"What are you going later? I could do with a hand with the script."

"Sorry John, I've got to go down to the theatre. I'm being picked up at nine and I haven't had breakfast, or dressed, in case you hadn't noticed."

With that, Tom dismissed the similarly pyjama-clad lad and, once the door was locked, retrieved his underwear and dressed. The previous day's carrier bag, hidden from Mrs McIntosh, had contained a couple of new bras and a pair of jelly-like mounds. Tom, not being completely ignorant, knew what they were but chose not to insert them until after breakfast.

He finished dressing, casually again, and headed to breakfast. Having returned to his room half an hour later he inserted the breast forms and put his sweatshirt back on, then his thick winter coat.

A few minutes later he was in the school's lobby signing himself off the premises. He heard the sound of wheels on gravel and put his head out the door, seeing Sarah's little car.

On the ride into town Sarah sensed he was a little tense so put the radio on and let the music fill the void. Before long she pulled up directly outside the shop. During the rest of the week parking in this area was prohibited, but today was different. Once inside Tom headed for the kettle.

"Tammy, when you've done that can you come to the changing room?"

Tom walked into the shop and saw Sarah stood outside the changing room. "Let's get you undressed. I want to measure you for your dress."

Tom started taking off his sweatshirt then remembered he was stood in full view of the main window. He quickly walked into the changing room itself where he continued his disrobing. Once down to his bra he felt uncomfortable. He'd not considered the breast forms once they'd warmed up but now they were obvious to him, and Sarah.

"Good, you wore them. Now Tammy turn round, your straps are wrong. That's better."

Tom took one last look at his 'breasts' and slipped into Tammy. Sarah picked up a tape measure and measured Tammy from the head down.

"Hmm, you've grown a little since I last checked. Still a size ten though. Wait there."

She returned with a red frock. The bodice was square cut and the dress hung from a pair of wide shoulder straps. Very 1950's.

Sarah's email of the previous day had reminded Tom to bring his half slips to the shop. as usual he had brought his bag with him. Tammy now put all three of the half-slips around her waist, Sarah then dropped the dress over her, zipping her up. Tammy turned to look in the mirror. The image was striking but she could still see Tom's face. Looking further down, however, her bust was very obvious.

"I think we might need a petticoat, these slips don't work. Stand still." Tammy froze, Sarah had a just put some pins between her lips and was now pinning the hem of the dress, and then proceeded to pin the shoulder straps.

"Just a little loose. But I don't think we could get away with any more here!" Sarah rubbed against Tammy's bust. "Slip out of the dress and get your jeans back on. You've an appointment."

"Where? The theatre?"

"No, now get a move on. Then go and sort out your face."

Tammy did as asked and returned ten minutes later, looking more like a girl than she had before.

"So where's this appointment?"

"Just along the street, You're going to see Sandy."

Tammy was about to ask her next question when she was pushed out of the shop door. Sarah stopped to lock the door then went four doors along the street to a hairdressers salon. The sign on the door said 'closed' but Sarah pushed the door and ushered Tammy inside, a middle-aged lady came out to meet them.

"Tammy, this is my dear friend Sandy. Please let her work her magic on you. Don't get worried, she has my instructions and will take care of you."

"Sarah, you promised!"

"Don't get upset. If we're going to do it, we have to do it right. Sandy is very discrete, unlike some of her staff."

"Tammy, I've given Sarah my word that you'll be able to adapt this style." Sandy did her best to calm Tammy. "Sit down at the sink, I need to sort your hair out, I can't do it if you're over there."

Where Tom had always wanted his hair to grow, he took little care of it, beyond regular washing and conditioning. Split ends were the biggest problem, the other being that it was lifeless.

"Not quite as bad as I thought, but we'll be an hour at least. Sarah, I'll bring Tammy along when we're done."

Sarah slipped out the door and along the street. Tammy felt very alone now, up until this minute, only Sarah knew his dual identity. Now Tammy thought she'd been exposed to a stranger, and had no say in the matter.

"Now, Tammy, you'll just have to trust me. I need to work my magic on your hair and repair a few years worth of damage. Now, put your arms through this and put your head over the bowl."

For the next hour or so Sandy worked at Tammy's hair, first cutting then layering. Finally she added some extensions to the sides and brushed her hair out. Whilst Sandy had put her hair up with clips, it was difficult to see what the end product would look like. Now Tammy could see clearly, Sandy had given her a bob-cut. Tammy didn't know what to say. How could she go back to the school like this?

Tammy was still in shock when she reached Sarah's shop, uttering only a weak thanks to Sandy. Inside she ran straight to the back of the shop in floods of tears. Sarah let her weep for a minute before walking up with a box of tissues. She pulled up a chair and sat with Tammy, handing her a tissue.

Sarah, knew that Sandy had got carried away, and perhaps should have told her the full story. Of course, Sandy had simply followed the description of Anita's character literally and created a hairstyle to die for, Unfortunately Sarah had failed to mention that Tammy was a boy attending St Andrews.

Sarah knew she was not helping. The story that Sandy had heard was that Tammy had experienced a few health problems and had been a late bloomer. She'd become a tomboy, finally giving that up when she was fifteen, but hadn't properly looked after her hair. This was to be her first major hairstyle for several years. Her acting and singing skills had won her the part but now her look had to match the character.

It had seemed quite a simple lie to Sarah. Now she was sat with an 18 year old physical boy who looked like a 1950s 16 year old girl. Even with his male clothes back on, Tom would not look like a boy. What could she do? Was it time to tell the truth and expose Tom? did she have that right?

"Tammy, look at me. I need to explain."

Tammy had stopped crying and now sat with her head down.

"Tammy, will you listen then? I wanted to help you and it's gone too far. Firstly Sandy did not know you were a boy so, apart from me, no-one else knows your secret."

Tammy sat up and took another tissue from Sarah. "What about my hair? What about my hair?!" Tammy wasn't shouting but her anger was clear.

"I don't know yet, but I'll think of something. Even if it means cutting it myself."

"That's not what I mean, I love it. I really do. But I can't go back to the school like this. They'd kill me."

"Tammy, you look gorgeous. We've got a few hours before you have to be back at the school so let's go down to the theatre."

"But I can't do the play now."

"Don't be silly girl, of course you can. You could wear a wig if needs must, but real hair looks so much better. Regardless, you are going to do this play. Right?"

"I don't know."

"Look, stop worrying for an hour and let's go have fun. They're expecting you at the theatre at two for rehearsal but we can have lunch first. Come on. Let's fix your make-up. I've got a dress for you to wear."

Thirty minutes later, Tammy's face was repaired and she looked demure in the checked frock. Sarah sprayed a little perfume on Tammy and handed her a short coat. Tammy was bustled out of the shop into the cold air, they walked the short distance to the Castletown Hotel.

They were sat there, having eaten, when one of Tom's teachers, Mr Small, stopped by their table with his wife. Mr Small was subdued, almost bored, his wife however was animated.

"Hello Sarah, what a surprise to see you, I must talk to you early next week about something I've seen. Now, who is this lovely lass?"

"Hello Joan, this is my niece Tammy. I'm sorry but we need to get back, Tammy is in the play next month, she needs to rehearse."

"Of course, don't let us delay you. In any case, I couldn't have George admiring your niece for too long, could I? Bye Sarah."

"Bye Joan, George."

They walked away, but not before the teacher swung his head round to have another look, followed by a rebuke from his wife. Tammy saw nothing of this, however Sarah didn't miss a thing. They left as soon as Sarah settled the bill. Back at the shop, Tammy was shaking. Sarah led her to a chair and sat next to her.

Tammy forced herself to speak, "Sarah, I'm going to get found out. I'll be ridiculed."

"No you won't. I'm going to talk to the Head."

"No! No! No!" Tammy burst into tears. Sarah couldn't console her and left Tammy crying. She went through to the rear of the shop and picked up the phone.