The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2547 by Angharad Copyright© 2015 Angharad

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After dinner Stella and I discussed criteria for short-listing our future housekeeper, we drew up a checklist and began to work through them. Despite the title of housekeeper, which we assumed would attract females, we had two men apply. We agreed not to exclude them immediately. Theoretically, because I stated the household was accepting of all legal forms of gender, sexual orientation, religion, ethnicity or disability, providing the successful candidate could complete the full list of duties we’d dreamed up.

We ended up with a short list of twenty. We asked Simon to look at them. He immediately excluded the two men. I asked him why. “Don’t you remember what happened when we engaged a man.”

“The only man I’ve engaged is David.”

“Not him, that creature you brought down from Bristol.”

“Caroline, you mean?”

“Yes.”

“What about her?”

“She wasn’t a she, was she; but it took Jenny to prove it.”

“They made their decisions, we made ours, the matter is closed.”

“I don’t want any more transgender people in this house, we have enough.”

“We don’t have any transgender people in this house, we are all females.”

“Okay, I know that and respect it. We have some rather attractive young women here, including my beautiful wife, I don’t want any other males here.”

“Are you jealous?”

“No, I trust my wife implicitly.”

“Thank you, darling,” I kissed him.

“I don’t necessarily trust the other hormone racked individuals.”

“These are our children we’re discussing.”

“Yeah, so?”

I agreed the older ones except Jacquie seemed boy crazy and Trish always seemed interested in talking about sex, usually at the least opportune time. I’m not sure how much she actually understood of the physical act, of a man’s squirms, as she called them, swimming up the vagina and beyond before they either found an egg or died.

I don’t think the others did, Livvie and Mima, it was just something that embarrassed adults, so it was good fun to use against us at times. At their age, being totally innocent of most things carnal, I was a good girl, I’d have been so embarrassed because I was so uptight about any such thing, I’d have made the Virgin Mary seem like a hooker.

Biology, might have been my favourite subject at school, I still recall being embarrassed when we did the reproductive system in mammals, partly because of the little quips the teacher allowed. Things like the menstrual cycle where the teacher mentioned the side effects like cramps and pain and of course the bleeding which can be very variable. “You get heavy periods don’t you, Charlotte?” Another asked if I got randy around ovulation and another, if my breasts were sore on my period. It got to me that day and I ran out of the classroom and hid in the boiler room sobbing behind a cupboard, where the caretaker found me.

He took me to the headmaster who demanded to know what I was doing in a room I knew to be off limits. I was so upset I couldn’t tell him. “Go and collect your handbag, Miss Watts, and go home. I couldn’t face going back to my classroom while the others were there so I left my satchel there until the next day, which was when my fountain pen was stolen.

I didn’t go straight home because my mother would be asking why I was red eyed and home early. So I wandered about until the time I’d normally be home, then after shouting that I was home went up to my room and fell asleep on the bed. I was fifteen at the time and so confused about myself and everyone else.

On reflection, I knew I was a girl and I said so when I was younger, but once I realised it was an area of vulnerability, I kept quiet except my natural femininity always gave me away. I walked like a girl, talked like one and was one but except deep down, I’d deny it like a heretic on trial by the inquisition.

I did fight back, mostly passive resistance like growing my hair to the middle of my back, and because it was thick and plentiful, it looked girlish, the effect I wanted because part of me wanted to say that’s what I was; part of me just enjoyed annoying the regime.

“I thought we were discussing these applicants?” Simon brought me back to earth.

“Yeah, sorry.”

“You were miles away, weren’t you?”

“Yeah,” I then told him I was thinking about the upset with the student from earlier. It was a lie but he believed me. I couldn’t tell him about what I was really remembering because he tries to deny I was ever a boy. In some ways I wasn’t, but officially I was and I can’t really deny it, it’s part of my life however much I’d like to forget it.

In the end Simon suggested giving them to Trish to sort, at which I decided I’d had enough of the day and went to bed. Simon came soon after and we just cuddled, then in a fit of guilt I began to cry.

“Hey, babes, what’s the matter?” he asked holding me very tenderly.

At first I couldn’t tell him then after getting my breath back I explained I’d lied to him. He asked what I was talking about and I told him the whole story.

“Well it shows some of the young psychos knew you were female.”

“To me the only thing it showed was how Mr Parfitt had no control over the class.”

“An academic, perhaps, in the literal sense I mean?” proffered Simon snuggling me in his arms. “You really had a pretty shitty time growing up didn’t you?”

“Sometimes the quips were quite funny. In maths when the teacher asked what a standard deviant was, some kid at the back called out, ‘Watts.’

“My poor little girl, having to suffer all those indignities. I wish I could undo the memories for you and replace them with nicer ones.”

“They made me who I am today, except with Melinda, I forgot for a moment because I was so tired and stressed.”

“If it helps, employ two housekeepers. I’d rather pay than have you ill.”

“I love you, Simon Cameron.” I meant it too.

“Why’s that?”

“Because when you care, you really do care, don’t you?”

“Look—ee here, Missus, you aren’t the only one who feels passionately about things, especially about things like bullying.”

“I know, and I respect you for it.” I could almost feel his pecker filling with pride, well something began to stick in my side. I know, too much information, but that night we made love very tenderly and gently.