Chapter 1
Harvey Horton smiled as he reached the last pile of papers on his desk. A career teacher, next term he was going to start a new job as Assistant Headmaster of the Cotham School in Clifton. It was, for him, a good step up, with the only downside being that his son already attended, starting second year next term.
His eyes were tired after a mammoth session of reviewing the exam results from the previous school year. He had been given the task of looking at all the first-year student records, to give him an idea of that group before he started, as he would be in charge of the first and second years until he was fully informed of the way the school operated. The next batch of first years were still waiting for their results from previous schools, which he would see towards the end of summer.
He stood and went to his kitchenette to make a cup of instant coffee before finishing for the night. With his cup in front of him, he picked up the set of stapled papers that was his son’s record. The last time he had seen his son was three years previous, when he had kissed his wife and driven away to take up a temporary House Master position on the other side of the country. While he was away, she had sued for divorce, citing desertion. He sighed as he thought about that. She had, or so he had learned, been carrying on with one of the local rough boys since Tony had started school.
Tony Horton had been a quiet child, or so he remembered. The boy, now coming up to thirteen, was quiet no longer. In fact, it looked as if Harvey would be seeing him in his office inside the first week of the new term, by the look of the record in front of him. Tony was a troublemaker, and a bully, by the list of detentions that he had racked up. Harvey wasn’t looking forward to his first few months in his new job. If he was lucky, Tony would complain to his mother, and she would send him to another school.
Putting those papers with the others, he turned his attention to the file with the paperwork on the students that weren’t returning next term. It was his job to review their records and forward them to their new schools. Most of those leaving had been in Tony’s class, and he could already understand why they were moving on.
There were ten sets of papers, and he didn’t need the full details of every student, just looking at the results and teacher comments was enough to write a report for the next school, with a comment on their behaviour. He worked through the records until there was just one left.
He glanced at the surname on the front, and it was W.J. Rose. He had seen that name on Tony’s detention record, finding it several times. By reading between the lines, he deduced that Tony had bullied this other student that Tony called Billie-Jean Rose, claiming that it was she that started all the troubles. That made it even worse if Tony was bullying girls.
He looked at the girl’s marks and realised that the school was losing someone who was likely to be going on to tertiary study and a good career. Cotham was a school with a fine record for music studies, and Billie-Jean was already at a high level in piano, violin and woodwind work. Her other subjects were also in the higher grades. He hoped that wherever she went, she would be happy. He summarised the record and made the comment that ‘this girl, Billie-Jean, will go far.’ He put the report in an envelope and addressed it to the administration of the Blue Coat School in Coventry. His eyes were heavy as he turned out the light and finally went to bed.
………………………………….
William John Rose walked quickly away from the Cotham School for the last time. No more would he have to put up with the taunts of Tony Horton and his cohort of bullies. His backpack had all the leftover books that he had been able to salvage from the last time they had been tossed into the mud. His violin and clarinet had already been taken home after the final concert.
William was happy to be walking away, but sad that he was leaving the girls in the orchestra, who had supported him when he was at his lowest. At around the same height and body-mass of the girls, he had been fair game for Tony. He had been used to being called ‘sissy-boy’, or ‘girly-boy’ during the year, but the one that made him smile was the name ‘Billie-Jean’, which Tony had come up with in the second term. The girls had picked it up and it was William’s entry into the circle of friendship of their group at school. It didn’t include him mixing with them outside of school, which made him wonder what that companionship may have been like.
His father had managed to get a good job with Aston Martin at Gaydon, near Coventry, and William would be attending the Blue Coat School next school year. He had looked it up and knew that he would be in a school uniform for the next few years, and the prospect of further study in music excited him.
He walked up the path to his front door, passing the real estate sign which hadn’t taken long to get a sold sticker on it. His father had already put a deposit on another house, halfway between Coventry and his workplace. William had seen the brochure, and it looked a lot better than the ‘quaint period house’ where they now lived. He hoped that his new bedroom will be a bit bigger, and, hopefully, the floor would be flat and level. At the moment, if his bed was shifted a couple of inches, it would rock as he turned over. He knew that someone would have to plane the legs level when it was moved.
Going in, he put his backpack down with a thud and pulled the grey pullover off. It may come in handy on cold days, in the future. Walking into the kitchen he said hello to his mother.
“Hello, Bill, how was your last day?”
“Same old, same old. I got pushed into a wall and had to recover my textbooks from the chicken run. The girls and I did a an acapella piece behind the netball seating and we all did high-fives and hugged.”
“Still telling porkies, as usual. How many girls have you hugged today?”
“There was about ten. Stephanie gave me a kiss on the cheek and wished me well in Coventry.”
“What about your friends in the boy’s side.”
“I’ve told you before, Mum. I have no friends with the boy’s side. There’s just the bullies and those of us that huddle together in fear.”
“Exaggerating again. That school has a policy against bullying.”
“Oh! yes? Tell that to the teachers who sit in their rest room and complain about the noise of kids screaming, thinking that we’re all having fun. I hope Coventry will be better, but I don’t expect it will.”
“Don’t be such a sourpuss! At least we can get the piano out of storage, so you can play at home. We get the keys next week, so we’ll be busy moving. Your father said that your bedroom will be three times the size of this place.”
“That’s good. Maybe it’s the lack of bedroom size that stops me getting as big as the other boys at school. Who knows, I might gain another foot or so by Christmas, then you’ll have to get me new trousers as gifts.”
His mother giggled.
“Go and get changed. I’ve put a plastic bag in your room for all the school things you won’t need. They can go to the op-shop for some other boy.”
“All right, Mum. Don’t bother washing anything. Someone else can get rid of the bloodstains.”
He picked up his backpack as he went to the stairs. In his room, he took everything off, adding the pullover and blazer to the other things for the bag. Naked, he walked into the minuscule bathroom and washed the scratches that were the most problem. He had several on his arms and legs from when he had been pushed into a bramble bush.
Back in his room, he redressed in a shirt and jeans. When he had put on his socks and sneakers, he looked at himself in the mirror that was attached to his door.
“OK, punk. This summer is the summer that you grow into the man that Dad wants you to be. If they play rugby in Coventry, you’ll be the first one picked for the team.”
He winked at himself then giggled.
“Who am I kidding?”
Over the next week, he boxed up his things to be transported to Coventry, reduced his wardrobe by being ruthless with all the things that didn’t fit, or were worn out. At a set time of every day, he spent two hours with his instruments. One day he played the clarinet, another the violin. He also had a Casio electric keyboard and earphones to keep his technique up to scratch, although it was nothing like playing a full-size piano. One thing it did do, was switch it to a rudimentary organ, and he would piggyback his MP3 player into the line and play along with pop songs. His mother would often hear his voice, with no music, as he enjoyed the freedom of song.
Finally, came the day of the move. The house looked almost mournful as it was emptied. When the truck pulled away. They put their cases into his mother’s Ford, did a full tour of the house and garden to make sure that there was nothing missed, and left Bristol for a new life.
They stayed with his father’s parents for a few days, just outside Oxford, a visit that wasn’t full of joy. Then they headed to the new house in the Walkers Orchard Estate, in Stoneleigh Village. It had been chosen as somewhere off the beaten track, halfway between his school in Coventry, and his father’s work at Gaydon. When they arrived, Bill saw that it was a newer house with big rooms.
His father had been living in a hotel for a month or more, and had been happy to see the furniture arrive, so he could live in his own home again. When Bill saw his room, he smiled. It was as large and as flat as he had wished for. The bed had folded cardboard under two legs, but he thought that this was only temporary. The family piano was already in the sitting-room, but in need of tuning.
During the next week, his father went off to work in his company car, though not an Aston Martin, much to Bill’s disappointment, and Bill helped his mother make the house their home, pulling out the little things that made it theirs and putting them out in a good place, then moving them around until his mother was happy.
It didn’t take him long to set up his bedroom with his things in the wardrobe and drawers. The instruments were in set places, and he now had room for a desk, which he and his mother assembled when it had been delivered, along with the office chair. He now had somewhere to put his laptop and do his homework. The best thing, for him, was that his parents had their own bathroom, so he took over the main bathroom, two doors away from his room.
One day, his mother took him to the school to have a quick look around, and to leave their new address with the admin. Then they went shopping for some new things for him, having a hard time, as usual, in finding items that fitted him and was also within his age range. The expected growth spurt wasn’t happening yet.
A few weeks before the term started, his mother came into his room and waved her hand in front of his face as he was trying to keep up with Jon Lord on the organ. He turned everything off as she told him that there was a lady from his new school downstairs. She had brought his school uniform; the basics being supplied and the extras and replacements being the parents responsibility.
“It’s all in the garment bag on your bed. Try it on and come downstairs for inspection.”
She left him to it, and he opened the bag to pull everything out on his bed. When it was all out, he laughed quietly. They had brought a uniform for a girl! Well, if he had to wear it for inspection, then wear it he would! That, he thought, would be the best joke of the summer.
Besides the blue school blazer, there was a couple of white shirts, a couple of blue skirts, and a pullover. In the bottom of the bag were two pairs of shoes in his size, both sensible styles but with Velcro fastening rather than laces, as well as a couple of pairs of socks and leggings in the school colour.
He stripped down to his boxers and started dressing in the clothes. He had a little trouble with the shirt, as the buttons were on the wrong side, The skirt was easier, once he realised that the zip was supposed to be on the side, rather than the front. He sat on his bed and carefully pulled on a pair of the leggings, then put the shoes on.
He left his room and went to the bathroom to see what he looked like. When he saw himself in the mirror, he had to do a double-take. Except for his bushy eyebrows, he looked just like a schoolgirl. He grabbed the electric razor that he hardly ever used and carefully trimmed the eyebrows so they didn’t stand out and ran it over his chin in case there may be an errant hair.
There was a brush on the vanity, so he used that to alter the look of his longish hair into a slightly feminine fall, thinking hard about the girls he knew. He grinned to himself before he left the mirror. As he left the bathroom, he heard his mother calling up for him to hurry up. He went down the stairs and walked into the sitting room.
“Here I am, Mummy. What do you think?”
It was the other woman who spoke first, as his mother was flapping her jaw like a fish.
“You look great, Billie-Jean. That colour really suits you. You’ll fit right in with the other girls. I had a look at your previous results, and you already have a seat in our orchestra.”
His mother had finally found her voice.
“It’s a nice look, for a girl.”
“Isn’t it. We’re quite proud of how our students look. I must run, I have another couple of uniforms to deliver. I hope to see Billie-Jean on the first day of term. I am part of the music side of the classes. Thanks for the cup of tea, Wendy. Billie-Jean, you are allowed a small amount of make-up at school, but don’t go Goth on us.”
Bill stood with a smile on his face as the woman left the house like a whirlwind. His mother came back into the sitting room and sat down.
“Well?”
“Well, what, Mummy?”
“Don’t you Mummy me, you little minx. Where did you get that outfit?”
“It was the one in the garment bag you put on my bed. It has a few other things in it as well, all suitable for girls.”
“Why did she call you Billie-Jean?”
“I don’t know. That’s the name that Tony Horton called me in the second term. It’s what all the girls in the old orchestra called me. Somehow, it must have been sent with my records.”
“You do look cute, but we’ll have to put this right before school starts.”
“Please don’t do that, Mum. What do you see when you look at me and call me cute?”
“With a skirt on and your hair like that, I see a schoolgirl.”
“Exactly. With my height and my body, I fit these clothes. In them, I don’t stand out as a freak. If I go to school like this, I won’t get bullied so much.”
“You and your stories!”
Billie took the jacket off, then pulled the blouse out from the skirt and undid the buttons. As he took it off, he held his arms out and did a slow revolution so that his mother could see the scars and the welts on his body from where he had been hit. His mother was wide-eyed and put her hand to her mouth.
“The stories about bullying were all true?”
“Yes, Mum. They were all true. As a runt schoolboy, I’m fair game for the bullies, and it’s been going on since primary. This is my chance to come home in one piece. This is my chance to be safe and to be part of a group. This is my chance to be a better student. You heard what that woman said. She said that I would fit in with the girls.”
“I’m going to get my phone and take some pictures of you like that. Then, put the blouse back on and also the blazer and I’ll take some more pictures. Then put everything back in the garment bag and hang it in your wardrobe. When your father gets home, say nothing about this and go up to your room after dinner. I’ll talk to him and see what he thinks about the situation. If you are to go to school as a girl, there are other things we will need to do and buy before you can do it successfully.”
“Thanks, Mum.”
When the photos had been taken of his scars and welts, he redressed and posed as he had seen the girls do when they were playing around. His mother took pictures from the front, back, and sides before she sent him back upstairs. He took everything off and carefully put it back into the garment bag, hanging in it in the wardrobe before putting his jeans and shirt on. When he went back down, his mother took one look at him and told him to stand quite still before she went and got her phone to take another picture.
“Now, young lad. Go back up to the bathroom and get your hair looking like a boy again!”
When he looked at himself in the bathroom mirror, he saw what had made her take more pictures. With his hair still brushed as it had been, he still looked like a girl. He brushed it back to its usual way and went back to his bedroom to play some quiet pieces on the clarinet until his father came home.
During dinner, nothing unusual was said, and he helped his mother tidy up and load the dishwasher. She told him to go up to his room and stay there, even if he heard shouting. He gave his mother a hug.
“I hope it doesn’t come to that, Mum. I don’t want to cause friction in the family.”
As he left her, his mother stood there with a bewildered look on her face. Bill had never been one for hugging. Then she remembered him telling her that he had hugged the girls at Clifton. Now, she realised, more than ever, that he needed to be Billie-Jean Rose to preserve his health, as well as his sanity. She picked up her phone and went to talk to her husband.
Bill was in bed, reading a book, when there was a knock on the door. He called for whoever it was to come in. He hadn’t heard any shouting during the evening, for which he was thankful. His father came in and sat on his bed.
“Your mother and I have had an interesting evening. I want you to tell me about how you ended up with those injuries.”
Bill told his father everything, from the name-calling to the pushing and shoving, the damage to his schoolbooks, and then how he had peace and companionship with the girls. His father took a look at some of his injuries.
“Do you want to be a girl?”
“I never thought about it until I wore the uniform, Dad. But, when I saw how I looked, I could tell that it would be the answer to my problems. I’m about to start at a new school, where they already think that I’m a girl called Billie-Jean. Between now and the beginning of term, I have time to get into character. I’ve always been friendly with girls, not in a serious way, but as one of the crowd. I don’t know how I can avoid being found out, but I’m sure that there are ways to hide bits that don’t fit the picture.”
“There are, my son. I’ve seen a few shows in my younger days where men act as women. Done right, it will work. The point is – are you willing to play the part? If you do it, it will have to be twenty-four seven. A whole new wardrobe of clothes, a whole new way of living, a regime of hairdressers, moisturisers, shaving your legs, wearing make-up. I can get ready to go out in ten minutes. It takes your mother that long to decide the look that she wants to have, then another hour to achieve the look she first thought of.”
“I think it will be a bit like learning an instrument. Once you teach your fingers to play the chords, you can do it without having to think about it. I’d like to give it a try, please, Dad. I’m fed up with having drag myself out of bushes.”
“All right. I will get you an appointment with the company clinic as soon as I can. They will give you a good check-over and take some blood to test. I’ll tell them that you’re having problems in regard to your gender. Both you and your mother are covered under my contract, and you will both need to be seen and added to the patient records. If they think that your puberty is racing up, we can’t follow through with the plan. When you get a bit older, they can prescribe blockers to hold puberty off until you finish school.”
“Thanks, Dad. You’re the best.”
“Thank you for being such a talented and clever child. You know that we’ll both love you as much whether you’re Bill or Billie-Jean. Your mother is already thinking about you learning to cook and sew. I will never try to make a man out of you if you don’t want it. You just don’t have the body for that. Goodnight, son. Sleep well and we’ll get things moving. I’m proud of you for taking this so well.”
“It must be in the genes, Dad. I’ve never seen you get flustered since the day you couldn’t get the lawnmower to start. Goodnight, and thank you for listening.”
“I saw the pictures of what those bullies had done to you. There was no way I wouldn’t listen. Don’t stay up reading too late. It’ll be a new start tomorrow.”
His father gave Billie a kiss on the forehead and left the room. Billie put the book on the side and turned out the light. He lay in the dark, with just a hint of moonlight sneaking past the curtains and thought about being able to be happy at school, to have no fears of being shoved into walls or hedges, and to be able to make friends. Just like everything else he did, there would be a lot to learn, but eventually it would be as easy as playing a piece of music.
Marianne Gregory © 2025
Chapter 2
The next morning, his mother was busy writing a list while Bill played the violin in his room. Around mid-morning, her mobile rang, and her husband told her that the two of them had an appointment at the clinic at two that afternoon. She went up to Bill’s room to tell him that she was going to get them sandwiches for lunch as they were going out after that.
They had some time together as she made their lunch and Bill looked at the list that his mother had left on the table.
“Mum, his list has a lot of things on it that I’ve never heard of. What are ‘enhancers’?”
“They’re things that go in a bra to give you a bit of a silhouette. Most teenage girls use them before they start puberty.”
“You want me to wear a bra!!?
“Of course, dear. Every girl wears a bra, sometimes well before she needs to. It won’t take you long to get used to it, although it may change your stance when playing, to cater for the slight changes in body shape and frontal weight.”
“What about these other things, under ‘foundation’? Do I have to learn to lay bricks?”
“Silly Billy. They’re all make-up items. We’ll need to get you a full kit after we’ve been to the salon. Everything depends on what the clinic says this afternoon, but I’m trying to think of everything you might need if Billie-Jean is to become a real person.”
“Thanks, Mum. I do have a lot to learn.”
“If I do your hair and we put a bit of lippy on you, we can take you to the salon and give you a make-over. After that, we can go shopping for some basics, which will then allow us to get you more specialised clothes from the stores in Coventry. There will be a lot of new underwear that you will need to get used to. I had a look at a couple of sights on the web, last night, and there is a place in the city that does special panties that hide your winkle but still lets you pee.”
They ate their lunch and tidied up, then got into the car to head to Gaydon. At the clinic, his mother filled in forms for both of them and then they waited to be called. His mother went in first, while Bill read an old music magazine. When she came out, he was called in. In the doctor’s office, he was asked to strip and put on a hospital gown.
The lady doctor who checked him over was asking questions as she did so. Obviously, his mother had told her that he had gender problems. She looked at all of his scars and exclaimed that he had a good case to sue his previous school about the bullying. In the end, he had to remove his boxers so that she could examine his genitals.
She asked him if he had ever had wet dreams or masturbated, and he had to ask her to explain what she was talking about. Finally, she looked him in the eyes.
“I want you to tell me the truth, Bill. This is very important. Have you ever been kicked or hit in your groin?”
“It was in primary. A couple of bullies had pushed me over and one kicked me there. I was walking strange for a couple of days.”
“Did you tell your parents?”
“No. I didn’t want to worry them. I didn’t want to appear weak in front of my Dad.”
“Right! We’ll draw some bloods and I want you to pee into this beaker. Then you get dressed and I’ll bring your mother back in.”
She took three tubes of blood, and he went behind the screen to pee. Then he washed his hands at the sink and redressed. When his mother was brought back in, they sat in front of the doctor’s desk and his mother took his hand. The doctor ended making some notes and looked up.
“Mrs. Rose, Wendy. From what I’ve seen, you’re in excellent health, and there is nothing wrong with you that we need to worry about. Bill, however, has some very complicated problems that may explain his general appearance. In my examination, I could not find any testicles. Bill has told me that he had been kicked in the groin in primary school. When we have the results of the blood tests, I fully expect that they will show a drastic lack of testosterone. I am going to send him to another area for an MRI on his lower abdomen do determine just how much damage was caused, then we can decide on any other treatment.”
“Does that mean that he has arrested puberty?”
“It means that we may be able to direct his puberty in the direction he wants to go, by hormone treatment. I think it’s too late to make him big enough to play in the front row of a rugby team, but he may be a good jockey if we send him down the male path. He will, however, make a very pleasing lady if we make him into a female.”
His mother pulled out her phone and swiped a couple of times before showing it to the doctor.
“Like this? That was taken yesterday. Somehow, the school brought round a girl’s uniform.”
“Wow! She isn’t going to need much work to pass easily. Are you sure that you’ve never had any desire to dress up, Billy?”
“Never, doctor. I thought that if I was supposed to be inspected in that uniform, everyone would have a good laugh and the woman would take it away and bring back one for a boy.”
“All right. I’ll email this scan request upstairs. If you follow the signs to the radiography department, the receptionist there should be able to give you an appointment time. It will take a few days for us to collate the scans and the test results, so make an appointment with my receptionist for a few days’ time.”
They thanked her for her time and walked out of the office. After making the appointment, they found their way upstairs and found the right desk. The receptionist there looked at her computer and rang the MRI operator. When she had finished the call, she smiled broadly.
“I’ve been told that the MRI will have a short period when you can be fitted in. The area that will be scanned isn’t very big. If you can be back here in an hour, it can be completed before you go home.”
“Is there somewhere that we can sit with a drink?”
“There is, just go towards the back of the clinic and you’ll find a coffee lounge.”
“I must say that this is a big place for such a small population. Well-equipped as well.”
“That’s because we have so many people working at both Aston Martin and Jaguar Land Rover. Within a couple of miles are as many people as a small town. Both of the big companies support us, and we also take the overflow from Warwick.”
They went back downstairs and found their way to the coffee lounge. When they were sitting, Bill looked at his mother.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about being kicked. I didn’t want to appear weak, so I hid it and carried on.”
“It’s all right, Billy. It was a long time ago. All we have to do now is to sort things out for the future. I was thinking about your records at the school. Somewhere, there must be the paperwork with William John and the note that you’re male. I expect that someone will ring us to ask about that. I have an idea that may help. I can forge a new name on your copy of the birth certificate. The easiest would be to change William to Willow, and the John to Jean.”
“You can do that?”
“Yes. Before you came along, I was working in graphic design. All I need to get is some paper similar to the certificate copy. We have a very good scanner in the computer printer in your dad’s office. I just copy the original, make the changes, and then copy that onto the right paper. It’s how I funded my university days, making IDs for the partygoers.”
“Wow, a real mega-criminal!”
They laughed together, and then she got serious.
“If you take the girl route, it doesn’t end when you finish school. It will be for ever.”
“I know, Mum. I suppose that after a few years, I’ll take it as normal. There are several good women violinists, but I can’t think of any famous women pianists or clarinet players.”
“There’s always Mrs. Mills.”
“Who was that?”
“She was all the rage in the sixties and seventies. Think about the TV show with that Mrs. Bucket singing and you have her down pat.”
“That bad!”
“Yes, it was. She sold lots of records, though. Anyway, I’m wondering what you’ll be doing with music when you go to school. That woman did say that there was an orchestra.”
“I suppose that I’ll have to wait and see how the Willow grows.”
They went back to the waiting room and sat, thinking their own thoughts, until Bill was called in.
“Bill Rose, is it? Take your clothes off and put that paper gown on. Make sure there is no jewellery or anything metal. The machine gets angry if we put metal down the tube.”
When Bill was ready, he was put onto a moving bed and given some headphones. The operator asked him what he would like to hear, and he chose Beethoven. With the opening chords of ‘The Emperor’ in his ears, he was slid into the tube and told not to move a muscle until everything was silent. For a good fifteen minutes, the music was drowned out by loud clicks, whirrs, and other noise. He stopped listening to the music and imagined the sound of the machine as basis of a musical piece.
When it was quiet, again, he was slid out of the tube and helped to stand up.
“That wasn’t too bad, now, was it? We got some good cross sections, and the doctor will be able to tell you what you need to know. Get dressed and enjoy the rest of your day.”
Instead of going directly home, his mother drove them into Warwick. She had looked up printing supplies on her phone and had found a place where she could buy the correct paper. Back at home, she found the birth certificate and then the two of them started preparing the dinner. Over dinner, she told her husband what had happened during the day. After dinner, Bill went up to his room to catch up with the playing that he had missed by going out.
The next morning, he looked on in wonder as his mother scanned the birth certificate.
“It’s a good job they don’t use the old style, that would never let me do this.”
She put the printout on the desk and taped it down, then used a minimal amount of fluid, which she had carefully mixed with concealer from her make-up, to match the slight tinge as she obliterated some letters. When she was happy, they went off for a morning tea as it dried. Back at the desk, she used a very fine piece of sandpaper to make sure that there were no visible edges. The name was now Will J. She had a kit of implements that Bill had never seen before and picked an old-style nib on a stick. She spent a long time writing to match the paperwork before she started adding the letters needed. To Bill, it was like watching an old master painter, and he held his breath with each letter.
When she lifted her head, the paper now had the name ‘Willow Jean Rose’, and the male now had the ‘fe’ in front of it. He clapped and she smiled.
“You know what, Billy. I think that when you’re in school, I may see if I can get a job in graphic design again. That brought back so many good memories.”
They went off and had lunch to allow the ink to be fully dry. Back in the office, she removed the tape and opened the ream of special paper, then scanned the new version. To Bill, after the new one had been printed, it was almost an anti-climax to hold the two certificates. They felt the same, they looked the same. It was just that one was his old self, and the other was for his new self. Both went into the folder with his paperwork, and they tidied up.
The next day was totally different from any day he had known. He was dressed in a pair of his Mum’s older panties, his best-fitting jeans, a pair of lilac socks from his mother’s drawer, and a lilac tee with the picture of a boy band on the front. The outfit was finalised with a pair of the school shoes, and some time that his mother spent on his hair. They went into Coventry to a salon, where they both had appointments.
The rest of the morning was an eye-opener for Bill. He was waxed everywhere but his groin, had a new hairdo, new fingernails, a pair of studs in his ears, while his mother had a make-over of her own. He was sat in front of a mirror while a girl worked on his face, plucking his eyebrows and making notes of what colours worked best for his complexion. When they walked out, both he and his mother had bags with the products that worked best. Bill was now definitely Billie-Jean, looking like a smaller version of his mother.
They went to the car to store their bags, then went into the West Orchard Shopping Centre, parking the car and going in to get some comfort food from the Macca’s there. After that, they went into Peacocks to get some more clothes. The first stop was somewhere that the old Bill would have run from, or else stood looking at the floor. His mother asked the salesgirl to measure his band size, and with that information, they examined the racks of bras. With the nightmare of trying a couple on out of the way, they ended up with six bra and panty sets, as well as an extra dozen panties and a sports bra for the PE lessons, and some nighties and a new dressing gown.
After that, they moved to the teenage section and bought some skirts and tops. Finally, much to Billie’s relief, they stopped at the shoe department. She had started complaining that the school shoes were too tight, so she was properly measured and walked out in properly fitting shoes that looked a bit less ‘sensible’ than the originals. They did buy a couple of pairs of the school shoes to replace the ones which would have to be given back.
They went back to the car, with Billie-Jean now wearing a pink top and a short denim skirt, with pink socks in her new shoes. After the bags were safe in the car, her mother grabbed her hand and took her back into the shops. This time, the object of the hunt was a couple of handbags and some cheap jewellery, followed by getting a good coat for when the weather turned.
Finally, they went outside the shopping centre and her mother took her to the Job Shop, where she looked at the vacancies as her mother gave details to a clerk in regard to her skills and her contact details. Billie-Jean was noting the cards asking for people to join bands, but nobody was advertising places in an orchestra.
Back at home, the usual preparation of dinner was different while wearing a skirt and catching her new nails on things. When her father arrived home, he took one look and grinned.
“Well, who’s my girl?”
“I am, now, Daddy. How do I look?”
“Absolutely beautiful, my sweetness. It didn’t take long to turn you into a stunner. How do you feel?”
“Different, but in a nice way. I’ve spent all day as a girl and have been called love and sweetie a lot. I’m still me, inside, but a happy me. I look like I’ll fit in with the other girls, now, and that makes me feel safer. Mum spent an awful lot on me today.”
“That will be just the start, if I know my wife. No matter how many things you have in your wardrobe, there will always be that one thing that you haven’t got but need. Don’t worry about the money, sweetheart. I’ve got a good job and a good future. You are the most important person in this family, right now. I know that you will be the famous one here, by the time you leave home. Then, I will think of you as I see you now, and smile.”
After dinner, Billie went up to her room to try to play a while, mainly to see how her technique was with the new nails. It wasn’t that bad; the nails even improved her plucking on the violin strings. When it was time for bed, there was a whole new procedure of cleansing before she could put on a nightie for the first time and get into bed. She was laying there, thinking about things, when she realised that there was something missing. For the first time, she knew that she wanted a plush tiger. Not a bunny, not a teddy, not a doll, but a tiger.
On Friday morning, she had a shower with a shower cap on, and then dressed. She put a bra on and added the enhancers for the first time, then slid a matching panty up her legs. The whole experience was odd but wasn’t upsetting. There was a new pair of jeans that actually fitted, and she chose a bright red top that had caught her eye yesterday. Red socks and the new shoes and she was ready to face the day. But not until after she had tried to do a little make-up.
A half an hour later, she looked in the bathroom mirror and decided that enough was enough, and that this would have to do. Downstairs, her mother had finished her breakfast, so Billie made herself some toast and poured some orange juice. As she was eating, the phone rang, and her mother answered.
“Yes, this is Mrs. Rose.”
“All right, I’ll bring the proper papers in for you this morning.”
“Will there be anyone in the music area, as my daughter is keen to see what’s there.”
“All right, We’ll be there as soon as we can.”
She hung up and came into the kitchen.
“That was the school. It seems that there is some problem with the paperwork, and they want to view your birth certificate. It’s a good job we keep things safe. As soon as you’ve tidied up, we’ll put what you need in one of the handbags and head to the school. You look lovely, this morning. The make-up is just right for daytime. Your father researched shops that sell the other things you need. There is one which sell gaffs on-line, as well as inners for your bra. We ordered some so they should be delivered tomorrow.”
Billie went up to her room to make her bed and get a black bag from the shopping. Her mother came in and showed her all the things that she needed to carry, including a purse with her money. This was the first part of being a girl that seemed wrong, but when she had put her hand in the jeans pockets, she had found that they were only a couple of inches deep.
They left the house and drove to the school. This was the second day of truly being Billie-Jean. As the scenery passed by, she thought about playing in an orchestra as Willow Rose. It had a nice ring to it.
At the school, they went to the admin area, where the old copy of the birth certificate was produced. Her mother told them that there had, indeed, been a William Rose at the school, and the copies must have been misfiled as both being for W.J. Rose. They tore the old one up and replaced it with a copy of the one that her mother had produced. Everyone was happy, and they were given a map of the school and told that there was a couple of groups in the rehearsal rooms.
As they walked towards the rehearsal rooms, the lady who had brought the uniform over came out of a building. Billie smiled at her, and her mother gave a wave.
“Hello there, Miss Russell. You look worried.”
“I am. We have a concert to see out summer this Saturday night. We had a five-piece metal band to close it, but one of them didn’t turn up for rehearsal today. I’ve just rung his home and he’s got measles, so we won’t see him for weeks. I’ve got to give the others the bad news.”
“Surely you could get a stand-in?”
“Not at such short notice, Billie-Jean. They are going to play covers of some band that I’ve hardly heard of. It’s going to be a short concert.”
They followed her into the music building and then on to a room where four lads with longish hair were sitting and waiting.
“Lads, I have some good news and some bad news. The bad is that Jim has measles and won’t be around for some weeks. The good news is that this is Billie-Jean Rose and her mother. Billie will be starting with us at the beginning of her second year. Billie, meet Geoff, Garry, Grant and Gerry.”
The four all said hello as they were pointed out. Geoff smiled at Billie.
“Welcome to the madhouse, Billie-Jean. The four of us usually play twelve-bar and rock numbers as ‘G-Force’. We were going to play some Deep Purple covers on Saturday night. Jim, who has now let us down, plays the organ. We were supposed to run through the set today.”
“I play keyboard. What songs were you planning to do?”
“We open with ‘Child in Time’, then ‘Woman from Tokyo’, ‘Speed King’, ‘Highway Star’ and finish with ‘Smoke on the Water’. Because we’re covering Deep Purple, we called ourselves ‘Shallow Blue’.”
“So, the ‘Live in Japan’ album.”
“You know it?”
“It’s been something that I’ve played around with as a release of pressure. I have earphones and a keyboard with feed-in from my MP3.”
“How would you like to try out? Our gear is set up in the theatre.”
Billie looked at her mother and Miss Russell. Wendy had a smile, and Miss Russell was almost bursting.
“Come on then, let’s go and see if we can save the show.”
They followed her to the main theatre. It was set up with seats, except for about twenty feet in front of the stage, so some of the audience could dance if they wanted to. Wendy turned to Miss Russell.
“What’s the occasion?”
“The music and drama groups can do an optional summer project which adds to their overall marks. No set subject. Some of the drama people do skits or short plays. The music side do recitals, but we don’t do a full orchestral item, due to the logistics. The show is filmed by the drama group for a DVD which is sold through the school to raise money for equipment.”
Billie had followed the boys up to the stage, where she saw a bank of amps, and a drum set. A portable keyboard was set up to one side, along with a bass guitar. On the other side were two guitars. She knew enough that whoever played them were serious about their instrument, as one was a vintage Rickenbacker, while the other was Fender of a similar age. When she got to the organ, there was all the music on the top.
Geoff looked at her.
“Do you read music?”
“I do, but I’ve also got a weird brain. I remember every song I hear. Classics are a bit harder, as they go on for a long time, but pop music at four to ten minutes is all right.”
They turned everything on, and Billie twiddled on the keyboard, moving some knobs to see if it produced the same sort of sounds that the one at home did. She pressed the middle C key so that the others could tune up. Geoff and Gerry tested the microphones. Grant did some warm-up rolls on the drums and Garry stood beside her with his bass ready to start. He said, quietly.
“This is going to be interesting. Nod to me if you get flustered and I’ll slow things down, if I can. Grant follows my lead.”
Geoff looked at everybody.
“Let’s go!”
It was Billie who opened the set, with the organ playing the only quiet part of ‘Child in Time’. She wondered if her mother would enjoy the performance. Miss Russell looked anxious. She took a quick look at the music as Geoff joined her with the guitar. And then they were off, into the world of Purple, a time well before she was born, but still as powerful as it was in its day, some fifty years before.
Marianne Gregory © 2025