Thanks Maddy for your story. It gave me the push to get this short story done. ~Samantha
During the year I discovered that Angel owned a dress shop, she had inherited the shop and money from her parents, and I began to work there. I was dressing in female attire during work hours and Angel found that more and more men were shopping with us. She bought the shop next door for me to run and set it up especially for cross dressers. We went from strength to strength and I found a whole new niche in life. I was forever thankful to Angel and we became very close.
That very brief account brings us upto date. As yet I haven’t found someone to repay my debt.
It was whilst I was opening up the shop that I saw her. She couldn’t have been more than twelve and I was surprised that she wasn’t at school. I watched her as she checked out her surroundings and disappeared down an alley. During the morning I kept an eye on the alley and didn’t see her come out.
At lunch I took a look down the alley and found nothing unusual about it. It was just a normal loading area, a couple of dumpsters and nothing else. I wondered where the girl could have gone and then noticed that one of the properties was derelict. I went back to the store and decided to keep an eye out for my mystery girl.
I didn’t see her that day, but I saw her again the next morning disappearing down the same alley.
“Angel, did you see that girl?”
“What girl?”
“Dark haired, about twelve years old and looks like she lives somewhere in that alley opposite.”
“Sorry love, I didn’t,” she answered.
“Can we get here a little earlier tomorrow?”
“Of course, ten minutes be enough?”
“More than enough. Thanks, you are such a dear.”
Again, I kept the alley under watch and didn’t see her reappear. We had to get some shopping that night and I got a couple of things for the girl.
The next day I hid behind the dumpsters and watched the alley entrance. It wasn’t long before I saw her coming down the alley.
I stepped out and holding out the chocolate bars said, “I thought you might like these.”
She looked scared. Very scared.
“I’m just offering you some chocolate, no strings. I’m Stella, I work in the store across the road and I thought you’d like some chocolate.”
She looked at the bars, then at me and then at the bars. She came close, grabbed the bars and backed off.
“Enjoy them, I’ll bring some more tomorrow.”
I left the alley without looking back. I was hoping to gain her trust and I didn’t want to frighten her anymore than I had.
I was in the alley the next morning with a couple of bars of chocolate. I hoped that she would return and as time went on I started to get worried. She came into alley and I noticed that she seemed to be looking for me.
“Morning sweetie, did you enjoy the chocolate? Here’s some more. If you want anything just let me know and I’ll get it for you.”
I offered the bars and she accepted them and I left her. She didn’t look as scared as yesterday. I hoped that she would begin to accept and trust me. I knew that it could take some time.
That night I spoke with Angel.
“Sweetheart, I think I’ve found the person I’d like to help. She’s the girl from the alley and I really think that she could do with some help. I think she’s living rough in one of the derelict shops opposite us. Because she’s young I believe she sleeps during the day and looks for food at night.”
“You recognise the signs?” Angel asked.
“Yes.”
“But why sleep during the day? I would have thought it was more dangerous at night.”
“If she’s as young as she looks then she should be at school and there would be more people around to ask her why she isn’t. If she’s running from someone or something, then she wouldn’t want to run the risk of being asked awkward questions.”
“Ah, of course. Any kid of school age walking the streets during the day is likely to be noticed, but she could get away with it at night and at weekends.”
“Yes and that really worries me as she is more at risk at night.”
“If you need any help just let me know.”
“Looking ahead, would it be okay to bring her here, I haven’t got anywhere else to take her?”
“Of course. She can use the spare room now that you are sharing mine.”
“I wanted to talk to you about that. Angel, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I am grateful for everything you have done for me and I would like to know if there is any hope of us getting married?”
“Is that a proposal?” Angel asked.
“I suppose it is. I’m just so worried about being rejected.”
“You silly girl, I would never reject you. And yes there is every hope of us getting married.”
We both began to cry as we hugged each other to death.
I was in the alley the next morning waiting for the girl to turn up. When she finally turned up I thought I saw a glimmer of hope in her eyes. She accepted the chocolate and I said, “Tomorrow’s Sunday, so I won’t see you till Monday. Are you going to be okay?”
She nodded and I left.
I worried all Sunday. I couldn’t settle. Angel kept me going as best she could and on Monday I was thinking all manner of nasty things.
When I saw her she appeared to be okay and I sighed a big sigh of relief. She noticed this and asked, “Why the sigh?”
“I was so worried that something had happened to you.” I handed her the chocolate, “Same time tomorrow?”
She nodded.
The rest of that week was like the previous week. Then on Saturday morning she wasn’t there. I began to come unglued with worry. Angel calmed me down and I went about my job mechanically. I was in the stock room when I heard Sandy, my assistant, shout for me. I dashed back into the shop to see Sandy holding a girl, my girl.
“Into the staff room,” I said.
“Sandy, will you be okay out front for a little while?”
“No problems, Stella. If you need anything, holler.”
“Thanks,” I looked at the girl and said, “You okay?”
“Yes,” she replied.
“What happened?”
“I got beat up, it happens, but this time it was the worst I can remember.”
I looked at the bruises, the swelling around the eye and the torn clothing and asked, “Are you sure you are okay?”
Before she could answer Angel came in and gasped.
“Angel, call Greta and find out when we can see her privately.”
Greta was our doctor and had become a close friend of Angel’s. She was the one Angel’s benefactor had taken her to to get her drug free and she was the one Angel had taken me to to make sure that I was okay. I could trust Greta.
Angel went to make the call and I turned my attention back to my girl.
“What’s your name, I can’t keep calling you ‘my girl’?”
“Jo,” she answered.
“Well Jo, welcome to my store. Sandy is my shop assistant and Angel is my partner, both in business and in life.”
“Who’s Greta?”
“Greta is our doctor. I’m going to get you checked over and see if we have to take you to hospital. Don’t worry, she won’t say anything to anyone, but if you need to go to hospital then we will go, there will be no argument over that. I will make sure that no one asks any awkward questions.”
“I don’t want to go to hospital and I don’t need Greta to check me over.”
Jo began to get up, winced and collapsed back onto the chair.
“Jo, don’t worry. You are coming home with Angel and me, once you’ve recovered you can decide whether you stay or whether you want to leave.”
Angel returned and said, “Greta will meet us at home, I’ve promised her a meal, so you’d better make sure it’s a good one.”
“I suppose you want me to dress up as the maid?” I asked with a smile.
“You haven’t been one of those for a while so yes, and not to be left out, I’ll dress as a nurse.”
“You just want your wicked way with me,” I said.
“And you don’t?” Angel got in.
“Yes, but we will have guests and one will be staying with us for a time.”
Angel looked at Jo and said before leaving, “I’ll get some clothes to take home with us.”
Jo wasn’t left alone for the rest of the day. At home time I gave her a coat and Angel put some bags in the boot of our car.
At home, I changed into Marie, the French maid, while Angel watched Jo.
“Bonsoir Madame, mademoiselle. My name is Marie and I am your maid for this evening,” I said when I entered the living room. I was wearing a traditional French Maids uniform with a white cap pinned to my wig. I had a small white apron protecting my skirt, seamed stockings and four inch heels.
“You look delightful, Marie, now if you excuse me I’d like to change also.”
It took Angel ten minutes to change and all the time Jo never took her eyes of me. Angel entrance was dramatic. She was wearing a low cut and very short nurses uniform, white stockings (you could see the tops and garters) and black four inch heels. She had put on a long, waist length, blonde wig topped with a nurse’s cap.
“Where’s my patient?” she asked.
She sat down next to Jo and said, “Now don’t worry, Nurse Bennett is here to look after you.”
“I’ll start dinner Nurse Bennett,” I said.
“You do that Marie and I’ll look after the patient.”
I started to prepare the meal. I decided on a simple dish as I didn’t think Jo’s stomach would be able to handle a large meal. Spag Bog was a simple meal and Jo could eat as little or as much as she could eat. I had plenty of pasta for the spaghetti and I could use one of the propriety bolognaise sauces with the mince.
The door bell rang and I went to open it.
“Bonsoir Monsieur Adams, Madame Adams. I am Marie. Nurse Bennett is expecting you,” I said as I took their coats.
“Nurse Bennett?” Greta asked.
“If you would follow me please.”
I opened the living room door and said, “Monsieur et Madame Adams, Nurse Bennett.”
I stepped aside and allowed them to enter.
“Oh my. I’m glad my nurses don’t dress like that otherwise I wouldn’t be able to keep Tom out of my surgery.”
“Nurse Bennett, you look ravishing,” Tom said.
“Watch it Tom, or I’ll let Marie dress you,” Greta said with a smile.
“Doctor Adams, you can examine my patient upstairs,” and Angel helped Jo to our bedroom.
Tom followed me to the kitchen and asked, “Peter..”
“Marie,” I corrected.
“Marie, sorry, how do you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Look so convincing.”
“Lots of padding and painful tucking and thank you for the compliment.”
“You’re welcome and you make a very beautiful woman.”
“Makeup covers a multitude of sins.”
With Tom’s help I had the meal ready and got Tom to join the others at the table, Angel had told me they had finished the exam.
I served the spag bog and was just about to leave when Angel said, “Marie, won’t you join us. I insist.”
“As you wish Nurse Bennett.”
Over the meal Greta said that the injuries Jo had were not serious and would heal and that Jo wouldn’t any medication. I thanked Greta and the relief showed on my face.
Tom and Greta stayed for a couple of hours after the meal and I gave both of them a kiss on the cheek as they left. I went back into the living room where the sexy nurse grabbed me and gave me a very passionate kiss on the lips.
“Peter, please sit down,” Angel said.
I noticed Jo’s eyes get very wide.
“Jo, I think you have just realised that the beautiful woman that has befriended you and who is currently dressed as a maid is actually my male boyfriend and, I hope, my future husband. Let him tell you something and you can then can decide whether you want to respond.”
Angel sat back and waited for me to begin.
“Jo, about a year ago I was a living in a bed and breakfast hovel paid for by Social Services. I was at my wits end and had decided to commit suicide. I was in a shelter run by a charity over Christmas where I met Angel. She decided to help me as she had been helped, but she made me a promise that I would help someone in the future to repay my debt to her, just as she was repaying her debt to her saviour.”
I paused and then continued, “I know you are living rough, although I don’t know why and I would like to help you get your life in order. I know that you are too young to make a promise to help someone in need…”
“I’m eighteen,” Jo interrupted.
“Sorry?”
“I’m eighteen and I promise to help someone in need in the future, just like you are going to help me.”
“But I thought you were a twelve year old girl.”
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m an eighteen year old boy, as Angel and Greta found out earlier.”
“Jo, will you accept my apology in mistaking you for something you are not.”
“It’s not your fault, Peter is it?”
“My given name is Peter, I work with Angel in her dress shop…”
“Your dress shop love,” Angel interrupted.
“Thank you dearest. My dress shop. I cater mainly for men who dress as women where I go by Stella. As you’ve seen tonight we also like dressing up as other people and use whatever name seems appropriate.”
“Well with long hair and my short stature, people often assume I am something I am not. I have gotten use to being mistaken as a girl so it doesn’t bother me anymore.”
“Jo, would you like to see what you’d look like as an eighteen year old girl?” I asked.
“But I’m only just five foot.”
“Which is just under the average height for a teenage girl,” I said.
“I’m game. I’ve been mistaken for a girl for so long, it would be interesting to see what I’d look like.”
“Angel, would you do Jo’s makeup and you are much better at it than me?”
“Of course.”
“Jo, take a shower and wash your hair, there’s some conditioner on the shelf. Put on a bathrobe and join me in Angel and my bedroom.”
Jo went to the bathroom whilst I went into the bedroom to look for the things I would need.
When Jo entered I had him sit on the edge of the bed.
“This is called a gaff,” I was holding up a pink pair of elastic knickers, “you use this to keep things under control and give you a flat front. You push your testicles back into your body and your penis between your legs. The gaff then holds everything in place.”
Jo, with my help, got the gaff in place.
“These are knickers which are nicer to wear than male pants. Well I think so,” and I handed Jo the knickers and a bra.
“When you’ve done it a few times fastening a bra behind you back becomes second nature, or you can fasten it in front of you and pull it round. But I will fasten it for you.”
I then gave Jo a silicone breast to hold.
“These are breast forms. They can be attached to the body with medical adhesive, like I do during the week, or can be placed in the bra cups. I sometimes do this if I am only going to dress for a short time.”
I put the forms into his cups and showed him how to position them.
“We now have a choice between tights, knee highs or stockings. Tights are worn with very short skirts unless, like Angel did, you are dressing for effect. Knee highs are worn with slacks if you don’t want to wear tights or stockings and stockings are worn with skirts, dresses or slacks. There are two types of stockings, hold ups or the type that need garters to hold them up,” I handed Jo some tights.
“They way you put them on is to gather the leg up into a ball and slip your foot into it. Then you pull the material up your leg releasing it as you go.”
Jo understood what I meant and soon had the tights on.
“Teenager girls often dress to attract men. Now I’m not saying you have to attract a man, but to fit in with being a teenager you will have to dress appropriately.”
I gave Jo a tight t-shirt to show off his breasts and a mini skirt to show off his legs.
“Heels really show off the legs. I would wear three inch heels with that skirt and I think these might fit.”
Jo slipped his feet into the shoes, “They’re a good fit and they are not too high for me.”
“Now let me let Angel loose on you.”
Angel, who was sitting quietly on the other side of the bed took over.
“If you have no objection, I will fit false nails to your fingers and make up your face. Then we will let you look at yourself in the mirror.”
Angel worked for fifteen minutes before she declared herself satisfied. Jo stood up and Angel opened a wardrobe door to reveal a full length mirror. Jo looked at himself, turning first one way and then the other. He walked up to the mirror and inspected his face.
“I look..”
“You look terrific,” I said.
“Thank you Angel,” Jo said.
“Angel, do you think Josephine could work with me in the shop?”
“I think that would be wonderful. Sandy could train her and that would release Sandy to work with either of us.”
“Josephine, how about it?”
“About what?
“Living here and working with us. Just until you get back onto your feet and then you can find your own place and job. And when you are ready, you can tell us why you are in the position you were in,” I said.
“You would be Josephine during the day and Joseph at night, or be Josephine all the time. It’s upto you,” Angel added.
“I ran away because I was bullied at school and beaten at home. I have been homeless for two years. I thought that I would never live a normal life and now you have given me an opportunity to begin again. I never ever thought about this, but I like it. I really do, but what about girls?”
“Oh there’s a lot of girls who would just love you the way you are. You, like Peter, are the best of both worlds. A girlfriend to talk to and go shopping with and a boyfriend who knows how to pleasure a woman and not just to pleasure himself. I am grateful for finding Peter,” Angel said.
“And you could be one of Angel’s bridesmaids when we get married.”
“I accept your proposal dearest. You can’t get out of it now, I’ve got a witness,” Angel said as Josephine laughed.
Chapter 1
“MOMMYEEEEEEE”
I awoke with a start, my breathing was fast and shallow, and my heart rate was elevated. I couldn’t remember who or where I was. A bedside lamp was switched on and its light illuminated the room.
“You okay, love?” a gentle, but concerned voice asked.
I closed my eyes and forced my heart to slow down. I willed myself to take slow, regular breaths. I had to get out of this panic attack.
I re-opened my eyes and looked at the reflection in the mirror doors of a walk in wardrobe and saw two good looking women, sitting up in bed, one wearing a concerned look on her face, the other, mine, fear. I could see my breasts rising and falling far too fast. I had to get myself under control. I also saw the mouth moving on the other woman, but I couldn’t hear what she was saying for the rushing sound in my ears.
I felt the mattress move and notice the other woman get out of bed and rush towards the door. She was back in a couple of moments and handed me a brown paper bag. From somewhere deep in my brain, I knew this was a cure for hyper-ventilation and started to breathe into the bag.
My breathing slowly returned to normal and the rushing sound in my ears began to fade.
“Calm down Sam, take regular breaths, think calm, peaceful thoughts,” the other woman was saying.
Well, at least I know I am called Samantha, but who is this other woman, why am I sharing a bed with her? My heart rate was slowing and I was regaining proper use of my senses. My nose trapped a passing smell, transmitted its code to my brain, which decoded it and released a memory.
“This is my home isn’t it?”
“Yes,” she replied, the concern growing on her face.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t quite place…”
Another smell, another memory.
“We belong to each other, don’t we?” I asked.
“Sam, we are married and have been for years,” she was on the verge of tears.
“But how can two women be married?” I was confused.
“We are husband and wife, I am a woman, and you are a man who just happens to look like a woman.”
Another memory crept in. “Chris?”
She smiled a little, “Yes”
The memories started to trickle in. The trickle became a stream, then a river and finally a flood.
“Oh Chris. How could I have forgotten the single, most important person in my life?” I started to cry, we both started to cry.
“What happened, what startled you?” Chris asked after we had calmed down.
“I had a nightmare.”
“Peter?”
“Yes.”
“But you haven’t had one of those for years,” the look of concern was back on Chris’s face, “what’s triggered it?”
“I’m not sure, but tomorrow will be the fifth anniversary of his death,” I replied.
“Oh hell! And we’ve got a social do on as well. I shouldn’t have forced you to accept.”
“I couldn’t have not accepted. I need to be there, we need to be there. It’s important for the future of the project. It’s taken two years, but we are almost there. Tomorrow,” I glanced at my bedside clock, “tonight, even, should see the final piece being put in the jigsaw. We’ve got the house, we’ve got the qualifications, and tonight we should get the initial funding.”
I know it was my pet project, but Chris was also touched by Peter. It was she that suggested that we get qualified as foster parents and register as ‘special’ needs fosters. Special needs in the sense of transgendered kids. Kids like I was. Unloved kids, disowned kids, kids thrown out on the streets.
“Well, let’s try and get back to sleep,” I said and Chris reached out, switched off the light and then snuggled up to me, determined not to let my demons get me.
Chapter 2
I think you are entitled to an explanation.
I was once disowned by my parents because of my transvestitism and lived in my car. After about nine months of begging and just getting by I finally had enough and was about to commit suicide. I phoned the Samaritans and met Chris, who saved my life, got me to work as a volunteer and then married me. We live as two women, but I have never had the final operation.
It was while we were working that I took the call from Peter, about five and a half years ago. He also had been disowned, but whereas I just liked to dress as a woman, Peter had some serious psychological problems, but he didn’t deserve to be let down by me or by the system. I will never forgive myself for letting him down. NEVER.
Peter was placed in a temporary home, but somehow nobody saw the warning signs and he killed himself. And even though I said I would protect him, I failed. I FAILED him.
After Peter killed himself I just lost it. I went into a deep depression and Chris started to keep a close eye on me in case I did something stupid. I started having nightmares and wouldn’t sleep, eventually Chris dragged me off to Sally, a psychiatrist Chris knew, who diagnosed Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome and spent nine months dragging me out of the hole I was digging for myself. Those sessions were raw and included my cross-dressing. Let’s say I learnt a lot about myself during those nine months and I still have a session every six months, but these are now mostly a coffee and gossip get together. She’s almost as good a talker as she is a listener and I regard her as a close friend.
For the first month I was having daily sessions, then it was every other day for the next five months and then twice a week for the last three months. The next two years it was a monthly “check up” and finally our six monthly gossip sessions.
Sally uncovered a lot of stuff, stuff that my subconscious just wouldn’t let me near. It appears that I had taken my mother as a role model, rather than my father. Also, my brain sex was slanted more towards female than male, but wasn’t enough for me to believe that I was a woman in a man’s body. If a normal male’s brain sex was 90-10 slanted towards male then mine was about 35-65 towards female. Not enough to make me believe, but enough to confuse me and coupled with my lack of testosterone production and not going through puberty. Well, what can I say, except ‘Thank God for Christine’ (uh oh, she hates being called Christine).
The first month I just talked and talked, oh and cried. I could have filled a swimming pool with the amount of tears I produced. Chris never took part in these sessions, but she was always there, outside, waiting, worrying and probably crying herself, if I know Chris.
My fears were peeled away in layers, just like peeling an onion, and each layer got more emotional than the last. The core of the problem was that I felt that I had let Peter down, but resting on that was the feeling that I had let down Chris, the group, transgendered people, people in need and finally myself. The burden I was carrying, no, make that the self inflicted burden I was carrying, just got too much and I was close to mentally retreating into myself.
Sally was good. She didn’t tackle the problem as a whole, but in pieces, layers if you like. The first burden to go was ‘the letting myself down’ and we progressed to the nub which was ‘the letting down of Peter’. By the end of the first month both Chris and I were wrecks. Me from the therapy, Chris from ‘suicide’ watch. She didn’t sleep much and if she did one of our friends was there, but Chris slept on a hair trigger, if I moved she awoke, if I coughed she was there. God, I love her for that.
Once we were at the nub of the problem, Sally showed me how to deal with it. The tricks, techniques even, of deflecting the self guilt. How to live with myself and the self loathing. How to cope on a day to day basis. It was hard at first, but it got better and as I learnt how to deal then the nightmares started to go away.
Oh yes, the nightmares. In my dreams, I became Peter, I took the abuse, I was disowned and I killed myself. And it didn’t happen just once a night, it was every time I closed my eyes. It got so that I couldn’t, no, wouldn’t sleep. I’d go forty eight, even seventy two, hours without sleeping, only to collapse and have really bad dreams.
One I remember, after a marathon session of wakefulness, was a real, full blown episode. In it I wasn’t Peter, but myself and everyone hated me, especially Chris, I think she even hit me. I have never told Chris about that one, but it was the closest I came to ending it all since I called the Samaritans the first time. The sessions with Sally after that nightmare were horrific; I think I even scared her. Thinking back, Chris never left me alone for days and there were always two or more of our friends and colleagues around. You know, I don’t deserve her; she is much too good for me.
Anyway, after just under five years of therapy I no longer have nightmares and can cope with the self loathing, even if I will never forgive myself. It was two years before I could go anywhere near a Samaritans centre and I still can’t take calls. My role is now mainly as a specialist councillor, the sessions with Sally being a great help in recognising the signs and pointing people in the right directions.
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t diagnose or even try and cure people, I am not qualified for that, but I am more of a ‘paramedic’ to use an analogy. I just ‘stabilise the patient’, deal with any immediate life threatening problems, so that they can get the proper help they need. Just like a paramedic called out to an emergency. I have had some basic training, enough so that I don’t make the person worse and I have access to half a dozen psychiatrists, who trust me and who I can send the worst cases to. Sally is one of those, in fact it was her that suggested that I follow this path after it emerged that I was going to be useless on the phone.
Ah, I can see what you are thinking. If I can’t handle taking ‘suicide’ calls how can I handle being a ‘paramedic’, to use my analogy?
Well, basically what stops me taking the calls is my fear of answering another ‘Peter’. It’s the fear of the unknown. I can still function as a Samaritan, befriend, talk to, but mainly listen to potential suicides. It’s the picking up of the phone that I can’t do. So I make the tea, wait for the difficult cases to roll in and help out where I can. You know the sort of thing. Filing paper, writing reports, tabulating figures, well secretarial work.
Anyway, I think that just about brings us up to date. Ah, I forgot. The project.
Chapter 3
As I’ve said Chris and Sally knew each other, went to the same school or something. Come to think of it, Chris knew Tracey as well. I wonder if they all went to school together, but I digress.
During part of the layer peeling that I was going though, it emerged that I had a need to help people. A deep need. Now whether I had always had this need or whether it was something that was inspired by Chris’s unstinting help of me in the beginning, we don’t know. But it was this deep need and my failure with Peter that brought about my ‘episode’.
It may have been due to the fact that I identified strongly with Peter’s condition that I reacted so badly to his death, I mean I had lost people before and it hadn’t affected me in that way. I mean it hurts, badly, but I, or any of my colleagues, hadn’t had that type of reaction before. I mean, Chris was just as involved with Peter as I was, but she didn’t flip.
Anyway, Chris and Sally knew each other and I suppose were talking about how I was doing and what I was saying behind my back. Let’s face it, if it was the other way round and Chris was having the problems, I would have bugged the surgery so that I could make sure I could help her. Yes, I would gladly have taken on her demons and slain them without any thought of myself, just like she did for me. She really is a remarkable woman.
Sorry about going on about how good she is, but I just can’t help myself. True love I suppose.
Well, when Sally discovered this need to help and realised that using that need could form part of the cure, she told Chris and between them hatched a plan about us being foster parents to transgendered kids, well difficult kids really, but mainly transgendered or cross-dressers. Sally told her what training we would need and suggested that she may also get me to do a basic psychology course.
She thought about this and the more she thought and the more she spoke to Sally, she decided that it would be a good idea. We are not bad off for money as her parents were quite wealthy and she inherited their house when they died, quite close to each other, a couple of years ago. A couple of people she knew in Social Services said that having a stable couple who had experience of transgender issues acting as temporary guardians could have beneficial effects on the kids.
So we got trained and I got my basics in psychology and along the way we got to know the head of Social Services, one Jennifer Whitfield, and got ourselves on the foster parent register.
Jennifer is a bright woman and nothing like her predecessor, you remember that he resigned over the ‘Peter’ affair, although I never held him to blame. After I had recovered and whilst we were doing our specialist training, Jennifer invited us to meet her. I suppose it was down to the notoriety surrounding Peter and his death and the fact that I was the one doing most of the shouting (it was the least I could do for Peter).
Anyway, we met and got on very well, she gave us her private mobile number, and we impressed each other. Her over what we were attempting to set up to fill a hole, down which too many kids had disappeared, and us over her attempt to get her department to recognise transgender issues and a few other issues that plague modern society.
Over the last two years Jenny has helped us when we have hit problems and, although we can’t take acceptance as granted, she has promised that her department will look favourably upon the placement of problem children with us.
Which brings us to tonight’s social do.
It’s a get to know you type of thing, where people with spare money meet people with an empty begging bowl. Sorry, couldn’t help it. Jenny has invited us to a function where a few good spirited people are prepared to back noble, for want of a better word, causes and are prepared to put a little of their unwanted spare cash into these causes where they will receive nothing in return but the grateful thanks of the people the cash helps.
Yes there are a few people like that out there. Helping good causes and not wanting anything in return for their cash injection. Anyway, we are looking for about a hundred thousand to pay the initial running costs as we should be eligible for a grant when it’s all up and running and has proved itself.
So, we are now up to date and I see that my alarm is about to go off.
Chapter 4
I must have hit the snooze button at least ten times before I actually dragged myself out of bed. Chris was already up, as her side of the bed was empty, so I headed for the shower.
I relaxed under the warm spray and rubbed shower gel over my body. I felt my breasts checking for lumps, can’t be too careful with breast cancer. Chris and I check each other thoroughly once a month and I do a quick check every other day. Chris also checks my testes for lumps at the same time; I mean I don’t want to be the first person to have both breast and testicular cancer.
I didn’t bother with my hair as we have salon appointments this afternoon so I turned off the shower, grabbed a towel and dried myself. I wear a gaffe all the time now; it’s one of those that you glue on and gives you the appearance of having female sex organs. It just makes things easier when I’m out and about, basically it completes the illusion I am a woman and prevents awkward questions.
I throw on undies, t-shirt and jeans, slip my feet into mules and plod off downstairs. Chris is in the kitchen and when she hears me enter comes to me and hugs the life out of me.
“You okay this morning?” she asks.
“Yes, I’m fine, thanks.”
“I was worried about you last night. You’ve never forgot things before.”
“But it wasn’t for long,” I said.
“I know, but you did forget. You don’t think you’re heading for a relapse?”
“I don’t think so. This scheme you and Sally cooked up has helped. I’m sorry I put you through so much,” I answered.
“I’d do anything for you,” she said.
“As would I,” I replied, softly.
“Anyway, brekkie.”
Chris went back to preparing breakfast; I took my ‘contraceptive’ pill (I don’t want to get pregnant) and did some introspection.
We didn’t do much that morning, just read the papers, watched TV. Our appointments were for mid-afternoon, so after lunch we drove into town. Now I can go into detail what we had done, but I am a woman of few words (don’t snigger at the back). Suffice to say that we had manicures, pedicures hair washes, hair styling and body waxing. And we both felt gorgeous. We trundled home as it would take a little time getting ready and it was already four-thirty.
Once home we began to get ready. We both stripped naked, washed and started by putting on thongs, mine was red and Chris’s were blue. On went the suspender belt, matching colours, and a pair of seamed tan stockings. We had a whale of a time getting the seams straight. Next came the three inch stiletto strappy sandals, yep, red and blue.
Now the fun really began. The next item was the corsets. Chris helped me with mine and then I helped her with hers. But the piece de resistance were the beautiful silk cheongsams that we put on next. Colours, can’t you guess, okay…mine was red and Chris’s was blue. The cheongsams finished midway between thigh and knee and had splits up both sides. One of the joys of cheongsams is the way it empathises your bosom without making you look like a hooker.
Once we had completed our make-up we both grabbed shawls and our bags and waited for our lift to arrive. Ah, the one thing I forgot to mention was hair. Well, mine was honey blonde, straight and reached half way down my back. Chris has black hair, but hers was done in a pageboy style.
Our entrance at the reception was amazing. We drew looks from virtually everyone as we walked slowly towards our sponsor.
“You both look fantastic,” Jenny enthused.
“Thank you,” we both chorused.
A waiter appeared as only top class waiters do and offered us some wine. With glass in hand Jenny took us around the groups and introduced us. At one she made her excuses and left us.
“Christine and Samantha, how lovely to meet you,” the tall handsome man said.
“It’s Chris and Sam and thank you for your welcome, Clive,” Chris answered.
“I apologise for my error.”
“No error,” I said, “Samantha is such a mouthful and Christine hates being called Christine. Something about its use when she was being told off by her mother.”
Clive laughed and said, “That I can understand. I had a brother called Jon, but was always called Jonathon when being told off. I got away with it since there isn’t any other form of Clive.”
I had avoided the elbow in the side and now all three of us were laughing.
“So what is your project and how much do you want?” Clive asked.
“My, you are direct, what no foreplay,” Chris said with a smile.
“Well I have to admit that I have been told about both of you by Jenny and she said that your project would appeal to me. That really got my curiosity up, but if you want foreplay, how about you tell me something about yourselves.”
“Certainly, but do you mind if we go somewhere private?” I asked.
“And if we are going to be candid with you, can I ask you to be candid with us?” Chris added.
“No problems on either front,” Clive replied and pointed to a small anteroom.
Once inside we sat on the comfy chairs whilst Clive closed the door, and then sat opposite us.
“I’ll go first since I know something about you two,” Clive said.
He took a breath and continued. “This has not got to leave this room, but if what I have heard is correct then there will be no problem about that,” he paused and we both nodded. “I mentioned Jon and you’ve probably guessed by my accent that I’m from across the pond. There is a tradition in the States to go trick or treating on Halloween. It is also a tradition to wear fancy dress. To a certain group of people it is a Heaven sent opportunity. When we were kids I used to dress up as a cowboy, Batman, Superman, that kind of thing and Jon. Well Jon liked to dress up as Batgirl or Supergirl, or any kind of girl. You get my meaning?”
Again we both nodded.
“As you’ve probably guessed Jon was a transvestite, we never found out if he was transgendered as although the States is more liberal than you in certain things, we are more backward in others and it was on one of his outings dressed as a woman that he was stabbed and killed.”
“We are both sorry for your loss,” Chris said very softly.
“Thank you, Chris. Now as I’ve mentioned earlier, being curious I did some checking and found that Sam here is short for Samuel, that he’s married to you Chris and that he was involved with the suicide of a fourteen year old boy.”
I tensed and Clive noticed. “Sorry Sam, I should have put that better. You tried to save him and when you failed you made a lot of noise even when that brought ridicule upon yourself. I know that you nearly suffered a breakdown and that a lot of people have nothing but the highest respect for you. As you have noticed, I am a blunt type of person; I get straight to the point. As some of my rivals say, I go for the jugular. The fact is I rarely come to these functions. I made an exception for you two.”
Clive leaned forward in his chair and continued, “Jenny has told me about what you want to do, and she has also told me that, in the current climate, you are unlikely to get funding from the authorities. They don’t like being reminded about people like Jon.”
“Or Peter,” I added.
“Peter?” Clive asked.
“The fourteen year old boy that the state, and myself, failed to help.”
“Ah. I take it that still rankles. Before you say anything, here is my proposal. I think it is very unlikely that any child that is ‘outside of the norm’ is going to be able to be placed in a good home. I know that they exist, but they are few and far between, if what I have read is anything to go by. That means that they are likely to end up in state orphanages or with people who may not be able to cope. Every time I read or hear of a kid like that I remember Jon. I want to set up a home where these kids can live and grow, where they will be safe. Where they can learn how to cope in society, how to blend in until they can blossom into what they want to be. We all know that kids can be merciless. I am offering you the chance to run that home, staff it with suitable people. I know you have the contacts to help in emergencies. So what do you say?”
“Wow.”
“Let me get this straight,” Chris jumped in, “You are offering to fund a home and staff, you don’t know how much it will cost and you are placing your trust in two strangers.”
“Not strangers. I have done a lot of research. Money opens lots of doors and can get results in a very short time. I know you are the right people for the job,” Clive replied.
Have you any place in mind?” I asked.
“Yes I do. I have just bought Branksome Hall. It’s a bit of a wreck, but I am going to use one wing as the home. I want to call it the Jon Wilkinson home.”
I looked at Chris and she just stared back at me. We were both shell shocked. This was beyond our wildest dreams. Then a thought sprang to mind.
“I hope you are not going to take this the wrong way, but this isn’t a wind up is it? It’s not a practical joke?” I asked.
Clive rose from the chair, opened the door and motioned to someone. A few moments later Jenny entered the room.
“Sam wants to know if it’s a wind up,” Clive said.
“It’s not a wind up. I’ve known Clive Wilkinson for years. I met him in America when I was doing an exchange visit,” she said.
“I apologise, Clive,” I said.
“No need, I understand why you asked. So what is your answer?”
“When do we start?” Chris said.
Just then my mobile went off and judging by calling number I saw on the display, it wasn’t a good sign.
“Sam,” I said and listened to voice at the other end. “We are on our way, take good care of him.”
Chris looked at me. “We have another Peter,” was all I said.
“I’ll order a taxi,” Chris said.
“No need, I have my car here,” Clive said. “I’ll take you.”
It sounded like an order, but one we could live with.
Chapter 5
We hugged Jenny, said our goodbyes and waited at the front door for Clive’s car to arrive. It was a Maybach. Clive asked where we had to go and passed on the address we gave him to the chauffeur.
On the way all I could think about was Peter and how I was going to do this differently. I would not let this poor child down. They would have to kill me to get to him. Clive had gotten in the front leaving us girls alone in the rear. I knew that the journey would normally take thirty minutes; Clive’s driver did it in twenty two.
Once there Clive held my door open whilst his driver held the door on Chris’s side. As we walked towards the building I said to Clive, “Anything you see or hear in that building never leaves the building. You shouldn’t really be allowed into phone room, but there is a rest room where you can hang out after Chris has given you a brief look around.”
I swiped my card and the door unlocked. I pushed it and held it for both of them. Chris led the way towards the phone room.
“Hey, it’s the Suzi Wong girls,” Fred quipped.
“Boy, do I feel underdressed,” this from Jane, who was always beautifully turned out.
“Do two Wongs make a Wright?” Fred added.
“How much do you charge?”
I went over to Jake, kissed him on the cheek and said, “More than you can afford. I have to keep Chris in the shopping mode she enjoys,” and everyone laughed; we were a close knit family here and would help anyone out.
“Guys, this is Clive, he gave us a lift here. He’s promised to stay out of the way and, if you ask him nicely, might even make the tea,” Chris said through the smile.
“And I won’t even charge my normal fee,” Clive replied.
“Thanks Clive. It will also stop you getting bored, but what about your driver?” Chris asked.
“Don’t worry about him; he’s used to waiting. That’s why I pay him so much,” Clive answered.
“Fred, where’s the child?” I asked.
“With Tracey. I called as soon as we got him back here. I didn’t like the look of a couple of bruises,” Fred said.
“Shit!”
“Christine!” I remarked, “Very unladylike. We have a guest.”
“You are only saying that, Samuel, because I beat you to it,” she said, smiling.
“You know,” Fred said in a stage whisper to Jane, “until they speak you would never guess they were both men would you?”
“They must spend hours shaving their beards,” Jake chipped in.
“Those fake breasts just don’t look right,” Jane added. “And that wig Christopher.”
“Shall we strip off now and give them a thrill?” I asked Chris.
“Don’t want to put them to shame, love. None of them have the quality of equipment we have,” and everyone burst into laughter again.
Just then Tracey came out of one of the side rooms. “So what’s with the hilarity?” she asked.
“We were just discussing Samuel and Christopher’s ability to appear female,” Jane said.
“Samuel and Christopher?” and then she noticed us. “Oh wow.”
“You like?” Chris asked.
“Like? Like doesn’t come close,” she replied.
“How’s the child?” I butted in.
“I’d like to take him to hospital.”
“Suspicions?” I ask.
“Yes, I have suspicions. I think he’s been abused.”
“Oh Trace,” Chris’s voice took on a sad quality.
Clive, who had overheard the exchange between Chris and Tracey, chipped in, “My car is outside and we will take you to any hospital you want.”
Tracey looked at Chris, who nodded and I said, “Chris you take Tracey and the boy with Clive to hospital. I’ll stay here and talk to Fred. Let me know what they find. And Clive, I appreciate what you are doing.”
Tracey went to fetch the patient and when they came into the room I was shocked to see that he was only about ten. The fact that he was wearing a skirt didn’t worry me. What worried me were the bruises on his arm.
After they had left I turned to Jake and said, “You’re the computer expert, see what you can find out about Clive Wilkinson. Jane, you know a journalist or two see what you can find?”
I told them both what I knew of Clive Wilkinson.
“Problems, Sam?” Fred asked.
“I don’t think so, but he’s offered Chris and me the chance to run the type of home we were going to setup. He knows a lot about us, but we know very little about him and I’d like to even that up.”
“Sounds like your dream come true,” Fred replied.
“Too good to be true,” was all I said.
Jake and Jane went about their allotted tasks and I said to Fred, “What’s the kid’s history?”
“His name is George, I haven’t pushed for his last name, and he’s run away from home. Like you, I noticed the bruises on his arm and called Tracey and then you. She beat you here by ten minutes. Although he says he wants to kill himself, I don’t think he means it. I think it’s a cry for help, but I’m not taking chances.”
I was nodding as he was talking and agreed with him that we would be taking any chances.
“There’s another thing. Did you notice he stayed close to Tracey when in company?”
“Yes, but I put it down to him being shy,” I answered.
“I think it’s something deeper, but I can’t put my finger on it,” Fred replied.
“I’ve found several Clive Wilkinsons, but only one is American and had a brother called Jon,” I turned to look at Jake and he continued. “He is a multi-billionaire whose brother was killed in a knife attack; he inherited his money from his parents and went on to increase it on the stock market. Looks like he’s upset a few people with his curt way of dealing with them.”
“That I can understand. He said he was a blunt type of person.”
“Blunt, from what I have read, that is an understatement. But he is fiercely loyal and he instils loyalty in the people who know or work for him. “
“Sam, I’ve managed to talk to one of my mates and she says that Clive could be your best friend or your worst enemy and that if he took a liking to you then he would do anything in his power to help you.”
“Thanks Jane,” I said.
“Samaritans, how can I help you? Oh hi Chris. Yes I’ll put her on,” and Jake handed the phone to me.
“We’re in the Alexandria,” Chris said as I recognised a top class name. “Tracey and a doctor are conferring, but it looks like child abuse and it’s going to be referred to both the police and social services.”
“I’ll call Jenny,” I said, “and offer to look after the child; I’ll also warn Sally that we’ll probably need her services.”
“Good idea, Clive is arranging for the boy to stay at his place along with us and a nurse. He’s already got a solicitor out of bed and he’s dealing with the police as we speak. We should be leaving in a few minutes to pick you up and to let Tracey get her car. We will then all head off to Clive’s for a council of war.”
“Okay, see you soon,” I answered, gave the phone back to Jake and got my mobile out of my bag.
“Whitfield.”
“Jenny, its Sam.”
“Hi Sam, what can I do for you?”
“We’ve taken a ten year old boy for a check up because our doctor suspected abuse. This has been confirmed and Clive is arranging for the boy to be interviewed by the police tomorrow and I’d like you to assign one of your best people to the case. I would also like George...”
“George?” Jenny interrupted.
“That’s the boy’s name. Anyway, I, sorry we, would like you to temporarily place George in our care pending proper placement, which we would also like to be considered for.”
“Yeeesss,” Jenny said.
“You obviously know what Clive has offered us and I think you had a hand in it and both Chris and myself would like to thank you for that. I also know that George will need the kind of help that I can give him.”
“Yeeesss,” Jenny said again.
“He was wearing a skirt, Jenny and I think that may be part of the reason he was abused.”
“Okay. I can’t promise anything, but you can look after George for the time being. I will await my people’s report before making up my mind.”
“That’s fair,” I said. “And Clive is taking George, us, Tracey and a nurse back to his place so that we can look after the child.”
“Okay, I’ll get someone out there tomorrow as I am going to assume that George will be under medical care tonight.”
“Thanks Jenny. We’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“So he was abused,” Jane said as I ended the call.
“Looks like it,” I replied.
“I hate it when that happens to a kid.”
“Same here, Fred,” Jake responded.
“Samaritans, how can I help you?” Jane took a call and the noise level in the room immediately reduced.
I went to the rest room and called Sally.
“Sally, Sam.”
“Sam, you okay, it’s almost midnight.”
“Yes, I’m fine and no, I’m not having a relapse. Listen, we may have another Peter, but this one has complications, he’s been abused.”
“You sure?”
“Tracey took him to hospital for confirmation. Look I’d like you to be involved, you’re the best I know and George deserves the best,” I said.
“Thanks for the compliment. When and where?” Sally asked.
“You know Branksome Hall?”
“I’ve heard of it.”
“We’ll be there all day.”
“I’ll check my diary when I get in and give you a call.”
“Thanks Sally. Talk to you tomorrow.”
I sat down and waited to be picked up.
Chapter 6
Tracey entered the rest room and said, “Ready when you are.”
“Where’s Chris?”
“She’s gone on with George, Clive and the nurse.”
“I’ll just say bye to the guys and I’ll be ready,” I said, rising.
Once in Trace’s car the conversation turned serious.
“What did they find, Trace?”
“Besides the bruising on his arm, there is bruising on his upper body consistent with being beaten. He has a couple of broken ribs, scarring on his arms and body which leads us to believe he was used as an ashtray.”
“An ashtray?”
“Sorry, someone stubbed out lit cigarettes on his skin.”
“Shit!” I cried.
Tracey continued, “One arm has been broken sometime ago and may have to be broken again so that it can be set properly. There’s some scarring on his back and legs, but I’ve left the worse for last.”
“What could be worse that that list?”
“He’s got some anal bruising.”
“Anal bruising? What’s anal bruising? Trace, you don’t mean…”
“Yes, he’s been sexually abused and, from the look of it, very roughly and repeatedly.”
“Oh Trace. What can we do?”
“Take care of him. Find the bastard or bastards that did this and lock them up.”
Tracey went quiet and I just wanted to find who did this and remove parts of them without an anaesthetic and with a very blunt knife.
We arrived at Clive’s place to find Chris waiting on the doorstep. We hugged and I saw the tear marks. We followed her into a large room and I heard Clive on the phone.
“I don’t care about the cost; I want you to hire the best and liaise with the police and find who did this. I also want you to get the best medics and start putting this poor kid’s injuries to right.”
“I’ve got the best psychiatrist in the business,” I interrupted, “and she’ll be here tomorrow.”
“That’s great news,” he turned his attention back to the phone. “We already have a trick cyclist on board. I want you here first thing tomorrow and I want you to brief us on your progress. Bye Steve.”
Clive ended the call and turned to face me.
“I’ve heard of child abuse, but I’ve never, ever seen anything like this. Have you?”
“No. We had a few cases at work and I’ve spoken to social workers who have. He may never recover properly. What do you think Trace?” I asked.
“It will take work, a lot of time and a good shrink. I take it you’ve spoken to Sally?”
“Too right I have, she’s going to ring me tomorrow, but I’m sure she will be here. You know what she’s like.”
“Yes, I know. Now where do we go from here?”
Clive jumped in. “Sam, Chris, you still serious about my offer?”
“You serious about the offer?” Chris questioned.
“Yes,” Clive answered.
“Yes,” I answered.
“Right, Steve will be here tomorrow and we’ll formalise the arrangement then. Tracey, are you prepared to be our Head of Medical Services?”
“For what?” Tracey asked.
“Sorry, Trace,” Chris said, “Clive is setting up a foster home and has asked us to run it. I presume he wants you to work alongside us.”
“I believe in personal recommendation and as you get on with Sam and Chris and seem, not only to know what you are doing, but to actually care. I would like you to oversee the medical side of things.”
“I am flattered, but you don’t know anything about me.”
“I know all I need to know. Sam, is Tracey good?”
“Yes,” I replied.
“Chris?” Clive asked.
“Oh definitely.”
“Good enough for me. Are you in?”
“I’m in,” Tracey answered.
“Then check on your patient and give us an update,” Clive said.
After Tracey had left I asked, “Who’s Steve?”
“My lawyer and from tomorrow, he’ll be working with you. He’s a good man and much more that a lawyer. He’ll take care of the day to day running,” Clive said as he poured himself a drink.
There was a knock on the door, a butler entered and said, “There’s a Miss Stone at the door, sir.”
Clive looked blank so I said, “She’s the trick cyclist.”
“Bring her in, James,” Clive responded.
“Yes sir.”
Moments later, Sally was escorted into the room and, looking at my watch, I said, “You’re late.”
“Who’s late?” Tracey said as she came back into the room. “Sally, good to see you.”
“Tracey, how’s our patient?” Sally answered and turning to me said, “You, of all people, know how long it takes to get ready.”
“I’m very glad you are here,” I said, with a smile.
“Tracey, can you brief me on what we have got?” Sally became all business and they both went off to a corner and spoke softly.
“James, can you rustle up coffee and something to eat?” Clive asked.
“Certainly sir. I have already taken Nurse Edwards refreshments.”
“Thank you, James. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Damn!” This came from Sally
They finished their conflab and came towards us.
“Clive, I’d like you to meet Sally Stone, the trick cyclist. As you have seen she cares more about her patients than her friends,” Chris said.
“Not fair,” Sally said.
“But true,” I got in.
Clive held out his hand and Sally shook it. Clive then asked, “Early prognosis?”
“Obviously, until I have met and spoken to George I can’t be sure, but from what Tracey has told me, we have to repair the physical damage as a priority. I can work alongside and around the specialists. Mentally, we have to tackle the damage the abuse has done, deal with any parental rejection and find out why he cross dresses. It may have been forced onto him.”
She had seen the look on my face at the last comment and had clarified it.
“There have been cases where the abuser gets the abusee to dress as a female. It is a sign of his power and has the effect of demoralising and subjugates the abusee. I will have to undo everything that has been inflicted upon George. It’s going to be a long and slow process and there isn’t any guarantee of success.”
“But you are going to try?” I asked.
“Of course I’m going to try. You know I wouldn’t let a ten year old down.”
“I know, Sal, but I had to ask.”
“I know you did, anyway, I’ll talk to George tomorrow.”
James came back with the refreshments and we all took a break from talking.
“After we’ve had these I suggest that we all grab some sleep. Tracey, I take it George is okay?” This was from Clive.
“Yes, the nurse is looking after him and she will call me when he wakes up.”
“Then it’s more important that we all get some sleep. I’ll get James to show you your rooms.”
Chapter 7
“Miss, miss. It’s time to get up.”
I opened my eyes and saw a maid standing by the bed.
“I’ve brought you and your partner drinks. Do you need any help dressing?”
“Thanks, but we can manage.”
I gently awoke Chris and went to get a shower.
“I suppose we will have to wear the stuff we were wearing yesterday until we can get a change of clothing,” Chris said.
“Yes, I suppose we will have to wear the corsets. Can you take Tracey and get some clothes, I have the feeling that we will be here a while.”
“No problem.”
We both dressed and sauntered downstairs and were shown into the dining room.
“Morning girls,” Sally said. “Sleep well?”
“Yes, thanks Sally. You?” Chris responded.
“Yes. Clive will be back in a minute, he’s just taking a call.”
The door opened and Tracey walked in.
“Glad to see you finally woke up.”
“How’s George?” I asked.
“Still asleep, the night nurse has been relieved and he’s being cared for by a fresh nurse.”
Clive walked in and said, “Morning ladies.”
“Morning Clive, everything alright?” I responded.
“Clive, we will need a change of clothing, so I suggest that Tracey and I do it whilst George is still asleep,” Chris added.
“Good idea. How is George, by the way?” Clive asked.
“Sleeping soundly. There is a fresh nurse with him,” Tracey said.
“We should be back in about thirty minutes,” Chris said, grabbed some toast and propelled Tracey out of the door.
I also grabbed some toast, poured a cup of coffee and sat at the table.
“Not eating much?” Clive asked.
“I have to watch my weight.”
“Just like a woman. Sally, will you supervise George’s interview with the Police later. I want to make sure he doesn’t come to any more harm.”
“Of course Clive. I won’t let the Police talk to him until Tracey and I are happy.”
“And Steve will be there to make sure it’s all done right,” Clive said.
Right on cue, James entered and announced, “Mr. Broadfield is here.”
“Show him in please, James.”
Steve Broadfield was a good looking man just under six feet tall in his stocking feet. He was wearing a traditional lawyer’s suit and carrying a briefcase.
“Grab some breakfast and then you can tell us what you have got,” Clive said. “By the way, this is Sam,” he pointed at me, “and that is Sally. She’s George’s psychiatrist.”
Steve nodded to us and then followed Clive’s advice and sat at the table.
“I’ve engaged the services of the Two Jays Agency and everything has been setup at the hospital. The Police will be here this afternoon along with Social Services.”
“I’ve spoken with Jenny and asked for temporary custody,” I said.
“Jenny?” Steve asked.
“The boss of Social Services.”
“Okay. I take it, Clive, that you would like George to be your home’s first patient?”
“Not my home, Steve. Chris, Sam and your home. I want you to run it along with Chris and Sam. They will look after the patients and you will make sure that nothing happens to them. Any of them. You know how I have set this up. You will manage the funds and the legal side of things. You three will be the management team.”
“So it’s a goer then.”
“Yes, Steve, Chris and Sam have agreed. So it’s all systems go. You liaise with them and get the home up and running,” Clive said.
“Steve, it will be nice working with you,” I said.
“And I look forward to working with you. Have you seen the wing yet?”
“No, we’ve been preoccupied with George.”
“I’ll make sure you get the grand tour later,” Clive added.
“Sir, the boy’s awake and I’ve made sure that he has refreshments available,” James said softly, we hadn’t seen him enter.
“Thank you, James. Sally can you…”
“Clive, I’m going up,” I interrupted.
“Not dressed like that,” Sally said.
“What’s wrong with the way I’m dressed?” I asked.
“Until I’ve assessed him, I’d like to keep everything low key and that dress is not low key. It’s a nice dress, but screams femininity,” Sally said.
“Point taken.”
Sally left the room and I banged the table.
“That’s not ladylike,” Steve said.
“It’s a good job that I’m not a lady then,” I fumed.
“Don’t worry, Sam, there’ll be plenty time to get to know George. Let Sally do her assessment and then we can progress from there. Remember that he’s a very lonely, frightened and hurt ten year old,” Clive said.
“Sorry, Clive. I just want...”
“You want to help him. I know, but let’s not frighten him any more than he is.”
I fetched another coffee and sulked. Clive and Steve talked amongst themselves and I just sulked and waited.
“We’re back,” Chris said as she bounded into the room.
She had changed into jeans, baggy top and her favourite flats.
“Your gear is in our room,” Chris said as I raced out of the room to get changed.
Ten minutes later I was changed and back in the breakfast room, Sally was back and I asked, “Better?”
“Much,” she replied.
“How is he?”
“Well, as I was telling everyone, initial thoughts are that he wasn’t forced to cross dress and he was abused by one individual, but he won’t say who. That’s usual with abuse. I’d say that you will have to take it slow at first. Don’t smoke around him, it will trigger a fear response in him, I wouldn’t use raised voices or threatening behaviour, but I know you wouldn’t anyway.”
“Tracey is going to take him to the Alexandria for a full examination and I think that Chris and Sally should accompany him,” Clive held his hand up as I started to interrupt, “I want you and Steve to get the home started and I know you know more about what we need than Chris does.”
“Sorry Clive. Of course I’ll do that,” and turning to Steve I asked, “Once we get the list do you have any idea how long it would take?”
“If we pay over the odds it won’t take long at all,” Steve said.
“And I’m prepared to pay over the odds,” Clive added. “My idea is to have ten or fifteen rooms each with two beds, although that can change. A communal dining, sitting and play room. An on site nurse, specialists on call and a small staff. I don’t know how you feel, but I’d like you to live in. As for schooling, well I suppose we’ll get some advice from Jenny.”
“Sounds like a plan. I like the idea of sharing, but I think that there should be a few single rooms. Will we be using the Hall’s kitchen or will we have our own?”
“You can have your own if you like, but it might be safer to use the main one. I can arrange for it to be manned out of hours.”
“No problem. Off the top of my head, and you have already probably thought of this, single beds, maybe some bunk beds, wardrobes, bedside tables and mirrors.”
“Bunk beds?” Steve asked.
“Some of the younger kids may like the security the lower bunk can provide; others treat it like a cave. My idea would be to be able to swop the beds as the need arise.”
“Good idea,” Clive said. “Would you like to have a look at the wing?”
“Since I can’t see George you try and stop me,” I replied.
We all left the room and Clive led the way to the wing. It had three stories. Clive said that the top floor would be the staff accommodation, the middle floor was to be the kid’s dorms and the ground floor would be the communal area. Working with Steve, we got together a list of what we would need for the rooms and he went away to get the gear ordered and the work done.
“Clive, I still can’t get over the fact that you are doing all of this and are willing to spend a hell of a lot of money.”
“Well, Sam. The money is inconsequential. I am not married and have no kids. In fact, I have no family. Jon meant a lot to me,” Clive paused, thought for a while and then continued. “You aren’t aware of this, but I give a lot to charities and fund a programme that helps transgendered people. All of it done anonymously. This home would give me great pleasure and I hope to use the home as a base for the transgender programme. I have been looking for a person to run that programme; I think that you are that person.”
“Bloody hell, Clive. You don’t half know how to drop bombshells,” I exclaimed. “But why me?”
“You are aware of the problems of being transgendered, you fight for what you believe in, you fiercely protect those in your care and you are loyal to your friends. I know that you are the right person and I know that you will do a really good job. I want to leave something behind when I die. I want Jon’s death to mean something. This home will be the start of that.”
“You miss him a lot, don’t you?”
“Yes, a hell of a lot.”
“Okay, Clive. I’ll do it. I’ll do it for you, for transgendered kids and for Jon.”
“Thank you Sam. Now let’s get back and see how George is.”
We headed back and were met by James.
“There are refreshments in the lounge, Sir.”
“Thank you, James. Are the others back yet?”
“Not yet Sir.”
“Okay,” and before James could leave Clive continued. “James, the Wrights have agreed to run the home, so I want you to oversee the domestic arrangements for both the hall and the home. Find a replacement for your current position and engage catering and cleaning staff for the home.”
“Yes Sir, anything else Sir?”
“Yes. Make sure the people you engage are suitable.”
“Certainly Sir,” and James left.
Clive and I walked to the lounge and found Steve there, on his mobile.
“Thanks, Juliet. I shall expect to see you and Jane in about an hour and you will receive a full briefing.”
Steve ended the call and looked at us, but before he could speak Clive was called away.
“Sam, can I ask a personal question?”
“Of course.” I replied.
“You’re a guy, but you prefer to dress as a woman. Why?”
I thought for awhile and answered, “It feels comfortable.”
“Comfortable?”
“These clothes are softer and I am free of masculine stereotypes.”
“But that is not the complete answer is it?”
“No, Steve, it isn’t. I haven’t, and don’t want a sex change, but I feel happier as a woman than a man. I did some tests on the web and they said I was a female. As far back as I can remember, I have always wanted to wear girl clothes. I got a thrill out of it. I suppose part of that thrill was wearing stuff that I wasn’t supposed to wear.”
“So do you still get that thrill since you have decided to live as a woman?”
“Not as much now, as looking like a woman legitimises wearing their clothes and there was always the fear of being found out. Part time cross dressers, that’s guys who have a day job or live with people who are ignorant of their dressing, have to wear breast forms, false nails and wigs since they have to revert back to being a male. I have made the decision to live as a female so I take hormones which means that my breasts are real; I can grow my hair and my nails. I also wear a special gaffe so that I look female even when naked.”
I paused to gather my thoughts and continued, “Part time cross dressers often dress to relieve stress. It can be a great feeling becoming some one else. You can forget your male problems for a few brief hours. Some people are transgendered, which means they feel they are trapped in the wrong body. That ride is a humdinger of a rollercoaster. Not only do they have to battle with their own feelings there is the little matter of legal and social problems. No, transgendered people have their own special problems and they normally get little or no help from the community.”
“That isn’t always the case is it?” Steve asked.
“Again no, but it is mostly the case. First they have to be ‘diagnosed’, then they have to follow a strict course laid out by doctors and if they pass they may have to find the money for the treatment. Some of the rules are there to protect the person, since it’s no picnic after gender reassignment and the doctors need to know if the patient can survive. It’s called a real life test.”
“Real life test?”
“That’s where the patient lives for a year in the opposite gender. They dress and live as a woman, or man, full time. I have lived as a woman for over ten years with no problems, so I can say that I have passed my real life test.”
“But you have no intension of changing sex?”
“No, I just like dressing as a woman. I am, to use what I think is a crude term, a she-male. A man with breasts and a penis. As I have said, I wear a special gaffe that not only hides my genitalia, but also makes it look like I have a vagina. And before you ask, yes I can have ‘vaginal’ sex.”
“I wasn’t going to ask, but”
“Steve!”
“What does Chris think about your dressing?” Steve asked.
“She enjoys it. She has the best of both worlds. A husband who is sensitive to her needs and a girlfriend she can talk to and shop with. Anyway, I take it you have never dressed up?”
“No.”
“Ever been curious about it?”
“No,” he answered.
“You sure?” I pressed.
“Yes I’m sure.”
“You know you ought to try it. You might even like it.”
I walked over to the table and helped myself to a sandwich and a coffee.
“You want a coffee, Steve?”
“Thanks, I will have a coffee.”
I looked at Steve and said, “You know, you’d make a good looking woman, a little tall, but there are plenty of tall women and you have a natural grace about you.”
“Thank you for the compliment, I think.”
“No I mean it. I would love to dress you up and I think you would benefit from the experience.”
“I’ll think about it,” Steve answered unenthusiastically.
Clive entered the room and grabbed a coffee.
“Problems?” I asked.
“No, just earning some money,” Clive answered.
The door opened and the girls walked in with a subdued George. I noticed he was staying very close to Chris. Tracey and Sally went over to Clive and spoke quietly whilst Chris knelt down and asked, “George would you like a drink and a sandwich?”
George nodded his head and Chris led him to the table. Once he was munching his sarnie, Chris pointed to me and said, “That is Sam, that’s Steve and that’s Clive.”
Chris pointed out the others as she spoke and then whispered conspiratorially, “Sam is my partner and she’s like you. You’ll like her.”
George looked at me with a surprised look on his face and then he looked back at Chris.
“If you ask her, I’m sure that she will help you. She is really a nice person.”
George walked over to me and looked up. I immediately knelt down to his level and waited for him to say something.
“Will you…” he paused, unsure of what to say.
“The other woman says you are her partner.”
“I am her husband,” I said.
“She also says you are like me.”
“If you mean am I a boy, then yes I am.”
“She said you will help me.”
“Of course I will help you, everyone here will help you.”
George looked around at everyone in the room, then back at me and started to cry. I opened my arms and he hugged the life out of me. I looked at Chris who was also crying, Sally and Tracey were both smiling. I’ll get that Sally; I bet she had set this up. I was the start of George’s rehabilitation. I said she was the best.
James entered the room and spoke to Clive who nodded, but I was too far away to hear the exchange. Clive went over to Chris and told her something. She looked at us and then walked over to us.
Kneeling she said, “George, there are some people here who we would like you to see and later you, Steve and Sally will have to talk to the police. Don’t worry, Steve and Sally will protect you. Shall we go and see the first group?”
George looked at me and I nodded. He let go and I got up. He held out his hand, which I took and we followed Steve and Chris to meet Juliet and Jane.
Juliet was a blonde, like me, and Jane was a brunette. All they wanted to know was George’s name and his address. Chris, George and I then left them alone with Steve and Clive.
I had returned to the lounge whilst Chris and George had gone upstairs to his room to get a toy. I had been there for a couple of minutes when Juliet entered.
“I believe that you are the Sam that shook up the local Social Services a few years ago,” she says.
“And what if I am?” I reply.
“I have wanted to meet you ever since, but I didn’t want to bother you.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Why I wanted to meet you or why I didn’t want to bother you?”
“Both, either,” I say.
“Well I wanted to meet you because I wanted to tell you how brave I think you were.”
“Brave?”
“You told, no shouted to the world that you were different. You were ridiculed and yet you survived.”
“Only just. If it hadn’t been for my wife and friends I wouldn’t be here,” I say.
“I’m not that brave,” Juliet said, quietly.
I looked closely at Juliet and thought ‘what if?’
“Juliet, I’m sorry if I’m wrong, but what’s...”
“Jules,” she said interrupting.
“Jules?”
“You were going to ask my real name or maybe my real gender. You were going to ask my real gender, weren’t you?”
“Ah,” I said. Yes, Juliet was right. I was going to ask her real gender.
“It’s okay, I knew about you and I wanted to let you know about me. That way I hoped that you would know that you could really trust me.”
“How far have you gone?” I asked and thought that it was a really stupid question.
“Not very far. Facial hair removal and testosterone blocking only. I’m considering hormone treatment, but I’m not sure.”
“What is your relationship with Jane?” Another silly question.
“Same as yours is with Chris,” Juliet replies.
“I have consulted with Chris on every decision I made. I grew my hair and started hormone treatment, although with me it was more a replacement therapy as I don’t produce testosterone.”
“Lucky thing.”
“Neither of us want me to fully transition. You should have a talk with Jane and see what she feels. If you like you both can talk with Chris and me.”
“Thanks, I’ll talk with Jane and see what progresses,” Juliet said.
“And Juliet, I won’t tell anyone, not even Chris,” I added.
Chapter 8
I felt like a fraud. Clive had said that I knew about the problems transgender people experienced, but the truth is that Juliet was the only other adult I’d met who I knew was like me. I hope I wouldn’t let Clive down.
Chris and George entered the room and I fixed a smile on my face. George came running over.
“Chris says she’ll buy me a dress, socks and some shoes.”
“Did she?”
“Yes.”
“Well I think I’ll buy you some undies. Would you like that?” I asked.
“Oh yes I would. Thank you,” and he hugged me again.
George was excited and I looked at Chris and noticed James, the butler, talking with Clive. Clive motioned to the others and went into a group conference with them looking at George from time to time.
Chris came over and said, “George, it’s time for you to talk with the Police. Sam you have also got a visitor.”
“Chris, go with George and act as the responsible adult will you. I know that Steve and Sally will look after his interests.” I looked at George, “You okay with that?”
“Yes, I know that you are all trying to help me.”
“And after we’ll get you those clothes,” Chris added.
“I can’t wait,” he replied.
The group left and Clive said, “The guy from Social Services is here.”
“Will you come with me?” I asked.
“Sure.”
To say that I was worried was an understatement. I remembered the exchange with Social Services over Peter and, although Jenny was the new boss and had said she would help, I wasn’t looking forward to it.
We entered the room, held out my hand and I said, “Hi, I’m Sam Wright and this is Clive Wilkinson.”
“Seth Braithwaite,” he answered and shook first mine and then Clive’s hand.
“You are here about George?” I asked.
“Yes, I believe he is homeless and has been abused. He has now been put on the ‘at risk’ register and I have been tasked with his welfare. I intend to place him in one of our homes pending placement with foster parents.”
This was not going well.
“You have spoken with Jennifer Whitfield?” I asked.
“Yes and I have noted her recommendations, but with your background and sexual preferences, I have no option but…”
He got no further; I banged the table and said, “Now you listen to me. First I lost one child due to your department’s incompetency and I have no intension of losing another one, second I have the necessary qualifications not only as a foster carer, but also in how to help George deal with his problems. Third I am part of the management team that runs a home that specialises in the care of transgendered children. A home that has the resources to ensure that our patients are looked after. Fourth I suggest that you leave your prejudices and your department’s quest for revenge at home. Now I am going to make a phone call and I think that you should reflect upon your future with the department.”
I got up and left Clive with the idiot. I took out my mobile and dialled Jenny’s number. It rang for a few minutes and then was answered.
“Whitfield.”
“Jenny, its Sam. You have a problem.”
“Hi Sam, how so?”
“That idiot who’s passing himself off as a member of your department.”
“You mean Seth and I don’t take kindly to my staff being called idiots.”
“Have you any idea what he wants to do?”
“Yes, make sure that George is cared for.”
“He wants to put him in one of your homes and is basing his decision on the fact that I am not normal and that I caused your department problems five years ago,” I said.
“I don’t think he would base any decision on those grounds,” she replied.
“You sure?”
“Yes…well I think I’m sure. All my staff are professional enough not to let their personal feelings influence their decisions.”
“Well I believe that he isn’t and I’m letting you know that I will not release George into his care and I will have a restraining order against him if he isn’t removed from George’s case and you know that I will do that. I will not allow anyone or anything to harm George any more than he has been.”
“Oh I know you will. Okay, I’ll come over and check it out. See you later,” and with that she ended the call.
I went back into the room and said, “Mr. Braithwaite, I have just spoken with your boss and have informed her that I will not release George into your care and I will get a restraining order against you if you are not removed from the case.” I looked at Clive and he nodded, I continued, “Your boss is on her way and you are to remain here until this crap is sorted out.”
“Just because it didn’t go your way, you are trying to corrupt the system so that you can force your perversion onto an innocent child,” he said.
“Mr. Braithwaite, I think that you have said enough. Sam here isn’t trying to force her perversions, on the contrary, she is trying to help him,” Clive said.
“How can you call him she,” Seth Braithwaite said, pointing at me.
“Clive, I’ve got to leave before I do something unladylike,” I said and left.
I found Tracey and recounted what had happened, she was seething.
“How could Jenny do this?” Tracey asked.
“I don’t think its Jenny’s fault. I don’t think she has found all the bigots in her department. Anyway, she’s on her way.”
“Just wait until I see her, I’ll let her have a piece of my mind.”
“You will do no such thing. We have to remain calm and professional about this.”
“Like you did, if I believe what you said went on.”
“It went on and I shouldn’t have let him get me angry. By the way, I’ve noticed George is subdued around men and that he seems to cling to the nearest female in mixed company.”
“You noticed it too, I’ve asked Sally and she thinks that it’s due to the fact that it was a man who’s abusing him. I think he doesn’t trust men.”
“But he trusts me.”
“He doesn’t see you as a man and he believes that you are like him.”
“Like him…ah as in wanting to dress as a female.”
“Yes, Sam. I think that he will pick you as a role model,” Tracey said.
“We will have to warn Steve and Clive so that they don’t frighten him too much,” I added.
It took Jenny twenty minutes to arrive and she spoke with Clive and then with Seth. Whilst this was going on the Police had finished with George and had left. Chris, Sally, Steve and George came into the lounge and I asked Tracey to take George upstairs.
“The guy from Social Services has turned up and we had a difference of opinion. Jenny’s here now trying to sort it out.”
I recounted what had transpired and Steve asked, “And Clive was in with you and Mr. Braithwaite?”
“Yes,” I answered.
“Good, I will confer with Clive and then speak with Ms. Whitfield,” and he left to find Clive.
“You okay love?” Chris asked.
“Yes, I’m just upset that I allowed him to rile me like that.”
“I’d have ripped his throat out,” Sally said.
“So would I, I think I might still do it,” Chris said.
“You will do no such thing. We have to remain professional and detached otherwise we will be no use to our patients,” I said.
“I know, I know, but why do people judge on looks?” Chris asked.
“Because that’s how human beings work, if they didn’t I’d have less cases to deal with,” Sally replied.
“Anyway, enough about me, what about George?” I asked.
“Well, his last name is Mead and he lived in Lower High Street. He was abused by his step father, name of Foakes and whose whereabouts are unknown; he doesn’t know what has happened to his real father. His mother has disappeared and that was what prompted his suicide attempt. The police are looking for all three and Steve has let Two Jays know this information,” Chris said.
“I don’t think the suicide attempt was real. It was just his way out of a bad situation and now that he is in a safe environment he won’t try again, but I recommend that we still take steps to prevent another attempt, just in case I’m wrong,” Sally said.
“Agreed. Sally, I think that George is afraid of men, what do you think?” I asked.
“I think you’re right. He probably sees all men as potential abusers and I shall have to work on that,” Sally answered.
Clive, Steve and Jenny entered, followed by James with a tray of drinks.
“Based on what Clive and Seth Braithwaite have told me, I’ve suspended Mr. Braithwaite and will arrange for a new case worker. I’m sorry Sam that you had to endure that and I apologise on behalf of my department for Mr. Braithwaite’s comments,” Jenny said.
“So you should,” Chris said.
“Chris, don’t be so hard. It’s not Jenny’s fault,” I said.
“Sorry Jenny,” Chris responded.
“That’s alright, Chris. I’d feel that same if my partner was called perverse,” Jenny said.
“So what’s happening with George?” I asked.
“He’s staying in your care for the time being, I know that you have the support team in place. Are you handling his case Sally?”
“Yes, Jenny. I am and he’s in good hands with Sam and Chris.”
“I know, but I have to be seen to be following procedures and until you are established with some residents, I can’t be seen to be short circuiting those procedures.”
“Just as long as we get unbiased assessments,” I said.
“Ladies help yourselves to drinks and snacks,” Clive said and turning to Steve said. “It looks like we are outnumbered.”
“Sam wants me to try dressing as a woman to see what it’s like and to get a feel for what our patient’s experience. I might take her up on that just to make you the token male,” Steve said jokingly.
“I’d say that was a good idea and it would be nice to turn the tables on male domination,” Sally said with a smile on her face, “and you’d learn something about male stereotypical attitudes which would help you relate with children like George.”
“I think it would be good experience for you. Doing it just once and between friends wouldn’t teach a lot about how people are treated, but, if you decide to go further, I’m sure we could help and you’d see what Sam and George had and still have to go through,” Chris added.
“What do you mean?” Steve asked.
“Do you mind if I tell Steve about your experience as I remember it, Sam?” Chris asked.
“I’ve no objections.”
“Sam has few problems today because all except her birth certificate show her as female and she looks and acts feminine. But when she was discovered by her family she was disowned and she lost her home, her family and her job. Peter, although didn’t have a job, also lost his home and family. The ridicule he suffered in the care home was what caused him to kill himself.”
Chris came over and hugged me as I started crying at Peter’s memory.
“Sam survived his ridicule because he found me. I fell in love with the person and not the packaging, but most people only see the packaging and if it doesn’t conform to the norm then they treat the person as a freak; something to avoid. A lot of people who are different never have the chance to express themselves and are doomed to live sad, unfulfilled lives. A few are lucky to have understanding family and partners, some never do and the strain becomes too much and they kill themselves.”
I was now sobbing just thinking of all those poor unfortunate people unable to enjoy themselves.
“Sam told me about what she called part time cross dressers,” Steve said.
“Not everyone is as lucky as Sam. There are loads of cross dressers who, even if they have understanding partners and family, can only do it for a short period of time. They either have jobs; their children don’t know or just would be able to pass.”
“Pass?” Steve asked.
“They are unconvincing as women. Testosterone and oestrogen have different effects on the body. The first causes male secondary sex characteristics like body hair and muscle growth. The latter causes female secondary sex characteristics like smooth skin, boobs and different fat distribution. The face can be affected by the hormones and male and female sweat smells different. Most of these differences can be disguised. The primary sex characteristic isn’t too much of a problem. Males can wear breast forms that are realistic and to cover the penis can use various types of gaffe which can either be a very tight pair of knickers which holds the penis between the legs and the testes inside the body or one that allows the wearer to look like a woman in that it has an artificial vagina.”
“Sound painful,” Steve said.
“It can be. Females have different problems. They have to flatten their breasts and simulate a penis. If they have large breasts then binding can be very painful.”
“You mean that women also cross dress. I thought it was a male thing.”
“No there are women who want to look like men and some want to be men.”
“Thank you, you’ve given me a lot to think about. I thought Sam was joking with me, but I now see what she was trying to do and I will have to give it some serious thought,” Steve said.
“Steve, we will all help you and if it helps you to understand some of the problems then it will be worthwhile,” Sally added.
I had calmed down and I said, “Steve, having been on the end of ridicule and rejection, I would never inflict that on anyone.”
“I see that now and I hope you can forgive me for doubting you.”
“Don’t worry about that. We are going to work closely and I want you to know that you can trust Chris and me as we will trust you. Anything we do will be for the benefit of people who stay here,” I said.
“That goes for me too,” Clive chipped in.
“You won’t have to worry about me either,” Steve said.
“And you dressing might circumvent another problem. George doesn’t trust men,” I added.
“Could that cause a problem?” Steve asked.
“No, but it’s something that I will have to work on and getting George to help you dress may be therapeutic for him,” Sally said.
“Just look at the time, I’ve got to get back to the office. I’ll ring you later and I’ll make sure my department knows what is expected of them,” Jenny said.
“Bye,” we all chorused as she left.
“But what about me?” Steve asked.
“Afraid of pieces of material,” I joked.
“No, but I don’t want to look stupid.”
“It’ll be fun and we won’t make you look stupid and it could help George,” Chris said.
“Chris, can you and Tracey take George shopping and get him what he wants and if Steve agrees, get him a bra. Nothing else Steve, not until you are ready,” I’d noticed his alarm.
“You can wear the bra in your room when you are ready and when you are comfortable you can wear it with us around. You don’t even have to wear it if you don’t want to,” I said.
“What’s your chest and waist size?” Chris asked, “I might as well get you some matching knickers.”
“Oh I give in,” Steve said and gave Chris the information.
Chris left the room and I sat down.
“You did well,” Clive said.
“I shouldn’t have let him get to me. I should have just reported him to Jenny,” I replied.
“But you still handled it well.”
“Steve, could I really have got that restraining order?” I asked.
“Probably not, but I would have tried anyhow.”
“Thanks.”
“Sam, one of the reasons I chose Steve is that he’s almost as single minded about things as you are,” Clive said.
“From what I’ve heard, that makes three of us,” I added.
“You’ve heard right, I will not let anything or anyone stop me. Steve, I know you weren’t there, but from what I’ve told you is there anything Sam can do, legally?”
“There’s a lot, but most of it will open her to public ridicule. It could reopen what went on five years ago. If you want, Sam, I’ll pursue it.” Steve answered.
“You don’t have to; all I want is for George to get the help he needs and for the home to get off the ground. I don’t want anything to delay that,” I replied.
“Remember Sam, both Clive and myself will be here,” Steve said.
“And that goes for me, Chris and Tracey, but you knew that,” Sally added.
“I know, but I still thank you for it. Without you, I’d be a quivering wreck now and probably be dead if not for Chris.”
“And the world would have been a sadder place,” Sally said.
Just then James entered and spoke to Clive, who nodded and said, “Steve, James has some names that I want Two Jays to vet and they’ve started on getting the rooms ready.”
“Tell them to concentrate on the kids rooms first and leave the staff facilities to last. I don’t care if my team have to slum it for awhile as long as the kids rooms and facilities are ready,” I said.
“The builders and decorators will work twelve hours a day seven days a week. It’ll be expensive, but like Sam, I want the place ready asap,” Steve said.
“Sod the cost. Spend whatever it takes, just get it right,” Clive responded.
“You said you wanted some names vetted, Clive?” I asked.
“Yes, I don’t want narrow minded bigots anywhere near these kids, in fact I don’t want anyone who could hurt them either.”
“Neither do I,” I said. “I take it that you wouldn’t mind any of the staff getting proper training?”
“No, I would be doubting you if you didn’t insist on training.”
“Do you have any idea how many you will need?” Steve asked.
“I’d like six nurses to provide twenty four hour, seven day a week cover, the same applies for regular staff, but you’d need more during the day. I’d like at least twenty. You probably only need one cook on overnight, but you’d need a lot more during the day. I’d defer to James on that as I would do on the cleaning staff.”
Steve was making notes as I was talking.
“Steve can you get Two Jays to vet some contract agencies for emergency cover?” I asked.
“Can do. Would you need the staff to live in?”
“Not necessarily, but I’d like staff accommodation to be available. We could offer some live in facilities with the proviso that they are available for any emergencies. What do you think about security?”
“I think that we should have some cameras and some guards as protection.”
“Good idea, we’ll camera the halls and common rooms and a couple of special rooms that we will use for suicide watch. If we employ the guards then they can become part of the team instead of outsiders,” I paused and looking at Clive said, “It looks like the wage bill could be large.”
“As I said before, sod the cost. I’ll have Steve set up a fund and I’ll have some money transferred and have an investment manager look after it. How about I start it off with seventy five million?”
I went into shock.
Chapter 9
Steve and Clive left me alone, Sally had gone to check up on her practice. She was officially on holiday, but she always checked in just in case she was needed. I pondered on what had happened over the last few days.
I was worried over George’s future, whether he would be allowed to stay with us, what about his mother, his father and his step father. I had a nagging doubt over his step father, I’d read too many accounts of abuse by step parents, both male and female and I wondered whether this was going to be one of those.
Most child abuse is by people who know the child, usually related, but not always and I would need to find out more about it. I called Steve.
“Steve, I think we need to talk to an expert on child abuse, but I don’t know where to begin.”
“Leave it with me Sam. I’ll find someone and get them over to brief us.”
“Thanks Steve.”
Well that’s one problem being looked at. Sally was going to work with George; Tracey would be engaging the nursing staff, James ditto with the domestic staff. That left the security staff and the carers. That would be mine, Chris and Steve’s responsibility.
If Chris and I were going to live here, what should we do with our own home? It was Chris’s parent’s home and she grew up there. It held many fond memories for her.
Chapter 10
“We’re back,” Chris shouted.
“I’ve got a new dress and some shoes and some tops and some skirts,” George blurted out.
“Do you want to change?” I asked.
“Can I?”
“Of course you can.”
George and Chris left carrying George’s new clothes whilst Tracey went to give Steve his bags.
George bounded into the room about twenty minutes later followed by Chris.
“Do you like my dress?”
“I think its darling,” I said.
“Aunty Chris helped me pick it.”
“Did she? Well it’s a very nice dress.”
“Aunty Tracey said she’d brought some things for Uncle Steve.”
“George...” I started.
“Georgina,” George said.
“Sorry Georgina. Would you like to help us show Uncle Steve how to become Aunty Stephanie?”
“Is he going to play dress up?”
“He might and he will need some help,” I said.
“Okay,” Georgina said and she went to play with a Barbie doll.
Steve and Tracey came back into the room and Georgina started to go to Steve and then stopped. I saw some uncertainty on her face. I motioned to Chris who came over to me.
“Yes love.”
“Chris, Georgina is trying to make a decision. I asked her if she wanted to help Steve to become Stephanie and I think she wants to go over to him and ask him, but her fear of men is stopping her at the moment. I know she knows Steve is no threat, but she isn’t totally sure.”
“Any suggestions?” Chris asked.
“The last thing to do is to force the situation. Let’s just let Georgina decide for herself, but can you let Sally know?”
“Of course I will and I’ll ask her advice as well.”
“Thanks Chris.”
I went over to Steve and told him what I had said to Chris and what I had noticed about Georgina.
“So she really is frightened of me?” Steve asked.
“I don’t think it’s that. I believe that Georgina’s distrust of men is so deep that she is having great difficulty overcoming that with you. That was one of the reasons I suggested you try cross dressing. Not only will it hopefully give you an insight to cross dressing, but we can use it as therapy for Georgina. In order to help you, she will have to get close to you.”
“Sam, this is going to be hard for me, but I’ve got an idea. I’ll be back in a minute,” and Steve left the room.
I noticed that Georgina had seen Steve leave and saw the turmoil on her face disappear.
Steve came back into the room carrying three bras.
“Girls, I need some help. Can you suggest which one of these I should wear first?”
I motioned to Chris to wait as I saw a smile flit across Georgina’s face.
Tracey said, “I like the pink one, it’s all lacy and so feminine.”
“I like the red one, but I always was a sucker for bright colours,” I said.
“I’d go for the plain white one, but then I’m not always adventurous,” Chris said and then added. “Georgina which one do you like?”
Georgina looked at the three bras and said, “I like the lacy one.”
“Well if Georgina likes it so do I. Thanks Georgina. Now who’s going to help me?” Steve asked as he put the bras down and started to unbutton his shirt.
I picked up the pink bra, gave it to Steve and said, “Georgina do you to see how to put on a bra?”
“Okay,” she said.
I waited until she stood behind me and then said, “Steve put your arms through the straps making sure that the bra isn’t twisted.”
Steve did so and I continued, “Then you grab each end of the bra and reach behind you and try to hook it.”
I helped Steve’s hands grab the ends and then helped him hook them together.
“Now we have to adjust the straps so that it’s comfortable.”
After I’d adjusted them I asked, “Well Steve, Georgina do either of you think you could do that on your own?”
“Probably,” Steve said.
“It doesn’t look hard,” Georgina said.
“It’ll be a little while before your first bra Georgina, but we’ll show you again when it’s time,” I said.
“Steve, you look very nice, but I’d like to make a suggestion,” Tracey said.
“What suggestion?”
“How about I fill the cups before you put your shirt back on?”
“Go on Steve, for us girls,” Chris added.
“Alright then,” Steve relented and Tracey dashed out of the room.
“Georgina, can we shorten your name. We use Chris instead of Christine and Sam instead of Samuel or Samantha. Would you be upset if we called you Gina?” Steve asked.
“No, I wouldn’t be upset. Gina, Gina. I like it. What do you think Aunty Sam?
“I think Gina is a nice name and much easier to say that Georgina,” I said.
Tracey came back in and inserted breast forms into Steve’s bra cups. She then readjusted the straps and Steve put his shirt back on.
“This is a bit weird.”
“How so Steve?” Chris asked.
I knew what Steve was going through. Its odd going straight from being flat chested to having boobs.
“The bra feels tight and I keep catching sight of these lumps on my chest.”
“Those lumps are your tits and men tend to talk to them rather than to you,” Tracey said with a grin.
“I never did that, did I?” Steve asked.
“Sometimes,” I said.
“Sorry,” Steve said.
“Don’t worry, I still do it sometimes and I’ve had them for years,” I said, laughing.
I saw that Gina was a lot happier now that Steve didn’t look totally like a man.
Chapter11
The next morning Chris and I decided to go shopping with Gina. I needed some things and I wanted to get Steve a blouse and skirt.
We drove to the Westbourne shopping mall on the outskirts of town. Once there we walked around the shops looking in the windows. When we came to M & S we went in.
“Chris, this would look fabulous on you,” I said looking at a top.
“Mmm, it would also suit you.”
Chris put the top into the basket and this was soon followed by a couple of skirts and tops for Steve. I found a dress I liked and then we went into the children’s section.
Gina found something she liked and I found a training bra in her size.
Chris queued up at the pay desk and Gina and I waited. When she got to the counter I motioned to Gina to follow.
Chris was paying for our purchases as Gina and I were leaving the store. As we neared a bench I noticed someone approaching. I turned and looked down the barrel of a gun. I heard an explosion, then another followed by a third and then I heard nothing.
Chapter 12
Chris had just collected her change when she heard the shots. She looked at where she thought they came from and saw Sam on the floor. She ran over to her, saw the blood and screamed.
In the security control room, the shooting was seen on a cctv monitor. The controller pressed a button and spoke into a microphone, “All units, shooting outside M & S east entrance. I repeat shooting outside M & S east entrance. Instigate plan delta.” He then pressed another button and dialled triple nine.
In a British Telecom operator centre an alarm went off, an operator stopped what she was doing, pressed a button and said, “Emergency, which service do you require?”
“Ambulance and police.”
“Putting you through.”
The controller heard ring tone followed by, “Ambulance.”
“This is Westbourne shopping centre, we have had a shooting outside the east entrance of M & S. Security is attending and one person appears injured. We are using rendezvous point 2.”
“Ambulance is on the way.”
The ambulance controller looked at her board, pressed the ‘press to talk’ switch and said, “Units eight one one and two three, shooting at Westbourne shopping centre. Rendezvous point 2 is to be used. We have one casualty.”
“Eight one one attending.”
“Two three on route.”
Back in the security control room the operator had put the call through to the police where the same message had been passed.
In the police control room the radio operator spoke into her mike, “All units, all units, shooting at Westbourne shopping centre outside M & S. ARU three and six, Inspector five eta please?”
“ARU three, two minutes.”
“Thank you ARU three.”
“Inspector five, four minutes.”
“Thank you Inspector five.”
“ARU six, three minutes.”
“Thank you ARU six.”
“All units, RVP2 will be used and Inspector five will assume operational control when on site.”
ARU’s were the armed response units and were dispatched to any shooting.
Back at the shopping centre Chris took her phone out of her bag and hit a speed dial number. The security guards had assured her that the emergency services were on the way and one was working on Sam trying to keep her alive.
“Steve Broadfield.”
“Steve, Chris. Sam’s been shot and Gina is missing.”
“Shit, how’s Sam?”
“Bad. She’s losing a lot of blood.”
“Where are you?”
“Westbourne shopping centre.”
“Well the only hospital with an emergency department is the General so I’ll meet you there and Chris; Sam will make it.”
Steve pressed the red button on his mobile and then hit one of his speed dial numbers.
“Wilkinson.”
“Clive, Steve.”
“Hi Steve.”
“Sam has been shot at Westbourne shopping centre, Chris sounds almost hysterical and Gina is missing.”
“Bugger. Make sure Sam gets the best. I’ll light a fire and Steve, keep me informed.”
Clive then consulted the phone book on his mobile and hit the dial button.
“Cunningham”
“Charles, Clive Wilkinson. How are you? Looking forward to Sunday?”
“Clive, I’m fine and yes, I’m looking forward to beating you at golf.”
“That will be the day. Charles, I have a problem and I need your help. A very, very close friend of mine has just been shot at Westbourne shopping centre and a child in her care is missing. I’d like you to assign one of your best people to oversee the case.”
“Just been shot you say. You don’t waste time. Okay, I’ll make sure the case gets the best person available.”
“Thanks Charles and Clive hung up.
Charles Cunningham, Chief Constable, pressed the intercom button and said, “Jean, get me DCI Waters on the phone immediately.”
Two minutes later the phone on his desk rung.
“Cunningham.”
“DCI Waters, Sir.”
“Waters, there’s just been a shooting at Westbourne and a child is missing. I want you to handle the case.”
“Yes sir.”
“Keep me informed and Waters, the victim is a very, very close friend of a very, very important person.”
“I understand, sir.”
Detective Chief Inspector Josephine Waters depressed the switchooks on the phone and dialled a number.
“Come on, come on…Gene, Jo. We’ve just been handed a special by the Chief.”
“A special?”
“A shooting and a disappearance.”
“What’s special about those?”
“Someone who knows the victim knows the Chief and we’ve been handed the case. Get the team together and get someone over to meet me at the General. I want you and the team to go to the Westbourne shopping centre. I’ll contact ops to get the info.”
“Will do.”
DCI Waters repeated the action on the phone and dialled the operations room.
“This is DCI Waters; there’s been a shooting at Westbourne. I’ve been handed the case by the Chief and I’d like to know what’s happening?”
“We have two ARU’s, an inspector and seven other units on scene, ma’am.”
“Has the ambulance left yet?”
“No, ma'am. They are still stabilising the victim.”
“This is to be treated as a level four incident and I want that ambulance escorted and nothing allowed to get in its way.”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Do we know anything about the missing child?”
“Missing child?”
“There is also a missing child. I want Soco down there and I have a team on route.”
“Yes ma’am.”
The ops controller spoke into his radio, “Control to Inspector five, urgent over.”
“Inspector five, go ahead control.”
“Inspector five, this has been elevated to a level four incident, DCI Waters has taken charge and her team are on route. There appears to be a missing child and the ambulance is to be escorted to hospital with a rolling block preceding it, over.”
“Control, understood. I’ll need at least four solos for the rolling road block and I’ll instigate a search for the missing child. Over.”
“Inspector five all understood. Control out.”
“Control to all solo units in sectors three, five and six. All available solo units in those sectors to contact Inspector five for ambulance escort duties.”
Meanwhile back at Westbourne, Sam was being stabilised so that she would survive the ten minute journey to the General.
“Two three to control,” the paramedic said.
“Control go ahead two three.”
“Control, patient has three gunshot wounds, two in the chest and one in the groin. We are still trying to stabilise her and will be transporting her to the General as soon as we can. Please advise the General that she will need immediate surgery and has lost a lot of blood.”
“Two three, General has been notified and they advise that theatre is on standby. Do you require helilift?”
“Negative control, casualty is too unstable for helilift.”
“Understood two three. What is your eta?”
“Control, about ten minutes when we leave, but it’ll take us at least another five or ten minutes to make sure she will survive the journey. We’ve managed to stop the main blood loss, but it’s only temporary. Two three out.”
“Acknowledged. Control out.”
Ten minutes later Sam was placed in the back of an ambulance and, with sirens screaming and motorcycles providing the rolling road block, it left the Westbourne preceded by a police car. A second police car carrying a sobbing Chris closely followed the ambulance. Along the route police officers and cars had blocked major intersections making the job of the solo units that much easier. The leading police car kept the control room informed of their progress.
At the hospital, Sam was rushed straight into theatre and Chris was met by Steve.
“You alright?” Steve asked.
“Oh Steve, it was horrible. I’m sure Sam’s going to die.”
“No she’s not. I’ve got the best surgeon around here doing the operation. She’s tough, she’ll pull through.”
“I hope so, Steve. I just don’t know what I’d do without her.”
“Excuse me miss, sir. DCI Waters. Can I have a word?”
“How can we help you?” Steve answered.
We’ve pulled the surveillance tapes from the shopping centre and it seems that once the shooter had shot Miss Wright, he took the child with him. I’m having the face of the shooter checked so that we can identify him. Now what is your relationship with the victim?”
“Steve Broadfield, Sam’s business partner,” Steve answered.
“And I am Sam’s wife Chris,” Chris added.
“Ah, and what about the missing child?”
“His name is George Mead and he is on the at risk register. We are looking after him,” Chris answered
“At risk register?” DCI Waters asked.
“He was abused by his step father,” Steve added.
DCI Waters phone rang and she answered the call.
“Waters… Good. The missing child is George Mead and he’s on the at risk register and with what you’ve just told me then we have a serious problem. Issue a Red Alert, step up the search, use all resources and alert all ports and agencies, finding that boy is top priority.”
“I don’t like the sound of that,” Steve said once DCI Waters had ended the call.
“Call me Jo. It appears that Sam’s attacker was the boys step father, Jeffry Foakes.”
“Oh my god,” Chris exclaimed.
“Jo, do you mind if I get some help in the search?” Steve asked.
“As long as they stay out of our way,” Jo answered.
Steve called Two Jays.
“Juliet, Sam’s been shot and George is missing.”
“Dear god, is Sam alright?”
“She’s in theatre at present, but it looks like George has been abducted by his step father, one Jeffry Foakes. I want you to coordinate a search alongside the police. Make it your number one priority.”
“Will do Steve and let us know how Sam’s getting on.”
DCI Waters left to coordinate the search for George whilst Steve and Chris settled down to a long wait.
A couple of hours later a doctor came looking for them.
“How’s Sam doing, Doctor?” Chris asked.
“Holding her own at present. However, we have a problem. One of the bullets has damaged one of her testicles and penis. We have had to remove the testicle and we now need to decide what to do now.”
“How bad is the penis damaged?” Chris asked.
“Very bad. It’s been almost severed near the base and is only attached by a small portion of skin and a lot of it is missing. It was fortunate that she was wearing that device as it restricted blood loss. We are unable to reattach the penis and that means that normal function would be impossible. The only real solution is to complete her reassignment surgery.”
“Sam never really wanted to do that, but if that is the only solution?” Chris questioned.
“Realistically, it is. As I’ve said, the bullet has destroyed some of her penis and that means that it would be impossible to perform as a male. Although, given her appearance, that may not have been her main priority.”
“It wasn’t, but she wasn’t truly transgendered.”
“Well I would recommend that we complete the surgery as it would be easier to live as a full woman than have a mutilated genital.”
“Okay go ahead and give Sam a vagina,” Chris said after a few minutes thought.
“But make sure the surgery is performed by the best. Cost is no problem,” Steve added.
The surgeon headed back to the theatre and Chris started to cry. Steve comforted her as best he could.
Steve excused himself and went to update Clive.
“The bastard’s shot Sam’s penis off and has got Gina. Two Jays and the police are looking for both of them.”
“Poor Sam, how is she doing?”
“Don’t know, she’s still in surgery.”
“Let me know the minute she’s out.”
“Will do.”
Steve hung up and went back to Chris.
Chapter 13
It was a further six hours before a nurse came over to them.
“Miss Wright is out of surgery and is on her way to ICU.”
“How is she?” Chris asked.
“Touch and go. The next twenty four to forty eight hours will be critical.”
“But she’s going to make it?” Chris asked.
“Hopefully.”
“Hopefully,” Chris repeated and started to cry.
“Follow me and I’ll take you to ICU.”
They followed the nurse. Besides Sam there were two other patients. All the tubes and wires coming out of Sam frightened Chris. There were two nurses fusing over Sam.
In the room where Chris and Steve were waiting were chairs and a table and had a window looking into the unit. Chris had collapsed into a chair and was quietly sobbing. One of the nurses came into the room and was talking with Steve. She was talking for about two minutes when an alarm went off. She dashed back into the unit.
“Crash team to ICU code blue,” a nurse shouted into an intercom.
The monitor connected to Sam was showing that she was flat lining. One nurse was administering CPR. The crash team burst into the room and grabbed the defibrillator.
“Charging to one hundred joules,” a technician called.
The machine beeped.
“Clear,” called the doctor as he placed the pads on Sam’s chest and pressed the trigger. Sam’s body convulsed, but she continued to flat line.
“Charging.”
Another beep.
“Clear.”
Another jolt and another convulsion. Flat line.
“Two hundred joules,” the doctored said.
“Charging to two hundred joules.”
Beep said the machine.
“Clear.”
Another jolt and another convulsion. Flat line.
“Come on Sam, I’m not going to let you go again,” a nurse said.
“Go to four hundred joules,” the doctor said.
“Charging to four hundred joules.”
Beep.
“Clear.”
A bigger jolt and a bigger convulsion.
“We’ve got a pulse.”
“Come on Sam.”
“Pulse is getting stronger.”
“Don’t you dare do that to me again young man or I will be very pissed. You and I are going to have a long talk when you come round,” the nurse said.
“Sister, I’ve never seen you get so involved before. What’s different with this one?” the doctor asked.
“Sam’s my long lost brother,” Sister Wright answered.
“I’m sorry,” the doctor said.
“Thanks.”
Sister Wright turned to a nurse. “Stella, look after this one, he’s special. I’m going to talk to his friends.”
The Sister entered the viewing room.
“What happened?” Chris asked.
“His heart stopped, we got it going again. What is your relationship with the patient?”
“I’m her wife,” Chris answered.
“Wife?”
“Yes, we’ve been married for over ten years and I don’t want to lose her,” Chris added.
“Neither do I,” Sister Wright said.
“Sorry?” Chris asked.
“I don’t want to lose Sam again. You see I’m his sister.”
“But didn’t you reject her all those years ago?” Chris asked.
“No, I was at medical school and when I got home I found that Sam had left home and disappeared. It was mainly our father who rejected him.”
“But what about all the publicity over Peter five years ago?”
“I was working in Edinburgh at the time; I only recently came back here. Our father has died and I wanted to be near mother.”
“I’m sorry about your father,” Chris said.
“Don’t be, I never forgave him for throwing my brother out, that’s why I went to Edinburgh. Well I can’t call Sam my brother any more. How did you meet him, what’s he been doing all these years?”
“Look, call me Chris; since we’re sisters in law, and that’s Steve Broadfield, he works with us.”
“Charlotte.”
“Well Charlotte, it’s a long story.”
“If it’s a long story I’d better hear it after my shift finishes. I need to get back to Sam and the other patients. You staying here?”
“I’m not leaving Sam until I know she’s okay,” Chris answered.
“Okay Chris and don’t worry, he’s…sorry she’s in good hands.”
“Still doesn’t stop me worrying though,” Chris said as Charlotte left the room.
“Chris, do you mind if I get back, I need to make sure Gina is found,” Steve asked.
“No Steve, I’ll be okay.”
Steve leaves Chris alone and heads back home.
Charlotte goes to the nurses station, picks up a phone and dials a number from memory. After a few rings it is answered.
“Mom, I’ve found Sam…No mom, he’s not okay, he’s in ICU. He’s been shot… No you stay there, I’ll be home in an hour and I’ll be bringing someone. See you later.”
The next thirty minutes until Charlotte’s shift ends passes uneventfully and she hands over to her relief.
“Debbie, the patient in bed four is a special case. He’s my brother. He’s had one heart failure during surgery and another on the ward. Keep a very close eye on him and call me if anything changes,” Charlotte said.
“Your brother. Okay, we’ll keep a close eye on him.”
Debbie looks at bed four, “I thought you said the patient in bed four is your brother?”
“He is.”
“But she’s a woman.”
“He is now.”
“Ah. Anyway, see you tomorrow.”
Charlotte enters the waiting room and goes over to Chris.
“Chris, I’ve finished for the night and I’ve made sure that Sam will be looked after. Now I want you to come home with me.”
“No, I’m staying here,” Chris answered.
“Chris, there is nothing you can do and I live five minutes away and there is someone I want you to meet.”
“I’m staying here.”
“No you are not. You will not be helping Sam and all you will do is make yourself ill. Now be sensible and come with me. The team are under strict instructions to call me if anything changes. I understand that you want to be near him, I would, but you have to be realistic.”
“Sod realistic, that’s my husband in there. She could die, she’s already died once, I’m not leaving her.”
“Chris, he’s my long lost brother and I’ve found him again after twelve years. I don’t want to leave him in the state he’s in, but I’m also a nurse and I know that if I stay here then my health could deteriorate because I know I will probably not get enough sleep or nourishment. I will not allow you to become a patient as well.”
“Chris, how’s Sam?” Tracey asked as she entered the room.
“Oh Trace, she’s in a bad way, she’s going to die, I know it.”
“He is not going to die, I’ve already told you that,” Charlotte said.
“What’s the prognosis, sister?” Tracey asked.
“And you are?” Charlotte asked.
“Dr. Tracey Neuman. I’m Chris and Sam’s doctor.”
“Well doctor, he was shot three times, two ended up in the chest cavity and the third destroyed a testicle and his penis. One of the chest bullets nicked a major artery and lodged very close to the heart. He has suffered severe blood loss, one lung was hit and his genitalia were damaged beyond repair, but other than that no other major organs were severely damaged. They have completed his SRS. During his surgery his heart stopped. It stopped again on the ward. If he gets through the next forty eight hours then the prognosis is good.” Charlotte said.
“Thank you sister,” Tracey replied.
“Now can you convince Chris to accompany me home?”
Tracey looked at Chris and said, “I’ll stay here tonight, you go and have a rest. Grab a bath, if anything happens, I’ll call you.”
“You promise?”
“I promise Chris.”
“Who do you want me to meet, Charlotte?”
“Our mother.”
“Didn’t she throw Sam out?”
“She was upset and didn’t understand what was going on with Sam, but it was Dad that threw Sam out. Dad was a military man and had a very narrow range of normality. Now are you going to come quietly or do I have to drag you.”
“I don’t want to leave…”
“Chris!”
“Okay, okay. As long as we can get back if anything happens.”
“We will.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll be here looking after Sam.”
Chapter 14
Chris followed Charlotte to her car and collapsed into the front passenger seat. True to her word, the drive was only five minutes. Charlotte led Chris into the house.
“Mom, we’re home,” Charlotte called.
Kettle’s on and I’m in the living room,” a soft voice called.
Chris followed Charlotte into the living room.
“How’s Sam?”
“In a bad way, he was shot three times, has undergone eight hours of surgery and had two heart failures. He’s holding his own, just, and is being cared for by the best. Debbie is under strict instructions to call me anything happens. If he gets through the night then his chances of survival get better.”
“Take me back.”
“Sorry?” Charlotte asked.
“I said take me back. You make it sound like Sam’s going to die tonight and I don’t want to be separated from her.”
“Sam is not going to die tonight.”
“You said ‘if she gets through the night’ that sounds to me like you expect her to die,” Chris was close to hysteria.
“Chris, I’m being realistic. Sam may die, there is a small chance of that, but it’s small and Debbie knows that I will be very upset with her if that happens on her watch. Also, Sam wouldn’t dare do that to me.”
“Charlotte?”
“Oh sorry mom. Mom, this is Chris, Sam’s wife. Chris, this is Angela, our mother.”
“Sam’s married and I never knew. Tell me, are there any children?”
“No, we haven’t got kids. Sam is unable to have any. Her testies don’t produce sperm or testosterone.”
“I’m so sorry, but you keep referring to Sam as she.”
“That’s because she is a she. Even more so now. We’ve been living as lesbian lovers for ten years, ever since we got married. She is the sweetest, beautifullest, most caring person I have ever met and now I’m going to lose her.”
“Chris, listen to me. Sam is not going to die. I have told him that if he does, he is in big trouble. And he doesn’t get me angry anymore. Not since the first time he did and I swacked him,” Charlotte stated forcefully. “Now, mom, the kettle’s whistling and I want to hear Chris’s story over a nice cup of tea.”
Ten minutes later, after taking a sip of her tea, Chris began her story.
“You have to remember that this is how I remember it and it is only Sam’s side. I worked for the Samaritans and I took a call from a person who was threatening to kill himself. It was Sam.”
Angela gasped and had a look of horror on her face.
“I managed to talk her out of it, met her and took her to our office where she told me her tale. She told me of her need to dress in female clothes and that she had been doing so from the age of ten. How she use to model himself on you Charlotte and how she saved your cast offs from being thrown away.”
Charlotte was nodding.
“She told me of being discovered and that her father called her a faggot and that she disgusted him and that you, Angela, looked like you had just been told of her son’s death in a road accident.”
“Gerald was always the moral one. He was of Scottish decent and had a Presbyterian upbringing which made him intolerant of anything out of the norm. I was shocked to see Sam wearing women’s clothes and I suppose that I did feel that part of what I loved about Sam had died,” Angela injected.
“Anyway, Sam said that she left the next morning and that was the last she saw of any of you. She also said that she lost her job and her friends and ended up living in her car.”
“That would have been Gerald’s doing. He must have told people of what he’d seen.”
“Sam lasted about six or eight months before she reached rock bottom and decided to end it all. Just before she committed the act, she called us and that’s where I came onto the scene. I don’t know what it was about her, I mean she looked a real mess with her unkempt hair, dirty face and torn clothes, but I really liked her and after I took her home and cleaned her up, well…”
Chris paused, took another sip of tea and continued.
“She stayed at my place and I got her checked out the next morning. It seems she was incapable of testosterone production and, although we didn’t find out till later, was sterile. Her brain sex was biased more female than male, but she wasn’t transgendered. She just liked looking like a woman. We fell in love and were married. Sam began hormone replacement therapy and lived and worked as a woman. You know, she has the most gorgeous blonde hair…”
Chris began to cry at this point.
After a few minutes, Chris pulled herself together and continued, “I’m sorry. We worked together at the Samaritans and, about five or so years ago she took a call from a fourteen year old boy who, like Sam had years before, was threatening to kill himself. It seems that Peter, the boy, had a twin sister and that they used to dress up as sisters. His sister died suddenly and he took over her personality. Sam and I got him calmed down, but we had to hand him over to Social Services where he was forgotten and later found dead. Sam lost it when she found out. She had a breakdown and was in therapy for months. You know she still visits his grave.”
Angela was quietly sobbing and Charlotte was only just holding back the tears.
“We found that Sam needed to help people and so we planned to run a foster home for problem kids like Peter. We both have had some training and were just about to open the home when we met Clive Wilkinson, the multi-billionaire. He told us about his brother and that he wanted to back us. It was whilst we were at the meeting with Clive that we found out about George. Clive took us to our workplace where we found that George had been the subject of physical and sexual abuse.”
“Dear God,” Angela said.
“George became the first member of our foster home and everything was going well until today when Sam was shot by George’s abuser. That is a potted history of the last ten years.”
“Chris, you probably believe that I should have disobeyed my husband and kept in touch with Sam, but the truth is that Gerald moved us abroad almost immediately. He was in the armed forces and arranged a posting overseas. Charlotte told him in no uncertain terms what she thought of him and that she would never speak to him again.”
“And I didn’t. I kept in touch with mum though.”
“A year ago Gerald died and I returned here and asked Charlotte to keep me company and see if we could find Sam. I was overjoyed when she called to say she had found him, but then she told me he had been shot and I became concerned. I hope I have a chance to speak with him.”
“I think both of you had better start using the correct pronoun. Sam is a woman. She’s your sister Charlotte and your daughter Angela. She used to be my husband, but I don’t know what she is now.”
Charlotte disappeared and Chris finished off her tea, Angela seemed wrapped up in her own thoughts.
“Sam is still okay and has improved slightly. Now I suggest we all go to bed and I’ll take both of you to visit Sam tomorrow. Chris, I’ve got a few things that may fit you.” Charlotte said, re-entering the room.
Chapter 15
Chris had an awful night, not getting any refreshment from her sleep. Charlotte woke her up and, after finding some clothes that fitted and breakfast, a relieved Chris arrived back at the hospital.
“Tracey, how is she?” Chris asked.
“Better. She’s a lot more stable than yesterday.”
“Thanks for being here. This is Angela, Sam’s mother,” Chris said.
“Hello Angela, nice to meet you. I’m Tracey, Chris and Sam’s doctor and friend.”
“I’m glad Sam has good friends,” Angela replied.
“Both Chris and Sam are well liked by everyone that know them,” Tracey said.
Charlotte walked into the room and said, “Sam has had a comfortable night and her condition has improved.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to get some sleep. I’ll see you later Chris,” Tracey said as she left the room.
Charlotte went about her duties and Angela kept Chris company.
Around midday Clive and Steve came in, both of them hugged Chris.
“Steve, Clive nice to see you. This is Angela, Sam’s mother,” Chris said.
“Angela. Chris any change in Sam?” Clive asks.
“She’s improving slowly. Any news on George?”
“Nothing as yet, but everyone’s looking,” Steve said.
“I take it you ladies haven’t eaten yet?” Clive asked.
Both Chris and Angela shook their heads.
“Angela, how about you and I getting some food. I’d really like to know where Sam gets her caring side from,” Clive said and then added. “Sandwiches okay?”
It wasn’t long after Clive and Angela had left that Steve’s pager went off. He looked at the message.
“Chris, I’ve got to make a phone call.”
After five minutes Steve came back into the room and knocked on the window. Once Charlotte looked at him, he motioned her to come in.
“Sam is improving, Steve,” Charlotte said when she entered.
“Charlotte that’s not what I wanted to ask you. There’s a patient in Ward 2C name of Linda Foakes. She’s George’s mother and I wonder if I could ask you for a couple of favours?”
“If it’s in my power.”
“Can you find out why she’s in hospital and if you could arrange for me to have a quick word. It’s important, she may know where George is being hidden.”
Charlotte went back into ICU and checked on a computer terminal. She was back in very quick time.
“She’s been severely beaten up and if you want I will take to the ward and introduce you.”
They left Chris alone for half an hour, by which time Clive and Angela had returned.
“I’ve got a couple of addresses where George may be hidden. I’ve told Two Jays and they will keep the places under surveillance and they will let the police know if they find anything,” Steve said.
“That’s good news,” Clive said.
“Also George’s mother is here. I think we ought to do something for her, she’s been hard done by,” Steve added.
“Get her back to the hall when she’s ready to be released,” Clive said.
“Thanks Clive,” Chris said.
“What for?”
“Being nice.”
“Grab a sandwich everyone,” Angela interrupted.
The rest of the day passed without incident. Sam’s condition improved and Clive took Angela home. Charlotte took Chris to get some clothes and then they went home.
Chapter 16
Over the next two days Sam’s condition slowly improved. Chris was happier at the news and was getting close to both Angela and Charlotte. Both of them kept Chris occupied at night and during the day either Angela, when she wasn’t with Clive, or Steve kept Chris company.
It was on the third day when Steve burst into the room. He’d just called Two Jays in answer to a page he had received.
“Chris, We may have found George,” Steve said.
“Really?”
“Yes, the police are going to do a dawn raid tomorrow.”
“Why tomorrow?”
“Foakes used a gun and the police want to be careful.”
Back at Police headquarters DCI Waters was meeting with the Chief Constable.
“Jeffry Foakes has been found, but we don’t know whether the child is there. I would like the firearms team to do a dig out tomorrow.”
“Good idea,” the chief picked up a phone, dialled a number then spoke, “Warren, my office now please.”
Assistant Chief Constable Warren Jones entered the room a few minutes later.
“Warren, DCI Waters needs the firearms team tomorrow morning. I’ll let her brief you, but this is a very high profile case and nothing must be allowed to go wrong,” the Chief Constable said.
“Yes sir.”
Meanwhile Clive was on the phone.
“Gerald, I’d like you to have your best paediatric team on standby tomorrow morning. Also I’d like a surgical team ready. I would like them to be at the hospital from two in the morning.”
“Any reason why?”
“This is to go no farther. A child in our care was kidnapped recently. That may change soon and as he was abused and may have been again I would like to have a team ready in case he needs it.”
“No problems Clive, I’ve have a team ready for you.”
“Thanks Gerald, just send me the bill.”
“Will do.”
Clive was a little happier, Tracey and Sally would be on hand if George was found and a hospital would be ready. He hoped that George wasn’t too badly injured.
By midday DCI Waters was briefing the firearms team.
“As far as we know there are two adults at the property and one of them may be armed. A weapon has been used by one of the adults. There is also an abused child that may also be in the house. The first priority is to take the adults into custody and make the site safe, the second is to locate the child. Drs Neuman and Stone will be accompanying us and if the child is found then he is to be handed to the doctors who will take him to the Alexandria. Gene you are responsible for the location and transportation of the child.”
“I’ll have a traffic car standing by,” Gene answered.
ACC Jones added, “Gentlemen, this is a very high profile job. There is a very important person involved so I’d like to reiterate that no shots are to be fired unless absolutely necessary. Do I make myself clear?”
The team all answered, “Yes sir.”
“We will all arrive here at midnight for a final briefing and the dig out will be at zero two hundred,” Jo Waters added. “Any questions?... See you at midnight.”
All through the afternoon preparations continued to be made for the dig out. Staff at the Alexandria were told about being required on site. Tracey and Sally grabbed some sleep whilst Two Jays kept the address under surveillance.
Chapter 17
Midnight arrived and Tracey and Sally were at the briefing.
“The firearms team will go in first, when they are happy that the site is secure the search team goes in. Drs Neuman and Stone will stay in the car until the child is found and will accompany him to the hospital. Oscar two three will be used to get them to the Alexandria.” DCI Waters turned to the traffic cops and added, “Make it quick and safe.”
She then continued, “ACC Jones has already spoken to the firearms team and my team know how high profile this is. I will reiterate that there can be no mistakes and the doctors are here to help and to ensure that the child sees someone he knows and trusts. Any questions?”
There were none.
“Everyone check their gear, we leave at one thirty.”
At the appointed time the convoy left the police station and arrived at the address. With a final equipment check and everyone in position, the firearms team effected entrance to the property.
The front door crashed open and an officer shouted “Armed police.”
The premises were quickly secured with two suspects taken into custody. The search team went about their task and George was found tethered in a garden shed. Tracey was quickly fetched and was horrified to see fresh bruises. George was barely conscious and she asked an officer to get him to the car. She pulled out her mobile and called Clive.
“We’ve found him, but he needs urgent attention. Tell the team we are on our way and get them ready.”
“No problem Tracey. Everything is ready.”
Oscar two three followed the DCI’s instructions in getting to the Alexandria as fast and as safely as possible and Tracey thanked the driver for his efforts. The car was met at the hospital entrance and George rushed inside.
“Girls, I’ve arranged a room for you to get some sleep. Thank you for tonight,” Clive said to them in the hospital lobby.
“Anything for George and thanks for the room. Nice to see you again Angela,” Tracey said.
“As my daughter cannot be here, I see it as my duty to both her and her obligations to be here in her place,” Angela said.
“I can see where Sam gets her caring side from,” Sally added.
“They are both remarkable women,” Clive said. Tracey looked at Sally and they both smiled.
The news about George wasn’t good, but the he was being cared for and had begun the healing process. It was agreed that Sally would continue as his shrink and Tracey would oversee the physical healing.
Chapter 18
The ringing awoke Charlotte with a start.
“What’s up? That’s great, we’ll be there in fifteen.”
Charlotte jumped out of bed and ran to Chris’s room shouting as she ran.
“Chris, Chris, wake up. Sam’s regained consciousness. We’ve got to go.”
Chris sat bolt upright, pulled herself together and also jumped out of bed. She dressed in record time and was at the front door waiting for Charlotte.
“Come on Charlotte, where are you?”
“Keep your knickers on dear, you ring mom and let her know.”
Chris rang Angela whilst Charlotte drove and gave her the news.
Hope
By Samantha Jay
© December 2012
I first met him nearly five years ago when he turned up at the support group I attended. He was shy and awkward and looked very lost. Even then I saw a kindred spirit, but I didn’t realise just how alike we were.
I was just completing my transition and was going to continue at the group, giving back what I had received; help and advice.
Anyway, he turned up one evening and I saw someone who needed a lot of help. I approached and went into overdrive.
“Hi, I’m Faith. I haven’t seen you before. You new?” Hey I didn’t say I was good.
He looked at me and I noticed the indecision.
“Sorry, as an opening line I know that sucks, but I really am called Faith.”
I could still see the fight or flight reaction and tried a new tack. I gently reached for his arm and said, “Are you a tea or coffee drinker. I like tea taken white without sugar.”
“Tea sounds fine,” he finally answered as I gently led him to a table.
From that awkward start a friendship grew. I learnt of his abuse at the hands of his family and so called friends. His desire to become female and that he was saving every penny he could from his three minimum rate jobs to pay for the operation to fulfil his longing. He spoke little of his family and experiences, but I pieced together some of what he had endured.
I helped as much as I could as he became the family that I had lost just as I became the family he had lost. I got him to move in with me so that he could save more. Until the day that he declared that he almost had enough.
The operation, although successful, threw up a problem. I knew he’d been abused, but he had never told me just how bad it had been. His heart had stopped twice on the operating table. Once back in the High Dependency Unit the process of healing began. But she, and the staff, were blindsided by the internal bleeding that the abuse had set up and the operation started. They knew she couldn’t cope with another operation so they pumped in drugs to promote clotting and units of whole blood.
I was listed as primary contact and I was called in by the Unit. When I arrived by her bedside I saw tubes and sensors on different parts of her body. She was unconscious, asleep I assumed, and I noticed the figures on the monitor screen. They were all low.
A nurse removed the nasal cannula that was supplying oxygen and I saw a glimmer of hope. I looked at the screen and saw the respiration figure slowly decrease. It got to five, dropped to four, then three, followed by two, one and finally zero. I then saw that the heart rate was also zero. The nurse switched off the monitor and in that instant Hope was extinguished.
“Peter, do you want to tell me about it?” I asked gently.
“About what?” Peter asked.
“About why you want to kill yourself?”
“My parents came back early and caught me. Mum, walked out of the room saying I wasn’t her son anymore and dad…”
I slowly woke up; I had no idea how long I had been out. I ventured in the living room.
“Glad to see you are awake, you must be Sam?” a woman said.
“I am, but…”
“June,” she said. “One of Chris’s friends. She’s asleep at the moment, but I was asked to keep an eye on you.”
June saw my puzzled look.
“You won’t be left alone until we are happy that you have got over last night,” she added. “Hungry?”
“I’ve been hungry for months,” I answered.
“You’ll have to be careful of how much you eat, at least for a while. Your stomach won’t be used to eating large meals,” she said.
June went into the kitchen.
“Tea or coffee?” she called.
“Tea, please?” I replied.
“Can you make one for me as well?” Chris said, emerging from her bedroom. “Sleep well, Sam?”
“Yes I did, thanks,” I answered. “And Chris…”
“Yes?” Chris said.
“I want to thank you for saving my life last night. I had literally reached the end of the road; at least I’d thought so. Then you showed me such kindness. Did you mean what you said last night, about being my friend?” I started to cry.
“Yes I did, Sam. I wish I’d known you earlier. Maybe you wouldn’t have had to…”
Chris didn’t finish, she also burst into tears and we hugged each other. June came back into the living room with the tea.
“Good, I always feel better after a good cry. Now you are awake, Chris, I’ll go and let you two have a good talk. Girl to girl,” June said.
After June had left I asked, “What did she mean, girl to girl?”
“Well Sam, with your long hair, slim body and longish fingernails, you do look like a girl. Even more so wearing my jim-jams.”
“But I’m a man,” I said.
“Are you? Why did you want to kill yourself?” she asked.
“I told you why.”
“Tell me again.”
“Because my family has rejected me, because I’ve no friends, no job,” I said.
“That’s not the whole reason is it?”
“Yes it is.”
“Sam, if I gave you a choice, now, between wearing male or female clothes, which would you choose?”
“I… I’m… er,” I stammered.
“Sam, I know the answer. You told me last night that you copied your sister, read her magazines. You said you learnt girl things,” Chris paused.
“So,” I said.
“Sam, that’s the real problem, you don’t know who you really are. Your body says male, and even that’s confused. Your mind, well I think your mind is unsure. Part of it wants to be female, another part wants to be male and the rest is undecided.”
“I’m not sure where you are going, Chris.”
“You need to resolve that conflict, one way or another. If you don’t, it will tear you apart and, who knows, the next time you try to kill yourself, you may succeed. And there will be a next time,” Chris replied.
“How do I do that?” I asked.
“Let me make a phone call. You go and get dressed.”
I went to the guest room and took my top off. Something was nagging me, something I’d forgotten.
“Shit, must have a wash,” I thought.
You forget these simple things when you haven’t been able to do them for so long.
I went to the bathroom and had a wash. I looked round for a deodorant and, finding a new one, used it.
Back in the guest room I started to get dressed. Cotton knickers, pop socks, jeans and a t-shirt, they were a bit loose, but were okay. The shoes, flat heel court shoes, were a little tight, but wearable.
“Chris,” I said after walking into the living room, “any chance of a bra?”
“You want one?” Chris asked, smiling.
“Yes. I’d feel happier wearing one.”
“Do you want padding?”
“No, I don’t think so,” I replied.
Chris fetched me one and then went to get dressed. I removed my t-shirt and put the bra on, then put the t-shirt back on. I sat and waited for Chris to emerge from her bedroom.
“Just got to brush my hair,” Chris said, after finally coming into the living room. “Yours could do with brushing as well.”
She brushed her hair and then tossed the brush to me.
“I used your new deodorant, I hope you don’t mind?” I said while I brushed.
“Not at all, we girls always share things.”
I finished brushing and turned to look at Chris.
“You look really cute, I could go for you,” Chris said.
“Yeah, right.”
“I mean it. You really are cute.”
“You are embarrassing me,” I said.
“Come on, we’ve got to go.”
“Where?” I asked.
“I’ve arranged for some tests to be done. I want to know if your enforced diet has caused any damage,” she answered.
She dragged me out of her flat and into the car.
We drove to a large private hospital and we reported to the reception desk. Chris spoke to the receptionist and we sat down. We waited for about thirty minutes and Chris’s name was called. Following the nurse to a consulting room, where we met a female doctor.
The next hour was full of x-rays, blood tests, sight tests and physical exams. We went for lunch while the results were tabulated. Two hours later, we were back in the consulting room.
“First of all, there is no physical damage, at least none that a well balanced diet won’t fix, but we found something unusual in the blood tests,” the doctor told us. “It seems that there is a total lack of testosterone in Sam’s blood, there is a small amount of oestrogen, but nothing out of the ordinary.”
“What does that mean, doctor?” I asked.
“We are not sure why you have no testosterone, but your body has not developed any of the secondary characteristics. To correct this, and to start puberty, you will have to take hormones,” the doctor said.
“Female hormones?” I asked.
“If that is what you want. At the moment, your body is a blank canvas. You can go either way. The problem is, we don’t know what effect hormones will have on your condition.”
“Sorry, doctor. I don’t understand.” I said.
“If you start on hormones, any hormones, will that kick your testosterone production in, or are you incapable of producing testosterone?”
“Chris, what do you think I should do?” I asked.
“Well, you have been unhappy as a male and you almost lost your life,” she said.
“True,” I said, “But will it be any better as a female?”
“A good question, but ask yourself this, which sex do you prefer to dress as?” Chris said.
“But if I go down the female route, who would go out with me?”
“I would for a start, and I know a couple of other girls who would as well,” she said.
“You’d go out with me, knowing what you know?” I asked.
“Clothes do not make the person, they are just body coverings. It’s what’s inside the person that counts. There is an old saying ‘Do not judge a book by its cover’ and it’s just as valid today. You are the same person whether you are wearing a skirt, trousers, trunks or nothing at all,” Chris said.
“It’s a pity that not all people are like you, Chris. Then maybe this world would be a little better off,” the doctor added.
“Thanks, Tracey, but most people are blinded by convention and anything out of the ordinary, anything that defies that convention, is labelled as a freak, or gay or both,” Chris said. “Sam is outside of that convention and almost killed himself, thanks to humanities’ desire for everyone to conform to the ‘norm’. But there is no such thing as ‘normal’ when we are dealing human beings. Everyone is different, everyone is special and everyone deserves to be able to live their life how they want to live it.”
“Wow, Chris. Where did that come from?” I asked.
“Sam, as a Samaritan, I have to deal with people who feel they have nothing to live for, just like you did. It is a waste of a precious life, but in the main they feel hounded, or persecuted or unloved and alone. Some want to die because they have brought shame or dishonour on their family. Their problems just get too much for them,” Chris paused. “I haven’t got a magic wand, I can’t make their problems disappear, but I can help them see that it’s not the end of the world they think it is. We win some, we lose some, but we, in the Samaritans, never give up listening and trying to help.”
“Well, Sam. What is your decision?” Tracey asked.
“I’ve made two, no make that three. First, I’d like to have female hormones, second, I’d like to join the Samaritans, if they’ll have me and three, I’d like to take you out, Chris,” I said.
“In that case, I’d like to monitor your hormone levels over the next year or so, just in case your testosterone production starts,” Tracey said.
“And I would be happy for you to take me out,” Chris said.
*****
Well I started hormones and puberty (girl was that painful); my body never did produce testosterone. The Samaritans accepted me, Chris had something to do with that, and Chris and I did go out. We married a year later. I thank whoever looks over me everyday for my meeting with Chris. I can honestly say that the worst day of my life was, in actual fact, the best day of my life.
Part 3: Back to Peter.
The doctor came out of the room, leaving the door open, and spoke to us. Oh, I didn’t mention that the doctor was Tracey, the doctor I’d seen.
“A few bruises, but otherwise he seems to be okay,” Tracey said.
“Thanks, Trace,” I said and left her with John.
“How are you feeling, Peter,” I asked.
“A bit better,” he said.
“Can we talk about it?” I asked.
“About what?”
“About your dressing.”
“You wouldn’t understand,” Peter said.
“Oh but I do, you see… Sam is short for Samuel.”
“But you’re a girl!” Peter exclaimed.
“No, Peter. I’m a boy; okay I look like a girl. I have breasts, long hair and my fingernails are painted red, but I am a boy. Chris over there is my wife.”
Peter’s eyes opened wide. He couldn’t believe I was a male. He looked at my t-shirt and saw the outline of my bra, then at my tight fitting jeans and finally at my high heel shoes. I looked like a woman. I didn’t tell him about the police officer calling me sir; I was still legally a male.
“So, won’t you tell me?” I asked, gently.
“I have, had a twin sister, she died last year. Anyway ever since I can remember we’d been dressing alike. One day she gave me some of her things and we pretended to be sisters. We never told anyone about it, but from that day our relationship changed. It was as if I became her sister. We became closer than ever, we knew what each other was feeling, thinking even,” Peter said.
“This went on until she was killed in a road accident, but she didn’t die, she lived on… in me.
“I started dressing more and more, I suppose I was taking more risks, but it felt natural. Then, today, I was discovered and I ran away from home. Mum didn’t want anything to do with me and dad just kept hitting me,” Peter broke down and started to cry again.
I remembered my parent’s rejection, the loss of friends and job and I started to cry. Chris became very concerned.
“Sam, you alright?” she asked.
I nodded my head. “Yes, I’m okay, love. It just crept up on me. I’ll be alright in a minute,” I answered.
She came over and gave me a kiss on my cheek. “You’re doing fine, my darling. Just fine.”
“Peter, do you know who you want to be?” I asked.
He looked at me and thought.
“I’m not sure,” he said. “Sometimes I want to be Petra, other times, me.”
“Petra?” I asked.
“My sister,” Peter said.
“You said that being a girl felt natural, which do you prefer?” I was gently probing.
“As Petra, I think,” Peter paused. “Yes, I prefer to be Petra.”
There was another knock on the door and I went to see whom it was.
“Social Services are here,” John said.
“Thanks, I’ll be right out,” I said.
I turned to Peter and said, “ Peter, I’ll be a few minutes. Chris will look after you.
I left the room and found John; he was talking to a guy, who I took to be from Social Services.
“Sam, this is Joe. Joe, Sam,” I shook hands with Joe as John did the introductions.
“Pleased to meet you, Sam,” Joe said. “What have we got?”
“A fourteen-year-old boy who’s threatened to kill himself. It appears that his family have rejected him,” I said.
“Why?” Joe asked.
“In simple terms, since the death of his sister he has started to become his sister,” I said.
“With psychiatric help, he should be able to get over that,” Joe said.
“NO!” I screamed. “It’s not something he has to get over, it’s something that people will have to come to terms with. I agree he needs help, but the right kind of help.”
“I don’t think you are qualified enough to be able to say that,” Joe said.
John held his hand up to silence me.
“Joe, I think Sam is more than qualified, she is our transgender specialist,” John said.
“Thanks, John,” I said.
“That may be, but Peter is now under the care of Social Services and it will be up to us to decide what help he needs,” Joe remarked.
I had a very bad feeling and I was starting to dislike Joe.
“Where are you going to put him?” I asked.
“Initially, in an orphanage until he can be assessed and then into a foster home.”
“Chris and I will look after him,” I told Joe.
“I don’t think that will be wise,” Joe said.
“Why?” I asked.
“Foster homes are normally run by married couples with stable backgrounds.”
“Are you saying that Chris and I haven’t got a stable background and, Joe… we are married,” I spat out.
“So Chris is your husband?” Joe asked.
“No, Joe. Chris is my wife. The reason I am the groups transgender specialist is that I’m a transvestite; actually I may even be transgendered myself. There is a difference you know.”
“That makes it impossible then,” Joe said.
“Just because I am different?”
“No, but you may inadvertently influence Peter.”
“You mean I may turn him gay or into a queen, is that what you are getting at?” I was starting to get angry.
“No, that’s not…erm...” Joe was struggling.
“Look, Peter has already had two traumatic events in his short life and you shoving him into an orphanage will probably be the third. I will not stand by and see you ruin his life,” I said.
“Peter is now no longer your concern. We will look after him and, if necessary, I will get an order banning you from interfering,” Joe said.
“If anything happens to Peter, you’ll have to answer to me, personally. I will make your life hell, and that’s a promise,” I said.
“Is that a threat?” Joe asked.
“No, Joe, just a statement of fact. I will not allow you or your department to ruin Peter’s life, it’s too precious.” I turned and went back into the room.
“And Joe, that goes double for me,” John added.
Back in the room, I started to prepare Peter.
“Peter, I’d like you to go with Joe, he’ll look after you,” I said.
My words sounded hollow, even to me and I didn’t believe Joe would look after Peter. I gave Peter a card.
“If you need to talk or help, ring me, anytime,” I said and with a heavy heart, led Peter out of the room.
I saw the shock on Joe’s face when he first saw Peter and I felt sick.
“Peter, this is Joe. He has promised me that he will look after you,” I said.
As Joe led a sobbing Peter away, I started to cry, so did Chris. I had a bad, bad feeling and there was nothing I could do to protect Peter.
*****
Joe took Peter to a local orphanage where the staff were kind and found him some male clothes. Peter was shown a bed and soon he was fast asleep.
Social Services had a very large caseload and it would be a few days before anyone was assigned to Peter. In the meantime he became more withdrawn and wouldn’t talk to anyone. He couldn’t dress, which made things even worse, and, somehow, some of the other children found out about his dressing.
The staff at the orphanage did all they could to protect Peter, but they were understaffed and overworked and the taunts Peter had to endure were missed.
Peter’s parents still refused to have anything to do with him and with the constant taunts and bullying, the pressure was building up.
I constantly phoned Social Services for updates and was always fobbed off or left on hold until I cleared down. I had a visit from the Police who told me that Social Services had filed harassment charges against me. I had to back off, unfortunately Peter was just one of the cases I also had to deal with. And yes, I also let Peter down.
After five days, Peter couldn’t stand it anymore. Late one night, he stole a knife and ran away. It was the last time anyone ever saw him alive.
After his body was found, I made good my promise and contacted the press. The resulting publicity would do little to help Peter, but it may help others. There was a public enquiry, which found Social Services wanting and severely criticised their head, who was forced to resign, as was Joe. It wasn’t really their fault, they were overworked, but it was still a fourteen-year-old boy who died. He deserved better, from all of us.
Peter’s parents were also in the spotlight and they moved away and changed their name, I think they became foster parents to problem children, so maybe some good as come out of it.
Myself, well Chris and I also came under close scrutiny and I was laughed at and called a freak, but I am old enough not to let it bother me. And anyway, I had Chris and she had me, but it was a very bad time for me and not only because I had ‘lost’ Peter. I would carry the burden of letting him down forever and I vowed not to let it happen again.
I visit Peter’s grave three times a week and make sure there is always flowers on his grave and that it is kept clean.
I will never forget Peter.
*****
He had to get away, he just couldn’t take anymore. He briefly thought about calling Sam, but he had let him down once and would do so again. No, he would call no one this time.
He got hold of a knife and let himself out of the back door, no one saw him. He knew where to go, a place he could be alone. Where no one would stop him, where he could be with Petra.
Once he arrived at the secluded spot, he looked round to make sure it was deserted. It was time. She could wait no more and he wanted to be with her. His only regret was that he was dressed as Peter and not as Petra.
Sobbing, Peter plunged the knife into his wrist and pulled the blade towards his elbow, he then repeated this action on his other arm. The warm blood gushed out of both wounds. He sank to the ground and rested his back against the wall. He wouldn't make any phone calls this time. This time nobody would stop him. No one cared anyway.
“Petra, I’m coming. This time we will never be parted,” he said to the night air.
Suddenly, he was gripped with panic. As his blood pressure dropped, his brain frantically closed down non-essential organs, liver, stomach, kidneys and the like. It also diverted the remaining blood away from the extremities, trying to keep his heart, lungs and brain alive. But the brain was fighting a losing battle.
“Mummy!” he cried.
He died, as he had lived his life since his sister’s death. Alone, frightened and in pain.
Authors Note: There is a group in the United Kingdom called The Samaritans; anyone in desperate circumstances can call them all day long, all year round. They do not criticise and they do not judge, they listen and they try to help. There would be a lot of people not alive today if it wasn’t for the Samaritans. I have no knowledge of how they work and so the procedures I describe are all from my head, but they have my deepest admiration and respect.
I recently read a biography of someone who has become a good friend and parts of it troubled me. I don’t know why, the events she described are fairly common for a very large proportion of the transgender community and so, they shouldn’t surprise me, but they troubled me. I was sitting in Victoria Station, London, waiting for my train and I was thinking about this. By the time the train had left the station, I had a working plot and was putting pen to paper.
This story has not been edited and there are errors and holes throughout, but I did not want the story corrected. It took on a life of it’s own and I didn’t want to change anything. So please forgive me my mistakes, as it’s difficult to type when your eyes are full of tears. ~Samantha
Thanks Maddy for your story. It gave me the push to get that short story done. ~Samantha
“You pervert, you’re no son of mine.”
“To think I married you, you disgust me.”
“Sorry, but you’re not welcome here.”
You’d think I was a rapist or a paedophile instead of a transvestite. Overnight I’d gone from a happily married thirty-year-old architect with a great future to an unwanted nobody with no future; a down and definitely out. The guys on the building site where they were putting together what I had helped to design told me, in no uncertain terms, what they thought of me and what they would do if I came back.
My parents disowned me; my wife threw me out with only the clothes I was wearing, which were male, by the way. The company told me that they would, reluctantly, have to let me go. Reluctantly! Who for? Every door was slammed shut in my face and so here I am. In a back street B and B paid for by Social Security.
From a five bedroom, detached house in a very nice part of town to a one-room hovel in a seedy part of a different town. To call it a room is being generous; it’s really a broom cupboard. I have two external walls, both running with water. The dampness stifles the room and leaves everything wet, including the bed. The owner of the B and B crams as many ‘guests’ in as he can. I have to vacate the room during the day, as if I’d stay there any longer than I have to.
As it’s Monday, I visit the jobcentre. A pointless exercise, but if I don’t go there every week my support cheque gets stopped and I would have to leave the ‘comfort’ of my room. Comfort, ha! As usual, I am told that they have nothing for me. I am told in such a way as to leave me in no doubt that there would never be anything for me.
So I wander the streets and dream. I no longer hope, that has long gone; along with respect, dignity, self esteem and pride. I search the litterbins for scraps, I raid dustbins for anything I can eat and I do mean anything.
It’s bad enough normally, but it’s hell at this time of year. You are constantly reminded of what you are missing out on. Christmas, it is said, is a time for giving; it is actually a time of realisation - a realisation of what you are missing, what you have lost and where you are heading. And I missed everyone, had lost everything and was heading nowhere.
Do you know what it is like to talk to no one day in, day out? It’s a nightmare, after a few days you start talking to yourself. Eventually you start going quietly mad, if you let it. To make matters worse, as soon as you become homeless, you become invisible. So no one talks to you and no one looks at you. You cease to exist. Christmas just makes it worse.
But there is one good thing about Christmas. There are usually shelters set up for a few days where you can stay and get a good meal. I usually stick to soup; it’s all I can manage these days. I sought one such shelter out and attempted to ‘book’ a place.
“We’re not open until Christmas day, but I’ll put your name on the list,” a volunteer said.
“Thanks,” I said.
“See you Christmas Day then,” he replied as I left.
Well, at least I would be warm for a couple of days. I might even get a bath and a change of clothes.
Christmas Eve was one of the worst I can remember. The room seemed smaller than usual as well as damper. I was certainly more depressed. It is at this time of year that I missed my family most. I don’t usually let it get to me, but… Even in this shithole I can hear people enjoying themselves. It just reinforces my sense of loss. I cry myself to sleep.
At daybreak my mind is made up. Without pausing for breakfast (breakfast, who’s kidding who?) I leave my room and head for the nearby railway line. There is a footpath across the tracks here. I wait for a train to approach and calmly walk out in the middle of the line. I stop and turn my back on the oncoming train. All I can hear is the sound of its horn and the squeal of its brakes. The horn gets louder and louder as the train gets nearer. I know that I haven’t given the driver time to stop, so I wait for the bump; the bump that will release me from this hell of an existence.
“Peter, are you alright? I heard you scream and found you shivering,” a beautiful voice asks.
I was alive, worse luck. It must have been a dream. I look at the face peering down at me and I start to remember. I’m in the shelter, so this must be a volunteer. She looks concerned.
“I’m okay, really. Thanks for asking,” I reply with no real enthusiasm.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks.
“About what?” I reply.
“About the dream?” she replied.
“You’re not really interested,” I said.
“Have it your way, but I’m not being nice. I want to know why you cried out.”
“I didn’t cry out, did I?”
“Let’s go to the kitchen and get a drink. We won’t disturb the others either,” she said, so I followed her.
“Where do you want me to begin?” I asked after she had poured me a drink.
“The beginning is as good a place as any,” she replied.
“About a year ago, I was, what you could call, a successful man. I’m an architect, was I mean; do you know the Highmeads building in Sheffield?” she shook her head, “That was one of mine. Anyway, life was good, I had a good job, a wife and parents.”
“So what happened?” she asked.
“I lost it all,” I replied.
“Why? How?”
“You don’t want to know,” I said, dejectedly.
“I do, I wouldn’t have asked otherwise,” she countered.
“But you will hate me, everyone who knows does, even my parents,” I sobbed.
She waited until I had calmed down and said, “Peter, I am here for the rest of the night and tomorrow night. If it’s as bad as you think then I only have to put up with it for that long. Anyway, you’ll be asleep for most of it, so why not tell me and let me be the judge of whether to hate you or not?”
I took another sip of my drink and thought about what she had said. She must have seen the effects of the battle taking place in my brain on my face as she continued, “Look, I won’t breathe a word to another soul.”
I decided to take a chance and said, “I’m a transvestite.”
“Is that all,” she said to my astonishment, “I thought it was something terrible.”
“I used to have friends who thought armed robbers were better than me and you just shrug it off as if it was nothing,” I said incredulously.
“It is nothing,” she said.
“That nothing cost me my family, my job and my life.”
“Not your life, at least not yet,” she said.
“Because of that nothing, I have spent the last year living in hovels so bad even the cockroaches left, the bed in my current hellhole is constantly damp, I have mould growing on mould. I have no pride and no hope.”
“So what made you cry out tonight?” she asked.
“I dreamt I was committing suicide.”
“And do you?” she asked.
“Do what?”
“Want to commit suicide?”
“I am beginning to believe that it is the only way out of this mess,” I answered.
“Even when life gets as bad as you believe it to be, it is much, much better than death,” she said quietly.
“And you would know,” I said sarcastically.
“Yes I do,” she answered, tears welling up in her eyes.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”
“It’s okay. You were candid with me, so I suppose I should be candid with you.”
She refilled her cup and began, “My name is Angel, yes I know, but it really is Angel. This time last year I was a drug addict, I also lived in hovels and I used to steal to fund my habit. Life was really bad, so bad that I had decided to end it all. I was in a shelter, just like this one, and was looking for a corner where I could kill myself when I was stopped by one of the volunteers there. He took me to a hospital and made sure that I came off drugs. He found me somewhere to live and got me a job, in short, he put me back on my feet.”
“Why did he do that?” I asked.
“I asked him just that and he told me that he had been helped and that he had pledged to help at least one person. In return for his help, he made me promise do the same,” she answered.
“And have you?”
“No, not yet, but I am hoping that it will be you,” Angel answered.
“But why me?”
“Because you deserve to be helped and because I like you.”
“But you don’t know me, we’ve never met before tonight,” I said.
“I still like you, now will you allow me to repay my debt?”
I sighed, looked her in the eyes and said, “Yes.”
“And will you promise to help at least one person who is in great need?”
“I promise,” I answered.
“Then let’s go home,” she said and added with a twinkle in her eye, “and besides, I want to see you dressed.”
I just broke down and cried.