“Which is not very often; I wanted something like the cars I’ve had before, just a runabout with room for three or four kids and the weekly shopping.”

“You could borrow Tom’s spare car for that.”

“I am–I mean on a more regular basis–I asked Daddy if I could buy it, he said no, just borrow it.”

“Well that just saved you ten grand, then.”

“But Simon thinks I copped out–unable to buy a car of my own.”

“So–does it matter?”

“He’s grumpy because I turned down his choice of wet-dream cars...” as I said this Stella burst out laughing. “What did I say?”

“His wet-dream car.”

“Oops, did I say that?” I blushed, “Well, I was thinking it–I mean, he has a nice car already, why did I need to join the jet set?”

“Because you’re his little wifey.”

“So?”

“Well the future Viscountess of Stanebury needs to look the part.”

“Yeah, but that means walking round in a Barbour, with a shotgun under my arm and smelling of stale horse sweat.”

She burst out laughing again, “We’re not all Thelwell characters you know.”

I laughed at this and we hugged, still giggling like insane schoolgirls. I stirred the Bolognaise sauce and decided it was time to put the pasta on to boil.

“Who would be little Maudie if we were?” I asked.

“Oh, I think that would have to be Trish; I can just see her bouncing along on the back of a large overfed pony, can’t you?”

I couldn’t actually, Meems perhaps, Livvie possibly, even Billy, but not Trish. Billy–why had a said that? What am I thinking? I felt myself blushing.

“Something wrong?” asked Stella.

“No,” I replied shaking the idea from my head, “I took Billy riding this afternoon.”

“I take it he enjoyed it?”

“He wants to go again tomorrow.”

“You know he’s out polishing his new bike?”

I glanced out of the window, “That’s a novelty that won’t last.”

“Yes, but it must be nice to have a mum who can ride with him and fix his bike when he needs help.”

“Are you being sarcastic?” I asked because I couldn’t pick up on her tone.

“Strange question,” she gave me a funny look, “no, I wasn’t, I thought it was rather nice for both of you–I mean, he takes after you more than his dad.”

“What?” I gasped.

“He looks more like you than he does Simon, and he’s quieter than Danny, who is a real boy.”

“Oh my goodness–are you implying he’s a bit feminine?”

“Yeah, I suppose I am–yeah, he’s a bit girly in some ways, isn’t he?”

“Oh shit–what am I going to do?”

“Do? Do about what?”

“About Billy–he can’t stay here.”

“I thought you’d adopted him?”

“Not quite–no, he can’t stay.”

“Cathy, calm down–now what are you babbling on about?”

“I can’t have another transgender child here, someone will say something and they’ll think it’s all my fault.”

“Who said he was transgendered?”

“You did.”

“I most certainly did not, what I said was he’s a bit girly.”

“Well, that’s what they used to say about me.” I absently stirred the sauce and turned the heat down.

“In your case, you were a girl–so what’s the problem.”

“I wasn’t supposed to be though, was I? Not until you got your hands on me.”

“If I remember, a certain little boy, and he was little, told me he was taking hormones because he was growing tits–so don’t lay that one on me, missus.”

“I don’t want Billy to follow in my path.”

“He doesn’t even know, does he?”

“No–but you know what I mean–over identification in a house full of women.”

“Over identification of what?”

“The female role.”

“What about Tom and Simon, and Leon, plus Danny? They’re male, aren’t they?”

“But Simon and Leon are only here at weekends.”

“He’s in school most of the week, he’ll have plenty of role models there, plus–isn’t all this supposed to happen before he’s four years old to have a marked effect upon him?”

“Is it?”

“I think so; gender roles and identity develop quite young. I mean, when did you realise you were a girl?”

“I was four or five, I think.”

“There you go then.”

“But what if he’s gay or something?”

“So what? If he is you’ll have nothing to worry about will you?” She winked at me and realised I hadn’t thought it was funny.

“They’ll all accuse me of causing it.”

“Cathy, I thought it was pretty well proven that you can’t catch homosexuality from someone else. It isn’t a disease. It’s probably a genetic thing.”

“God, I hope so.”

“I thought you were well informed on all these things?”

“It’s different when it’s your family.”

“No it isn’t–the same mechanisms will apply, and besides, he’s your adopted child, you got him with all his baggage, and so far I think you’ve done a good job on all of them.”

“Have I? I do wonder.”

“Cathy, stop doubting yourself–you’re a good parent and excellent mother, just because you didn’t want to drive a flash motor, doesn’t mean you’re bad.”

“No, but I bought him a girl’s bike.”

“So? Does he know?”

“Yes–I had to tell him.”

“So, he’s hardly gonna catch transsexualism from a bike saddle–is he?”

“I s’pose not.”

“Here comes Simon with Julie.” Stella was looking through the kitchen window and watched Simon park his car and the two of them walk towards the house: moments later they came in through the back door and then into the kitchen.

“Hi, Mummy, Auntie Stella.”

“Hello, sweetheart,” I gave her a hug.

“Um–that smells good, I’m starvin’, hardly had time to do anythin’ today. I’ve done fifteen shampoos–look at me ‘ands, they’re red raw.”

I passed her some hand cream, which she smoothed on to her slightly pink skin. Stella looked at me and sniggered–“Now that’s girly,” she said and I laughed as well.

“What’s so funny?” asked Simon.

“Nothing–it was something we were talking about earlier.”

“Where’s Puddin’?” he asked Stella.

“Trish and Meems were looking after her, why?”

“I wondered what they were burying in the garden–that’s all.”

“What?” she shrieked and ran down the garden.

Simon stood and roared with laughter, “Serves her right, the lazy cow.”

“What does?” I asked with a little irritation.

“She’s got one kid to look after to your six, and she dumps it on anyone she can, even a blessed six year old.” He looked towards Julie, “Enjoy your ride home?”

“Yeah, it was brill, Daddy.”

“See–some people in this house can appreciate a decent car when they see one.” Before I could pour half a gallon of hot sauce down his trousers he waltzed out of the kitchen and into the lounge, followed by Julie with my hand cream.