The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2101 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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The journey wasn’t that long in terms of mileage, a maximum of about forty five miles, but it seemed endless with Phoebe sniffing and sobbing alternately. I wondered how her mother would have coped with this situation–would she have told Neal to pull himself together? Would he have fallen apart had she still been alive?

Why had Gloria killed herself? Had she killed herself? A crepe bandage and a stairwell–ugh–it was too horrid to contemplate: the poor woman. I mean, why would anyone want to kill her? No, it had to be suicide.

I wrestled with the thoughts most of the way home and before I knew it, I was parking the car in the drive and I had no recollection of much of the journey. That was frightening, or was I so practised now that I could drive on autopilot quite safely? I wasn’t sure I wanted an answer to the question, but I knew I’d cycled on familiar routes without always being aware of where I was or what I was doing.

“Here, dry your eyes, sweetheart,” I handed Phoebe a tissue. She dabbed at her eyes and sniffed.

“He’s going to be alright, isn’t he?”

“I expect so, he’s in a good place, so they’ll help him.”

“I hope so, I think I’d want to die if anything happened to him.”

“Phoebe, I don’t for one minute think anything will happen, remember if it did, you’ll be very important in the life of your niece. You’ll be her only close relative.”

“I know, but you were right earlier, I’m too young to be tied up with babies, so would you look after her. You’re so good at it, Mummy.”

“Why don’t you phone the clinic and ask how he is? It would dispel any worries you have.”

“Okay, I’ll help you in with the baby first.”

I ended up hauling the carrycot out of the car and into the house. She brought the bags of stuff we use for changing her and so on. Then she disappeared, I assumed to repair her makeup, as it was a bit of a sight.

I was temporarily incapacitated as a swarm of girls hit me and I had to spend the next several minutes sharing hugs with them or receiving them.

“Where’s Phoebe, she hasn’t had a hug yet?” asked Livvie.

“She’s gone to see how Neal is.”

“I thought that was why you went to Guildford,” suggested the brain.

“It was but Neal and Phoebe got a bit upset.”

“Why?”

I felt like saying, ‘Cause his bloody wife just died,’ but resisted the urge, like I did the one to strangle her for her insensitivity–remembering she wasn’t nine yet. So instead, I explained things to her and wasn’t sure if she got it or not. Livvie did, so perhaps she’ll explain it in modern parlance as standard English obviously didn’t.

“Oh someone phoned about the dormice?”

“Who?” I asked wishing she’d focus two brain cells for once.

“Oh, I don’t know–who was it Liv?”

“I dunno, you took the call.”

“Was that the only call?”

“Yes, Mummy,” they said in harmony. Usually they then go back to bashing each other verbally or otherwise. To be fair, the girls usually go for verbal assaults on each other, Danny is the one who tends to want to hit out when he gets frustrated.

“Where’s Danny?” I asked my welcoming committee.

“Gone to see Peter.”

“Oh,” was my response as I wondered whose idea it had been.

“Peter called him and he went after lunch.”

“Okay.” David brought me in a cup of tea and I almost wanted to kiss him.

“Oh thank you, that’s just what I need, then I must go and change.”

“Oh don’t change, Mummy; we like you just the way you are.” Trish was having one of her funny moments. I don’t know whether she ought to be a scientist or a stand up comedienne.

“What’s for dinner, David?” I called over the swarm who were still buzzing round me.

“If I told you would it taste any better?”

“If I didn’t pay you, would you mind very much?” I replied.

“Sausage and mash–feel any better now?”

“Definitely. Whose idea was that?”

“Guess.”

“Um–Danny.”

“Got it in one.”

“Whose sausages are we using?”

“That shop down by Waitrose, makes his own.”

“Oh, I know–they’re usually quite nice.”

“Duh,” he answered. “Yes,” he called before I asked him anything else.

“For the freezer?”

“Of course.”

For those who aren’t telepathic, I was going to ask if he bought any extra and he did, putting them in the freezer. Sometimes it’s good to have people who know you working with you, providing they don’t anticipate things before you do or the tail could then start wagging the dog.

Talking of canines, one came trotting in to see what was going on only to have a cat jump on her tail and she raced out of the kitchen with the cat in hot pursuit.

“Isn’t it more usual for dogs to chase cats?” asked David.

“Yes, but don’t enlighten them, it’s more fun this way.”

“How long before dinner?”

“What would you like to do?”

“Bathe.”

“I can slow it down for an hour.”

“Brilliant, let me just take up another cuppa with me.”

I sat in the bath and shaved my legs, then moisturised myself all over. I came down fifty minutes after leaving the kitchen and David had the girls laying the table. For a change I was wearing a summer dress.

“You look nice,” observed my chef.

“Thank you, I just got fed up in trousers all the time.”

“Funny, I quite like them,” he said smirking.

“Yeah, well, I’m pursuing my right to wear them if I want to.”

“Feel free, lady, us butch men prefer trousers,” to make his point he pretended to scratch his crotch.

“Oh gross,” I said pulling a face and he chuckled to himself. Glancing out the window I saw Tom arrive. “Grampa’s here,” I announced and three girls went dashing down the drive to greet him. While they were still with him, Simon and Sammi arrived followed by Julie.

“You’re late,” I said to Julie.

“Tell me about it, bloody till wouldn’t balance.”

“Oh, don’t you keep a book?”

“We have a diary, but someone forgot to write some of the prices in it.”

“Oh, did you read the riot act?” She’s now managing the salon and due to take over ownership next month.

“I didn’t see it before they were all gone.”

“The joys of management,” I smiled at her.

“What’s for tea, it smells good?”

“Bangers and mash.”

“Let’s light the blue touch paper then, I’m starving.”

“Trish, phone your brother and ask him how long he’ll be.”

She did and looked up at me, “Ten minutes, he’s on his way back.”

He duly arrived just before we dished up. I gave him a hug and he said quietly, “I asked him if he wanted to come to Scotland, is that all right?”

“Um–I suppose so–what changed your mind?”

“Dunno–but he used to be my best mate...”

“That’s reason enough,” I said and hugged him again.

“And he needs help with his makeup, he’s rubbish at it...”

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2102 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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After dinner, the delicious sausages with mashed potatoes, gravy and vegetables, the rest had cheesecake which is not my favourite pudding and besides I’d eaten enough, I excused myself and went to see if the ‘dormouse caller’ had left me an email or other missive.

Danny came along a few minutes later while I was reading the anticipated note. “Have I done the wrong thing?” he asked perching on the edge of my desk.

“What in eating five sausages and two platefuls of cheesecake?” I joked.

“No, six sausages and three cheesecakes.”

“You deserve to go bang.”

He gave a tremendous burp and I glared at him, not for burping but for not attempting to quieten it. “Sorry,” he said avoiding eye contact.

“I thought we had a lion in the house for a moment.”

“It was a bit loud,” he admitted.

“Look, I don’t care if you do that in front of your football team or whatever, but please don’t do it in front of me or other women. It isn’t clever, just crude.”

“Okay, I said I was sorry.”

“And I accepted your apology, I was just setting some ground rules.”

“I thought you were getting at me.”

“No, if I were getting at you, you’d be much more aware of it.”

“Oh.”

“Now, what did you do wrong?”

“Inviting Peter.”

“You didn’t do wrong, but depending upon a number of things, it might not have been the wisest thing you’ve done.”

“Yeah, thinkin’ about it, it probably wasn’t. Shall I tell him he can’t come?”

“No, if you invited him you must honour that invitation. Now what was that about makeup?”

“When he’s doing his girly bit, he’s got no idea–he looks like a–a drag queen on steroids.”

“Um–an interesting concept–d’you mean like a pantomime dame?”

“Yeah, the ugly sort.”

“I see,” I said but I didn’t really. “So how d’you expect us to help him?”

“Well he seems to be dressing up more and more.”

“That’s between him and his parents.”

“Yeah, but if he’s gonna do it, I’d prefer he did it properly, like a girl would. I mean even Trish and Livvie have more idea than he does.”

“They’ve been doing it longer and have the advantage of being shown what to do by others, like Julie and Sammi and even Auntie Stella.”

“You usually look alright.”

“Thank you, I think.”

He smirked.

“But I’m far more conservative than the girls are, being that much older, so if I showed him, he’d probably look like his mother.”

“That would be better than he looked this morning.”

“Why don’t you invite him over one evening and ask Julie or Sammi to give him a makeover?”

“Hey, that’s a great idea.”

“Just be aware Julie is a bit tired so she might bite your head off.”

“I will, an’ thanks, Mum.”

“Dan.”

“Yes, Mum?”

“You’re aware that he’s going to need a couple of posh frocks if he stays en femme while he’s with us.”

“What for?”

“We’re having a dance and there’s going to be a summer ball at a neighbour’s house.”

“If I tell him, that might put him off.”

“Try not to do that unless he really doesn’t want to come. We’ve got to organise a dress for Cindy as well, oh and you’ll be wearing a kilt to the ball.”

“Yeah yeah–what?”

“A kilt, you’ll be wearing one.”

“No way, Jose, I’ll stay home.”

“I’m afraid not. Daddy will be wearing one.”

“No–I don’t want to wear one.”

“Well if you want to wear a dress you’ll have to come with is tomorrow for a fitting.”

“Ha ha, very funny.”

“I expect you make a prettier girl than Peter.”

“Yeah, so what?” Then he blushed and left. I wasn’t sure what he was up to when he went to see his friend.

I replied to the email, it was about dormouse numbers being very poor this year in all the survey areas. It was extremely worrying and I assumed due to the bad winter and cold spring. I went back to my report–the one I was writing for the board meeting, which is tomorrow–yeah, great fun.

Julie came in to see me as I was checking through it. “Danny’s just asked me to do a makeover on his friend.”

“Yes, I suggested it.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

“Well, he’s strange–you know having chopped his–you know?”

“Yes, he removed his penis and testicles–not the cleverest thing to do, but he has to live with it on a daily basis, we only have to deal with him occasionally.”

“But, he’s not a girl is he?”

“Does that matter? I’m sure if some bloke phoned up to say he was going to a fancy dress party and could you make him look like a girl, you would.”

“Yeah but that’s business not some weirdo teenage mutant turtle.”

“That’s a bit of an exaggeration, he’s terrapin.”

“Very good,” she laughed, “but he still creeps me out.”

“Why?”

“I dunno, just thinking he’s got nothing in his panties.”

“Neither have you or I.”

“Yes we have, we’ve got clits and fannies.”

“Artificial ones.”

“Yeah, but they work.”

“Look, I don’t know what Peter is doing, whether he’s playing with gender roles, or just trying to avoid admitting he’s gay or a martian for all I know. However, I do know he suffered very badly after the attack that Danny also suffered and he’s still suffering. I thought if you could show him what to do to look a bit more girlish than he does, that would be much appreciated.”

“Bring him down the salon when we finish tomorrow, we’ll do his hair and his makeup just make sure he’s dressed like a girl, not some sort of weirdo.”

“Tell Danny, I’m in London tomorrow with Daddy.”

“Oh, course you are. Alright, but if either of them messes me about, they’ll regret it.” She went off to speak with her brother who worshipped the ground she walked on–most of the time–occasionally they had the odd spat but it was usually short lived.

I’d just finished checking through my report and was printing off several copies when Danny returned. “Julie’s gonna like do it tomorrow.”

“Do what?”

“Peter’s makeover at her salon–innit great?”

“That depends upon how much he learns from the process–are you going to have one too?”

“What a makeover?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m a boy.”

“So, you had the remains of eyeliner on when you came in–in fact you still have.”

He blushed, “I was just trying to show him what to do.”

“Were you in skirts as well?”

He went scarlet and tears began to form.

I got up and shut the door, then put my arm round him. “Look, wearing a bit of makeup or even a dress doesn’t make you any less a boy.”

“Course it does–they think I’m queer now.”

“Because of the attack?”

“That and Peter.”

“I see. So if that was the case, why did you dress up?”

“I dunno–he sort of talks me into it.”

“Danny, it isn’t the sort of thing your average boy gets talked into, so what happened?”

“It was like this...”

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2103 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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The alarm went off and I jumped up and dashed to the loo and then the shower. By half past seven I was dried and doing my hair, then makeup then I dressed in a suit, heels and some jewellery; then a splosh of perfume and I was downstairs and making toast and tea.

Danny came down yawning. “Sleep well?” I asked.

“You look very posh today,” he said stifling another yawn.

“Why don’t you go back to bed for an hour?”

“I want to sit with you?”

“Are you still going to go through with it?”

“Peter asked me to.”

“You don’t have to do it just because he asked you to.”

“No, but I said I would, so I gotta do it.”

“I’ll speak to Julie if you want.”

“Speak to me about what?” she said walking into the kitchen.

“About these makeovers tonight.”

“What about it, don’t you trust me?”

“Of course I do–I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“It was your idea,” she threw back at me.

“Not for Danny, just Peter.”

“No, I’ll do it, Mummy, I did promise him.”

“Have you got something to wear?” I asked him.

“Cindy’s coming over, she’ll help me.”

“Is there a wig he can borrow?”

“Up in my room, it looks alright. I’ve left a few things out as well he can try.” She had her breakfast and then left calling to Danny, “See you tonight little bro, or is it sis?” She chuckled and went.

“You can still pull out?”

“No, you told me my word is my bond.”

“But I’m giving you permission to pull out.”

“I can’t, Mummy.”

“I worry about you, sweetheart.”

He gave me a wry smile, “Thank you,” then his eyes teared up and he gave me a hug and wept quietly.

“Why don’t you cancel it, Julie won’t mind.”

“No, but Peter will.”

“Shall I speak to him or his mum?”

“No, there’s enough people involved already. I’ll be alright–at least you lot understand.”

“I’m not sure your father does, especially as you almost point blank refused to wear a kilt.”

“Yeah well.”

I glanced at the clock, “I have to go sweetheart, I’ve a taxi coming in a few minutes and I need to get my attaché case.”

I was due to meet Simon in London. The meeting started at mid day he was going to collect me from the station. The journey went quickly, not because I was thinking about the meeting and my presentation at it, but I was worried about Danny.

Simon suggested a late lunch–the meeting usually finishes at half past two, but I declined wanting to get home to see what was happening with my boy. He shrugged and told me he’d catch up later.

The board meeting went according to its agenda. My presentation took ten minutes including a report on the woodland centre and they passed my request for money for publicity material leading up to its completion next year. I gave an update on the harvest mouse film and they awarded me a grant for that as well. It would seem they want to appear to be the greenest bank.

Finally it was over and I grabbed a cab back to Waterloo, where I had ten minutes to grab a sandwich and a coffee from a take away bar. My tummy was rumbling like mad. On the train, I did manage to do some work on the laptop and was pleased when they brought round some tea and a cake.

From Portsmouth station I dashed home and just missed Danny and Cindy, whom Jacquie had taken to the salon. I changed into some jeans and a top and rushed off after them.

Stella told me that Danny was in a tee shirt and denim skirt when he left and that she had placed the wig on his head so he didn’t look too bad. “Why’s he doing it?”

“To prove a point I think, but which one I’m not sure.”

The salon was locked up when I got there and I had to tap on the door. Phoebe let me in and I sat quietly and watched Julie and her transform two boys into very attractive girls. Peter, or whatever he called himself en femme, was wearing a sun dress and light cardigan thing over the top, with sandals on his feet displaying painted toenails.

Danny, the finer featured of the boys, was sitting silently while Julie painted his eyes, his painted nails occasionally showed he was squeezing Cindy’s hand. Julie was explaining everything she did and why. I think Danny was too frightened to move or say anything.

Then it was over. Peter paid out for the cosmetics they’d used and he had quite a bagful to take home with him. Danny had far fewer apparently because he knew he didn’t need or want much done to his face in terms of makeup. Peter obviously did and it showed a little. If he can’t do it himself, he’d best not expect me to make him up like that–I have neither time nor inclination. I assumed Cindy would help him but wasn’t sure. When Cindy was given the chance for another makeover, she was in the chair before Julie changed her mind.

“Oh hi, Mummy,” Danny greeted me, or should that be Danni?

“Um–you look very pretty. What does Cindy think?”

“She thinks it’s good fun.”

“So, is it a dress or a kilt for Scotland?”

He shrugged.

“Looks like a dress.”

He shrugged again.

“Hello, Auntie Cathy,” Cindy bounced up and air kissed me, presumably to avoid rubbing off any makeup.

“Hi, Mum,” called Julie, “So what d’you think of your new daughter?”

I was worried. “Yes, very elegant.”

“She’s turned out okay if I say so myself, as has her little friend, Pia.”

That sounds like someone from Pompey calling his mate Peter–they don’t do consonants very often.

“Do they know what to do to reproduce your magic?”

“I’ve shown them both and Cindy, who being a girl, means she has enough brain cells to remember.”

“I can’t say I see any boys here anyway,” I said trying to defuse Julie’s sexism.

“No, course not,” she blushed then rolled her eyes.

I glanced at Danny’s shoes. I didn’t recognise them. “Where did you get the shoes, Danielle?” I asked.

“They’re mine, Aunty Cathy,” offered Cindy, “I bought them a while back in a sale then realised they were too big, but they fit Danielle just right.” They were blue bar shoes with a two inch heel and went quite well with the blue tee shirt and denim skirt.

“Right folks you’ve ’ad yer fun I wanna go ’ome and ’ave me tea, so off yer go,” Julie indicated she wanted to close up the shop. I offered her some money for her time but she shook her head, “They’re family.” I thanked her and suggested we leave.

It seemed we were giving Pia a lift home along with Cindy, who was coming back to our house. We dropped off Pia who waved then skipped home down the path like a six year old. “Somebody seems happy,” I commented as we drove off.

“Yeah,” said Danni with a sigh.

“Did you enjoy yourself, Cindy?”

“Oh yes, Auntie Cathy, an’ I think Danielle did too, didn’t you girl?”

“Oh yeah,” said Danielle languidly.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2104 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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We arrived back at the house. “Had I better go and change back?” asked Danni.

“What for, isn’t the point of a makeover to show everyone how you look?”

“What about Daddy?”

“What about him?”

“He’s not going to like it, is he?”

“He’ll get over it, besides he’s already home.”

“Oh,” I glanced at his face in the rear view mirror and he looked very apprehensive.

“C’mon, let’s get it over with, then we can have a nice evening–are you staying over, Cindy?”

“May I?”

I nodded my reply. “Better call your mum though.”

“Yeah, okay.”

We went in and Simon’s eyebrows nearly disappeared over the top of his head his eyes widened so much. “This is Danielle,” I said and he managed to close his mouth then gave me a look which suggested he wanted words in private. I expected it so wasn’t surprised.

Everyone else was pleasantly surprised at the outcome including Tom, who seemed to take whatever his weird family threw at him, in good heart. He told Danni how pretty she looked and gave her a hug and a kiss. I looked hard at Simon and he did the same, the difference being that Danni wanted to hang on to her dad.

For a moment I thought Simon was going to say something stupid and Danni was saying something very quietly when Simon’s demeanour changed like a switch had been thrown, and he actively hugged the child and told her she looked really good, and I knew he was being honest.

David produced a delicious meal of baked cod with duchess potatoes and mixed vegetables, followed by a trifle. I ate too much and bending over to fill the dishwasher was uncomfortable, however, I managed to find room for a cup of tea and Simon followed me to the study and we closed the door.

“I never thought I’d see my son in a skirt and think he’d look pretty.”

“He’s a very pretty boy but you don’t see it because he’s usually doing boy things and that distracts the eye.”

“Maybe? When I first saw him I was horrified.”

“I know.”

“That obvious was it?”

“Yes–and I can understand part of it.”

“It took me a moment to get my head round it.”

“I know, that was obvious too.”

“Yeah well...”

“I thought there was some anger directed at me as well.”

“For a moment I thought you’d stolen my son, my final son...”

“How could I steal one of our children?”

“You know what I mean–he’d switched horses mid race.”

“You mean you thought I’d turned another boy into a girl?”

“For an instant–then I realised no one can do that except the child themselves.”

“Go on.”

“I still love him even if he’s turning into a girl.”

“I’m glad to hear it, but he isn’t.”

“Isn’t what?”

“Isn’t turning into a girl.”

“What’s that out there then?”

“That was someone honouring a promise.”

“Who’d he promise–not you, surely?”

“Simon, that is below the belt.”

“Who then?”

“His friend Peter.”

“He got himself dressed up like a girl for his friend Peter, the one with no–um?”

“Yes.”

“Why can’t Peter get himself a proper girlfriend?”

“Peter was having a makeover as well.”

“What for?”

“Simon, I’m sorry I thought you understood what was going on a bit better than you do. Since the attack in France the two boys have been having all sorts of problems which culminated in Peter castrating himself. Since then Danny seemed to be coping quite well but Peter wasn’t, I guess the assault made him question his gender and gender identity perhaps his orientation as well.”

“Danny’s done the same has he?”

“Just be patient a moment. Danny has been trying to maintain his friendship with Peter who has been exploring his gender identity and sometimes dressing up as a girl only Dan reckoned it was pretty awful and he tried to help him.”

“By dressing up too?”

“Apparently.”

“What else do they get up to?”

“I didn’t ask, but both are minors and one has no external genitalia, so I doubt it was very much, don’t you?” I asked sarcastically.

“Okay, I didn’t think.”

“Please wait while I explain how I see things.”

“Okay.”

“I saw Dan come home the other night with the remains of make up on his eyelashes and asked him about it. He explained he was trying to show Peter what to do, so I suggested Julie give Peter some lessons in a makeover. Somehow Danny got talked into it as well.”

“Not by Julie, I hope?”

“Simon, please shut up and let me finish.”

“Okay.”

I glared at him.

“He came and told me last night and I tried to talk him out of it but he’d made a promise to his friend.”

“So what? He could have broken it.”

“Simon, our son doesn’t break his word and I resent your suggestion that he should. Years ago people died because they gave their word, because their honour was stronger than their lives. You should be pleased we have children who have a degree of pride and honour in their lives, enough to sacrifice their own comfort to help a friend.”

He avoided eye contact and I think I heard him sniff a couple of times. There was a pause before he said, “I’m proud of him.”

“So you should be, most other boys wouldn’t have done it or coped if they had.”

“So is that it?”

“I don’t know. There is a possibility that Peter is coming to Scotland with us and if he comes as Pia, then Danny might become Danielle to support her friend.”

“Isn’t that going a bit far?”

“I have no idea.”

“You’re the expert on gender bending.”

“I’m an expert on dormice,” I growled back at him.

“Well you know what I mean.”

“I know what you mean, but I don’t know what Danny means. I’m as unhappy about it all as you are but if this is what the child needs to do at the moment, then that’s what we’ll do. If he wants to paint himself blue and run round in a kilt, that’s fine too.”

“Why would he do that?”

“Braveheart–William Wallace–Mel Gibson, remember?”

“Oh that.”

“He’s working through some serious issues and helping his friend do the same and we’re going to do whatever it takes to keep them safe so they can come out the other side.”

“Of course.”

“I’ve spoken to Stephanie who said it’s a little unusual but to go with it for the moment.”

“So there might be no boys at Stanebury?”

“Possibly, I’m trying to deal with things as they arise.”

“What about the ball and the barndance?”

“I’ll find them something suitable, though we might need to pop to Edinburgh or Glasgow beforehand.”

He shook his head, “Why does all this happen to us? What have we done to deserve it?”

“It isn’t happening to us, it happened to one of our children and his friend, we have a minor role in keeping them safe and giving them space to deal with the trauma in whatever way they can.”

“But isn’t there a danger this could make Danny–um–like...”

“Like me?”

He looked horrified for a moment, “Of course not, I don’t know quite what I meant.”

“If you meant gay, then I’d be equally angry.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry.”

“You’d love him as much if he was black, or if he’d been born a girl, so why is all this so hard for you? You of all people.”

“I don’t know, perhaps because I’ve been so proud of my son with his football and so on, I didn’t look beyond that.”

“Simon, the reality is any parent could lose one of their children at any time from accident, illness, or some other means. We need to cherish them while we have them regardless of who or what they are. They need our support and we’re going to give it–one hundred per cent.”

“Of course. Okay, just tell me what to do if I look lost.”

I wanted to scream. “Tell them you love them, the rest will follow.”

He nodded and left the room, I think he was crying I know I was.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2105 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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Simon returned a few minutes later, he still looked red eyed. “Hi,” he said.

“What?” I responded still not sure what I felt about his attitude, and I was trying to deal with some emails, including one to Alan about the film.

“I’ve spoken to Danielle,” he said emphasising the name.

“What about?” What’s the idiot done now, honestly, I’ll have murdered him before we get anywhere near Scotland.

“I told hi–er, it was okay as far as I was concerned.”

“Told her what was okay?”

“For her to wear whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted.”

Why did he have to say anything? “Okay, though she’ll look a bit out of place in school wearing that denim skirt.”

“She’s not going to school as a girl–is she?”

“You just told her she could.”

“I did, didn’t I? Shit, should I go and qualify it–you know–anywhere but school?”

“No, just leave her and it alone. I’m sure she was pleased at your comment but just leave her in peace, today has been traumatic enough as it is.” And leave me in peace too, I’ve got work to do.

“You’re busy, I’ll go and make some tea–I presume you’d like one?”

For me that’s a rhetorical question, like is the Pope a Catholic? “Please, where is Danni?”

“Danielle you mean,” he sniped at me.

“I meant Danni with an ‘l’.”

“Oh, is that the girl’s way?”

I rolled my eyes. I wondered at times how this man was head of the retail bank. “Yes.”

“In the dining room with Cindy and the elder girls.”

“Doing what?”

“I have no idea, that number of women together is a bit unnerving at times.”

“Simon, you’re supposed to be their male parent.”

“Yes but they’re all nearly grown up and don’t need much parenting.”

I rose from behind the desk. “I need to stretch my legs.” I walked past him and into the dining room where the girls were all chattering and laughing, even Danni was doing it. “Everything okay, girls?” I called.

“Yes thanks, Mummy,” said Julie and they all agreed.

“You two, okay?” I asked Danni and Cindy.

“Yes thank you, Auntie Cathy.” Danni just nodded.

I looked at me watch it was nine o’clock. “Bed in an hour, okay?”

“What together?” snorted Julie.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I riposted and went out to the kitchen. Simon followed me.

“Problems?” he asked having observed what had happened.

“Not really, I’m just tired. I’m going to bed, tell Danni not to forget to clean off her makeup and moisturise, thanks, darling.” I pecked him on the cheek and went upstairs.

The younger girls were still jabbering and I asked them to go to sleep. “Is Danni going to become a girl?” asked Trish.

“Not as far as I know, why?”

“So why is she, I mean, he dressed up like one?”

“I’ll tell you tomorrow, go to sleep now.”

“I fink Daniewwe is vewy pwetty.”

“So do I Meems, now off to sleep with you all.” I kissed them all goodnight and went into the bedroom only to discover Simon sitting on the bed pulling his socks off.

“Where’ve you been?”

“Tucking the girls in, why?”

“Just wondered.”

I nodded and went to clean my teeth and have a wee. When I returned in my pyjamas he sighed.

“What’s the matter now?” I asked.

“You in a suit of armour.”

“What?”

“Those PJs, they’re as impenetrable as a suit of armour.”

“Good,” I sat on the bed and slipped off my slippers before getting under the sheet.

“Have you gone off me?”

“No, Simon, I still love you very much but I am very tired and would like to go to sleep.”

“Did you put out a nightdress for our newest daughter?”

“No, look I’m going to sleep, I don’t want to talk about boys girls or anything in between, I just want to go to bloody sleep–alright?”

“Yes, dear. Oh I told him about cleaning off his makeup and moisturising.”

“Thank you, goodnight.”

“I’ve done something wrong haven’t I?”

“No, goodnight.”

“I must have done.”

I’m going to break one of the ten commandments in a moment, the one about killing people, or one people in particular. “I want to sleep.”

“Sorry, babes–but I must have done.”

Count to ten, no not commandments, just to stop me killing him. “Please, I am very tired and have a headache coming on, I just want to sleep.”

“Of course.” I was just dropping off when he added, “Sleep well, won’t you?”

I decided that trying to ignore him was easier than a night in police custody even if I could claim provocation.

“The meeting went well, didn’t it? Oh you’re asleep are you?” I imagined myself in a blue bubble and minutes later I went off to sleep I guess because I woke up an hour or so later needing a wee. Simon wasn’t in bed, so where on earth was he? It was eleven o’clock and I traipsed down stairs to see if he was there. He was, chatting with Julie and Jacquie, I turned and went back to bed and was asleep before he came up.

At breakfast, Si and Sammi had already gone to work, Danny came down to breakfast wearing a nightdress. “Where did you get that from?”

“I bought it for her,” offered Cindy.

I nodded and sipped my tea.

“D’you like it, Mummy?”

“More importantly, d’you like it?”

“Oh yes, Mummy, I think it’s gorgeous.” I began to wonder if we had a changeling. The nightdress was a tee shirt variety with a picture of a kitten with a nightcap and candle on it.

“I didn’t think we were going to see Danielle today,” I said telling him that I thought he was over egging the pudding.

“Oh, that’s my fault, Auntie Cathy, I asked her to stay a bit longer.”

“Why?” I was genuinely interested.

“I feel safer when Danielle is with me.”

“Does Danny as a boy threaten you, then?”

“Oh no, Auntie Cathy, but it’s nice to have a sister near my own age. Danielle is my spiritual sister.”

I closed my eyes for a moment, perhaps I was dreaming. I opened them and my son was still wearing a nightdress. Julie came down and smirked at the two in their nighties at the table. She grabbed a couple of biscuits and left for her salon. Then Phoebe came down, “Go have a shower and I’ll do your makeup for you,” she said to my son. He went off like a lamb to the slaughter.

I poured myself another cup of tea and went to my study to deal with my emails but it was no use. I wanted my son back not this manipulated puppet the girls were having so much fun with. He isn’t transgendered–I’m sure of it–he’s a boy dammit. Letting Cindy into our home might have been a big mistake and as for Peter...

I felt my screen go all blurry as a tear dripped down my face. How do I stop this? Has it gone too far already?

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2106 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

---

“Is there something wrong, Mummy?” asked Phoebe.

“Uh–no, I’m fine thanks.”

“Would you like a fresh cuppa, that one looks cold?”

“Oh, I forgot it was there, a fresh one would be lovely. I must sort out little Lizzie.”

“All done, Auntie Stella fed her and we sort of changed her between us, though Danielle did most of it.”

“Danny did most of it?” I gasped, he usually nips off a bit sharpish when I ask for volunteers.

“Yeah, she volunteered and Cindy helped her a bit.”

“Tell me, Pheebs, are you happy with Danny expressing his girly side like this?”

“Yeah, why not?” She looked at me intently, “Is that what’s upsetting you?”

“Shut the door a minute.” She complied with my request. “There’s so much going round in my head. First, I’m not sure Danny is transgendered and just being led by Peter and Cindy and you other girls.”

“She seems to be enjoying herself alright.”

“Just being the centre of attention might produce that effect, he does sometimes get left out with the girl stuff.”

“Yeah I can see that.”

“If social services found out another of my sons was in skirts, they’d get very suspicious.”

“Why?”

“Because I have three transgendered daughters already–they might add two and two together and make ninety five.”

“Trish, Julie–who else?”

“Sammi.”

“Oh yeah, I keep forgetting her.”

“You see my potential problem there. Then if Peter decides to go all girly and it gets out we helped, social services will be all over us.”

“Why?”

“Because they think I have this agenda to transform any boy who enters the house.”

“Surely not–I mean, it’s like taken Danny long enough.”

“They’d see that as taking time to overcome his resistance.”

“But he’d tell them he did it himself.”

“Which is what abused children frequently say.”

“Oh, I hadn’t thought a that.”

“They will, I can assure you.”

“We’ll have to make sure they don’t find out, won’t we?”

“I don’t know if it’s that easy.” I sighed, “Then there’s the fact that I quite like having a son and watching him cope with all us girls while he still manages to play football and cricket.”

“You’ve taken him cycling too, haven’t you?”

“I try to do something with him I don’t do with the rest of you just to give him some attention and we both like riding.”

“Yeah, that’s good, and I know we all appreciate some time with you.”

“I haven’t had much to share with you lately,” I said guiltily.

“That’s okay, Mummy, I know you’re kinda busy at the moment and with what you just told me, it’s worrying you. You want me to say something to them?”

“To Cindy and Danny?”

“Not Cindy, I don’t know how aware she is of the others’ status.”

“Okay, you want me to discourage them from him dressing up?”

“No, I’ll speak with him later after she’s gone. Where are they?”

“They went out for a walk.”

My tummy flipped, “What’s he wearing?”

“The skirt from yesterday and another tee shirt, and I kept his makeup light.”

“What are the others doing?”

“Jacquie’s got the girls helping her make some bread and cleaning up the kitchen, David’s just come in to start lunch. Stella’s got the little ones playing up in her room.”

“Cate, you mean?”

“An’ Mima, she’s looking after them, an’ Lizzie is fast asleep.”

“Okay, I’ll have that tea now, if you don’t mind.”

“Yeah, course.”

“Phoebe, why aren’t you down the salon today?”

“They’re quite quiet today, so Julie and the other girl can cope between them.”

“Is she losing much custom in the changeover?”

“A bit, mainly old fogies who’ve been going there for centuries and who only stuck with the place because they liked the previous owner. Julie’s doing alright because she’s a good cutter.”

“And you?”

“I’m brilliant, but I’ve got to wait for my exam results, then I’m gonna do some extras like electrolysis and laser hair removal.”

“At the college?”

“The electrolysis yeah, the laser, is a bit more difficult–have to find the nearest course and try an’ get on it when I’m ready.”

“You could do my legs then, save waxing or shaving them.”

“Can’t, Mummy, your hair is too blonde, won’t carry the heat to the root.”

“Oh, that’s not fair is it?”

“That’s life–be satisfied they don’t show if you forget to do them one week.”

One week? I do ’em when I remember.

She went off to make my tea and I did some work on the survey and then remembered I had to re-jig some stuff for the conference–bugger, that’s in two weeks. Oh poo it’s going to clash with the holiday, why didn’t I see that earlier?

I went to find Tom but he’d gone to the university to check the dormice. I called his mobile but he had it switched off–the silly bugger forgets to switch it on–or does he? Maybe I’m the silly one being at everyone’s beck and call.

It was tempting to go and speak to him at the university but he could have finished before I got there and might come home or go to his usual lunch venue. I’d just have to wait and see him when he came home. There’s me lecturing Simon on patience when I don’t have any myself–isn’t that good ol’ fashioned hypocrisy?

I went off in search of the kids and did something with them out in the garden. We were playing cricket until Trish whapped the ball into the greenhouse, the ordinary one not the harvest mouse one.

That’s extraordinary, Alan has set up a system he can remotely access, so it opens the windows if it gets too hot, sprinkles water if it’s raining outside, plus keeps the earth moist in the tubs of grain. There are cameras and microphones which are activated by movement or sound, so it picks up both of those, including my kids running past the windows and shouting at each other.

So far he’s got loads of footage but he says it’s like cheating because he isn’t behind the lens. I told him he was but from a distance. He said it wouldn’t stop him taking the money, about which I reported the extra grant the bank had offered, and he was cock a hoop, because we had a bit of shortfall over the cost of the equipment–this remote stuff is hellish expensive.

Back to the ordinary greenhouse, I knew we had some spare panes of glass in the shed, so I spent the next half an hour replacing the broken one and getting myself covered in putty, hoping that Tom wouldn’t notice. The ball missed all the plants, mainly tomatoes and cucumbers, as far as I could tell, so what his eye doesn’t see, his heart won’t grieve over–besides, I had enough to keep him occupied for a while.

David called us for lunch, he’d made pasties which were delicious but there was no sign of Danny and Cindy. I called his mobile, he was at her house and had only gone and got his ears pierced. I began to wonder what would happen next.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2107 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

---

“You got your ears pierced?” I tried not to gasp.

“Yeah, loads of kids get it done–I don’t have to wear anything too girly, do I?”

“I suppose not.” The fact that I’d had to wait until I was twenty two annoyed me, but then, I’d had to wait because my parents wouldn’t have liked or tolerated me getting it done any earlier. Was I turning into my mother? If I was it was fractionally better than turning into my father, an unashamed humbug.

“Cindy’s mum will drop me back before dinner, is that alright?”

“I suppose so, though I’d have preferred you’d told me you were going out in the first place.”

“I’m thirteen, Mum.”

“I don’t care how old you are so–young lady, I make the rules, you abide by them.”

“Yeah, yeah, see you later, Mum.”

In some ways I had to be grateful that he was as compliant as he was, lots of other thirteen year olds are out of control–my whole body shuddered at how Trish might be when she gets to his age–difficult didn’t begin to describe it. Then again, perhaps I’m overreacting but if he comes home and says he’s got a tattoo or a tongue piercing, I’ll murder him on the spot.

As I walked back to the kitchen I recalled that Peter or Pia or whatever, had his done and one of those little ones in a nostril. I wondered what was glinting on his nose at the makeover session before I got a clear view and saw it was one of those silly nose piercings–must be lovely when you have a cold.

As you can tell, I’m not a great fan of piercings and I despise tattoos–they were fine for nineteenth century seadogs but not twenty first century girls–ugh. I know Julie would have one in a moment if I said it was okay, so I’m grateful that she doesn’t out of respect to me. That I’m prepared to help fund her business is out of love for her. The big problem is that youngsters–hark at me, I sound like an old biddy–can’t see consequences. The old one of a sailor having to get his tat re-inked because he changed his girlfriend or she changed him, is both archetypal and relevant. So many of these celebrity non-entities seem to have relationships which only last as long as they provide opportunity to social climb: I know it’s always happened but it seems even more blatant than ever before. But then we’ve never had so many attention-seeking, talentless nobodies as we have today. I suppose it could be a consequence of the internet or social web sites or whatever, but some of them seem to earn huge sums of money for being themselves–a bit like I do–but at least I recognise it’s probably only because I married the boss’s son and I do know a thing or two about dormice but if I told you, I’d have to kill you.

“D’you know the NSA is monitoring all our phone calls, texts and emails,” declared Stella as she dissected her pasty.

“Goodness, they’d be very confused reading mine,” I suggested, smirking.

“You have something to hide?” asked Jacquie somewhat incredulously.

“What’s it matter if I did, what right have they got to read my private email or phone calls?” Stella was mounting her hobbyhorse.

“Stella, calm down, every government in this whole foetid world is paranoid, corrupt and self serving. They sell fear to try and justify their paranoia and that justifies the draconian measures they inflict on us. You can’t win because you need honest politicians and that’s an oxymoron. There is no such thing as a free country, a, because you pay for everything one way or another and, b, we are duped into believing that we have freedom to do as we wish until we cross some invisible threshold and then it all disappears along with the person who transgressed.”

“The price of freedom is eternal vigilance,” offered Jacquie.

“Oh God, you sound like a spokesperson for the Whitehouse.”

“Well that was said by a president, you know,” she replied indignantly.

“Jacquie, I think it’s been attributed to everyone of them since Thomas Jefferson and to Thomas Paine before that as well as Uncle Tom Cobbley an’ all.” I suggested because like so many of these clichés, although we know someone said it the first time round, that attribution has been lost in the mists of time.

“You’re mocking me,” she complained.

“No I’m not, I’m simply pointing out that it’s been attributed to many over hundreds of years. No one knows who said it, like, ‘Lies, damned lies and statistics,” I tried to appease her.

“Oh well, I’m just stupid anyway, just a girl so not worth educating.”

“Just a minute, young woman; I offered you a chance to study and you threw it up. So don’t come the old soldier with me.”

“You undermined me.”

“No I didn’t, I saw how you were completely in that woman’s thrall and set out to expose her.”

“I’m not talking about this,” she rose from the table and left the kitchen.

“Well done, Cathy,” said Stella clapping slowly.

“Whatever I do seems to be wrong at the moment.”

“No, you’ve done a lot of good over the years, so don’t do yourself down girl,” Stella tried to talk me up a little.

“That era seems ended and I now screw things and people up.”

“Who or what have you screwed up?”

“My son.”

“Oh, I wondered when that would come up.”

“Meaning?”

“Well, you’re obviously discomforted by the way he seems to be taking to girlhood.”

“Obvious is it?”

“I’m afraid so, but let’s face it, he’s surrounded by us so why should he fight it any longer when he could join it and enjoy the same treats as everyone else?”

“Are you implying I spoil the girls more than him?”

“I’m not implying anything because it’s what he thinks that matters.”

“But no boy is going to embrace girldom because he thinks he’s missing something, are they?” Now I was really confused.

“You have a better theory?” asked Stella.

“I assumed he was doing it to help Peter or Pia or whatever he calls himself, and to get brownie points with Cindy.”

“But Cindy is still intacto, isn’t she?”

“If you mean pre op, yes, she’s only thirteen far too young for surgery.”

“So he’s not after her for sex?”

“I have no idea what the attraction is. I assume it isn’t sex but who knows, it seems something inside him has changed since the business in France. We know it did with Peter because he mutilated himself.”

“You wonder if Danny’s going the same way?”

“I don’t know nor do I think he does either, but it seems the girls are egging him on all the time and I really don’t know where it’s going to end, except in tears.”

“He could be enjoying it.”

“Oh I know he’s enjoying it but without seeing the consequences.”

“He’s only a kid, Cathy.”

“I know, but he could still do something that could cause him long term bother. The boys in school call him names now because they think he’s like Peter, if they ever get wind of this cross dressing lark, he’ll never live it down.”

“Cathy, all you can do is be there for him and hope he finds some sort of resolution in it all.”

“That’s pretty well what I’ve thought but at times I feel like telling him I want my son back.”

“Oh, I’d have thought you’d have been more supportive of his experiment than that.”

“No, I’m genuinely frightened that I could lose my son.”

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2108 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

---

I spent the afternoon with the girls playing in the paddling pool–they did–I just filled it with water. They had a whale of a time splashing each other and generally being silly before I called a halt, then it was back indoors and a shower and dress for dinner.

Danny was dropped back by Cindy’s mum, though it was Danielle who sashayed into the house. “Let’s see,” squealed the girls as they wanted to see the ear rings, which were little blue crystal studs–a bit girlish for school but there’s time for them to heal yet.

After a delicious dinner of baked mackerel in butter with mushrooms and chives, and garlic jacket potatoes, Danni strolled down to my study; “You’re mad at me, aren’t you?”

“For what?”

“Getting my ears pierced and becoming all girly.”

“If I am with regard to the earrings, it’s because you’re still a minor and I should have been consulted. However, it’s done now so I have to accept it. If you do any such thing again, I won’t be able to ignore it and there will be consequences for you and whoever did whatever was done.”

“You mean if I got a tat?”

“If you got a tattoo, I’m not sure what I’d do to you but it wouldn’t be nice, and I’d sue the tattoo shop into extinction.”

“Oops, I’d better just be going then.”

“Danni, just what d’you mean by that?”

“Um–nothing–Mummy, honest.”

“You’re just trying to wind me up, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, sorry.”

“To prevent me asking about what exactly?”

“Eh?”

“That was a distraction to stop me asking about you becoming all girly, I suspect.”

Lack of eye contact and a deep blush made me realise I’d probably come close if not hit the target.

“Well?”

“I like it, all right?”

“Fine, I’ll make arrangements for you to be enrolled at St Claire’s as Danielle King next term, don’t know if they’d allow you to play cricket or football though.”

“Yeah, okay,” he replied calling my bluff.

“You realise that the fees required are for the whole year irrespective of whether you want to stay there or otherwise, so you’d have to spend the whole year as a girl.”

“Fine.”

“This is not a game, Danielle, once we embark upon it you can’t just stop.”

“That isn’t what you told the others.”

“So? Each case is dealt with on its merits.”

“You told Trish and Billie they could change back at any time.”

“That was then, this is now–times have changed.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Where does it say things have to be fair?”

“But it’s not fair.”

“Why should there always be parity?”

“What does that mean?”

“Equality.”

“Oh okay, thanks; because you claim to treat us all the same.”

“I used to, and I’m treating you all the same now. You’ll have the same uniform and school fees, so isn’t that fair?”

“No, if I change my mind I want to be able to get out.”

“Not if I’ve spent a fortune on school fees and uniforms.”

“You’ve got plenty of money.”

“So? That’s irrelevant, why should I waste it?”

“You did with Trish and Billie.”

“I’ve learned my lesson then, haven’t I?”

“But it’s not fair.”

“Neither Trish nor Billie had any intention of returning to boyhood, are you the same, prepared to forsake it forever?”

“Yeah–I–uh think.” He paused for a moment, then, “Why don’t you want me to be a girl?”

“You can be a girl if you like, I don’t have a problem with it,” I lied trying to make him see the consequences.

“I do like, and Cindy likes me too.”

So was that the incentive? But what is he getting out of it? “Have you told Pia about your decision?”

“What decision?”

“To transition to a girl and have hormones and the operation.”

“Not yet.”

“Why not? I’d have thought you’d be on the phone to tell her and Cindy. I expect if I asked Mr O’Rourke, he could do it before you went back to school–that would make life easier, wouldn’t it?”

“I thought I had to wait a year at least?”

“Not with my money and influence, if O’Rourke won’t do it, we’ll get it done in Holland, if we move quickly, we could probably manage it before the end of the holidays.”

“You’re joking?” he said but he looked very worried.

I waited a full minute before I responded, “Yes, I was joking, O’Rourke wouldn’t do it, but there are places that will. It won’t take me long to find one.”

“You’d do that to me?”

“Not to you, for you. If you’re serious about being a girl we have to give you girl bits, don’t we?”

“Why? Sammi hasn’t got them yet.”

“Sammi’s down on a waiting list and is busy with some software structuring so can’t spare the time at the present. Those constraints don’t apply to you.”

“But you’ve got to be eighteen.”

“In theory, yes you do.”

“You’re just trying to scare me, aren’t you?”

“Am I?”

“I think you are.”

“Am I succeeding?”

“In scaring me–a bit.”

“Oh good, because if you said no, I’d have considered you were mentally incompetent.”

“But I said yes, you were scaring me.”

“Yes that means you’re listening a little to what I’m saying.”

“You don’t think I’m serious, do you?”

“You tell me.”

“I think I like being a girl.”

“But?”

“But what?”

“I thought you were going to say something else.”

“Okay, but maybe I’d like to try it for a bit longer before I decide I want to become one all the time, an’ have the operation an’ things.”

“Fine.”

“Cindy said I’d have to do at least a year in the life test or something before they’d do anything.”

“Oh well, just three hundred and sixty three days then.”

He looked perplexed for a moment then smiled, “Oh yeah, I’ve done two days already.”

“And you’re serious about going to Scotland as a girl?”

“I’d forgotten about that for a moment.”

“I’ll need to get you kitted out if you do.”

“Can’t it wait?”

“Not if I have to order things, they might have to be made. I’d also better tell you that I won’t be coming up with you, I have a conference to help run here, I’ll come up later.”

“So who’s going to help us?”

“Help you what?”

“Pia and me–help us pass as girls.”

“You’ll have Cindy and Trish and Livvie.”

“It’s not the same as having you there, Mummy?”

“Well I’m sorry, but I need to be here for the conference.”

“Maybe I’ll wait and come up with you.”

“What about Pia and Cindy, you going to make them wait too?”

“I–um hadn’t thought of it like that.”

“Well it sounds as if you need to think about all of this much more deeply.”

“You don’t like me as much as the girls do you?”

“Danielle, you are one of the girls, aren’t you? I’m treating you as I would any of the others were they teenagers.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“That’s your problem, not if you’re staying as a girl we need to get you some more clothes tomorrow.”

“But I’m seeing Cindy.”

“Tough, no daughter of mine is going to be seen in the same outfit several times.”

“But we were...”

“I don’t care what you’d planned, you’ll have to cancel it.”

“Why can’t you buy my clothes, you know what size I am?”

“Because you don’t do it that way for girls once they’re older than about eight. They need to try things on to see how they hang.”

“But you’ll know, you’re my mum.”

“Sorry, I can’t allow you to continue experimenting unless you’re equipped to do so and that means enough clothes.”

“What if Pia doesn’t have enough clothes?”

“That’s Pia’s problem, or her parents.”

“Can I go call Cindy?”

“To cancel tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I’ll see her afterwards.”

“Will you? We’ll need to go to Southampton.”

“Why?”

“Unless you’d prefer to meet your previous school mates at Gun Wharf Quay.”

“Uh–no, Southampton is fine.”

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2109 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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“I feel like I’m becoming my mother,” I said to Simon when we were cwtching together that night.

“I suppose that’s better than your dad.”

“That’s what I thought,” I agreed.

“Because of Danny or whatever he calls himself.”

“He doesn’t call himself anything, but everyone else calls him Danielle.”

“Should that be him or her?”

“I don’t know.”

“I thought you knew about all this sort of stuff.”

“Simon, I know how I felt, that’s all. I couldn’t even begin to judge what others feel.”

“Isn’t that what you’re doing with Danny, being suspicious of his change of direction?”

“Yes I am, but because he’s always fought against any feminine influences on him. He was worried that I didn’t love him as much because he wasn’t a girl.”

“That I’d have thought was the least viable criticism of you, you’ve at times gone out of your way to spoil him to show him you do care about him. So does that imply he’s only doing it for attention seeking?”

“I asked him that.”

“What’d he say?”

“He agreed he could be. So I upped the ante and told him we’d get him pushed through the system and have him in surgery before the end of the holidays and he could go to St Claire’s like the other girls.”

Simon chuckled, “And he believed you?”

“No, he just went on about how unfair I was being because the others had had the chance to change back if they wanted.”

“That’s true they did–though none of them even considered it, did they?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

“Except you.”

“Meee?”

“Yeah, when you banged your head in the Cayenne, you forgot who you were–thought you were a bloke or something, only you didn’t have a bloke’s body so it was a bit difficult for a day or so.”

“I don’t remember any of that?”

“No you lost your memory, so I suppose you wouldn’t.”

“I remember the deer and swerving to avoid it, but that was it.” We snuggled together. “I’m taking Danielle to Southampton tomorrow to buy a few clothes.”

“What’s wrong with Portsmouth?”

“He might be recognised by schoolmates and given their opinion of him already...”

“They shout loud enough when he scores a goal for them.”

“Well that’s the level of mentality in schools these days.”

“You still don’t think he’s transgender, do you?”

“Simon, I don’t know anything anymore, but no, it doesn’t sit right somehow.”

“What if he’s a cross dresser?”

“Can’t say I’d be over enthused but I’d try to support him.”

“And if he was transsexual?”

“I have doubts that he is, but I was wrong with Billie. I don’t know how I’d feel, sad I suppose.”

“Sad, why?”

“Because it isn’t a good place to be, it makes everything you do that much harder.”

“Well you’ve done alright out of it.”

“On reflection yes I have, but life would have been easier if I’d been normal, either as a girl or a boy.”

“You’d have preferred to have been a boy?”

“A normal boy rather than a transsexual woman, yes.”

“But then I’d never have met you.”

“True but who knows what would have happened?”

“I couldn’t see me fancying another boy–and before you start saying, yes you did, I didn’t. I never saw you in boy mode so as far as I was concerned you were a girl, end of story.”

“But I told you I was.”

“Yeah, my head knew but my heart fell in love with this incredibly attractive woman who was so naíve she didn’t have a clue what she was doing to me and all the other blokes.”

“What blokes?”

“Everyone fancied you.”

“I know Des did but that was it.”

“Gareth did, plus half my office did, my father did and your adoptive father.”

“You trying to tell me that Tom fancied me?”

“Yes, what’s so funny about it?”

“He knew me before I transitioned.”

“If you listen to him telling it, he thought you were a girl pretending to be a boy and in his words, a very pretty girl.”

“I have to get to sleep, darling, busy day tomorrow.”

“What’re you going to buy him/her?”

“Just an outline wardrobe, a couple of skirts and dresses, tops some jeans some shoes, panties, bras. Might get her a nice dress for the formal up in Scotland--oh you realise I can’t come until after the conference?”

“That’s what Tom was wittering on about?”

“Was it? Can we discuss it tomorrow, I’m knackered,” and as if to prove the point, I yawned and nearly swallowed the pillow.

I slept all night and woke feeling quite refreshed until I thought what I had to do that day. I wasn’t in the mood for shopping but that’s what I decided was needed to Danielle to have at least the opportunity for experiencing girldom.

On rising, I showered and dressed and woke Danielle and also Phoebe who agreed to sort her out for a shopping trip, an hour later the two of us were driving west to Southampton and the shops. I’ve done this so often, setting up a basic wardrobe, that I should be able to do it in my sleep. I even remembered to bring along a tape measure in case of doubt.

We started off in some cheaper stores and got some of the basics–panties, some bras and some nighties/pyjamas. Then two skirts which Danni chose and four tops to go with them. A pair of jeans and some shorts followed that with two pairs of shoes, a pair of imitation Ugg boots plus some cheap trainers. I found some silicon bra fillers which would do for breast padding and were at least washable. Then it was time for a snack.

Some sort of weather proof jacket was required and we found one of those for half price in a sale in Millett’s the camping shop. Okay, it was blue with flowers all over it, but it would do as a multipurpose coat cum jacket and could be worn with jeans or skirts. If this got more long term than I thought it would, we’d have to buy something for more formal occasions. For the ball in Scotland, she could borrow one of my crocheted stoles which would do to cover a dress if it got nippy.

We bought tights, socks and a watch a couple of bracelets and a ring while we looked at more earrings. We got some more of those too. Finally, we chose an inexpensive cologne. Thankfully, Julie had supplied makeup and cleanser, so by four o’clock we were pretty well finished. All that remained now was to get the dress for the ball and some shoes. That was going to prove almost as expensive as the rest put together, but at least Stella could loan her the tartan plaid as I wouldn’t now need it–the ball was the same weekend as the conference.

Driving back, Danni yawned. “Tired?” I asked.

“Yeah, it’s quite scary the first few times trying things on in a shop.” I suppose it is, I’d forgotten because to me it was now second nature–only feeling uneasy when something in my dress size didn’t fit and I had to go up a size.

“Enjoy it?”

“Yeah, I think I did, it’s certainly different to shopping for boy clothes.”

“Just a bit,” I agreed thinking for what I’d just spent we could have outfitted Danny twice over for the year.

“You realise you’ll have to do a fashion show when we get home?”

“No way, I’m too tired.”

“Sorry, kiddo, but girls are never too tired to model their clothes for their sisters.”

“This one is,” she said and nodded off to sleep.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2110 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

---

Upon arrival at the house, Danielle awoke spontaneously, presumably because the car stopped. “C’mon sleeping beauty Prince Charming awaits us.”

“Wha...?”

“Get your little bum vertical and help me carry your purchases into the house.”

“We home?”

“No, I thought I’d make you walk from Gosport.”

“Oh.” She yawned, looked around and realised we were home yawned again just as Trish yanked open the door.

“C’mon, lessee what you bought then.”

“Trish, it’s customary to allow people to convey their purchases into their domicile before investigating their tastes.”

“What?” her eyes nearly popped out.

“Wait until we get indoors before you start poking about in Danni’s shopping.”

“Oh all right, but ’urry up, I wanna see what she got.”

I got out of the car and opened the boot from which I handed Trish a bag. “This is yours, that one’s for Livvie and this one for Meems.” She took the three bags and dashed into the house.

“What did I get?” asked Stella leaning against a doorway.

“Same as I got.”

“That bad, eh?”

“Yep, however, your two will like these,” I gave her a bag with two doll’s outfits, and when Cate arrived to share in the spoils, I handed her a small bag. She went off giggling and laughing.

“What did you give her, I want one,” complained Stella.

“A pair of socks.”

“And they had that effect on her–are they Simon’s dirty ones, or something?”

“No, they’re musical socks.”

“Right, now I’ve heard everything.” With that Cate came back wearing the garments and her feet squeaked and tooted as she walked.

“You have now,” I replied to Stella, who laughed loudly.

“I bought Lizzie a little dress, some panties and tights.” I showed the items to Stella.

“Oh they’re lovely,” she said taking them out of the bag and examining them. “What did you get then, Danni girl?” she asked our most recent convert to the feminist cause.

“One or two things, you know,” and with that she struggled out of the door under a mass of bags and shoe boxes.

“One or two dozen by the look of things.”

“Whatever,” was fired back from the disappearing consumer.

“Charming,” said Stella looking at me and shaking her head.

“Wait till the others demand a modelling session.”

“Oh dear, does our newest girly not like strutting her stuff then?”

“I think she might be feeling a tad tired.”

“What? Girls are born to shop–we’re programmed in the womb–and having seen you in action, no one could doubt your sex.”

“I have been known to enter the odd emporium.” I blushed at her back handed compliment.

“It’s only odd if you don’t part with cash. I’ve been out with you, remember.”

“You could spend for England, too,” I retaliated.

“Good job we’re Scots then, innit?”

“Mummy, Danni won’t show us her new clothes.”

“That is her prerogative.”

“No it isn’t, it’s ours to say if we like something or not.” This child is either going to be a politician or a barrister.

“Tell her I asked her to let you see her purchases.”

“Did she choose them all then?”

“We did it between us.”

“Oh, perhaps I’ll go out an’ play then.” With that dismissal she walked away leaving Stella almost choking on laughter.

“You asked for that, girl,” offered my sister in law when she could breathe again.

“Make us a cuppa will you, I’d better have a look at Lizzie.” I pushed past Stella with a few bags still in my hands, they were for Jacquie, Julie, Phoebe and Sammi. It was only a pair of patterned tights but I thought they’d like them and it shows they hadn’t been forgotten.

I had bought Stella a present but she wouldn’t get it until I went back down. I hastily changed into jeans and a top and pulled on a pair of espadrilles, I checked Lizzie who was fast asleep, and snuck out again to go back to the kitchen with the bag of cream cakes.

Danni did do a fashion show for us under pressure from Livvie and Mima and Stella made approving noises for each item. “You’ve really learned how to put together a reasonable budget wardrobe, haven’t you?”

“Gee thanks, I’ve been doing it a few years now you know?”

“Six, I believe. What a difference from the scrawny kid in the torn cycling shorts I introduced to high fashion.”

“The shorts were only torn because you hit me through a hedge.”

“That’s right, try to wriggle out on the fine detail.” I began to wonder if she’d been coaching Trish or the other way round.

David came in to start the dinner, “Back already? I thought you were going to shop till you dropped?”

“Danni did, I would have been good for another month or two if the money lasted.”

He chuckled, “So who’s been eating cream cakes then?”

“Yours is in the fridge.”

“I’ll let you off then.”

“Look here, wage slave, what’s for dinner?”

“Escargot avec sauce de gastropod.”

“Snails in slug sauce?” I gasped.

“Sounds better in French,” said Stella licking her fingers.

“No it doesn’t, what’s really for dinner?”

“A leg of pork.”

“If this family gets any bigger you’ll have to leave the rest of the pig attached to feed ’em all,” suggested Stella.

When David brought it out of the fridge I wondered if the rest of the porker was attached. Seeing my gaping expression he simply said, “It was a big pig.” By my calculations it would have been about the size of a rhinoceros.

When the others arrived, Danni had to reprise her fashion show to nods and murmurs of approval from the older girls and the two men. When she went to change, Sammi was overheard saying to Julie, “She’s taking to this like a duck to water–which is a surprise.” Julie chuckled by way of reply.

So it isn’t just me then who wonders what is going on. I shall have to have words with her a bit later to see exactly what she means. They’ve all been very supportive of Danni, but are wondering why the sudden change of lifestyle–which puzzles me as well. The problem is, Danni might not be able to verbalise what is going on, so we may never know.

I was complimented on my choice of clothes by the older girls and Phoebe was particularly taken with a top we’d bought in Top Shop. She declared a visit to the one in Portsmouth as a priority next week.

Finally, David called us into dinner and the locusts sated themselves stripping the place bare. Trish chided Danni for eating too quickly, I only wished I could have done the same with Simon, who shovelled it down like it was going out of fashion. I mashed up some the vegetables and gravy and gave it to Lizzie who gobbled it down almost as quickly as Simon had–then gave huge burp and brought up half of it. I just love children.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2111 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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You know when it happens that being covered in baby sick is not the worst thing in the world. In fact there are probably hundreds of things which are worse; but at the moment of impact, you forget that and you stand up, make sure everyone can see that you’ve been baptised in vomit, then wave your hands around like some spastic windmill while saying something inane–we always say inane things at times of emergency.

“Oh thanks, Lizzie, I really needed that.” The fact that I’d jumped up like my body had been covered in battery acid had shocked her and her bottom lip began to tremble and within moments one of us was crying and the other felt like it. Of course this was a moment of embarrassment for the others, a hysterical woman and a howling six month old, and there followed some embarrassed laughter.

My first act after tearing off my stained clothing was to fix the laugher with a withering stare–then we had two crying children. Things were getting better by the moment. I flung my fouled clothing in the washing machine while Stella picked up the baby and began to comfort her. I wiped myself off with a towel and flung that in the machine as well, then ran upstairs and pulled on another pair of jeans only to discover the bra has sick on it. In my efforts to get it off, I got myself into an awful tangle and practically tore the clip off I was so angry.

I was prancing round bare breasted when Simon came up. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“I’d have thought that was pretty obvious.”

“No. An experienced parent like you should have dealt with that better.”

“If it’s so easy you feed her,” I snapped back while fishing another bra from my drawer.

“Don’t be so ridiculous, Cathy.”

“Ridiculous, am I? Go to hell.” I went to walk past him but he grabbed my wrist and I struggled to escape but he enveloped me in a bear hug and held me tightly. I struggled but his grip was unyielding and then I just burst into tears pleading with him to let me go.

He held me looser but he was now patting my back and soothing me. When I became coherent after a few minutes he asked, “Now, what’s really the problem?”

I sniffed and snorted before resting my head on his shoulder, “Nothing,” I replied.

“Come off it, woman, I know you well enough to know something isn’t right, you don’t usually fly into tantrum after a bit of baby sick, so what’s bugging you?”

“I don’t know–nothing and everything.”

“Like what?”

“This conference, Danny playing at girldom, the trip to Stanebury–just life in general.”

“D’you want me to cancel the holiday?”

“You can’t.”

“Of course I can.”

“The children are looking forward to it.”

“So, they’ll have to learn to live with bigger disappointments than that.”

“No–you take them, I’ll come up as soon as the conference is over.”

“What about the ball, who’s going to get them ready?”

“Take Phoebe with you, she’ll sort out the girls.”

“And Danni and hi–er little friend.”

“Phoebe can sort them out too, just give her enough time to do it.”

“And you’ll be up for the barn dance?”

“Yes, the conference only lasts about three days.”

“Good. Now what about Danny playing at girldom? What did you mean by that?”

“What I said, I don’t think he’s transgendered–unless he likes the clothes.”

“I like the clothes you wear–on you.”

“For a moment you had me worried, Simon.”

He chuckled mischievously. “Anything else worrying you?”

“We hardly discussed Danny did we?”

“I’m out of my depth on that one. If you doubt his transgender whatever, then I believe you, but how do we prove it one way or the other? Call Stephanie?”

“I think she’s as easily led as the rest of us unless she does a lot of observation.”

“I could invite her up to Stanebury.”

“Have you seen what she charges for a visit in Portsmouth?”

“I thought she’s never charged us?”

“She hasn’t yet, if she bills us for the lot, you might have to sell Stanebury to pay it.”

“Oh, so who else?”

“I think we have to suck it and see.”

“What does that mean?”

“We wait, if I’m right he’ll get fed up after a week or so.”

“What if he’s up in Scotland with no boy clothes?”

“He’ll have to make do with girl stuff, won’t he?”

“Make sure you tell him then.”

“Actually, I wasn’t thinking of telling him at all.”

“What’s to stop him packing some himself?”

“Simon, he’s thirteen, you’re thirty five and you don’t pack your own case.”

“So you do it?”

“Who else?”

“Okay, I get the message–I could do my own, you know, I used to pack my own kitbag when I was in the scouts.”

“To go to camp?”

“Yeah. Did they do it in the guides?”

“How would I know, I failed the medical for the scouts, I’d never have got in the guides. Actually, that’s not quite right, Siá¢n took me along one night while I was doing Macbeth and they accepted me as just another girl.”

“See, you were a guide.”

“For one night, and we couldn’t stop laughing about it afterwards. We fooled them all.”

“Cathy, you’re female, it was yourself you fooled–they just accepted what they saw, like I did.”

“Oh,” I didn’t know what else to say so I kept quiet.”

“Feel better?”

“Yes thank you.” We hugged and I kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you, darling.”

“C’mon, get a top on.”

I pulled on a tee shirt and dropped the dirty bra into the laundry hamper. By the time we got down again, the table was clear and Stella was sitting nursing the baby. “Better?”

“Yes thanks.”

“She’s just gone off, here.” She passed me the sleeping infant.

“How could her mother kill herself?” asked Simon standing alongside me touching her tiny fingers.

“I don’t know–but then I don’t know what was in her mind at the time. Post natal depression is poorly understood and just remember what Stella went through with it?”

“And Neal has it too, has he?”

“No, Simon, only women get it, he’s got depression following bereavement.”

“How’s he doing?”

“You’ll have to ask Phoebe, she’s the one who rings him every week.”

“Talk of the devil,” said Simon and I turned round to see Phoebe walk into the kitchen.

“What?” she said as we both looked at her.

“How’s Neal?” asked Simon.

“Up and down. One day he’s good and another he’s back down in the depths.”

“Any sign of him coming home?” continued Si.

“Not to take charge of this,” she said stroking the baby’s cheek. “I don’t honestly know if he ever will.” I had begun to suspect as much myself.

“This is only a temporary arrangement,” Simon said, I thought unnecessarily.

“Okay, what d’you want me to do–leave college to become a full time foster parent?”

“Okay both of you, stop this. I told Neal I’d take tiny wee here for as long as he took to recover. I’m a woman of my word in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“Thanks, Mummy.” Phoebe gave me a peck on the cheek.

“Make some tea, darling, will you?”

“Of course, Daddy?”

“Yeah why not?” he sat at the table.

“Phoebe, I want you to go to Scotland with Daddy and the others, he’s going to need all the help he can get especially with Danni and Pia.”

She looked at me for a moment, saw me with the baby, her niece, and nodded. “Okay, but we need to tell Julie, she was expecting me at the salon.”

“I’ll do that,” Simon got up and went straight to see Julie, he can be quite direct when the mood takes him.

“How much did that cost?” I asked when he returned for his cuppa.

“I beg your pardon–she’s my daughter.”

“I know–so how much?”

“Two hundred a week.”

That’s our Julie, never wastes any opportunity.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2112 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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The next few days were a total blur as I helped them pack for Stanebury and also get myself ready for the conference. Finally, I saw them off, Simon had arranged for the use of a people carrier–a Mercedes–well Jaguar don’t make one, and somehow we managed to pack them and their luggage in it. I was going to follow on three days later and bring Lizzie up with me.

Don’t ask me how, but I’d been able with some help from Stella to get suitable dresses for Danni, Pia and Cindy as well as one for Phoebe, and of course dresses for Meems, Trish and Livvie. It was going to seem strange being without the children and they were going to let me know when they got there. I was anxious that Simon was all on his own but Phoebe reassured me that she’s help him cope with the younger ones.

They all promised me that they’d behave themselves and Daddy and I waved them off before we set off for the University to start the conference which commenced after lunch.

Essentially, the Dean opened the conference and welcomed the delegates, Tom ran the first session and then it was my turn to introduce the mammal survey, how we’d set it up, the strengths and weaknesses of it and how it had been adopted by the European Union for basis of a Continental wide survey.

I read off loads of acknowledgements of British universities and how they’d helped by leading on certain groups or families of mammals, badgers, deer, and so on. I suggested that it had only worked because of its comprehensive nature and because so many people had worked so hard to complete it.

I asked everyone present who’d been involved to stand and then asked the rest of the delegates to applaud their efforts, offering my own thanks at the beginning of the lecture.

I felt I’d talked too long, tried to punctuate it with some humour, especially of the erroneous and occasionally mischievous record, which was picked up and passed on to me for inclusion or rejection. The one which stood out was the record of a hippopotamus submitted by a vicar from Pewsey. When the original had been challenged by the University of Bath, (that got a laugh, hippos in the Bath) they explained to our wicked cleric that the survey applied to wild animals only, he stated that he didn’t think it was wild exactly, just a tad miffed.

Professor Esmond Herbert presented the second paper on the contribution of Sussex University and their mammal records centre. I wished I’d been absent for his paper.

“Professor Agnew, fellow delegates before I mention what we at Sussex did to assist in this massive undertaking, I have to declare that one of our alumnae is and has been the driving force of this whole project, from persuading the government and European Union to fund it, to cajoling and threatening everyone here into helping her.

“I refer of course to Dr Cathy Watts, or Lady Catherine Cameron depending upon your social status. She has been immense in pulling everything together, aided and abetted by her professor and his secretary, Pippa. Considering she has a huge family of seven or eight adopted children, quite how she’s managed to organise the survey and this conference is mind blowing, plus make a brilliant documentary film on dormice–it’s all too much for a mere mortal like me. So ladies and gentlemen, I’d like you to put your hands together and show your appreciation for Dr Cathy Watts, aka Lady Cameron, but in reality, Superwoman.”

I nearly died of embarrassment especially as they made me go up on stage and presented me with a huge bunch of flowers, then they presented Pippa with one and finally Tom–he got a bottle of single malt.

There was a meal in the refectory which was informal, the one the next day was the formal one and would include all sorts of boring speeches, but everyone has to have their say. It would start with the Mayor of Portsmouth, then the Chancellor of the University, then the Dean, then Tom–then we could go home. The third day was morning only to enable the delegates to travel early after lunch.

The second day was quite interesting as three British universities gave their take on the experience of running part of the survey. To be fair they spoke well of Portsmouth in assisting in their queries where they had any, and complimented the Pompey team for our promptness in replying. The team, Tom, Pippa, Spike and yours truly. Tom dealt with government, Pippa with admin enquiries, Spike with enquiries from hazel nuts or other dormice and I dealt with the rest. I must have been mad–well still am–the sheer volume I got through astonished me now, so what it did then I have no idea. I suppose I was so close to the trees I couldn’t see the size of the forest or I’d have run away–nah, got a chainsaw and cut it down to size.

I wore a rather nice cocktail dress to the formal dinner–too stuffy to wear long, although plenty did. Thankfully there wasn’t any dancing so I didn’t have to crush any toes. There was plenty of talking in the bar after the dinner was over and Tom was a bit unsteady on his feet when I drove him home at midnight.

Day three included two lectures. The day before we’d had a French and Spanish perspective and on the third day, we had a German one and finally, thoughts for attempting a similar survey in the United States, from a Professor Calvin Hobbs, who was professor of Mammalian Biology at Harvard University and who had been asked by the US state department to cost a similar survey over there.

When he heard the cost of the British effort he said he nearly collapsed, as his draft estimate was ten times bigger, though he admitted he did have a bigger patch to survey.

Tom summed up the conference and brought it to a close. An hour later, I was loading my car and not forgetting Cate and Lizzie, I set off for Stanebury and a long drive.

It would have been lovely to suggest that I’d put my foot down and hammered up the motorway and got there a few hours later. It would have been a fantasy. I stopped every two hours, stretched my legs and had a wee and coffee. The two little ones also had refreshments and use of facilities. We arrived at the castle in the dark at half past ten, I was twitchy with caffeine overdose through all the coffee and the twa wains were fast asleep.

Simon helped me carry them indoors and put them to bed. Then I had a stiff drink myself to try and calm me down a little–I was still hyper from the drive. The ball had apparently gone down well and all of the Cameron girls had conducted themselves with dignity. Phoebe showed me some photos on her laptop and it looked as if they’d all had a good time, even Danielle seemed to enjoy the dancing, dancing with boys as well as with Cindy.

Simon was tired and went off to bed while I took a stroll outside for some fresh air accompanied by Phoebe. I admitted to her that Danni puzzled me and she agreed that it seemed out of character wondering how much influence Pia and Cindy were exerting on her erstwhile brother. I also considered the effects of the assault on both boys and posited the question, were they trying to escape their own masculinity because they despised those who’d attacked them so much? Phoebe just shrugged and said she had no idea–which made two of us.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2113 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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I found my way to the master bed chamber and after cleaning my teeth slipped in beside the sleeping Simon. Once I got used to the squeaky brass bedstead and the feather mattress, I was asleep quite quickly and stayed that way until I was awoken by Simon poking me.

“Wha?”

“Little Lizzie wants her breakfast.”

“Yeah,” I muttered and tried to go back to sleep.

“She wants her breakfast.”

“Well give it to her then,” I said irritatedly.

“I can’t can I?”

I sat up rubbing my eyes, “Why not?”

“I’m somewhat lacking in the mammary department.”

“What?” I snapped at him.

“No tits.”

“Bloody men,” I grumbled as I pulled on a robe and went to lift the now soggy morsel out of her cot. “Oh god, she stinks like a urinal.” I picked her out and took her through to the bathroom where I laid her on a bath towel and stripped her before wiping her with a flannel and dried her with the towel–at least I could face her being within the same room now.

I found her case and pulled out a disposable nappy–yes I do use the odd one, and she’s going to poo as soon as she has her milk. While I dressed her I sent Simon to make some tea and by the time he was back with it I was feeding the little one from the breast.

“You look so good doing that,” he said smiling.

“Very funny.”

“No I mean it, it looks so natural.”

“Well of course it does, she’s sucking out a fluid which is manufactured in my boobs, which I believe is normally termed, natural. But being a biologist what do I know?”

“Why do you always take things the wrong way?”

“Because it implies it isn’t natural.”

“Oh, sorry, that wasn’t what I meant.”

“What did you mean then?”

“You’re not her mother but you look as if you should be.”

“You told me I wasn’t to steal anyone else’s children.”

“Very funny. You know perfectly well what I meant. You look as natural as if you were the child’s natural mother. It was meant as a compliment.”

“Thank you, I just felt defensive in case you were trying to imply I wasn’t a natural female. I was wrong, sorry–I guess I’m still tired.”

“I’m not surprised, a long drive on your own after a conference.”

“Yeah, I seemed to leave my sense of humour behind.

He snorted but I didn’t say anything, deciding that I could always kill him later.

Once tiny wee was fed and left to recline in her seat, I went and showered. Thankfully the plumbing has all been replaced with modern electric showers and there’s a generator in the court yard if we have power cuts. The warm water refreshed me and after dressing in jeans, shirt and sweater plus training shoes I was ready for some breakfast.

I looked out across the moor and it looked grey and gloomy, real dreich. This could be a disaster of a holiday if the weather breaks now.

“I’ve ordered tea and some poached eggs on toast for your breakfast, hope that’s okay?”

“But I usually have just a piece of toast.”

“I’d like to do some walking today.”

“Carry on, not sure I want to.”

“Oh c’mon, Cathy. We hardly do anything together except squabble.” I actually felt fractious enough to be able to squabble with myself.

Just then, the door burst open and Trish and Meems came dashing in, “Mummeeee,” seemed to be their battle cry as they hurled themselves at me. A few minutes later, they’d calmed down and as we went to breakfast in the dining hall below they told me all about the ball and how special they’d felt dancing in long dresses with plaids on their shoulders.

“How did Danielle do?” I asked.

“Oh one of the boys liked her rather a lot, they danced together several times, didn’t they, Meems?”

“Yes, his name is Wichard Walph.”

“Richard Ralph?”

“Yes, ’s what I said wannit?”

I was beginning to think I needed a holiday–on a desert island–though with my luck a cruise liner would run aground the next day.

Breakfast was delicious, the eggs being provided by the estate farm–I suggested to Simon that the children would probably enjoy visiting that. He said he’d arrange it but they’d need time to make sure things were safe for children to be wandering around–farms being dangerous places. I agreed, so would lots of badgers and foxes.

It was Tuesday and the barn dance would be that Saturday. I had dresses for everyone–except Simon–duh. They’d been laid across the cases in the boot of my car, each one in a separate zip up bag and these were now hanging in each of the girl’s bedrooms, including one for Danielle and one for me as well–though I wanted to see the barn before I decided which shoes I wore–a rough floor would require lower thicker heels.

Danielle and Cindy came in as we were finishing our breakfast. “Wow, this place’s magic, innit?” announced Cindy.

I felt like asking her if she’d seen the ghost yet, but held my tongue. “Daddy’s going to arrange for you to visit the estate farm later.”

“Yeah, okay,” said Danni dismissively, “Did you see the shields and swords in this room?” and he dragged her off towards the main sitting room.

“Didn’t the grouse season start recently?”

“I thought you could grouse any time of the year,” he threw back at me. Perhaps I’d asked for it so I didn’t retaliate. “Oh the grouse shooting season? Yeah, yesterday.”

The glorious twelfth, yeah just ask any grouse.

“You’re not planning on doing any shooting, are you?”

“Ah no, my wife would kill me.” Damn he knows.

“I’m bored,” said Trish.

“You’re on holiday, how can you be bored?” I asked her.

“Well the broadband is so slow here, it’s like constipated.”

“It is a bit slow,” confirmed Simon, “especially the wi-fi; it doesn’t like four feet thick walls.”

“Hardly surprising,” I commented though I was thinking what we’d do for the rest of the day and if I’d need to express any milk for the baby. The housekeeper, Mrs Cuddy, introduced a young woman as Moira, who was a qualified nursery nurse and who’d be taking care of the two little ones if we wanted to get off somewhere.

I introduced Lizzie and Cate to Moira who seemed to know how to charm them and she took them off while Simon explained about the ten mile hike we were going to do. He was joking, I hoped.

Everyone was sent to change into walking clothes and Mrs Cuddy had provided us with a packed lunch. I shoved the plastic box with the food into my backpack, along with my compass, OS map and penknife, mobile phone and torch. I also had a walking cape and first aid kit. The cape fits over my rucksack and keeps it dry as well. I changed into thicker socks and my walking boots plus gaiters–it looked like rain, while I waited for the others to return to the kitchen similarly clad. I thought I’d packed jeans for Danni as well but it appeared I hadn’t, oh well, she can walk in a skirt–it won’t kill her.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2114 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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As we assembled in the courtyard, Cindy and Danni were last down, Danni wearing a very short skirt over leggings. The first job was to anoint everyone with insect repellent, and if the insects find it as repellent as I do, we should be fairly safe.

Simon then outlined the route we’d take, which was essentially a traipse round the estate, avoiding the grouse moors and their murderous occupants. No matter how much I objected to killing for fun, he reminded me that without the shooting, there’d be no moors and possibly no estate. While it didn’t overly concern me, I was aware that the land had been in the family’s possession for over three hundred years and it survived war, pestilence and famine. It had cleverly stayed aloof from the Jacobite troubles and therefore from the post Culloden reprisals carried out by Butcher Cumberland, as the Duke of Cumberland was known locally.

The weather looked a bit uncertain, so I checked everyone had a waterproof, their lunch and a drink–preferably water. Finally I slipped on my binoculars and pulled on my ruckie–it was some time since I’d walked any distance carrying one. On Simon’s command, we all set off at a gentle pace out into the great grey yonder.

Trish was good company, taking photos of anything I couldn’t identify–which was plenty–and asking why I didn’t know. I was able to point out at least two types of heather and gorse–bell heather and cross-leaved, so that gave me some credibility.

I tried to explain how the acid soil stopped the breakdown of organic material and formed peat, and that occasionally it caught fire and could burn for months or even years. I reported to wide eyes that a fire on a mountain in South Wales, which incidentally bore the southernmost population of red grouse, had burned for years despite the efforts of local fire fighters and that in the end they brought in bulldozers and buried it, the idea being to exclude the air and stop the fire. Last heard it was still smouldering underground and had been for twenty years or more.

As we walked Simon said quietly, “That’s an urban myth, isn’t it?”

“Ah no, Si, I’ve actually been up the mountain which rejoices in the name of the Blorenge.” So there won’t be too many poems written about it.

“Go on, you made that up,” my unbelieving hubby suggested.

“Indeed I didn’t, in fact there’s a famous horse’s grave up there as well.”

“Go on, don’t tell me it’s the real resting place of Bucephalus?”

“Very funny, no, it was Col. Harry Llewellyn’s show jumper called Fox hunter.”

“And what’s so special about this horse?”

“He was part of an equestrian team which won GB’s only gold medal in 1952 in the Olympics.”

“No wonder I’ve never heard of it then.”

“But if you’d been an equestrian, you would have done,” I argued.

“Possibly, so what were you doing up there, looking for dead ’orses?”

“No, I was actually on a school biology field trip looking for signs of red grouse.”

“What like notices saying, ‘Yer be red grouse?’”

“Yeah that sort of thing but in their poo.”

“What?”

“Red grouse have a particular sort of poo.”

“Now I know you’re bull shitting me.”

“I’m not.”

“Bird shit is bird shit, is bird shit.”

“Sorry to disagree, Si, but you’re wrong.”

Just then we were passed by a Land rover which stopped and the window was wound down. “Laird Simon, Lady Cameron,” said a respectful voice.

“Morning, McVitie, how are the birds doing?” replied Simon.

“Aye, they’re doing fine, twa hundred since Monday.” My tummy flipped, even Kiki couldn’t eat two hundred grouse.

“Could you settle a slight disagreement, McVitie?”

“Aye, if I can.”

“Are grouse droppings individual–I mean are they same as other bird droppings?” Simon looked at me and smiled assured his man would back him.

“Only wi’ other grouse, m’ laird.”

“So my wife could say she knew grouse were about by finding some droppings?”

“Aye, if she ken whit she wis lookin’ fa’.”

“Thank you, Mr McVitie,” I beamed towards the estate keeper.

“Yer welcome, ma’am.” With that he drove off to continue his slaughter of the innocents.

“Traitor,” Simon mouthed at the disappearing 4x4.

“You should know better than argue with Mummy about wildlife,” offered Livvie who smirked at Simon.

“We’ll show you in the book when we get back,” promised Trish.

“Can’t wait,” humphed Simon, ever the bad loser.

We continued our trek, the path rising to some hills. “What’s up there, Daddy?” asked Trish.

“Not a lot, the occasional bird nest and a couple of caves, I think.”

“Caves?” squealed Danni and Trish, “Can we see them?”

“I suppose we could have lunch up there, it is nearly twelve. You okay with that, Cathy?”

“Fine with me.”

So it came to pass that the family Cameron had their lunch sitting on a few rocks inside some sandstone caves. Despite being dressed as a girl, Danny rushed into the caves yelling and listening to the echoes he got back, which seemed more reminiscent of boy behaviour. It made my toes curl and pleased me at the same time.

I saw some flashes as they took photos and then shouts of, “Don’t go in there.”

“I’ll be all right.”

“No you won’t, Trish–Trish where are you? Mummy, we’ve lost Trish.”

I walked rapidly into the cave closely followed by Simon. “What d’you mean you’ve lost Trish?”

“She went through there,” Danni pointed to a fissure in the wall of the smaller cave.

“Through here?” I examined the crack in the wall–there was no way anyone my size would get through it. I called through the hole but there was no reply which may or may not be serious.

I yelled again and this time more insistently. No response, I began to get a little worried. Simon shone his torch through the hole and it was obvious that Trish wasn’t there–but where was she?

“Want me to go look for her?” Danni offered sounding more like a brother than a sister.

“I don’t know, we don’t need to lose two of you.”

“Yes, go on girl, here take my torch.” Simon wasn’t going to equivocate.

“Stupid tits,” hissed Danni, hurling his chest adornments on the cave floor as he squeezed through the crack which was barely bigger than he was.

“I’m coming too,” Cindy Squeezed in after him and being smaller did so before I could stop her.

“Bring her back here,” I shouted to Danni.

“No good, it’s narrower from this side, we’ll have to find a way round.” Then they seemed to fade into the gloom.

Livvie handed me Danni’s boobs and I shoved them in my backpack.

“Any idea where that goes?” I asked Simon.

“None whatsoever, I didn’t even know it was there.”

Some help he was–as usual. Typical isn’t it, you can never find a good speleologist when you want one?

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blorenge

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2115 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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I hated to think what my blood pressure was like and as for stress hormones–they’d be off the scale. I’m seriously thinking of getting a ball and chain for Trish, though she’d most likely use it for demolishing more than arguments.

I walked out to the mouth of the cave and tried to see what I might glean from looking at the striations of the stone. Nothing much came to mind other than how pretty some of them were in their rich tones.

I was wondering how best to get help, given the paucity of mobile phone signals when Trish calmly walked out of the cave and asked what all the fuss was about.

“How did you get out?” I demanded after checking she was unhurt.

“The same way I went in. I only went for a wee.”

“Danny and Cindy have gone looking for you,” accused Livvie.

“I didn’t ask them to,” replied her sister defensively.

“You coulda said where you were going.”

“ I said, I’m going for a wee, what’s in here?”

“You were small enough to squeeze back the way you went, the other two are probably too big.” I offered.

“There’s some daylight coming in from somewhere.”

“Which means there’s got to be a hole outside somewhere.” I looked at Trish and she nodded. “But have they gone the right way?”

She shrugged, “I dunno.”

“Can’t get a signal,” fumed Simon.

“Shouldn’t think grouse have much need of mobiles,” I chided.

“Oh that’s all we need,” Simon nodded towards the low cloud or mist which was heading our way.

“Trish thinks she saw light entering the cave from above.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Stay here with the others while we see if we can find the hole, it might provide an alternative way out.”

“You’ll get lost in the mist.”

“No we won’t, I’ve got my Garmin in my bag.” I pulled it out and established the position of the cave mouth, then went inside to try and determine where the light might be entering but could get no signal. So much for modern technology.

After a couple of minutes thought, I stood in the entrance to the cave and asked Trish to walk towards the fissure and to count her steps. Watching her I was able to make a guess at the direction of the fissure and thus the holes in the roof of the cave.

We left Simon muttering but in charge of the remaining girls while we walked quickly along the small ridge the caves were under. Some ten minutes later we were able to start climbing. The mist or fine rain was beginning to reach is and the grass and other herbage became wet quite quickly, making it even more treacherous under foot.

Visibility began to close in and we couldn’t see much more than about fifty feet ahead. Our search became ever more forlorn and dangerous and I asked Trish to hold my hand so I didn’t lose her again.

As we were walking virtually blind, I used my compass and Garmin to direct us to a spot where the light might have been entering the cave. Ten more minutes brought us to that spot but there was nothing but a gorse bush. Trish was so cross that she picked up a stone and hurled it into the bush only for it to clatter after it fell through the bush. We both looked at each other and walked carefully to the bush.

Creeping under it on all fours, having taken off my Lowe rucksack, I discovered under some broken rocks there was a hole going down into the ground. I asked Trish to pass me my torch and whistle. I told her to stay by my bag and to take her own off. If anything happened to me, she was to use my GPS to find her way back bearing in mind that the edge of the cliff was less than fifty yards away, but which direction in the mist was the difficulty. She knew how to use the Garmin and I asked her to just reverse the directions and follow them and they would take her back to Simon.

I scrambled over the rocks and peered into the darkness below. I blew the whistle several times and waited. For a moment I thought I heard voices, then a flash of light–someone was swinging a torch about. I whistled again. Danni called back to me.

I shone my torch and he said he was in a passageway about ten feet high and about the same wide. There was nothing to climb up.

At least we knew where they were, once we could organise a rescue. I dropped them in some chocolate bars and told them to stay there, we’d get help but it would take some time as a fog had descended. I also told them to conserve their torch battery.

Now we knew where to come, I’d marked the spot on my GPS, we set off to find our way back to Simon. Much of it was simply following our earlier footsteps in the rank vegetation but occasionally I had to use the reverse journey facility and my compass. It took about half an hour to get back.

Simon was ecstatic that we’d found them all we had to do was go back to the castle and get help, then he looked out and saw the fog. Following our footsteps back would be very difficult and possibly dangerous journey of about four miles.

“If only we had some rope, we could get them out.”

“Can’t you knit us some?” he asked unhelpfully.

“Very funny.”

“Pity we couldn’t use wire,” he said to no one in particular.

“Why where did you see some of that?”

“About a hundred yards back down the track, they’re repairing fences.”

“Show me,” I insisted and telling the girls to stay in the cave and not move, we went back towards the wire he’d seen. After ten minutes of frustration we found it and then discovered we had nothing with which to cut it, so my idea of using it instead of rope was no use. Then something orange caught my eye. Some wooden boxes secured with bailer twine wrapped around them.

After undoing the knot, we discovered about twenty feet of the twine. For those not versed with this rural fix all, bailer twine is used for bailing straw and other cereal stalks and is enormously strong and is usually bright orange or blue. We could try for a rescue if Simon felt up to it. He did.

Back to the cave we collected the others and using the same method as before we found our way back to the gorse bush and the entrance to the cave. I asked the children to stay quiet and to stand still as it was dangerous and more holes might occur. That frightened them and they did as I asked.

Then tying the end of the twine to a bottle of water I threw it down the hole and the voices down below confirmed they could see it. My plan was simple, tie a loop in the bottom to hold a foot, hang on tight and Simon and I would haul them up to the surface.

Danni seemed more enthusiastic then Cindy who seemed to wimp out somewhat. However, he wanted her to go first. Reluctantly she agreed. By wrapping her arms and legs around the twine, she managed to get hauled straight off the ground–Simon pulling like a small pony heaved the girl to within a couple of feet of the surface where I was able to hold out my rucksack and she grabbed the belt enabling me to haul her out and a few minutes later, grubby but safe she emerged to join the others.

Danni being bigger would be more of a challenge but Simon suggested he was more than capable of hauling his daughter out of the pit. I tied a bit of stick to the end of the twine and dropped it back down.

Simon began to heave and very slowly Danni started to rise. It seemed like hours before I felt him pulling on my rucksack handle and I could help to haul him out. He scrambled up and I grabbed his hand pulling him safe. Finally, we both crept out from under the gorse bush and we hugged both of us weeping with delight. Smon came to join us and I noticed his hands were ripped to shreds where the twine had cut into them. He’d said nothing about his discomfort and I kissed him and thanked him for his huge effort.

“D’you think you can navigate us home?” he asked.

“Of course. I have no sense of direction but this thing does.” I waved the GPS and calling the others to come together we set off back towards the cave and thence to the castle. It was going to be a very long walk.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2116 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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I was right, the journey back to the castle was awful, the mist seemed to get even thicker but thankfully, the sponsors of David Millar’s cycling team, came through and after over two hours of difficult walking, we at last saw the shadow of the stony edifice emerge from the gloom. The girls ran on ahead, except Danni and Cindy, both of whom were in quiet moods. Given they’d probably been frightened by being stuck in the cave and the nature of our makeshift rescue, they had a few things to reflect upon.

“Can I phone my mum when we get inside?” asked Cindy.

“Course you can,” replied Simon grimacing at his torn and bloodied hands. I put my arm through his and whispered, ‘my hero,’ which seemed to make him smile. Certainly without his strength, we’d never have got them out by ourselves, and a rescue team could have taken some time to assemble. They could have been stuck there for hours. If Cindy tells her mum, she’ll be driving up next day to collect her.

Danni had a few scratches on her arms and legs from the edge of the rocks but they seemed to improve with a shower and a change of clothing. However, what really bucked us all up was a bowl of Mrs Cuddy’s chicken broth which warmed us and gave us back some pep. She’d made Simon soak his hands in Bicarbonate of soda and that seemed to take some of the sting out of them–at least enough for him to be able to hold a spoon.

We were all tired and after a DVD we all pretty well went to bed. I managed to ask Cindy what her mum had said about the rescue. “Oh I didn’t tell her about that, I just said we’d been out walking on the moors and a mist came down and you’d had to lead us home with your sat nav.”

“So it wasn’t too scary?”

“Oh yeah, I was like um–nearly pooing my pants–but Danni said, ‘Just wait my mum will get us out of this.’ So I stayed with her and she was right. She told me people have adventures when you’re about, so I’m like, really glad I came.”

“Oh, really?”

“Oh yeah, it woulda been dead borin’ at home, but this is great fun.” Seems like we have another adrenalin addict–oh boy.

Danni was less enthused. “I spoilt my leggings, they’ve got big holes in them.”

“We’ll get you some more, darling.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“I promise.”

“No, maybe I’d like to go back to my jeans.”

“Okay, we’ll get you some jeans in Perth, I’m sure one of the chains will have some, New Look or...”

“Maybe some boy ones?”

“Boy cut jeans, we’ll have to see what they’ve got–perhaps a pretty belt to go with them.”

“No, boy jeans–I think I might like to go back to being a boy.”

“What about the dance?”

“What about it?”

“Well you’re little friend from the ball will be coming and expecting to see you in a dress again. I’ve got your breast forms.”

“What if I don’t want to go to the dance in a dress?”

“A skirt and top will be okay if we can find a nice one.”

“Muuum, maybe I’d like to be a boy again.”

“Yes alright, after we go home.”

“No, now.”

“You can’t.”

“Why not?”

“You don’t have any boy clothes here.”

“Well buy some then.”

“No, you have a house full of them in Portsmouth, you’ll just have to stay in girl mode until we get home.”

“That’s not fair.”

“You were asked if you wanted to come as a girl or a boy, you chose a girl, I packed for a girl.”

“You coulda packed some boy stuff as well.”

“You gave me no indication that you were likely to want to wear boy clothes again. In fact I was beginning to wonder if you were going to ask me to enrol you at St Claires.”

“But I’m a boy.”

“Danni, you are wearing a skirt and top with ribbons in your hair, earrings, makeup and nail varnish–I don’t see a boy.”

“Grrr,” she growled. “All right, but can we discuss it tomorrow?”

“Of course we can, but remember we have the dance to organise tomorrow amongst other things.”

“Bloody dance, felt a right prat last time.”

“From what the others said you acquitted yourself quite well.”

“Yeah, except for the kid with the hands everywhere.”

“I’d heard you’d kissed him.”

He blushed, “I’m goin’ to bed.”

“Don’t I get a kiss?”

He reluctantly pecked me on the cheek and went off to his room.

“What was all that about?” asked Simon, gingerly rubbing some sort of ointment onto his hands.

“Oh nothing, I think Danni might be tiring of her enthusiasm for things girly.”

“Oh.”

“Would you like me to do that for you?”

“Help yourself.”

I did. I took the ointment, which was quite greasy and started to rub a little very gently into his skin. “Round and round the garden, like a teddy bear...”

“Very funny,” he said meaning the exact opposite.

“Shut up and keep still,” I replied feeling the energy moving down my arms and into his hands.

“Jeez that’s hot, it’s burning, babes.”

“Hush,” I scolded and he went quiet. A couple of minutes later he seemed to drop off to sleep. I looked at his hands and they’d healed completely. “Si.” He didn’t move.

“Simon,” I shook him quite vigorously. He didn’t open his eyes or speak. My heart was now in my throat–not a good place to have it. I shook him and slapped his face gently–still no response.

“Just wait here a moment, darling, I’m going to get some cold water–that might take you out of your trance.

He pretended to come round, “Where am I?” he said faking it.

“In Russia.”

“Russia? What are we doing there?”

“Awaiting interrogation by the KGB.”

“You’re joking.”

“Yes, I am as a matter of fact.”

“Bitch,” he said quietly.

“Fake,” I said back.

“Had you going for a minute, didn’t it?”

“Not for one second.”

“So why did you get so frantic trying to rouse me?”

“Because I care about you.”

“Really?”

“No,” I slapped my head. “Why do I bother, I’m married to a cretin.”

“I knew you’d find out one day.”

“Simon, I’ve known for a very long time.”

“How was that?”

“Are we playing cricket or discussing something?”

“Okay, I’ll play safe. How did you know some time ago?”

“You asked me to go out with you even after I tipped a glass of wine on your best shirt. Only a cretin would ask me to go out with them.”

“There you go again putting yourself down again.”

There was a knock at the bedroom door and I went to answer it. “Oh, Mr Dunstan.”

“Sorry to disturb you, milady, but could you and the laird come downstairs, the police are here.”

My stomach flipped and a cold sensation filled it.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2117 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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I hastily pulled on a robe over my pyjamas and scuffed on some slippers. Simon pulled on some trousers and a sweater. He led me down to the reception room where a uniformed and a plain clothes copper were waiting.

“Guid even’, sir, ma’am, I’m DS McGonnagle and this is constable Poor. Sorry t’ disturb yer even’ but I wis asked tae come an’ speak tae ye aboot somethin’ which has recently arisen.”

We both nodded for him to continue.

“Yer hae’ing a barn dance the day efter t’morrow?”

“Yes, for the estate staff.”

“Aye, well be aware that we hae an escaped criminal, a nasty piece o’ work called Jimmy O’Dare, who broke oot o’ polis custody th’ morn. He’s a record o’violence against women, an’ we ken ye’ve yer dochters wi’ ye, not to mention yer lovely wife.”

“What does he look like, this Jimmy O’Dare?”

“Och he’s aboot six twa wi’ red hair an’ a tattoo o’ a swastika on his richt erm.”

“Sounds charming,” said Simon sarcastically.

“Aye, he’s a richt charmer a’richt–smashed the face o’ a woman in Perth t’ a pulp because she telt him no.”

My tummy went very cold as I imagined this poor woman. “How is the woman he assaulted?” I asked.

“She wis taken doon tae Glasgow fa’ emergency surgery.”

“I hope she’ll be alright.”

“I’m sure she’s in guid hands.”

“What are you doing to find this animal?” asked Simon.

“We’ve got teams oot searchin’ an’ road blocks set up. We’ll get him nay doubt, but it takes time, an’ he kens th’ area well.”

“Thank you for warning us, might it be worth having an officer at the dance tomorrow?” I asked.

“I’m sure it could be arranged, ma’am.”

“Thank you, it would make us feel a bit safer.”

He nodded politely.

“Would you care for a cup of tea?”

“No thanks, we havenae time, c’mon Poor, get yer bum in action.” They left and Dunstan returned.

“Can I get you anything?” he asked.

“I’d love a cuppa, thank you Mr Dunstan.”

“Sir?”

“Go on, I’ll have one too–in the bedroom?”

“Very good, sir, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Mr Dunstan.”

We went back upstairs and within ten minutes he was knocking on the door with a tray of cups and saucers, a pot of tea and a jug of milk. “If that’ll be all, ma’am?”

“Yes thank you, Mr Dunstan.”

“It’s jest Dunstan, ma’am.”

“I know, Mr Dunstan. I’m also aware that mister is a courtesy title. Goodnight, Mr Dunstan.”

He smiled, “Guid night, ma’am.”

“What was all that about?” asked Simon accepting the cup of tea I poured him.

“All what?”

“With Dunstan–don’t get too familiar with the staff.”

“Simon, that man has been a slave here for twenty years, the least I can give him is the courtesy of being recognised as a fellow human being. The only difference between him and you is a few million pounds.”

He shrugged, “I pay him.”

“You pay him for his work, not to be obsequious.”

“Okay, point taken.”

“Yeah, well don’t correct me when I tell the children to address all the staff by the title of mister or miss or whatever.”

“Okay. Overturn two hundred years of history, see if I care.”

“I’m modernising. As lady of the house, I believe it’s my prerogative to update rules and so on.”

“Drink your tea,” was all he said so I suspect he wasn’t entirely in approval of the twenty first century.

We finally got to bed after discussing the escaped convict and deciding that we’d speak to the children at breakfast and also talk to the staff, or ask Mr Dunstan to do so.

It was a bit brighter the next morning, the weather at any rate. I wasn’t sure that I was and Lizzie’s squawks did little to improve my temper. However, I did realise what was happening, even though I was dreaming about sheep for some reason and for a moment her cries fitted in with the bleats of the sheep.

I cleaned her up and fed her while Simon organised some tea, then it was down to breakfast and having rounded up all the children we warned them of this escapee from justice and advised them to come and tell us if they saw anyone suspicious.

I also briefed Mr Dunstan and asked him to make the rest of the staff aware. He told me he’d heard something on the radio that morning. I asked if that included the woman in hospital the thug had assaulted. He reported that it did and that she was very ill but stable. I hate men who hit women, and that isn’t just because I’m a woman, it’s just not–well cricket.

We took the children to Perth and bought Danni some more leggings and a pair of jeans. She seemed to be quite happy to be in girl mode again, so what happened yesterday I wasn’t sure. She decided she’d wear her dress for the dance, so we didn’t need any more of those, but I got caught for a pair of shoes by Phoebe, and various books and DVDs with the others. Simon always seemed to be in another part of the shop when they wanted something–still, I’d get my own back later.

We had lunch in Perth at a very nice restaurant and Simon coughed up for that; which made me feel a bit better. Then it was off to a warehouse place for bunting and assorted decorations for the barn dance. It was just as well we’d taken both cars, we needed them to carry it all.

The late afternoon and evening were taken up with supervising some of the estate workers in setting up the barn for the dance. They built a stage which I assumed would be for a disco, but I was told they had a live band as well. The kids were very excited and I wondered if we’d have trouble getting them to bed, but we didn’t, they zonked after all the fresh air and exercise, mind you, I wasn’t too far behind them.

The next morning I was awake before Lizzie started so had the luxury of being able to have a wee before she heard me moving about. She squawked as usual then tried talking to me, as usual only this time I definitely heard, ‘Ma ma.’ I told Simon who simply retorted, “We’re still not keeping her.” Poor little bugger could get very confused when Neal is able to take her back.

After breakfast we all helped do some more clearing or tidying in the barn before the contractors came in and laid a temporary dance floor–looked like I could wear some tidy shoes after all providing I kept to the paths which are all concrete or tarmac.

After lunch, it became a mad race for bathrooms and checking dresses for creases, then a light and early dinner and Phoebe and I spent an hour or more sorting the girl’s makeup and hair, before doing our own.

Outside the band had arrived and the roadies were sorting the equipment while inside the excitement was mounting as we all finished our preparations for the dance. It was going to be an exciting evening, of that I was sure.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2118 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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I hate formal occasions, but here we were Simon and I with all the children around us in front of a large group of people. Simon welcomed them to the dance and said there’d be low alcohol drinks available free and food later, but as people lived all over the place these days, he wasn’t prepared to encourage them to drink and drive. There were some groans but most of them seemed to understand his logic.

The DJ started playing music and people went to the bars or stood about talking. Of course Trish and Livvie, assisted by Meems started the dancing bopping and suddenly jiving to the music. I was astonished–they were jiving, Trish being slightly smaller took the girl’s part and Livvie was spinning her about like a top. Then it was Trish and Mima, with Mima dancing the girl’s part while Trish spun her around, then the three of them were dancing together with a whole crowd clapping them to the music. Finally the track ended and everyone applauded. They’d obviously been practicing because it certainly wasn’t spontaneous, it was too polished for that.

After the three musketeers had strutted their stuff, the rest of the dance goers took to the floor and it looked as if everyone was having a good time. I stood watching with Simon, his arm around my waist and he was pleased with how it was all going. But like the rest of my life, it couldn’t last, could it? What happened however, shocked us all.

In the middle of a slowish dance a middle aged man strode onto the dance floor and grabbed a young woman by the wrist, dragged her away from the young man she was dancing with and then slapped her across the face.

“Hoo dare ye show me up like this?” shouted the man and I assumed it was his daughter or wife. It wasn’t, it was his son. I nearly dislocated my jaw my mouth fell open so wide.

The man grabbed her hair and it came off in his hand, it was a wig. Gasps ran through the audience. “Look at ye, dressed up like a dog’s dinner, ye bring shame on me an’ yer mither. Hoo dare ye? Mixing wi’ these decent people, ye unnatural thing, ye can get oot o’ ma hoose, I niver want ye back,” he ranted and shoved her so hard she fell over.

“Do something,” I said pushing Simon. He went to the stage and I rushed to help the young ‘lady’ who was escorted by her partner off the dance floor. I led them back to the house and sent Trish to find Phoebe.

Simon had the father escorted out of the dance telling him he’d see him tomorrow. Then he told everyone to ignore what had happened that Stanebury estates was an equal opportunities employer regardless of belief, gender, sexual orientation, colour or any other difference.

The music started again and Simon followed us into the kitchen. The young ‘woman’ was crying, making a mess of her makeup and her partner was alternately fuming and sympathetic.

Phoebe arrived having missed the fireworks, so that concerned me a little–what was she up to? Doubtless Trishlock Holmes would tell me later. I got her to tidy up our victim, to sort her wig and makeup while I talked with the boyfriend.

It seems that we had yet another transgender person present–well there had to be a hundred there–but even so it was pushing things from a statistical viewpoint. The boyfriend’s name was Callum and he’d known Althea as boy who wasn’t quite right for years. They were sixteen and once Alistair had explained about Althea, everything had become clear. They liked each other but more as brother and sister and he helped her become Althea whenever they had a chance, so when the dance happened, she was eligible to come through her father who worked on the estate, though he didn’t get wind of what she was doing until her sister told him. He apparently knew of her cross-dressing but because he belonged to a narrow minded Presbyterian church, or kirk, he tried to beat it out of her. He failed of course and was only going to succeed in either driving her to suicide or to leaving home.

The housekeeper witnessed the incident and said they had room in the servants quarter Althea could use for a while, to which Simon added, “As long as she needs it.” Callum shook Simon’s hand and thanked him.

When I asked Callum what his family would say when they heard what had happened, he shrugged, “They know and like Althea, so it won’t make any difference.”

Althea appeared having been restored to her pristine condition, actually she now looked much better, Phoebe’s skill with the wig and makeup having improved things, I told them to go back out there and enjoy themselves. Simon led the way showing the management was supporting them, which is one better than saying it. Instead of people avoiding them, they got a round of applause and Simon told her to keep a dance for him, which had them all cheering.

My good deed for the day over, I slipped off my shoes and sat down to share a cuppa with Mrs Cuddy to ‘restore us to vigour’ she’d said smiling. Fifteen minutes later I was outside telling Simon the food was coming out and to be ready to announce it in five minutes. The caterers were busy laying out a huge buffet meal in an adjacent marquee.

Before I could escape he grabbed me and hauled me onto the dance floor for a rock and roll number and we showed Trish and Livvie we could jive a bit too. Just as well, because it was about the only dance I could do without risking his foot health, and in three inch stilettos, that was a serious risk.

When the record finished, Simon announced the food was ready and as people moved towards the marquee, the live band came on to the stage and began tuning up–they were obviously doing a set after the food. I suspected, I’d be better off avoiding the noise, it hurt my ears–or it did in uni. Mind you I could cope with a full symphony orchestra — a la proms, but not a pop group and their five hundred watt amps.

The food smelt good, so I followed the queue into the tent where I saw a much happier looking Althea chatting with several people while Callum went for food for the two. I also noticed Danni standing with a boy, whom I presumed was Richard Ralph, waiting to get their food and they weren’t standing as if they were new acquaintances. I really wasn’t sure what was going on in Danni’s mind at all, but my saturation therapy certainly wasn’t working the way I expected it to.

The three younger girls had worked their way to the front of the queue and turned around with plates stacked with sausages and cheese on sticks, with crisps and tiny sandwiches. They wouldn’t need any supper; that was certain. They stopped to talk with Danni and the boy and again it seemed perfectly normal. So that had to be Richard Raph.

Then I was distracted by a couple of the staff telling me how much they were enjoying themselves and that Ali’s dad was total prat. Then Simon pushed in alongside me and we waited our turn for food in the queue. I had some salad, some cheese and onion on sticks and a couple of tuna rolls–tiny little rolls but they had the magic ingredient, so if there were any left later I’d have some more.

The eating over, the band was introduced and suddenly the night was rent by bass guitars and more. The dancing was country style, square dances and such with a caller so it wasn’t quite as bad as I’d expected, but why is it as soon as I get on a dance floor I can’t remember which is right and left. I embarrassed myself for a few minutes then withdrew on the pretence of checking the little one.

As I returned to the fray, I mean the dance, I saw a red headed man skulking at the food tent. I sent for the constable we’d had attached for the evening and pointed him out. “That’s him, that’s Jimmy O’Dare,” and he rushed towards the fugitive who grabbed a knife from the table which had been used for cutting a gateau and grabbed the nearest person to him, it was Phoebe. My heart sank and people began screaming. Two or three of the men approached O’Dare but he threatened to hurt Phoebe, if he did, I’d see he regretted it as long as he lived, so for several seconds at least.

He backed towards the rear of the tent and I saw Trish running away squealing, except the squeals didn’t sound quite right, she was up to something. Goodness, we could end up with two of my children at risk of being hostages or hurt. I moved towards the man who was now holding the knife against Phoebe’s throat. I felt like threatening him, but that wouldn’t have helped.

I spotted a shadow behind the tent and looked down, a pair of hands were tying his boot laces together–Trish, she’s something else. I moved closer to O’Dare and Phoebe. I noticed Danni and Richard were edging closer too, they were standing next to a bowl of apples.

I walked up to the man and demanded he release my daughter. He laughed and moved to step towards me, stumbled and in that split second I snatched Phoebe and threw both of us onto the carpet on the ground, as soon as I did, Danni and Richard pelted the man with apples, Simon and two other of the men, together with the young copper jumped him and he was wrestled to the ground and handcuffed. No one was hurt, Phoebe had quite a scare, Danni showed why she plays cricket and Trish scared the life out of me yet again.

Yes all in all, the Stanebury dance 2013 had proven to be a very exciting night.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2119 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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The police took O’Dare away, he was cursing me and saying he’d get me. Simon came between us and said very quietly, “If you set foot on my land or near my family, I’ll personally send you back in a body bag.”

O’Dare wriggled free of the two policemen holding him, “Ye dinna frichten me,” he spat at Simon. Not the cleverest thing to do to an enraged Cameron. Amongst much cheering, Simon lamped him, they had to carry him out to the van.

The two policemen claimed they hadn’t seen anything as the now waking thug was stuffed in the back of the policevan. “We dinna like men wha hit women,” said the one policeman.

“If he comes near my wife, he might not live to regret it,” Simon told them.

“Aye, we ken she’s a certain reputation,” replied the copper smiling at me.

Eventually the party broke up and I spent some time talking with Phoebe who was still a little upset. I told her the knife wasn’t sharp and before he could have done her any harm Simon would have been on him. I might have been there first, but Simon was pretty quick to apprehend him once Phoebe was out of the way.

Where was Pia? I discovered that’s where Phoebe was, sitting talking with Pia, who’d wanted to dance with a boy but then was overcome with all sorts of inhibitions. I really hadn’t noticed she was missing until she returned after the incident with O’Dare. By that time Phoebe had spoken to the boy in question and explained Pia was very shy.

Cindy had been having a whale of a time dancing with half a dozen different boys and a bit of smooching with one of them, as I discovered Danni had been doing with Richard Ralph. Sometime in the near future I would need to talk with Danni and find out what was going on. One minute she wants to be a boy again and the next she’s dancing with a boy and snogging him.

The three younger girls were having a ball, and they danced until the fell asleep from exhaustion. Once the dance was over, I sent them up to bed and they were all asleep within minutes, I didn’t even have to tell them a story.

Over a cup of tea, I was too wound up to sleep, I had long chat with Althea–why couldn’t she call herself Ali, Alistair could easily become Alice or Alison. She said she hadn’t thought of it like that, and she said she liked being called Ali or Alice.

Classic transsexual story, knew something wasn’t right but not what was wrong until she had a sister and realised that she should have been a girl as well. She tried to tell her parents who wouldn’t listen, especially her father who was rather a bully.

“I’m not sure what my husband and the estate manager will do tomorrow.”

“Please dinna let them sack ma faither.”

“My husband has very strong feelings about equal opportunities for minorities, he once sacked a senior executive at the bank for homophobic behaviour.”

“Please, ma faither’s a guid man, he jest disnae understand aboot me.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I dinna ken, I’ll hae tae gang back tae school, an’ they’ll all ken whit happened here.” She burst into tears.

“There’s a girl’s school in Perth, if we could get you in there would you want to go as a girl?”

“Och, ye’ll nae be able tae dae that, it’s very exclusive.”

“You’d be surprised what I can do. Would you consider it?”

“Aye, I would.”

“Right off to bed with you, don’t forget to take your makeup off. Tomorrow we’ll have to see what clothes you have.”

“I’ve some clothes at Callum’s hoose.”

“Okay, we’ll get them tomorrow.” I sent her off to bed, Phoebe had loaned her a nightdress–okay on the promise of a new one–kids aren’t half mercenary these days.

I spoke to Simon when we went to bed and explained what was what and that I would be speaking with the girl’s doctor the next day. He told me it was a Dr Sinclair and he was a lovely old chap. I also told him about my idea for her to go to a new school. He swallowed, it’s a private school.

“So, the estate could sponsor her.”

“We’re not made of money, you know?”

“I know, make her help about the house at weekends, Mrs Cuddy would probably be glad of the company.”

“Before interfering, we’d need to speak with the legal team. She’s only sixteen, so a minor in Scottish law.”

“She’s homeless, he threw her out in front of a large number of witnesses.”

“Yes, that’s our strongest point. Have a chat with Sandy in the morning, bugger my hand hurts,” he rubbed his knuckles.

“I suspect O’Dare’s chin hurts more.”

“Yeah, a good un’ wasn’t it?”

“He was restrained.”

“He threatened my wife.”

“I wasn’t worried by it.”

“No, but I was–if you’d hit him it might have killed him.”

“Simon, you make me sound like some homicidal maniac.”

“Yes, but a very beautiful one–ouch.”

The next morning after sorting out the banshee with the timer, we went down to breakfast and Ali joined us. I went to the office after I’d eaten, taking my tea with me, Ali and Phoebe were getting on well together. Simon was already in the office. “Dr Sinclair will see you at nine.” It was now half past seven.

“I’ll have to see what I can scrape together for her to wear.”

“Call the boyfriend, didn’t she have stuff there?”

“She did.”

“Sandy Fife from the estate legal team has a meeting booked with a judge to apply for temporary custody. We’ll need to get her seen by a gender specialist.”

“Who? I don’t know anyone up here?”

“Stephanie is on her way, or will be in a couple of hours, she’s flying to Perth airport arriving about lunch time.”

“Simon, you are wonderful.”

“I know, but I can stand you repeating it.” So I did.

“I didn’t know there was an airport here.”

“It’s at Scone about three miles north of the city.”

“Okay, I’ll go and tell Ali what’s happening.”

“Fine, I’ll pick up Paul in the Jag, you can use the Merc.”

“I don’t want to drive the people carrier.”

“Okay, I’ll use the estate Range Rover, I’m seeing that idiot MacDuff.”

“Lay on MacDuff,” I said quoting the bard.

“That’s Ali’s father. I’ve a good mind to sack him.”

“Can’t you just reprimand him, his stupidity has lost him one child already.”

“I’ll see, if he pisses me off, he’s history.”

“What does he do?”

“Can’t remember, but Paul will know.”

“I don’t recall seeing Paul yesterday.”

“You didn’t, his mother’s in hospital.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, she’s not very well at all.”

“Perhaps I could call by to see her later?”

“I’m sure she’d appreciate that, visit from the laird’s wife.”

“Umm,” I nodded, laird’s wife–huh!

Callum’s mother arrived with a suitcase full of clothes which belonged to Ali. Phoebe and Ali went off to sort out something to wear to the doctor. “I’m sae glad ye’re sortin’ this oot, she’s needed tae see a doctor fa’ ages.”

“I hear Dr Sinclair is very helpful.”

“Och, he’s a sweetie.”

He was too. He agreed that she seemed gender dysphoric and that it explained a few things about her which he’d not been able to put his finger on before. Classic transsexual syndrome, but only if you’re looking for it.

Next visit was to Sandy Fife in Perth, at his office. He’d made an appointment to speak with a judge in chambers at ten, we had fifteen minutes to get to the courthouse. Thankfully the Jaguar was up to it with Sandy navigating.

The judge was confused for a moment, then Sandy explained the whole story, I told them what I’d witnessed at the dance and Ali, burst into tears when she explained about how she’d tried to be a boy for her dad but couldn’t do it anymore. She said she’d rather die than live as a boy.

The judge was moved by her case and awarded the estate custody of Alice MacDuff, he told her to register the name change. I explained we had a specialist psychiatrist flying up from Portsmouth to see her this afternoon. He said he wanted a report from her and if she upheld the diagnosis he’d set in motion the custody on a more permanent basis. Mrs Cuddy and Mr Dunstan would act in loco parentis for her in the interim.

At eleven we stopped for coffee, then a quick race round the shops to get a few more bits and pieces for our new girl, and off to the airport to collect Stephanie.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2120 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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In affectionate memory of our editrix in chief, Holly Hart, who gave so freely of her time, advice and love.

“Stephanie, this is Alice MacDuff; Alice, this Dr Stephanie Cauldwell.” They shook hands and I took Steph’s bag and dumped in the boot of the car. We stopped for lunch at a pub that Sandy had recommended and we had a very good lunch.

I explained my plan that I’d take them to Stanebury and take Trish with me to see Paul’s mum who wasn’t very well. Stephanie smiled at this knowing why I was taking the human computer with me, a two pronged blue light attack on her illness. She okayed it and I drove them to the castle. As we crossed the moat Stephanie let out a sigh, “Jesus H Christ, and this your holiday home?”

“Yeah, I suppose it is,” I said smirking.

“I knew Simon was well off but this is something else.”

“Gets a bit draughty in the cold weather.”

“I’ll bet.” Her eyes nearly came out on stalks when Mr Dunstan took her bag and led her into the castle. “Is this for real?” she whispered to me, “Your very own Jeeves.”

I asked Dunstan to organise a room where Stephanie could work and I asked her to see Alice and Danni, then Cindy and Pia. In her room I spoke about my confusion regarding Danni, who didn’t seem to know what she wanted.

“She’s not just trying to please you is she?”

“If that was the case she’d never have stopped being a boy, I don’t want any more girls, I’ve got as many as I can cope with now.”

“What about this latest recruit, Alice, is it?”

“She’s going to be staying here with Mrs Cuddy and Dunstan and assuming you’re in agreement, I’ll try and get her into the girl’s school in Perth.”

“That’s a pretty big step for someone with so little experience of girlhood, they’re going to spot her a mile off.”

“What am I supposed to do? Send her to her usual school where they’ll all have heard of what happened last night.”

“Okay, I can see that would be a problem.”

“So it’s either home schooling or the girl’s school, she’s due to start her higher this year, so it’s pretty important.”

“When do they go back in Portsmouth?”

“Trish and the others go back about the second week in September–oh no, I couldn’t cope with any others–especially if Danni’s still running round in skirts. Remember I’ve got Neal’s baby as well to cope with.”

“Yeah. But you’ve got some help with, Jacquie, isn’t it?”

“And David.”

“You didn’t bring him up to roast an ox or two, I don’t suppose.”

“After the lunch you ate, girl, I’m surprised you can even think of food.”

“Look, I was up early, had to take the little one to my mother and besides whenever I think of you, I tend to think food–conditioning I suppose.”

“Yeah, but my name isn’t Pavlov.”

“Bow wow.” She said and we both fell about laughing.

“I must go and see this sick lady.”

“Still raising the dead, then?”

“Dunno, haven’t tried it for ages but I feel drawn to this one, so I think I’m meant to try.”

“What’s wrong with her?”

“I don’t kn–oh, she’s got CHD with CKD.”

“Really.”

“What’s that?” I asked having seen the letters in my mind.

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“Congestive heart disease and chronic kidney disease. Often go together, usually with hypertension and sometimes as an adjunct to diabetes.”

“Just something easy to start with then?”

“Yeah, basically–quite how you’ll manage it without them asking awkward questions will be interesting.”

“Thanks.” I hoped I wasn’t there just to help ease her passing, that always upsets me.

I collected Trish and we drove back to Perth and thence to the hospital. We parked on street in a space that was just vacated as we arrived, so time wouldn’t be a constant niggle about being booked for parking beyond the ticket time.

We found reception quite easily and then the coronary care ward. I spoke to the ward sister who wasn’t pleased that we were early for visiting, by about three hours.

“I’m sorry about that.”

“Wha ‘re ye anyway?”

“I’m her son’s employer’s wife.”

She went through each of the words in my statement and didn’t come up with much. “I thocht he worked up yon Stanebury estate?”

“He does, he’s the estate manager.”

“And yer husband employs him?”

“Yes.”

“Oh for goodness sake, Mummy, stop playing games. She’s Lady Catherine Cameron.”

“Och, why didnae ye say in the first place?”

I thought I had–shows how much I know–and this woman runs a cardiac ward? Instead of saying anything I simply smiled at her. “First door on the richt, take as long as ye like. The estate pays for oor nurses Chrismas party.”

See, bribery and corruption work everytime?

When we entered the room it felt as if the poor woman was nearly dead. The monitors were clicking away to themselves but her life force was only hanging on by a thread. Trish picked up on it as well.

“Let’s give it a try, eh?” I suggested and she shrugged.

I lowered the bed and sat beside it on a chair taking the rather chilled hand of the seriously ill woman. She opened her eyes smiled at me then closed them again and I half expected to hear the alarms go off but they didn’t.

“Sit beside me,” I instructed Trish. “Your job is to pull me back if I start to go with her, got that?”

“How will I know?”

“You’ll know.”

“What do I do?”

“You’ll know that too.” I hoped she did because I had no idea what I was on about, but something told me to say it to her.

“Do I hold your hand?”

“Not for the moment, you need to hold your energy in reserve in case we need a quick boost.”

“Okay,” she said sounding not a bit convinced.

I took, Mary’s hand and felt my energy flowing into her at quite a rate, I didn’t have time to even think about what I was doing, i seemed to be sucked down into her world. She was floating away from her body attached by just a very fine golden thread. I sent out a loop of blue energy and tried to pull her back to her body but it appeared that something else was pulling against me. When I tried to see what it was it appeared to be an amorphous dark blob but it was very strong.

I tried to loop myself to the earth to stop me being pulled along with Mary, should the blob start to win, which looked very likely the way things were going. I tried flooding her body with light and for a moment she seemed to be moving back towards me.

I called her and told her to follow the blue light. I surrounded her in light and she seemed to be moving towards me more quickly. I began to think I was going to win, when the blob threw some darkness over her and it sucked up my energy like negative blotting paper.

I tried throwing light at it but it just absorbed the energy. I felt myself being pulled towards the darkness, Mary having slipped out of sight. My own strength seemed to be ebbing and my chest felt tight–I was going to die and Trish was oblivious of it.

I tried to call to her but I felt so weak. All the people depending on me, and I was going to let them down. Then I felt as if I was no longer alone, I opened my eyes and beside me stood the ghost of Stanebury. “Are ye goin’ tae let them tak’ ye wi’oot a fecht? I’m disappointed wi’ ye, Catherine Cameron.”

“Ask my daughter to help me, please–I beseech you.” I started to slip into unconsciousness when suddenly Trish was pulling me back.

“Mummy, I love you, don’t go,” she called to me and I got this huge burst of energy from somewhere, it was bright pink and it reinvigorated me. It also made me think.

I started sending love towards whatever it was that was taking Mary from me. I felt the pull starting to weaken, and I sent more and more love. In a huge flash of pink and gold it suddenly relinquished its hold and I began to feel Mary being returned to us.

By the time she’d drifted back into her body, I’d sorted the clot that was blocking her coronary arteries and lowered her blood pressure enough to rest her kidneys. She was going to make it–all thanks to Trish and a ghost.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2121 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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I felt myself awakening from what had been like a bad dream. I was still sitting next to Paul’s mother who was sleeping. Trish was standing in front of me pulling on my hands and talking excitedly.

“Hello, darling,” I said to her and he flung herself at me giving me a hug which must have equalled that of a young grizzly bear.

“I thought you were dying,” she said holding back the tears.

“Why d’you think I had you there to support me?”

“I don’t know, Mummy.”

“To keep me safe, which you did beautifully.”

“Only because the old lady told me what to do.”

“You saw her then?”

“Yes, shouldn’t I?”

“I asked her to tell you to come and help me, I’m glad she did.”

“Who was she, Mummy?”

“She’s know as the Grey Lady of Stanebury...”

I was interrupted by Paul’s mother, “She’s reputed tae be the wife o’ a laird who didnae do her job properly and there wis a famine or some ither catastrophe and many people died. On her death bed, they say she vowed to makes sure that her successors would do better or she’d pester them until they did. If she’s appearing tae ye, then ye must be connected tae Stanebury and be close tae thae laird.”

“How d’you feel?” I asked her still cuddling Trish.

“Much better thanks tae ye.”

“I think we’re both indebted to this young lady, she’s the one who came and got us.”

“Aye, she’s certainly connected tae the estate, isn’t she?”

“What does that mean, Mummy?”

“It means that for the Grey Lady to appear to you, you have to be well connected.”

“Well that’s through you, isn’t it? You’re Daddy’s wife an’ he’s the boss.”

“So, you’re the Lady Catherine?”

“Yes,” I glared at Trish. I was hoping to be gone before she woke up and without her knowing who I was, though I suppose the nurses might have told her.

“Did you know, you’re the third Lady Catherine.”

“No I didn’t, but it’s a common enough name.”

“No it isn’t, there are always a few about, but it’s not usually common.”

“There might have been more in previous days.”

“No, it’s not that a popular a name, but each one has been special.”

“Well of course,” I puffed myself up and she smiled.

“The first was two hundred years ago and she helped save loads of Jacobites who would have been persecuted by the English.”

“I see. Wasn’t that just being helpful to one’s countrymen?”

“No, because she was a fervent supporter of the Hanoverians.”

“So why didn’t she turn them in?”

“History didn’t say, but dozens if not hundreds were saved by her.”

“What about number two?”

“She perished on the Titanic.”

“Poor woman.” I commented hoping it didn’t sound patronizing.

“Poor in wealth she wasn’t, nor in spirit. She gave up her place in a lifeboat for some children from third class. Her husband was going to die and she chose to die with him rather than live without him, and in doing so helped several children.”

“A very brave lady.”

“Yes.”

“So, unlike them, I’m a trifle ordinary.”

“Anything but, I doubt either of them could have battled as you did to rescue my soul.”

“That’s a bit on an exaggeration,” I suggested.

“It isn’t, those demons had me and weren’t going to let go until they’d taken me for keeps–when you turned up and fought to save me. You’re a veritable angel.”

“Mummy’s always being called an angel,” said Trish dropping me in it once again.

“I’m sure she is.”

“Me an’ my sisters think she is.”

“I suspect they may be richt.”

“Me an’ Livvie usually are,” she said without a hint of self consciousness.

“I can well believe that.”

“I’ll ask Paul to come later on,” I offered.

“Oh do, he’ll be so surprised, thanks to you. You were here when they had the problems with the mafia, weren’t you?”

“Yes we were,” said Trish. “Mummy caught the leader of the baddies.”

“No I didn’t.”

“You did, I seen it. You saved her life when she’d been shot.”

“Did I?” I lied casually, “I don’t remember.”

“An’ you made the film about dormices.”

“Dormice,” I corrected.

“Yeah well, you know what I mean.”

“Dormice?” Queried Mary.

“Yes, Mummy is the greatest expert in the world.”

I blushed, “I study them,” I said bashfully.

“Whit wonderful things tae study,” she said, “I saw a documentary on the television aboot them, last year.”

“That was Mummy,” beamed Trish, still virtually sitting on my lap.

“Was it now? Your mummy is very clever as well as being beautiful.”

“That’s what Daddy says, she’s a doctor.”

“A medical doctor as well, my my, she is clever.”

I was blushing like a fire extinguisher, “No, I’m not a medical doctor, I’m a biologist.”

“She’s Dr Cathy Watts, like me.”

“You’re Cathy Watts, too, are ye?”

“No, I’m Trish Watts.”

“But you’re mither is married tae a Cameron?” she looked at Trish with a bemused expression.

“She married after they had me.”

“Oh, I see,” the expression wasn’t one of approval.

“Oh, I’m not a bastard,” she said and I don’t know about Mary, but I almost died. “I’m adopted. Mummy can’t have children, so she and Daddy adopted loads–there’s me an’ Mima, an’ Livvie, an Danni, an’ Julie an’Sammi, an’ Cate, an’ Phoebe and Jacquie–and Billie died.”

“My goodness, you have a real houseful.”

“Yeah, but we all love Mummy an’ Daddy of course, but we all think Mummy is really a angel.”

Apart from blushing profusely, I began to wonder if that school was as good as its reputation would have me believe. They certainly haven’t taught her much grammar.

“I think we have to go, nice to meet you, Mary.”

“Thank ye both fa comin’, ye’ve saved ma life.”

“Perhaps.” We shook hands and left.

“You did save her life, Mummy–with my help, of course.”

“Of course.” I added as we got back into the car. “Let’s see what Stephanie has to say.”

“Do I have to see her?”

“Why, what’s wrong with seeing her?”

“Nothin’, but I’m cured–I’m a girl.”

“You sound like a piece of bacon.”

“Bacon?” Trish squeaked.

“Yes, cured–bacon is cured–we’re healed.”

“I’m a healed piece of bacon,” she said and snorted to herself.

According to Mrs Cuddy, Stephanie saw Alice for two hours, had a quick tea break, then saw Cindy for half an hour, and Danni, who was still in with her. I accepted the cuppa while Trish went off to find the others who were with Phoebe playing some sort of game.

“Where’s Alice now?” I asked sipping my tea.

“Och, she’s awa’ wi’ Callum, they’ve gone fa’ a walk.”

“How did she seem?”

“Jest wonderful, she says she feels like a proper girl at last, thanks tae ye.”

“I think Simon played quite a part in it, as well as people like yourself, supporting her.”

“Weel, we were all young once.” She smiled knowingly, so there’s a story there somewhere. “An’ ye still are, of course.”

“I don’t know, Mrs Cuddy, sometimes I think this lot will make me old before my time.”

“Och no, angels dinna get auld like the rest o’ us;” then that enigmatic smile again, damn it.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2122 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

---

I was reading the Guardian when Danni came dashing past and out of the door. I was caught completely by surprise, so I didn’t know whether to run after her or what. As I sat there somewhat stunned, Cindy went dashing off presumably after Danni. I waited to see if anyone else rushed out and if so, I’d check there’d been a fire alarm I didn’t hear.

Stephanie was the next to enter the room, “You haven’t got a cuppa handy, have you?” She looked, ‘fair wabbit’–exhausted for those wi’ nae Scots. I told her so and she looked at me and said, “Rabbit? What the hell has a rabbit got to do with anything?”

I made a discreet withdrawal and organised some tea. After she’d had a cuppa and a slice of cake, Mrs Cuddy makes the most exquisite almond slice, Stephanie looked at me but before she could say anything, I interrupted. “So what happened with Danni?”

“I thought you were calling her Danielle?”

“Danni spelt the girl’s way.”

“Oh, all right, a very confused young man.”

“Man, not woman?”

She looked around to make sure no one was eavesdropping, “He’s a very complex case, basically he’d like to be both.”

“Both? You mean boy and girl?”

“Yes. As a boy he finds himself attracted to girls and as a girl she finds herself attracted to boys.”

“Right,” I said probably meaning anything but.

“He/she is a fascinating case.”

“Quite.” Well what else could I say.

“Absolutely fascinating. Core identity, is, I’m pretty sure, male. However, there’s a strong element of the female there too.”

“But this only seems to have happened since the assault.”

“Yes, it seems that was the awakening experience, he felt like a girl when he was penetrated–and part of him liked it.”

“What?” I gasped, although it was something I’d suspected.

“Not as much as Pia, who seems to have subsumed a male identity into a female one, thought the castration element is in itself worrying, perhaps an even more complex case.”

“More complex than Danni?”

“Oh yes, Danni is straightforward compartmentalisation.”

“That sounds like an oxymoron to me.”

“Yes very funny, when in girl mode she completely shuts off the male identity, yet is aware of her life in full, so as Danielle, she can remember what Dan the boy has done, and the same the other way round.”

“And that is straightforward?”

“Yes–at the moment it is.”

“So it could change?”

“Probably will in time.”

“Oh boy. I thought one of my children was going to stay in boy mode.”

“Oh dear, don’t tell me you’re transphobic?” Stephanie smirked.

“It isn’t funny, Steph. I hoped that just one of my male born children wanted to stay that way. Instead I now have someone I’m not sure how to cope with, and if I can’t what chance the others?”

“What’s the problem–you dealt with the others transitioning and yourself–where’s the problem?”

“The others knew what they were, although Billie took a while to decide–but that was okay–now I have one who could be switching back and fore.”

“Yes, so?”

“That’s going to be difficult.”

“For you or Danni?”

“I suspect both.”

“What if he just liked to cross dress?”

“What about it?”

“Would you cope with that?”

“I’d have to.”

“Knowing you, you’d be out buying him dresses.”

“So?”

“What’s the difference?”

“What you mean with this compartmentalisation?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t know. I mean if he’s going to be dressing as a girl in his late teens or after to attract boys, he’s going to become increasingly male as the hormones kick in–hairy chest and all that.”

“So, he could get it waxed or shaved.”

“I know, but he’s going to become frustrated, the others have all had hormone therapy to become more female and he’d be flat chested and hairy with a deep voice and five o’clock shadow.”

“Same as loads of male cross dressers.”

“I suppose.”

“You’re not sure about cross dressers, are you?”

I shrugged, it wasn’t something I’d thought about once I’d realised it wasn’t the clothes that attracted me, they just enabled me to project what was going on inside. In most cross dressers, I didn’t think that was the case–but to me, they were a completely different species.

“Why because you think their motives are different and thus questionable?”

“I don’t know. I think questionable is the wrong word, because I don’t understand them doesn’t mean they aren’t as legitimate as me–well of course they are, I’m confused, Stephanie.”

“So I see.”

“I mean, as soon as I realised there were girls and boys, I’ve thought of myself as a girl. In other words as female. It was never about the clothes–though at times I can quite enjoy being all girly, and for my own sake as well as to excite Simon.”

“Nothing wrong with that, girl, we all do it.”

“I know, but to imagine feeling like that and then to enjoy being a boy or man and being macho or whatever and enjoying it, and wanting to bed girls. I’m sorry, it doesn’t compute for me, though I appreciate we’re all different.”

“I didn’t think you’d struggle this much, Cathy.”

“Neither did I. What you said doesn’t really surprise me–I’ve known he wasn’t transsexual all along.”

“How did you know that?”

“I don’t know, some form of deep recognition of others. I don’t know how it works.”

“Super-sensitivity, you’re scanning others for it all the time without recognising you’re doing it because it’s become second nature to you. You pick up on the slightest inference or gesture by another transgender woman that proves she’s not a cisgendered woman. Then quite possibly you’re comparing her to yourself, and if she doesn’t pick up on you, you’re superior.”

“Oh come off it, Steph, I’m well aware how fortunate I’ve been.”

“You’re almost imperceptible as anything but a normal female, quite remarkable.”

“Thank you I think.”

“What I find interesting is that you’re reacting like a cisgendered female.”

“What d’you mean?”

“You’re reacting like someone with no experience of gender different children.”

“But I have–and I thought dealt with it quite well. I’ve also had no problem with David having gone the other way, it’s being both boy and girl that confuses me.”

“Is that because it reminds you of your own childhood, a time you’d rather forget?”

“I don’t know, I’m just unsettled and confused–I need some time to get my head round it–that’s all.”

“You sure?”

“No, I’m not sure of anything any more.” For some unknown reason I was fighting back the tears. “I need some air,” I said and rose leaving Stephanie drinking her tea. Outside, the weather was clearing a little and I walked around the upper gallery looking down at the forest, watching the leaves moving in the light wind. I wasn’t thinking, I was trying not to think, just let what I’d learned sink into my head.

Why I found it so difficult eluded me, though I knew partly it was the loss of my son that distressed me. I didn’t need any further daughters, I had plenty, I wanted a son for my husband to bond with. I was well aware that had I been a normal female, able to conceive and bear children, I could have presented him with girls and he’d have coped, but to have lost what I thought was a regular boy, my son–that somehow has got through my defences, and for now I feel bereft.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2123 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

---

“What’s the matter, Mummy?” I started, I hadn’t heard anyone approach so rapt was I in my thoughts.

“Hello, darling.”

“You’ve been crying.”

“Have I?” I knew damn well I had.

“Is it about me?”

“No, sweetheart.”

“I’ve seen Stephanie, she says I’m normal–ha–imagine that, me normal.”

“Yeah, you are normal.”

“I’m not am I?”

“Trish, you are the most normal genius I know.”

She beamed at me, “Thank you, Mummy.” She gave me a hug and for a moment I forgot about my loss. Then she reminded me, “Now, tell me why you were crying.”

“It wasn’t about you.”

“We’ve done that bit, remember?”

Sometimes I wondered which one of us was the eight year old. “I’m just tired, took too much of my energy to help Paul’s mum.”

“Oh yes, he’s here with Daddy, I told him that his mum was going to be okay.” One of these days ‘Foghorn Fanny’ is going to drop me so far into the mire I won’t be able to talk my way out of it.

“Was that wise?”

“I thought so, he was worried that she was going to be worse and not be able to recognise him.”

“I see.” I didn’t but who cares?

“So I said we’d both worked on her and she was looking much better before we left, Daddy then took him to one side, so I expect they’ll be along any time to burn you as a witch.”

“Probably,” I said but wasn’t really listening.

“Where shall I tell them to build the bonfire?”

“Oh anywhere.”

“Won’t it catch the castle alight?”

“What?” I had no idea what she was talking about.

“The bonfire.”

“What bonfire?” I don’t remember anyone talking about a bonfire.

“The one they’re going to build.”

“They? Who are they?”

“The ones who’re going to burn you as a witch.”

“Trish, what are you on about?”

“See, I knew you weren’t listening.”

Damn, she had me there, normally she only talks about shaving the cat or getting a tattoo. “Sorry, darling, I’m a little preoccupied.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“My mind is on other things.”

“I’d never have guessed.”

“You cheeky little madam.”

She chuckled and I chuckled with her. “That’s better, now are you going to speak to Paul, ’cos he’s waiting.”

“Oh goodness, look at me, go and tell him I’ll be along in a few minutes.”

“Alright, but you’d better hurry.”

It was about ten minutes later when I went down to the sitting room where Paul was seated talking to Simon, presumably about estate business. Their ages were about the same, early thirties and they’d known each other for years.

“Hi, Babes,” Simon always called me that even though I’d told him I prefer my own name. He gave me a hug and kiss on the cheek. I’d repaired my makeup, the little I’d been wearing and hoped the red eye wouldn’t show–I’d actually used pink eye shadow to try and disguise it.

“I was telling Paul that you sometimes have this ability to talk people out of illnesses.”

I smiled at Paul, “Hello,” I said quietly to them.

“Cathy,” he smiled back. “I hear Mum is doing quite well since you went to see her with Trish.”

“Ah, little miss ego,” I smiled.

He looked wryly at me for a moment before saying, “She does have a certain sort of je ne sais quoi.”

“Some things are better not known.”

He laughed.

“I did tell Paul to keep this under his hat,” Simon added.

I nodded.

“Don’t worry my lips are sealed and I’ll talk to Mum.”

“It’s usually the hospital we have to worry about, but we have quite a bit of influence there, so hopefully we can hush them up.” Simon was planning further ahead than I was. I was still consumed with dealing with my son/daughter.

“Simon was asking about bringing the children up to the farm tomorrow, I’ve spoken to the farm manager and he’s fine about it.”

I nodded, I didn’t feel much like conversation.

“Right, I have to get off, I’ll speak to them about those trees, oh and the eagles were around a couple of days ago, perhaps Cathy would like to see them?”

I nodded again, “Thank you, that would be good.”

“I’ll get one of the gillies to take you.”

He left with Simon seeing him off. I sat and waited for the salvo, it wasn’t long in coming. “What is the matter with you?”

I shrugged, “Tired, I suppose.”

“From doing his mother?”

“Yeah, it was worse than I thought.”

“Trish said she had to help you back.”

“Without her, I’d have died as well.”

He was about to take a bite of biscuit. “Died?”

“Yes, sometimes when I have to dig really deep to find them, it’s at some risk. I realised that was going to happen and asked Trish to watch out for me and to pull me back if necessary.”

“That’s it, you’re not doing any more of this stuff–I can’t afford to lose you.”

“It doesn’t work like that, and you know it.”

“Well it ought to, it’s ridiculous that a fit and healthy young woman should die trying to save someone whose sell by date has expired.”

“How d’you know mine hasn’t expired as well?”

He put the biscuit down. “Cathy, are you serious–because if you are–I’ll never let you out of my sight again. I couldn’t bear to lose you–you know that.”

“I don’t know, I mean, it nearly expired the day I first met Stella.”

“Oh the terminator–yeah, but we can’t get her to drive a car with a big cushion on the front.” He paused, “What else is bothering you?”

“Who said anything else was?”

“A certain psychiatrist who shall remain nameless.”

“She’ll be headless as well as nameless if she breaks a confidence again.”

“Ah, so I was right?”

“What d’you mean?”

“I haven’t seen Stephanie, but I know you were worried about the kids, especially Danni and Pia.”

I was going to have to watch him, he was cleverer than I thought. “So, I’m worried about Danni.”

“And Pia?”

“Pia isn’t our responsibility, Danni is.”

I told him what Stephanie had said about our son, he looked concerned then he looked at me. “This has thrown you, hasn’t it–his flitting back and fore.”

“I don’t know how to handle it, so what that says about me I hate to think.”

“I must admit I’m surprised. I’d have put money upon you being one of the few people who could deal with it.”

“You’re not concerned about having a child who swaps gender role when he or she feels like it?”

“No, but I’m not there as often as you. Isn’t it what happens in those Gaby stories you read to the kids?”

“That’s fiction, this is real.”

“Does that matter, you seem to cope with it there and have taught the children to do so as well, what’s the difference in applying that acceptance to your own child?”

He was definitely getting cleverer. “I understand what you mean and I don’t disagree. This difficulty is something I wasn’t expecting and it’s caught me on the raw for some reason.”

Simon walked over and hugged me. “I know you love our children with all your heart and I know you’ll deal with this.”

“I’m trying,” I said sniffing back the tears.

The door was knocked and in ran Mr Dunstan, “Sorry tae disturb ye, Sir, Madam, but ye’d better come quickly...”

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2124 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

---

We followed Dunstan down the staircase and out towards the drawbridge. He trotted over it and breathless pointed up to the woodland, “Up there,” he gasped.

I looked up in line with his pointing finger and thought I could see a figure in amongst the trees. Cindy’s voice called down, “Help.”

I took off towards the spot that I thought she’d appeared, the hill quickly slowing my dash to more of a fast walk. Simon I knew was not far behind me judging by the puffing, panting and swearing that preceded him. I’d covered about a hundred yards when I tripped over a fallen branch I didn’t see. I cursed, rubbed my shin and picked myself up on legs which now felt like jelly. I glanced behind, Simon had slowed to a walk. He called to check I was okay, I declared I was, and continued my ascent through the mainly pine wood.

When I finally got to Cindy, she was with Danni and Pia and the three of them were standing looking up at a body hanging from a tree. It was Alice, I gasped and threw up. It was obvious that she’d been dead for some time, so blue light even with a defibrillator would do her no good.

I felt so sad—I thought I’d sorted her immediate problems, obviously she didn’t think so. Simon trudged up behind us and after swearing threw up as well. He looked at me and said, “Why?” I shrugged, I had no answer.

I asked him to call the police and I escorted the three youngsters down the hill back towards the castle. As she was dead, it seemed better to leave things for the police to sort out, rather than us cut her down. Simon called the police on his mobile and gave them directions, so by the time we’d got down to the castle the first car had arrived.

Dunstan directed the two young male officers up the woodland towards where Simon was shouting and waving. The three youngsters, now back in safety, began to take on board what they’d witnessed and they were crying and shaking. I tried to hug them but it required help from Stephanie to calm them down. She was visibly shaken when she heard what had transpired.

More police cars and an ambulance arrived but we were almost oblivious to the commotion, we had enough excitement of our own to deal with in the form of three very upset children.

In the end, Stephanie sedated them and we put them to bed for a couple of hours, trying to keep the other children away from them for the moment. Trish was naturally very curious but to her credit she didn’t push her luck like she usually does.

I asked Mrs Cuddy to find out where Callum was, she returned a few minutes saying that his mother was bringing him over. She hadn’t told him what had happened other than there appeared to have been an accident and he was required to come quickly.

The police wanted to speak to the children but couldn’t because they were sleeping, they spoke to me and I told them we’d responded to the call from the children to go and assist them and what we saw was still there when the police arrived.

I explained what had transpired the night before but that we’d thought we had things under control. They spoke briefly to Stephanie and then went off to speak to the GP and then to inform her parents. I just felt so sad. Just when it looks as if everything someone wants is coming together it overwhelms them and they can’t face it, taking a permanent solution to a temporary situation. She’d hanged herself with her own belt—poor kid.

Callum, when he arrived was devastated when he found out what had happened. I told him that we all thought they’d gone off together but he corrected us. She’d told him she wanted some time to herself and he had things to do, so went home. His mother was very distressed and took some time to calm down. Mrs Cuddy took her off for a cuppa which helped quite a bit.

The police took statements from anyone and everyone. To me it looked like a straightforward suicide, but I’m no expert and I suppose it could have been something else unlikely though it was.

Simon, when he returned went for a shower and had a stiff drink before he’d speak to anyone. The police took a formal statement from him and he later spoke to me. He kept asking why and I had no answers, neither did anyone else.

Stephanie agreed with me that it probably overwhelmed her and she panicked perhaps wondering what her family or others who knew her would say. Teen suicides don’t always leave a note apparently. The police looked through her possessions at the castle and nothing was found except a text for Callum, saying she was sorry.

Life’s a bitch and then you die, for some it seems worse than others. I remembered my own attempt, less dramatic then Alice’s and thankfully less successful. Did I fully intend to kill myself? At the time I thought I did, perhaps I didn’t. Only prompt action saved me and administration of the antidote to paracetamol by the A&E medical staff. I was very lucky, Alice wasn’t. Nor were the three children who found her.

They woke, spoke to the police with Stephanie present, and then cried buckets after the cops had gone. I did throw blue light around them to try and mollify them a little, it might have helped. I wasn’t looking forward to the night, which is when these things tend to manifest in bad dreams.

I slept in a bedroom with the three discoverers, and they did wake once or twice. Cindy seemed most affected and woke twice. I reassured her and she went back to sleep. Danni woke crying asking if she’d be doing the same. I reassured her she wouldn’t. Pia woke and went for a wee. Given what had happened I followed her to the bathroom and back, she went back to sleep without seemingly being upset—until later on when she woke me, busy talking in her sleep. She appeared to be talking to Alice, which was a bit creepy and I shivered as I thought about it.

I interrupted her and told her she was in bed asleep and to go back to sleep as she was safe and secure. She did just that. Simon and Phoebe kept an eye on the other children, the three mouseketeers slept with Simon, and Phoebe kept an eye on the two little ones. Stephanie was there if we needed her but she’d worked hard all day and needed a break from the children, especially as she’d be in use the next day.

The children went to the farm the next day but the events of the day before had somewhat taken the polish off the holiday and when I asked them if they’d prefer to go home, they all said they would. We left for Portsmouth the next morning and I began to wonder if the place was cursed to me as something unpleasant happened on the two occasions I’d been there. Simon said no, and later that night I encountered the Grey Lady and she told me I had nothing to fear from Stanebury. I wasn’t quite so sure, so wouldn’t be dashing up there in a hurry.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2125 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

---

Some semblance of normality returned to the family over the next day or so, we were without Pia or Cindy and I wasn’t sorry about that, though Danni seemed to be here to stay for a bit longer. Given what had happened in Scotland, I wasn’t going to pressure Danni in any shape or form. If he was still running about in skirts in a week or two, I’ll pull him out of school and have him home educated or send him to St Claire’s. I wasn’t happy with the idea but there was no way I was going to cause him to do what Alice had done, which still saddened me and disturbed the children. Stephanie had been calling by each day to check on them for which I was very grateful.

We’d been home a few days when had a call from Mrs Cuddy. Apparently Alice’s father had turned up the worse for drink and demanded to speak to the Sassenach woman who’d corrupted his son and caused him to kill himself–which was a mortal sin.

Paul was at the castle at the time and he went ballistic. He told MacDuff a few home truths–that it was his failure to recognise his daughter’s needs and loading her with all sorts of guilt and negative feelings about herself and her life that caused her to take her own life. Not only that, but I was as Scots as he was. He tore the man off a strip for being drunk and told him that he had a week to pull himself together or he’d sack him.

I told her, “Good for Paul, I’m glad he was there to deal with it.”

“Och that’s nothing, he bumped in to Callum and his mum and he had a go at them tae. Callum’s mither told him whit wis whit, and when he accused Callum of being gay and corrupting his son, Callum punched him, knocking him doon.”

“We’re havin’ a service in memoriam to Alice, pity ye’ll not be here.” I took the date it was in two weeks, I’d have to see how I was fixed for a quick dash up and back by air.

I related all of this to Simon who sad Paul had told him he’d had a run in with MacDuff, and Simon agreed that he could sack him if necessary which seeing as it included a tied cottage, would cause the MacDuffs some discomfort. Paul had only relented from sacking him on the spot was because he knew the man was suffering from the death of his child, not wanting to kick him when he was down. I agreed which surprised Simon.

I was in my study, still analyzing and processing data from the survey when Danni came into my study and sat down on the sofa. “Can we talk, Mummy?”

“Of course we can, sweetheart.”

“I still don’t know what I want, I quite like being a girl, but I like playing football too.”

“You could play football as a girl, Trish does–in fact with both of you in the St Claire’s team, they’d probably win everything.”

“I don’t want to play girl’s soccer, I’m a boy really and I want to play boy’s soccer.”

“I see, you’ve a bit of a dilemma there haven’t you?”

She nodded. “I dunno what to do.”

We discussed what she thought she wanted to do most–play football with the boys, and what that entailed. I told her she could be a girl at evenings and weekends if she wanted, but she thought that wouldn’t be feasible as she played at the weekends and trained in the evenings.

I asked her if she’d spoken to Stephanie about it and she had briefly. Stephanie had suggested she talk it over with Simon and me but she didn’t want to discuss it with her dad, feeling she was letting him down already by being all girly.

“Danni, sweetheart, your dad doesn’t feel you’ve let anyone down, especially him. He thinks you’ve been very brave in exploring this side of your life and he told me that you should take as long as you like. He wants you to be happy.”

She burst into tears and we hugged for a while. “When I saw her, hanging there, I knew she was dead, she looked awful–her face was all purple and her tongue was hanging out. I don’t want to die like that, Mummy.”

“There’s no reason you should, is there? Alice was tormented by her father’s inability to see her as she really was.”

“Like your daddy did with you?”

“For a while, yes, though I was more fortunate than Alice because I had more room to manoeuvre and I was a bit older thus able to resist my father and become myself.” I didn’t say that he’d nearly beaten me to death and that I’d tried to finish the job mainly because I didn’t want her to think it was the normal thing to do if life got very tough.

“I believe Alice became overwhelmed by the prospect of living as a girl and while much of her wanted to do it, she was frightened of doing it by herself.”

“But she had us, Mummy.”

“For a week or two, it would take months to learn to become a young woman.”

“She coulda come an’ stayed with us, then we coulda looked after her.”

“It’s a very kind idea, sweetheart, but not feasible.”

“Why not, she coulda shared my room.”

“It isn’t just about having a room, it’s also about the fact she’d have left everyone she knew behind, Callum and his mum, Mrs Cuddy even her family, for all the grief they caused her–she still loved them.”

“But it’s not fair, Mummy, she died because her dad was an arsehole.”

That’s not a very ladylike expression, is it?”

“But it’s true.”

“He might well be one, but I don’t wish to hear you saying it about him or anyone else.”

“Okay.”

“She died because she got herself all muddled and couldn’t see the wood for the trees. It all looked so frightening and she couldn’t cope, which is so sad because she would have coped in time. All these things take time, but young people are in too big a hurry and don’t realise the implications and consequences of their actions.”

“I wish she hadn’t of died.”

I ignored the grammar and hugged her. “We all love you and want you to be happy, so you have to choose what you wish to do–which of these things is the priority and then we’ll try and sort out how you achieve them. You haven’t got to decide today have you?”

“No,”

“Good, then let me know when you have to and what you decide and I’ll help you if I can.”

She nodded and then asked, “Is Pia going to become a girl?”

“I don’t know, kiddo, Pia isn’t my responsibility so I presume she’ll talk it over with her parents and then act upon it, but I suspect she might try to become a girl, though I don’t know if she’ll succeed. As you’ve discovered, it isn’t as easy as slipping into a dress, is it?”

“No it isn’t, it’s hard.” She examined her painted fingernails, “Look,” she urged me, “I only did these last night and they’re a mess already–now I’ll have to go and do them again.”

“You could always take the polish off and just go bare nailed.”

“Ugh no, I like painted nails.” With that, she wiped her eyes, blew her nose and went off to do a repair job on her manicure. Oh boy.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2126 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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“Better?” Danni did a very girly thing, arms out in front of her, hands flexed downwards with fingers extended and wiggling.

“Much better,” I commented as required and she smirked and went off smiling to herself, her pink tipped fingers glistening. I hoped someone wasn’t going to have a hard time reverting in a week or two.

It would only take one such gesture or action when back at school to make him a laughing stock and a potential victim, and while he got into several fights over his sister, I suspect being called a girl or a sissy would disempower him, making it hard for him to fight back. Sometimes it’s easier to defend someone else than yourself.

Having experienced some of this myself, I know how the baying for blood by the pack almost paralyses you, how it saps the strength and confuses the mind meaning even simple reflexes like running for it may be compromised as you wait for them to close in with the inevitable outcome.

In theory, I was a reasonable runner, perhaps not a fast enough sprinter to outrun the rugby wing threequarters who also tended to take the sprint prizes in the athletics sports day we had each year at school, but I could outrun most of the other bullyboys. So when then hunted me down, why didn’t I run away–I don’t know. It would certainly have saved me several hidings. Sometimes it felt as if, they’re going to get me anyway, why get hot and sweaty as well? I shook myself, this was not a trip down memory lane I wanted to take, but I feared for Danni.

Pia’s mother phoned. I couldn’t get used to calling Peter, Pia, though in some horrible thick Portsmouth accents, it would sound much the same. I don’t know if Pia or her parents had seen the irony here, probably not.

When Simon came home he was more interested in what Paul was doing with Alice’s dad than what his own kids were up to. I left him talking to Paul and went back to my study and the mammal survey. How could anyone mistake a dormouse for anything else? They have a hairy tail for god’s sake?

I reread the record. ‘Small rufous brown mammal, climbing in tree, white tip to tail. Overall length, 10-12cm’. It was hardly a bloody red squirrel was it, or a pine marten, and woodmice don’t have white tipped tails. Gee whizz. Where was it? Bristol–oh well, that explains a lot. I looked at the name of the informant–Michael Tizzard. Oh no, I remember a Michael Tizzard from school, he was a total arsehole, and I’m surprised I don’t have permanent brain damage from the kicking he once gave me.

Old Whitehead saved me that day and I ended up down the BRI having a brain scan–can’t remember if they found one or not.

I don’t want that to happen to Danni but how do I prevent it? I can’t. Even if I point out what could cause it, he’d either deny such behaviour or become so conscious of it, he’d do it by accident. I don’t mind him sitting with his knees together rather than sprawled with legs apart, but if he smoothes down a skirt he isn’t wearing and it’s spotted, he’s dead meat.

I wasn’t sure whether to include the record for this dormouse or not. It wasn’t sure to the recorder what he’d seen. I’m surprised he saw anything, unless he was near a nest box and scared one out of it by being too noisy. I’ve seen that happen. I checked the grid reference, there were dormice there, three records approved, one of which was mine.

The phone peeped but didn’t ring–could be someone is using it elsewhere in the house. It reminded me of Pia’s mother calling. ‘Did I think Pia was ready to attend a girl’s school?’ I didn’t but for the life of me, I couldn’t find the nastiness to say no. Instead I answered it with a question–What did she think? Was Pia in favour of it? What were the options? Okay, I lied there were at least three questions, probably more, but those were the only ones I could recall.

Essentially, what she said was that: ‘She wasn’t having a boy girl thing, a boy one minute a girl the next.’ I knew exactly what she was saying, but I recognised the prejudice in her case if not in my own. She as good as declared she and her husband had decided for Pia who was going to live as a girl exclusively for a whole year with no reversion to Peter and then re-evaluate in one year’s time. I said nothing except a year is a long time if you made a mistake.

But then surgery is a mistake for life if you got it wrong, as Peter might have done. I didn’t know what to say, except I suspected Peter was gay but didn’t have the insight to see it or perhaps the courage to admit it to himself or anyone else. If she’d said she thought he was gay, I’d have had an entry point–I um, will just rephrase that. If she’d said it, I could have agreed with her which would make her feel more positive about her decision, but she didn’t and therefore I could hardly say anything, could I–oh by the way, Peter is a poofter. I wouldn’t have said it like that, but you know what I mean.

“Mummy, they’re starting the badger cull tonight.” Livvie was upset. I gave her a hug. I was aware of it but somehow more pressing matters had prevented me from thinking about it. “Can’t we stop it?”

“I’m afraid not. I sympathise with the dairy farmers, it must be awful to have a cow destroyed because it has TB, but there is no point in culling badgers, it will only make things worse. Oh that reminded me, I had the local radio phone asking me if I’d take part in a debate on the radio on the badger cull. I told them I wasn’t an expert on badgers. I also made the mistake of saying I thought the cull was wrong. They have since quoted me as an expert saying it was wrong.

I sent them an email complaining that I wasn’t a badger expert, I was the coordinator of the mammal survey. They referred to me as a mammal expert–why don’t they listen?

Simon came in saying he’d just heard the news on the radio and Livvie had told him that they’d been mislabelling me all day and he was champing at the bit to call in the lawyers. Why is everyone so aggressive and violent today–it makes me want to slap them.

I managed to persuade him to calm down and when Livvie had gone back to the television, I asked him if he’d thought about Danni’s dilemma.

“I leave that sort of thing to you, babes, you have a far greater understanding than I do.”

“Why is that?”

“Well you have had experience of being transgendered, even though you’re not anymore.”

I felt like saying I’d had experience of being a girl that no one recognised until I got into my teens when lots of people were genuinely unsure of what I was until I took steps to dispel the ambiguity. Instead I said, “Simon, my life experience is different to anyone else’s, so my take on being in the wrong gender role will be different to Trish’s or Julie’s or anyone else’s.”

“You’d still have more idea than I would.”

That I would agree upon, the average house brick probably has more idea than he does.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2127 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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Simon went off to watch the telly while I fiddled with more records, mammal records. It was about an hour later when Si came back to me, “Come with me,” he said and beckoned. Intrigued I followed. The national news had just ended and on came the local variety, just headlines.

I listened to all the usual stuff, car crashes, jobs created or lost, something on the naval dockyard–like I said the usual, then: ‘According to mammal expert, Dr Cathy Watts, the government’s badger cull was likely to make things worse rather than better. Instead of killing poor wild animals they should tighten up sloppy farming practices and concentrate on developing a vaccine for the cattle, she said. She also commented that no one knows what the exact size of the badger population, and even the mapping the University of Portsmouth has been leading, only shows distribution not population density. Dr Watts is also a leading member of the Mammal Society, who have also criticised the cull as unscientific.’

Just then the phone rang and Danni answered it, “Mummy, it’s for yoo-hoo,” she called sounding in an unnaturally good mood. I wonder what she’d taken, perhaps she could spare some for me?

“Hello?”

“Hi, Cathy, it’s Erin.” What did she want?

“To what to I owe this pleasure,” I said my words dripping with sarcasm.

“Ha bloody ha, Can you come to Bristol tomorrow?”

“What for?”

“Do an interview and appear on a phone-in.”

“Why can’t I do the interview by phone?”

“They haven’t got video phones that are any good yet, and the phone-in is based in Bristol.”

“Who’s up against me?”

“They wanted the Secretary of State, but he was busy shooting badgers or something, so they got the minister for rural affairs or something, Walter Paget, I think.”

“Not the Oxbridge scholar?”

“Is he? He’s a politician so a good education would be wasted on him.”

My tummy flipped over, “I have a horrible feeling that he was on an Oxbridge debating team that demolished ours on, ‘Feminism should be taught in schools,’ or something like it. He was an arsehole and he got up every woman’s nose who was there.”

“Especially yours by the sound of it.”

“Yes,” I didn’t remind her that I was supposed to be a boy in those days and I certainly didn’t wish to remember how I was targeted as a wishy-washy, effeminate liberal supporter of feminism. ‘If that’s what it does to men, let’s ban it now.’ I winced at the memory.

“So, what better time to get back at him?”

“I’ve got better things to do than debate lunacy with a lunatic.”

“No you haven’t, so dress up smartly and be here by half nine at the studio, they’ll be expecting you.”

“How am I supposed to be there at that time, I’ve got a baby to feed.”

“Bring it with you, you can tell them there’s no TB in your milk.”

“Very funny, and it is a her, I’d have to bring her with me.”

“Okay, bring her with you then.”

I’m definitely losing it because I allowed Erin to talk me into going to Bristol. It would mean a very early start–it did. I left at seven and was there at nine with Erin waiting for me. We went into the studios and after being powdered I was stuffed in front of a camera while Erin carried the sleeping Lizzie.

We were taken to hospitality and I fed the little one, changed her and tidied her up. She chattered away in her pram playing with her teething ring and her teddy. She eventually went off to sleep as Erin and I drank coffee and ate Danish pastries. I had had my breakfast early and my tummy was beginning to growl.

I was led through to a sound studio with Erin and the baby, to be joined by some pop star and a dairy farmer. As we waited for the minister we chatted and the baby woke up. I asked the woman, Heather Pettis, who was presenting the show, if it was okay if I fed her. She looked around and everyone nodded approvingly. I’d just picked her up when the minister arrived. He was late and looked as irascible as ever.

He sat down just as I exposed a breast and Lizzie latched on, the expression of disgust on his face was almost palpable. “Couldn’t that wait,” he asked across the table.

“Dr Watts asked everyone’s agreement before starting to feed her daughter,” said the presenter and the producer nodded.

There was a brief interlude of music then we went live. Heather Pettis introduced the arguments and then the members of the panel, mentioning that I was feeding a baby so if anyone heard noises of a baby that was why. The rest of the panel chuckled except our scowling politician, who I was half surprised hadn’t curdled the milk in my breast with his look.

The truth is that no one knows what will happen after the cull, six weeks of shooting badgers on two test areas. The suspicion is that it will possibly get worse because we don’t have population figures and such experts as Lord Krebs, a noted scientist told the government it was making a mistake and should work on vaccines. I was delighted that his opinion was read by the presenter because it concurred with mine.

The farmer, though he hadn’t lost any cattle, knew others who had and he described at least one farmer who went bust and shot himself because of the loss of his herd. He was in favour of the cull because doing something was better than doing nothing.

The pop star was against the cull for scientific reasons and he listed them–again very similar to my own arguments. Turned out he had a PhD in astrophysics or something. I was just glad it wasn’t Brian Cox or I’d have been salivating all through the show.

I said my bit, about guestimates not being good enough to describe populations and that the whole idea was flawed logic manipulated by politicians. Of course Paget had a go at me for that and I defended myself while still feeding Lizzie who’d fallen asleep until I started to talk. I demolished his argument and accused him of misogyny. The pop star then started in on him as well and by the end of the programme he’d been savaged by everyone but the farmer who kept rather quiet.

One of the callers asked if I was the one who made the dormouse film which made Erin smile broadly. Another asked when the harvest mouse one would be finished and I could only hazard a guess at early next year. The pop star, Brian, I think his name was, said he loved my film and looked forward to the next one, Paget scowled even more.

Some caller asked the pop star if he missed Freddie, whom I assumed must have been his wife or something because he said, ‘every day.’ Apparently the show did a poll which suggested sixty six per cent of people were against the cull, but as the pop star said, “The same was true of the war in Iraq, but that didn’t stop it. Governments need to be more accountable.” Everyone except Paget agreed, including the farmer.

We left and Erin and I walked back to my car, having changed tiny wee in the loo. “Who was the pop star?” I asked and she almost fell over laughing.

“Didn’t you hear the introductions?”

“Not really, I was trying to stop Lizzie from eating my headset.”

She shook her head. “You really don’t know who he was?”

“He was quite articulate and has a PhD and probably a few million to go with it.”

“Quite a few.”

“So who was he then?”

“Ever heard of a band called Queen?”

I blushed, “Oh that Freddie...”

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2128 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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“I can’t believe you didn’t get his autograph,” Julie was beside herself with disappointment. “You get to do a radio show with Brian May, and you don’t know who he is! And you talk about badgers. Geez, Mummy, are you crazy?”

“I didn’t catch his name because I was trying to sort Lizzie.”

“But he’s, like famous.”

“So I gather.”

“But, he’s like Queen.”

“No, darling, Elizabeth the second is still queen.”

“The rock group, surely you’ve heard of them?”

“Yes, darling, I have their greatest hits album somewhere, but the only name I knew was Freddie Mercury, who sadly died.”

“Doh,” she said loudly smacking her forehead with the heel of her hand.

“Don’t do that, dear, you’ll give yourself a headache.”

“I can’t believe you, you meet one of the greatest rock stars on the planet, talk to him for an hour and not know who he is.”

“That’s about the gist of it.”

“God, I bet even Dad would know who he is.”

“I think I might have recognised Paul McCartney.” Well, I think I might but he’s not something to do with the RSPCA. I’ll bet if they’d been turning badgers into sausages or crisps, he’d have been protesting.

“Paul McCartney! He’s so old.”
I suppose he is come to think of it, but he’s the only famous rock star I can think of, except for Mick Jagger or Elton John, and they’re just as old, I think.

“You’ll be saying you only know Cliff Richard, next.”

I blushed, “Nah, I was going to say Elvis.”

“If you saw him I’d be a bit worried, Mummy?”

“Why, darling,” I answered trying to read a text as I spoke to her.

“Well, cause he’s been like dead for about a hundred years.”

“I think that’s an exaggeration, Julie.”

Trish walked in and Julie grabbed her, “When did Elvis die, brainbox?”

“Who?”

“Nah, that was Pete Townshend and Roger Daltrey.” I knew some things.

“Elvis, you know–‘Don’t step on my blue suede shoes,’ sang Julie waggling her crotch.

“Who?”

“We’ve done that bit,” I offered confusing things even more.

“What?” said the confused eight year old.

“Can’t think of a pop group called that, can you, Julie?”

Julie rolled her eyes, “This dipstick only sat on a radio show with Brian May and didn’t recognise him.”

“Who’s he?” asked Trish.

“What–you’re not serious?” squeaked an incredulous Julie.

“Now you sound like John McEnroe, dear,” I suggested to the elder of the two girls.

“What?”

“The tennis player–you know used to argue with umpires.”

“How come you know all these old men, Mummy?”

I blushed, “They commentate on Wimbledon.”

“That’s where the Wombles come from, beamed Trish.”

“It’s also where the All England Club is,” I beamed hoping to provoke an opportunity to deliver the whole name.

“What is?”

“Wimbledon, the All England Lawn Tennis and Croquet club.”

“Aren’t those something to do with potatoes?”

“What, darling?” I replied to Julie’s question.

“Croquettes.”

“Very funny, croquet is a game played...”

“With mallets,” said Trish, “we’ve played it here, remember?”

Once she said it I did remember, sadly the lawn hasn’t been short enough to play this year and it’s so dry at the moment, it wouldn’t be good to cut it just now.

“It’s a very dirty game,” suggested Julie, “you can hit people in the balls and things.” Trish blushed and giggled and Julie having got her laugh qualified it, “I mean you can hit their balls all over the lawn.” Trish was laughing even louder which drew in Livvie.

“What’s the matter with her?” Trish was still convulsed with exercising her laughing gear and was unable to tell her, and Julie sounded like an amused hyena. “Mummy?” she demanded.

“Julie said something rude about croquet and Trish is having a laughing fit, I think.”

“Oh, is that all.”

“No,” said Julie, her mascara running down her face, “she,” was added pointing at me, “sat with Brian May on a radio show and didn’t know who he was.

“Who is he?” asked another very bright eight year old.

“Jeez, the lead guitarist from Queen.”

“Who are they?”

The same joke twice wouldn’t really e very funny so I decided to make my getaway while the others were otherwise engaged. It was too late, Simon walked in, he’d taken a half day.

“Did you get his autograph?” he started and I felt a distinct sense of déjá  vu.

“No, she didn’t,” complained Julie.

“Typical,” he said and asked me to make him some tea while he went up and changed.

“Where’s Sammi?” I asked.

“Still working, she’s seeing some girlfriend after work so I said she could use the flat.”

“Oh, thanks for telling me.”

“I just did, didn’t I?” he went off before I could respond except to fill the electrical device and switch it on. When it boiled I made a pot of tea and then poured two cups, the girls had gone, presumably to torment someone else.

“I want to ride my bicycle, I want tae ride ma bike,” sang Tom entering the kitchen. This was turning into something like an episode of Friends or that other American thing about the psychiatrist, Frazier? Or was that about a boxer? Never having sat down and watched either because I didn’t have time or find them as amusing as paint drying, all that was needed was the canned laughter.

“Don’t you start,” I said to Tom who sniggered.

“Fat bottomed girls...” came Simon’s voice returning down the stairs. I took my tea and retreated to my study. I switched on the computer and up came an email from Brian May–I nearly deleted it as a spoof, but it appeared genuine.

‘Sorry, I didn’t realise I was in such esteemed company, Lady Cameron. Apologies for being so remiss. Brian May.’

Oh hell, what do I do now? Respond in kind? Oh well here goes.

‘Dear Dr May, I hadn’t realised who you were until after the reference to your friend and colleague, Freddie Mercury. I’m so sorry, but I’ve never been much into rock music. Apologies, Cathy Cameron nee Watts.’

After nearly having second thoughts I pressed send, I’d committed my stupidity to written form. A few minutes later my computer beeped.

‘Dear Cathy, next time you’re in town give me a shout and we’ll have lunch, Brian.’

Oh my goodness, now what do I do? Perhaps just ignore it and he’ll forget about it quite soon, I’m sure he has better things to do than pretend to entertain non-entities like myself.

My computer beeped again, another one from the lead guitarist. ‘Dear Cathy, excuse my cheek, any chance you could address a meeting at Southampton about the folly of the badger cull, I’m tied up otherwise I’d go myself. There’ll be other speakers but someone from an ecological background would help to give it extra credibility. It’s on Friday evening at eight at the student’s union. Please say you will, Brian.’

Before I did I had to clear it with Tom. I asked him and he looked at me, “Is thae government wrang?”

“I believe so.”

“Then ye’d better awa’ an’ tell ’em.” He smiled and I left before he could sing another chorus of Bicycle.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2129 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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I sent an email to Dr May saying that I would address the meeting and he wrote back and thanked me. He also said he’d introduced me to the organiser as Dr Cathy Watts, and that they, the organisers would be in touch.

Sure enough, half an hour later I had an email asking me to call a number to speak to the organiser of the meeting. Reluctantly, I rang. It was answered by a male voice.

“Hello?”

“Hello, this is Cathy Watts, to who am I speaking?”

“Ah, Brian’s friend.”

It took a moment to compute, “Yes, Dr May.”

“Indeed he is.”

“Who else is talking and what d’you want me to talk about?”

“Can you do the science–social life of badgers, biology, that sort of stuff?”

“I’m sure there are better qualified people than me.”

“We want a balance, most of the speakers are men yet many of the protestors are women, we need women at the debating end too. We heard you on the radio making a fool of that prat from Defra.”

“I thought he rather did that to himself.”

“Yeah but you and Brian heaped the icing on the cake right up to sink him underneath it.”

“Did we?” I hadn’t heard the broadcast even though they were supposed to do me a copy.

“Oh yeah, I’ll run off a CD of the prog if you like, you can collect it tomorrow.”

Tomorrow? Goodness it was Thursday already. “Thank you. This is going to sound silly, but how d’you want me to dress?”

“Anyway you want, as long as you look female.”

“I am female, how would I look any other?” Did he know something he wasn’t telling me?

“Yes I know, but some women scientists look like blokes.”

“I see. Have you seen my film on the dormouse?”

“Film on the dormouse? There was one on the BBC last year with some dolly bird fronting it.”

“Dolly bird? I’ve been called a lot of things but that isn’t one of them.”

“That was you?”

“That’s what it said in the credits, written, presented, directed and produced by me.”

“Wow, wear those shorts and top.”

“I don’t have them any longer,” I did but I wasn’t going to wear them so people would ogle me, the message not the messenger was the important thing. “D’you have a projector?”

“There’ll be one available if you need it.”

“I’m rather hoping it will be needed.”

“You got it.” I felt like correcting him, you have it, is what he should have said, but am I bovvered? Actually, yes.

I sent a few begging emails which I’d check first thing tomorrow. Then I picked up Lizzie and after sending the kids to bed went and sat with Simon. He watched me feed the baby and the sly looks he gave me every now and again meant he was getting randy. It was deliberate, I wanted him to make love to me when we went to bed, but in the interim, I wanted him to make a cup of tea which he acceded to do.

An hour later, I changed the baby and put her to bed then went and cleaned my teeth. Simon cleaned his and waited for me to get into bed. Today I was randy, then I thought about it, it was roughly a month since I’d last felt like this, which lasts two or three days and passes. Even we man-made women appear to have monthly cycles.

The inevitable happened–yeah, just as life got interesting and passionate, the baby woke up and threatened to wake most of the cemetery if I didn’t go and sort her. She was teething and after trying to crush my finger as I rubbed on some Bonjela, she eventually went back to sleep–about quarter of an hour after Simon.

When I awoke Simon had already gone to work, it was about half past seven. I needed tea, so I rose, did a quick bathroom call and after making the tea went to my study. Two of my emails had been answered and positively. I sat and watched the clips they’d sent me and printed off the notes. By the time the girls were down I had a much better idea of badger biology than I’d had before and I had enough film to make a DVD lasting about ten minutes to illustrate my case. I only had to fill the other ten minutes with talk and take questions for the final ten. It wasn’t going to be easy, but I could do it.

I went and had breakfast with the girls, usually Danny didn’t appear at breakfast with them except on school days, but since becoming Danni, he did. It was too weird for words and instead of trying to analyse and explain or even understand, I just went with the flow. He’ll let me know when he’s had enough.

“Can I go and see Pia and Cindy later, Mummy?”

“If you want to, sweetheart.”

“Pia’s going to get her hair done, it’s not fair mine is so short.”

“I’m sure Julie could do something with it to make it more feminine.”

“D’you think so?”

“Yes, but remember, if she does she might not be able to make it boyish again by next week.”

“I’ll just grease it down with gel.”

“Ask her then,” I said as Julie appeared for her breakfast. Instead of Danni asking, I did and she said she’d have to take Danni down to the salon. I said I’d bring her and she agreed to do it first thing if we hurried. We did.

Danni’s collar length mousy hair became a dark red pixie cut which looked really nice and suited her face really well. I offered to pay Julie for her time but she shook her head–she’s family–weird–but family. Thankfully, Danni thought she was joking.

On the drive back home, I was a little concerned that the cut would be unable to be disguised. I noticed Danni looking at it in the vanity mirror of the car. “Like it?”

“Oh yeah, it’s really kewel.”

“What about when you go back to school?”

“Should be alright, lots of kids dye their hair these days.”

I had noticed but usually they’re Goths and dye it black or blond, not auburn pixie hair. Oh well, if push comes to shove, we’ll have to see if it can be dyed some more boyish colour before Danny re-emerges. At least it wasn’t pink. I dropped her off at Cindy’s house–they were going to meet Pia in the town centre, go to the salon with her and while she had her head examined, I assumed the other two would sit and wait or look round the shops. It was an interesting combination, one genuine transgender girl, a mutilated boy who was trying to become a girl, and a boy who was just enjoying the ride as a girl for the moment.

I knew Danni had thirty pounds to play with and presumed the others would have something similar, so unless some unforeseen incident occurred they should be fine and Danni was going to catch the bus back home afterwards.

I arrived home and after checking that the DVD I’d made ran on my computer, I highlighted my notes and went off to play with the girls for the rest of the morning. I know I have Jacquie as a back-up but I’m their parent and it’s good for me to play with them as well as them respect my need for space to work in my study at times.

We messed about in the garden, played catch with a Frisbee thing and generally had fun. David called us in for lunch and in the afternoon, he showed them how to make some fairy cakes in the bread machine and I was allowed to finish the work I needed to do for the evening.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2130 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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I was busy trying to work out the exact phrasing of a sentence to make a pun out of it when my mobile rang. It was Danni.

“I hope you’re not calling to say you can’t make dinner,” I said curtly.

“No, Mummy.” Her voice sounded weak and watery.

“What’s the matter, darling?”

“Some boys,” she sniffed, “from our school, they recognised Pia.” There were sounds of sobbing.

“Where are you?”

“In the toilets.”

“Which toilets?”

“John Lewis.”

“In Southsea?”

“Yes, Mummy.”

“Okay, darling, stay there, I’ll come and find you.” I clicked off my phone grabbed my bag and was dashing outside to the car when I realised I had my slippers on. I charged back in and scuffed on a pair of old trainers. Two minutes later I was haring down the main road towards Southsea and its main shopping area.

I managed to park in Waitrose car park and ran the few hundred yards to the John Lewis department store. My senses heightened by adrenalin I spotted several youths walking about the store as if they were looking for someone. Could this be the troublemakers? I approached one of the staff and pointed them out and suggested they might be acting suspiciously. She agreed and I noticed as I went up the stairs she was pointing them out to security.

I walked into the ladies and paused. “Danielle?” I called but there was no response. There’s only one ladies toilet that I’m aware of. I speed dialled her mobile. “Where are you?”

“In the shoe department.”

“I told you to stay put.”

“They were calling the security people saying there were boys in the ladies toilets.”

“Well stay put this time.”

“Oh oh, they’re after us again.”

I rushed down the stairs dancing past an old lady who complained to my back. Just as I got to the bottom of the staircase, the three girls nearly ran into me. “Whoa, now what is going on?”

Three youths suddenly took evasive action and headed away from the girls when they saw them talking to an adult. “Is there a problem, madam?” asked a security man who looked as if he’d been running a marathon by his red sweating face.

“Yes, those boys were chasing my girls.”

“Girls? These are your girls?”

“One is my daughter and the other two are her friends, why?”

“The boys made allegations that they were boys not girls.”

I made a shocked face, “Are you accusing me of not knowing if I have a boy or a girl?”

“No madam, just repeating the allegations.”

“I see, would you like to call the manager–tell him Lady Cameron would like to speak with him.”

“Um, is that going to be necessary, madam?”

“You seemed to imply my daughter was a boy.”

“Uh, not me, madam, that was what them boys said.”

“And you’re believing them over the child’s mother?”

“No, madam.”

“I think you ought to call the manager.”

“He’s very busy, madam, I’m sure we can resolve this between us.”

“I’m not so sure, I don’t like someone questioning my word or insinuating my daughter isn’t a girl.”

“Of course she’s a girl, they all are, I can see that now–but when we went to speak to them in the toilets they ran off.”

“I’m not surprised. If I had a rather large man chasing me, I’d run.” I stepped further away from him as he began to develop an aroma.

“Yes, okay, I can see that...”

“Is there a problem, Mr Smithers?” up walked some bloke in a suit.

“This lady’s girls were being chased by a group of boys who accused them of all sorts of things, sir.”

“Like what, Mr Smithers?”

“He suggested the boys implied they weren’t girls.”

The man looked as if I’d just told him the moon really was green cheese. He looked down at them, “Clearly the boys were wrong.”

“Quite,” I agreed.

“That was what we were discussing, sir.”

“I hope we haven’t inconvenienced you too much, um Mrs...,” said the suit, whose name badge said he was one Craig Durrant, a departmental manager.

“Cameron, Lady Cameron.”

The man now looked as if he’d done something unpleasant in his pants and had just discovered it. “Lady Cameron, I’m sorry, I didn’t recognise you. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Only stand out of the way, I’d like to get these children home.”

“But of course, Lady Cameron.” He said obsequiously and stepped back for us to pass.

“Thank you, Mr Durrant.” I said as we trooped past.

As we walked away, I heard him berate the security man, “You clot, Smithers, d’you know who that was?” He obviously didn’t. “She only owns High Street bank, that’s who...”

As we were leaving one of the boys was standing by the door as Danni approached it. He yelled something at her and Danni gave the door an extra shove knocking him down. The other two ran off.

I helped pick him up. “I don’t know who you are, sunshine, but if I see you near any of these girls again, I’ll have you arrested, d’you understand?”

“You can’t touch me, bitch.” He said as he turned and ran straight into a police officer.

“What’s goin’ on ’ere?” He asked grabbing the offending boy. “Madam?”

“He and his friends have harassing my daughter and her friends while they came shopping.”

“Oh have they?”

“Do you wish to press charges?”

“I ain’t done nuffin’ wrong, ’ave I?” protested the boy.

“Shurrup, Gilbert, we know you’re a little toerag an’ I’m talking to the lady, alright?” He jerked the boy who shut up.

“I don’t think so officer, but if he or his friends come near my girl and her friends again, I will.”

“Very wise, you ain’t gonna do that, are you, Gilbert, annoy this lady’s girls again?”

“No.” The boy hung his head.

“Thank you, officer.”

“Pleasure, Madam.” We walked on and the copper was reading the riot act to the young thug.

Back in the car, the three of them started laughing–a result of the fright they’d had. I waited until they returned to normal before starting up the Jag and setting off for home.

We dropped off Pia first and I told her I liked her hair, she thanked me and went off waving to the other two. Then we let off Cindy, who hugged Danni and thanked me for the lift. Finally, we went home and Danni thanked me for coming to get them.

“Did you buy anything?”

“No, by the time Pia had had her hair done it was time for lunch. We were just starting to see what was about when we ran into the three boys and they somehow recognised Pia.”

“They must be quite clever because I’m not sure I would. Her makeup has improved.”

“Yeah, Phoebe helped her up in Scotland, didn’t she?”

“She did indeed. Right, young lady, I have work to do before dinner and a trip to Southampton.”

“You don’t think they recognised me, d’you?”

“You said it was Pia they recognised.”

“Maybe it was me–oh hell, I’ll get murdered in school next week.”

“I’ll speak to the headmaster.”

“That won’t do any good.”

“We’ll think of something I’m sure.”

“Yeah? I’m not.”

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2131 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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We had a quick dinner and I changed into a dress and jacket, collected my notes and the DVD and after asking the children to behave, I dashed off to Southampton university, where I eventually found the student’s union building. On entering I was told they’d rescheduled it to the university as the interest shown was greater than expected, the media had also shown an interest and as the BBC and ITV have offices in Southampton, film crews were anticipated. I was glad I hadn’t turned up in old jeans and sweatshirt.

I finally found the man I’d talked to who nearly shook my hand off, “It’s so good to meet you in the flesh, Dr Watts. You’re going to brighten up things no end.”

That sounded ominous. He’d told me I was the only woman speaker surely he didn’t mean that in a sexist sense? I hoped not. He told me they had a projector and a laptop to run it. He then took me to meet the rest of the speakers.

When I saw the chap from Friends of the Earth, I wondered why they needed me to brighten things up, he was carrot redhead, wearing a multicoloured striped jacket over bright green trousers. I was later to find out he knew his stuff and was one of their press spokesmen.

Sitting next to him was a young man who looked like a first year student, he was in jeans and tee shirt with a slogan calling to outlaw the cull. He was apparently a law student and claimed he would demonstrate how the cull was actually illegal. I waited with interest, though didn’t think he was likely to be right.

In a grey suit with a red tie was a member of the local labour party, who’d now come out against the cull as not being supported by science. He was a senior councillor on the local council and I hoped would stick to facts not one-upmanship.

The last was another student type, who’d just come from Somerset where he claimed he and others were obstructing the cull and was going to urge others to do the same. By the state of his clothing and his ‘countryside odour’ it looked as if he’d come straight from the fray.

I sat and waited at the back of the stage with the other speakers having given my DVD to one of the technicians who loaded it into the computer and checked it worked, it did. He gave me the thumbs up and went off to presumably run the technical element of the evening, lights, microphones and my disc.

The hall was filling up and getting quite noisy with the audience talking to each other and the excitement that there would be some fireworks before the event was over. I hoped to light a few rockets myself.

They weren’t sure where to put me in the list of speakers and as I was the only one with any teaching aids, I suggested that perhaps it would be best for me to go last. The chairman, the head of the Biological Sciences department, agreed. I hoped I’d stay awake until my turn.

The activist went first and he excited them by swearing frequently, talking about how they obstructed hunters and the police and protested outside the local NFU offices in Somerset (National Farmer’s Union).

Next came the politician. He spoke reasonably well once he’d got over the first few sentences, calling on the government to pay attention to the scientific evidence which we’d hear shortly from Dr Barnett of FoE and moi. He kept his talk short, took few questions, some off topic which the chairman rejected and then Dr Barnett in his stripy jacket and green pants took the floor. He was very good and he knew his stuff.

He gave loads of data against the government’s apparent scientific support, throwing out facts and figures so quickly, I could hardly take them in. Then he wrote some of them on a wipe clean board and it made the government’s case look very poor, although I knew that wouldn’t stop them shooting badgers because it was a political thing not a scientific one.

After him, the legal student was plain boring. I didn’t understand his case and I don’t think many of the audience did either so it was either so obscure a point of law that no one knew it except him, or he was talking through his backside. I wasn’t sure which.

I brought up the rear and was introduced to the audience as a leading mammal expert, survey coordinator, film-maker, author and university teacher. I added ecologist and field biologist–to which some wag in the front asked if they had biology in fields?

I replied, “The way money is being taken from university budgets, we might be teaching lots of subjects out of doors to save money, giving new meaning to someone asking which field one was in.” It got a laugh and a new wave of anticipation seemed to go across the audience.

I started with a clip from the Wind in the Willows, Kenneth Graham’s anthropomorphic wild life tale of the riverbank. It showed badger as a wise if grumpy old chap who’d rather be sitting at his fireside smoking his pipe than helping the others. People laughed and clapped at this.

Next I showed them footage of badgers as they really are. Two males fighting, a pair mating, little ones at play and a mother feeding her young in the underground set. I showed pictures of sick badgers with TB, and slides of the TB bacillus taken from badgers and cows.

I agreed there was some evidence that badgers did act as vectors but how much that was a factor had yet to be determined as other wildlife such as rabbits, hares, deer and so on might also act as vectors but this hadn’t been quantified nor was there any plan to do so.

I showed charts of what happens when badger populations are disturbed, increased movement occurs, especially of new animals into the area, thereby possibly increasing the infection risk to both badgers and cattle.

I showed a clip of Lord Krebs, a notable scientist criticising the campaign against the badger as a waste of time and money and based upon poor science. I read statements from several scientific bodies, including the RSPB, RSPCA, and Mammal Society.

Finally I asked why the culled badgers weren’t being examined for signs of TB, and finished with Badger, Ratty and Mole along with Toad walking down the road having sorted out the stoats and weasels from Toad Hall.

The audience were very kind and applauded for a few minutes. The chairman stood up and said, “I was so pleased when Dr Watts agreed to speak to us, I had the pleasure of seeing her talk in Portsmouth at a school about dormice and film making and it was as polished a performance as this tonight, thank you, Cathy, for your presentation.”

I took a few questions one or two were good several weren’t and showed that we hadn’t got the scientific evidence over to most people, who were outraged because Mr Brock, looked like a cuddly character. I didn’t like to tell them that a badger has a phenomenally powerful bite and has been known to take the face of a dog sent to fight them.

I collected my stuff, declined to stay for a drink and set off for home. By the time I got there the buzz from performing live was fading and I felt really quite tired. Jacquie made me a cuppa and Simon came to ask how it had gone. I went up to change out of the shoes which were rubbing my toes and also take the dress off, it was too good to sit about in.

I passed Danni’s bedroom as I went to come down and thought I heard a funny noise. I checked, she was curled up on the bed crying, really sobbing her heart out. I went in and sat on the edge of the bed.

“What’s the matter, darling?” I asked rubbing her shoulder.

“I’m dead,” she said sniffing.

“What d’you mean?”

“They know it was me.”

“Who knows what?”

“Those boys,” she said in between sobs, “they know it was me.”

“This afternoon?”

“Yes.”

“How d’you know?”

“They put it on facebook and twitter with photos.”

“And the photos are of you and Pia?”

“Yes,” she sobbed.

“Okay, we can’t do anything tonight, so I want you to try and get some sleep. Then tomorrow we’ll see what we can do.”

“I’m dead, I’m dead,” she kept saying.

“No you’re not, in fact you’re a long way from it. I’ll ask Daddy to speak to the legal department tomorrow and see if we can persuade the various sites to remove the pictures.”

“They won’t, an’ it’s too late, I’m dead. They’ll kill me in school.”

“No they won’t, I won’t let them.”

“You don’t know them like I do.”

“If it looks that bad I’ll withdraw you from the school and suggest if they don’t do something about this bullying, I might just sue them for allowing the assault to happen in the first place. That should focus their minds a little. Now, Missy, I want you to sleep and try to put this out of your mind until the morning, okay. Now give me a kiss and off to sleep.”

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2132 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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Danny had once tried to off himself and promised me he’d never do so again, but he was very upset and I couldn’t take the chance with him. I was tired and now very angry about those little toerags–for two pins I’d have them castrated and their balls flown from the school flagpole. Sadly, in a democracy that isn’t allowed, but I’d see what I could do to even things up a little, Sammi and the police computer came to mind–I was sure the way the copper had spoken to that boy he knew him, which probably meant he had form of some sort–I’m sure it could be entered on his facebook page, two can play at destroying reputations.

I stayed with Danni until she finally went off to sleep, and hearing the big girls come to bed, I slipped out of the room and spoke to Sammi. “Is it possible to hack facebook?”

She gave a look of pure astonishment, “Are you joking?”

“No, I’m deadly serious.”

“If you know what you’re doing you can hack anything, but if they catch you, you’re in deep doo-doo.”

“D’you know someone who could do it?”

“Probably, but it would take a few days to set it up.”

“That’s no good, I want it done now. I want a page taken down and the owner of the page severely embarrassed. I’m prepared to pay but I want no trail back to me.”

“This is very illegal, Mummy.”

“Yes, it’s illegal but it seems putting up photos of Danielle and Pia and giving their usual names isn’t.”

“Who did that?”

I explained. She nodded and came in and took Danni’s laptop up to her room. I went back into sit with my daughter. Half an hour later Sammi came down and beckoned me outside.

“The kid is Jack Gilbert, and he’s a regular scumbag. He’s the year above Danni and has form as long as your arm.”

“How d’you know that?”

“I called in a favour from a friend who checked the police data base, the same friend is going to try and take down the offending page–but it’s difficult–facebook are pretty secure. He’s also going to put up the list of convictions which include ten counts of shoplifting, breaking and entering, assault, terrorising an old lady who used to live next door.”

“She doesn’t now?”

“No she died, it seems he was lucky not to be charged with manslaughter. Oh and he’s been done for attempted blackmail of a gay man.”

“Oh so we have a nice little homophobe, what a pleasure it will be seeing him suffer.”

“He’ll take it down as soon as somebody he knows notices it, but hopefully some people will see it first.”

“I almost wish I could grab him stick him in a bra and panties and high heeled shoes and let him go in the middle of Gunwharf Quay on a Saturday afternoon.”

“Nice idea but it’s again a tad illegal.”

“Sadly, but we need to take his reputation down like he’s done Danni’s. She’s very worried about going to school.”

“Why can’t she go to another one?”

“Because I think she was planning on returning to boydom.”

“Boredom, you mean. Oh well her choice, though I must admit I was surprised it seemed to last so long. I’d have thought she’d have reverted long since. Perhaps she is transgendered?”

“I have my doubts, but she could be an occasional cross-over.”

“Whatever,” sighed Sammi.

“Thanks for your help, let me know how much your friend wants to take down the page and post the convictions.”

“We’ll see about that, night, Mummy,” she kissed me and scooted up the stairs. Danni was still asleep. I cleaned my teeth and went back in with him leaving a note on the bed for Simon to see where I was.

I was cuddled up with my daughter when a quiet tap on the door preceded it being opened and my name hissed. No guesses for who that was–all the subtlety of an enraged rhinoceros.

“What’re you doing in here?”

I left the sleeping teen and went out onto the landing. I explained what had happened and his demeanour changed, he became very angry. “Why can’t the kid play at being a girl if he wants to, and what does that little scrote want from it?”

“I have no idea, maybe just a powerplay. I have reason to believe he’s a homophobe.”

“What a lovely boy to have something awful happen to.”

“Simon, no broken arms and legs–please.”

“If he falls down a staircase?”

“Simon, no.”

“What are you two doing?” asked Sammi tripping down the stairs.

“I’m just bringing your dad up to speed.”

“The page is down and the convictions are up, it also appears he tried to rape a boy a couple of years ago.”

“The miserable little shit,” was Simon’s opinion and who was I to disagree.

“That’s gone up too, but will be taken down as soon as they see it. The police report is here.” She handed me a sheaf of papers, according to them he’d come on to another boy in a public toilet, calling the boy a fag and telling him to take his trousers off an bend over so he could give him a seeing to. The boy refused, was beaten up and then Gilbert masturbated over his unconscious body. The police identified him from the sperm.

Simon read it and looked at me. “Why isn’t this boy in custody?”

I shrugged. “He’s only fourteen, that might have something to do with it.”

“But he’s a thug.”

“Yes I know.”

“If only Harry Potter was real, we could have done something suitably horrible to him, hacking his facebook account doesn’t seem adequate for the misery and poison he’s spread.”

“Simon, that’s wishful thinking.”

“I know, look why don’t you go and get a few hours and I’ll sit with Dan.”

“You have to be up earlier than I do.”

“So?”

“No, I’ll be alright, you get some sleep.”

He kissed me and wished me a goodnight.

Trying to sleep two in a single bed is not my idea of fun but I did sleep a bit and as far as I know Danni slept all night. The next morning we chatted for a few minutes before getting up. Danni immediately looked at her computer which Sammi had restored to her room.

“It’s gone,” she gasped.

“What has?”

“The page with Pia, Cindy an’ me on it.”

“Maybe they made him take it down?” I speculated deliberately in error.

“He’s a right pig, look at this, Mummy,” she showed me the list of convictions and also suggested his number of friends had dropped. They were listed under, My Achievements.

I smirked to myself, Sammi’s friend was very good. Under profile it said, ‘I’m really a bottom, but hide behind an aggressive homophobic front. I’d love to have a boyfriend and do it with him, but I’m too scared of being outed. I paint my toenails just to have something feminine with me all the time.’

“He didn’t write this, did he?” she asked incredulously.

“I doubt it.”

“So who did then?”

“I have no idea.”

“I wish I did, I’d write and thank them.”

“Perhaps Jack will for outing him.”

Danni just laughed.

I hugged her. I had no idea what the future would bring for her or him but at least we’d all be there for her.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2133 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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Danni checked her emails while I went to shower when I returned she was crying again. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?” I asked going to comfort her.

“That boy, he’s threatening to make life bad for me.” She showed me the email, it wasn’t very nice threatening to expose her on twitter–probably already had; on friend’s facebook pages and in person when they all went back to school. The language was very coarse and lacking in both vocabulary and imagination. It told her to take down the stuff on his facebook page or face the consequences.

“I don’t think apart from the lack of courtesy and grammar, we can do him for much, unless it’s under the obscenity laws, and that would be useless. All I can think we do is face him down.”

“What does that mean?”

“You put up a photo of yourself as a boy and as a girl and say, this is me, sometimes I like to pretend I’m a girl.”

“You’re joking,” she shrieked at me.

“I wasn’t. If you declare it, people might laugh at you for five minutes but by next week someone else will be the target for gossip.”

“They’ll beat me up, call me names and accuse me of being gay. I might as well be dead.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, being dead is a long term solution to a temporary problem.”

“Ha, it’s all right for you to talk, it’s not your life they’re going to end.”

“Danni, calm down. I’m on your side remember.”

“Yeah, but you might as well be with that creep–all the stupid things you’re saying.”

“Danni, I know you’re upset but I’d ask for a degree of courtesy from you.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m your mother, remember–and in case you’ve forgotten, I’ve been there and dealt with it.”

“What you got beaten up in school?”

“Yes, several times.”

“Why?”

“Because they thought I was gay.”

“Why?”

“Because I sported a girl’s haircut, which almost came down to the middle of my back; because I was useless at sport and a bit of a swot. The headmaster didn’t like me–he saw me as an offence against nature, and if you remember, I was forced to play Lady Macbeth in the school play, and to wear girl’s clothes during the lead up and run of the play.”

“You went to school as a girl?”

“For a few weeks, yes. They sent me to the girl’s school one day to embarrass me.”

“You look like a real girl, Mummy, how didn’t they see it?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart, possibly because they weren’t as enlightened as they are today. The doctors weren’t as knowledgeable and while I don’t watch documentaries on the telly about gender things, I suppose they’ve done a lot of good in educating some of the public.”

“They haven’t educated Jack Gilbert, have they?”

“It begins to look that way, doesn’t it? I still think he’s trying to hide something, his transphobic/homophobic aggression is over the top.”

“You think he’s gay?”

“He might well be.”

Danni fiddled with her computer and laughed. “Look at this.” She showed me his facebook page where Sammi’s friend had added a picture of a fairy tattoo and the caption, ‘I’m gonna get one of these as soon as I can afford it.’

Danni’s mobile peeped indicating a text. She opened it, “It’s from Gilbert, says, ‘Stop messing with my facebook page.’” She texted back, that it wasn’t her but she thought the tattoo would suit him.

Back came the retort, ‘Gonna cut you bad, maiden.’

“Save that, Danni, I’m going to speak with the police.”

“I don’t want the cops walking all over me in their big boots.”

“You’ll do as you’re told, young lady.”

“Part of me thinks I should change back, so if there is any fightin’ I’ve got a better chance.”

“Just don’t start carrying any sort of weapon with you.”

“I wasn’t goin’ to, well maybe my cricket bat.”

“You could kill someone with one of those.”

“Yeah, but only if I really tried.”

“Be careful.”

“I will.”

“So have you decided what you want to do?”

“Yeah, I’m going back to school as a boy.”

“Okay, what would you like me to do to help?”

“Have we got any nail varnish in Chelsea colours?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I’m gonna paint my toenails blue and my fingernails.”

“Isn’t that unwise–verging on provocative?”

“Yeah, so?”

“Will the school allow it?”

“It can’t stop me, the girls are allowed to do it, so the boys should be too.”

“The girls are allowed to wear skirts but I wouldn’t suggest you did it.”

“Yeah, why not?”

“Because it’s tantamount to a kamikaze flight.”

“You were the one to suggest facing them down, I want to go as a boy wearing the girl’s uniform.”

“I think you might lose the support of the school if you did that.”

“Why? I’d be sticking to the rules.”

“No you’d be twisting the rules and besides they might get the wrong idea that you want to be a girl all the time.”

“It’s tempting and when I think of Alice and what she did, it makes me angry. I want to protest at all the creeps who made her do what she did.”

“They didn’t force her to take her own life, she chose to do that.”

“What about that girl who killed herself recently?”

“Hannah Smith?”

“Yeah, I think so, she was bullied on facebook an stuff.”

“She was bullied.”

“Someone needs to show them where to get off.”

“And you think wearing a girl’s uniform is going to achieve that, do you?”

“Yeah, why not?”

“Because I suspect it’s only going to make you look stupid.”

“I look stupid in a skirt, do I?”

“No, you actually looked very nice the past couple of weeks, but that’s different to wearing nail varnish and skirt. No one knew you weren’t a girl until the shopping trip, if you wear a girl’s uniform, even with wig and makeup, they’re going to know you’re a boy.”

“Yeah, but that’s the point isn’t it? To show I’m a boy an’ I don’t care what they think.”

“Danni, that is a huge step to take. Please think carefully about it.”

“That’s what I wanna do, do one for Alice.”

“But she’s not going to know is she? Neither is anyone else who knew her. You’d be throwing yourself on the barricades for nothing.”

“Barricades? What are you on about?”

“It’s an expression about pointless self sacrifice.”

“What d’you mean, pointless?”

“What I say, it might make you feel better until the first fight occurs or some teacher makes an unhelpful remark or allows others to do so, or someone complains about which toilet you’re using–or the papers get hold of it.”

“Why would the papers get hold of it?”

“Duh? How often do you see boys wearing skirts to school–your school in particular?”

“They don’t.”

“So you’d be local interest story and the echo would be after you for an interview, taking pictures of you with or without your consent.”

“They can’t do that, can they?”

“They can, and it could also lead back here and reflect on Trish and Julie and Cindy as well, especially if Jack Gilbert gets wind of it.”

“Oh, I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Danni, your idea is very noble but not very wise. Think on it, I need to sort out the others.”

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2134 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

---

I was busy helping the girls have breakfast and also feed Lizzie when Danni appeared for her breakfast. “I’m just gonna wear pale nail varnish to school.”

“I’ve got some you can borrow,” offered Livvie.

“I see, anything else?”

“Yeah a bra an’ panties.”

“Under your boy’s clothes?”

“Yeah, I’ll be making a statement but subtle, like.”

“If you wear a bra and panties and nail varnish, no matter how pale, you might as well wear a sign saying you’re gay.”

“But I’m not.”

“That’s what they’ll all think.”

“But it’s girls who wear nail varnish and bras, not gays.”

“Danni, you are so naíve. Someone who is obviously a boy but shows signs of wearing girl’s things, is usually declaring he’s gay. Look why don’t I see if Stephanie is free and you can talk it over with her, because you don’t seem to believe anything I tell you.”

“I do,” she blushed.

“That isn’t the impression I’m getting and I think a third party might be useful.”

“That’s the Liberal Democrats, Mummy,” beamed Livvie who’d returned with the promised nail varnish.

“What is, darling?”

“The third party.”

“Eh? Oh yes, so they are.” These children are too clever by half. She went off chuckling and Danni thanked her for the nail paint.

“Wait there, missy,” I said and picked up the cordless phone and wandered down the hall while it rang at Stephanie’s. I explained my situation and she agreed to come over for lunch and to see Danni while she was at it. I thought I’d better ask David to make something a bit better than the usual Friday snack meal.

Danni looked dismayed when I told her that Steph was coming for lunch. “But I was going to see Cindy.”

“Tough.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Who said I had to be fair?”

“You did, you’re always on about natural justice.”

Hoist by my own petard–again. This is becoming a habit. “There’s little point in Stephanie coming if you’re not available, is it?”

“Now you’re trying to make me feel guilty, I didn’t ask her to come, that was your idea.”

“So I did, which if I recall, I did because I was worried about you–and that was because I’m your mother and thus legally responsible for you. So, Missy, you are grounded.”

“You can’t do that to me, I’m thirteen.”

“The way you’re headed, you’re still going to be grounded at thirty. Now finish your breakfast and get yourself washed and dressed–if you start to behave like a teenage girl instead of some harpy, I might just let you invite Cindy over to lunch.”

“What about Pia?”

“You didn’t mention Pia.”

“Well, I was gonna see her as well.”

“Okay, invite her as well but I’m afraid they’ll have to find their own way–but I want some improvement in your behaviour first.”

“Okay, Mummy,” she smiled sweetly and skipped off and I realised I’d been had again. The scunner.

She returned an hour later as I was doing some ironing. “Here, you should be doing this, young lady.”

“Nah, that’s housemaid stuff, I’m a lay–dee,” she chuckled and wandered off.

“What was that?” asked Stella.

“Apparently, Princess Danielle, is too precious to help with the ironing.”

Stella sniggered, “Well, Watts, carry on, what oh.” She walked off guffawing down the hallway.

“Vive le revolution, bring on the tumbrels,” I called after her.

“Charming,” she called back, “Petite bourgeoisie.”

I carried on with the ironing as I was a bit pressed for time, groan. I’d just finished when David appeared. “If I’d known you were doing that, I could have brought some shirts over for you to practice on.”

He ducked as I swung at him, “I’ve just done ten of Simon’s, so you can go and take a running jump, mister.”

“It was a worth a try, so what d’ya want for lunch?”

I asked him what the options were and mentioned that Stephanie was coming and so were two teenagers. He told me he could do something with the smoked salmon and some white fish we also had, he went on about flaked potatoes and sauce mixes so I sent him packing to get off and do it rather than have me standing in a pool of drool as he tempted my taste buds.

Returning from hanging up Simon’s shirts I made us some tea while he was busy with vegetables and making some delicious smelling sauce mix. I made several cups of tea and called Stella and Jacquie to come and get their drinks.

“Stephanie’s coming to lunch,” I told them and explained what had transpired over the previous twenty four hours.

“You paid someone to hack into someone’s facebook page and insert some rather embarrassing data?”

“I haven’t paid anyone anything–so far.”

“But you knew about it?”

“Not until afterwards.”

“Goodness, an accessory after the fact.”

“Don’t turn me in, Guv’nor, I needs this job f’ the wife an kids, all ten of ‘em.”

“Very good, Watts, I’ll continue to exercise my right to exploit you,” retorted Stella desperately trying to keep a straight face. Jacquie sniggered and nearly choked on her tea.

“Being with Simon and you is like living in a Monty Python sketch at times you know?”

“My hovercraft is full of eels,” replied Stella and Jacquie snorted tea everywhere.

When she’d stopped coughing she said, “That is just so funny, I wish I could think of lines like that.”

“If you have talent...” declared Stella.

“But you haven’t, Missus, that was a direct quote from Monty Python, Simon has all the DVDs in there somewhere.” I nodded towards the lounge.

“Oh great, I’ll have to watch them sometime.”

“Feel free,” I told her then to my plagiarising sister in law, “Is that Fiona I can hear?”

Stella paused in mid dunk of her digestive biscuit, “Bugger, yes it is–you wouldn’t like to grab her for me?”

“Sorry, this one needs a change by the smell of her.” I picked up the snoozing Lizzie and took her off to change her. In the end I bathed her and rewrapped her in Swaddling Clothes–yeah, the name of a make of babygro all in one thing. The manger, however was out in the old cowshed and only played host to baby spiders these days.

By the time I’d finished Stephanie was arriving with her little one and I sent Jacquie to look after the baby so Stephanie could first have a cup of coffee and then interrogate Danni–I mean, talk with Danni.

While she was doing so in my study, Cindy and Pia arrived and I told Trish to amuse them until Danni emerged from the study. They went off to watch some of the Monty Python DVDs with Jacquie and the baby.

“What’s he going to do?” asked Stella referring to Danny.

“I have no idea, I suspect he’ll revert and apart from his hair, he’ll have very little girlish about him again.”

“Is that what you want?”

“What I want is unimportant, it’s what he needs that matters.”

“And that’s what you think he needs?”

“I don’t think I know any more, Stella, I’m just trying to read the signs and react appropriately.”

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2135 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

---

The smells from the kitchen were increasingly enticing and I felt a little impatient for Danni to emerge from the study so we could eat. There were roars of laughter coming from the sitting room as the girls were watching the old Monty Python discs.

Finally Stephanie emerged from the study and asked me to enter–damn, lunch would be later now. “Danny/Danielle whatever you want to call him/her is a very complex case.”

“Which is why I asked you to come.”

“Quite.” She opened a file and looked at her notes. “He definitely gets too much female influence here.”

“I do ask Daddy and Simon to try and male bond with him.”

“It isn’t enough. He wants to compete but can’t do that with the girls unless he becomes one himself, which isn’t the best solution.”

“Why does he have to compete?”

“He’s a boy and a minority. In order to bolster his position he either has to be extra macho–and he doesn’t like that because it would disrespect you and the others, but especially you. He loves you very much.”

I felt my eyes moisten, “I hope he realises we all love him.”

“He does actually, he feels secure in lots of ways and he knows the girls love him and that you and Simon love him. He wants to impress you and he knows he can’t do that academically, so he tries through sport, except you aren’t very interested in sport except cycling. He says you’re a stronger rider than him but he does try to ride with you when he can.”

“He does, or I invite him.”

“Good, he needs to feel respected by you.”

“Steph, I love him to bits and I don’t want him to go all girly. I want him to be the best boy he can for himself, I’ll still love him whatever he does–I hope he knows that.”

“I think he does but it won’t hurt to tell him now and again.”

“Okay, I can do that.”

“Good.”

“So when do I get my son back?”

“After lunch.”

“Okay, and what do I have to do to keep him?”

“Let him know that he doesn’t need to compete for your attention. He told me that you used to read poetry to him at one time–he enjoyed that because you explained things to him he couldn’t see for himself until you opened that door to him. He lacks confidence in his academic abilities compared to Trish and Livvie who are such gifted children.”

“They frighten me, so I understand how he feels.”

“Do you? You’re a successful academic with a PhD. You’re probably in the top five or ten per cent in the country for intelligence and academic abilities. He’s struggling, with maths and English and needs help.”

“I can get him a tutor.”

“It’s you he wants to teach him.”

“I struggle with maths myself.”

“Okay, get him a maths tutor, unless Tom or Simon could show him?”

“Simon is very good at maths but the curriculum is different to anything he’d recognise, so it would be better to get someone in who knows how and what to teach.”

“Fine, do that, but take an interest.”

“Okay, we’ll do that.”

“Good. Now, this bit is less easy.”

“Oh,” I said apprehensively.

“He needs to have less contact with Pia/Peter, which is what started this little episode if I’m not mistaken?”

“I think so, he tried to show Pia how to do makeup, so he said.”

“Didn’t that ring any bells?”

“A little but I try not to react negatively in case it has the opposite effect.”

“Cathy, this is a boy who is trying to show another boy who thinks he’s a girl, how to do makeup? How many thirteen year old boys know anything about makeup?”

“He has got rather a surfeit of sisters.”

“Even so, what did you do about it?”

“Nothing other than to invite Pia over to have some tuition from Julie and Phoebe.”

“Okay, so you didn’t condone it?”

“I don’t remember, I don’t think so but I also didn’t condemn it–should I have?”

“No, you probably did the right thing. The sad thing is, he can compete with Cindy and Pia and look better than either of them as a girl, but he’s only doing it because he knows he can beat them.”

“How strange,” I said and meant it, such theories had never graced my few functioning brain cells.

“Have you never competed?”

“Sort of.”

“Such as?”

“I couldn’t compete against the sports fiends so I beat them academically.”

“What about girls?”

“Competing against them?”

“Yes?”

“I did a bit at uni, only two of us got firsts.”

“And you’re not very bright–duh.”

I blushed and shrugged.

“What about since you transitioned?”

“How can I compete against normal women?”

“You do it all the time, I’ve seen you dressed to the nines–very few women I know look better than you do when you really go for it.”

I shrugged.

“What about the bike racing, didn’t you ride against other women?”

“Once or twice.”

“So you see, we compete as much as the men, though not necessarily in the same way as men, who go for biggest muscles or bank balance.”

“Or most lays.”

“Aren’t you confusing them with chickens?” Stephanie said cheekily.

“You know what I mean, notches on bedposts and so on.”

She chuckled, “You are blushing, Lady Cameron,” which made me get even redder and hotter.

“Anything else?”

“I could talk all day about him, he’s a fascinating case, but I suspect everyone is waiting for lunch.”

“Yes, but tell me, is he transgender?”

“Slightly, he enjoys a bit of dress up and I suggest you allow that in future but keep him away from Pia.”

“Is Pia transgender?”

“I’m not as sure as I thought I was, I suspect Pia is a gay male who is having problems accepting it, so did the mutilation as a form of denial, and the transgender element is I think a cover or self delusion, and how convenient to have a whole houseful of them just down the road.”

“So Pia is even more complicated than Danny?”

“In the denial bit, yes, but otherwise, no. Let’s eat, I’m starving.”

“What about Danny wanting to protest in public about Alice’s death?”

“Oh that, yes. That was pure and simply an act of desperation and hurt. Danny has seen you bring some lost souls to redemption–half the people here are in that category–it’s what you do, rescue people, especially those in a sexual or gender minority. He wanted to do the same but with someone’s reputation and I think he wanted to punish those who he blames for Alice’s death.”

“Her father and mother?”

“Mainly, but others as well. He was so pleased that you seemed to have done your trick of saving another soul only for it to all go wrong.”

“Shit happens.”

“You and I can see that but a thirteen year old, who is possibly a little confused about his own gender and sexual orientation? He was outraged and wanted to punish them. Thankfully, you stopped him.”

“I do get things right now and again.”

“Cathy, you are an amazing woman, part angel part mother, who else would have saved these people, who you adopted? I mean you even manage to mother people who aren’t that much younger than you. You are a natural mother and rescuer, you can’t help it. Anyone who thinks you were ever a boy should think about that; now where’s this food?”

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2136 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

---

“That was an excellent lunch,” said Stephanie sipping a glass of elderflower pressé, which I’d made some weeks ago.

David had excelled himself making salmon fishcakes which melted in the mouth. The kids were all looking for more except Livvie who eats like a sparrow. Dessert, from which I abstained was fruit and ice cream. I simply watched the others eat and enjoy themselves while I drank my cup of tea.

Danni and her two friends asked to be excused and went off to play in her room, doing something on the computer, a few minutes later they called Trish and she went off to help them. They were all laughing, so I presumed they’d been harassing that horrible lout again. Stephanie agreed to see Cindy while she was with us, so I went to call her and also see what was going on. It appeared, the lad that Sammi got to alter the facebook page had superimposed a picture of him with his shirt up showing a pink sparkly thong and a tattoo of Tinkerbell on his right buttock. It was very cleverly done. The outline of a bra was also clearly visible through his shirt. It wasn’t so much a case of character assassination as wipe-out. They all thought it was funny, but I was concerned in case revenge became a motive, and who knows what a very angry teenager might do.

Then the laughter grew even louder and when I looked, there was a picture of the boy crying with mascara running down his face and the line, ‘My doctor says my peenie is too small to change into a vagina.’

After seeing this I sent Sammi a text to ask her to call off the dogs, the boy had suffered enough. She agreed to call her friend. A little later I caught Danni going into the loo and asked when the others were going. She told me that Cindy’s mum was coming about five when she finished work.

Stephanie had gone and Cindy was happy with everything. She was on a low dose hormone so her body was changing slightly but enough to keep her in roughly the same position as most of her contemporary school mates. That she was surviving in a girl’s school was seen as an affirmation that she was intent on staying as female, which the legal powers seem so worried about.

I could see their point, it would make loads of work if people popped back and fore into different roles in an official capacity. Having had surgery, I certainly wasn’t going to revert, nor did I think Julie or Trish would but you can never be certain what someone else will do, unless you have total control over them, and it has been known for people to revert after twenty years of living in the opposite role. I couldn’t understand why anyone should want to, but like I said, I had no idea what was going on in their heads.

Perhaps the screening needs to be tightened but how do you stop someone who knows all the rules of the game and all the right answers to the questions the professionals ask from going right through the system including all sorts of surgeries only to decide some while later they made a mistake?

So much of what is used to diagnose the individual is supplied by that individual, so it’s easy for them to mislead the experts. We self diagnose and present ourselves at the doctors and then expect them to sort us out–to legitimise what others might see as a bizarre desire to live as the opposite sex. Obviously, the earlier we start like Cindy or Trish, the better before masculinisation really gets going or the need for various plastic surgeries and the risk of them going wrong becomes necessary to help the patient pass as they desire.

So often the male to female look like men in dresses, and the female to male look very masculine but often quite short, the testosterone causing damage to the growth, which is crazy when you consider it doesn’t do so in biological males and the oestrogen doesn’t seem to stop MtF candidates growing in height either.

I spent time with Mima and Cate who wanted to alter some of their doll’s clothes, so my afternoon was based around needles and thread. We’d just finished when Brenda came to collect our two visitors, though she stayed for a cuppa telling us the traffic was appalling.

She saw what we’d been doing with the doll’s clothes and after admiring the alterations said she was hopeless at sewing so perhaps I could teach Cindy some of the basics. I almost had to bite my tongue before giving a non-committed answer.

“Doesn’t she do needlework in school?” I asked.

“No she gave that up to do extra English, she isn’t very good at English.”

“Oh,” I was surprised because Trish and Livvie both did sewing and quite enjoyed it but then they were rather clever little dicks, so wouldn’t need the extra English. I was rather glad she didn’t ask me to coach Cindy in that as well–I’d have refused.

She finally took them away about half-past five. As we were returning indoors from waving them off, Meems dropped me in it. “Mummy’s gonna help Cindy learn to sew.”

“Oh kewel,” declared Danni, “maybe I can learn at the same time.”

“I thought you did sewing in school?” even boys have to learn these days as basic skills lessons.

“Only to sew on a button or repair a hem.”

“Both of those can be very useful, and hemming really neatly is a real skill.”

“So you can show us how to do it then, I might make a skirt–I could do that couldn’t I, Mummy?”

“When are you going to wear it, darling?” I asked provoking some revelation of how often he was going to be dressing up.

“Oh, you know, when I change into Danielle,” she placed her hand on her chest and fluttered her eyelashes.

“And how often will that be?” I asked.

“You know, evenings and weekends.”

“What every weekend?”

“Is that a problem?” she asked defensively.

“It could be if you want to try for the school football team.”

“I’ll have to see how I feel, won’t I?”

“Hang on a minute, missy, not more than a day or two ago, you were talking about wanting to get back to playing football, now you’re talking of possibly dropping it. What’s going on–I thought football and cricket were your life?”

“I’ve moved on, that’s all, Mummy.”

“Moved on? From last week–I didn’t come doon the Clyde in a banana boat you know?”

Danni burst out laughing, “That is so funny, Mummy.”

“Look, I’m not stupid even if you think I am, now what made you change your mind?”

“I was chatting with Pia and Cindy and they said...”

I saw red. “I don’t care what they said, I’m only interested in what you want not what they want for you. Now, believe it or not, I don’t have a problem with you being a part-time girl, in fact, on the whole, your behaviour is much better – but, and it’s a big but – I’m only prepared to help you if it’s what you want not your friends who have entirely different agendas.”

“What d’you mean, different agendas?”

“They want different things out of life. Cindy obviously wants to become a woman and live accordingly, Pia–I don’t know what Pia wants, but that isn’t my problem, you missy, are. Now I want you to think carefully about what you answer to my next question, alright?”

“Yes, Mummy.”

“How much do you want to do as a girl?”

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2137 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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“How much do I want to do as a girl?” she repeated to herself. “I don’t understand the question, Mummy.”

“Okay, sweetheart, what d’you want to do? Tell me as honestly as you can, I won’t judge you for it, but I have to know to help you.”

“I don’t know,” she said and then began to cry.

I held out my arms and she came to me and we hugged.

“I don’t know what I want anymore,” she sobbed into my chest. “I thought I was a normal boy then when Peter showed me his dresses they looked so nice.”

I continued hugging gently, “Sometimes things affect us in ways we don’t expect,” I said quietly to her.

“I couldn’t believe how nice they felt when he got me to try one.”

“So you liked the feeling of the clothes?”

“I s’pose I did, I also felt a bit silly, I mean wearing dress but he was as well and he had all the undies on as well, he had boobs an’ I didn’t, so he got me to wear a bra too. It felt strange with some foam things in it, but the dress looked better an’ apart from a boy’s head sticking out of the top, I looked like a girl.”

I took a deep breath. I wondered if he’d told Stephanie all this, probably had weeks ago. I wasn’t sure what I was feeling apart from concerned. This child had until a couple of weeks ago seemed to be a normal boy, played sports and was quite good; had the odd fight but never got really hurt and seemed attracted to girls. Then I though back for a moment. When I was a kid, they’d have all thought I was attracted to girls because I studied them–I wanted to be them so badly, it hurt. I practised what I saw them do when no one was looking. Perhaps he was doing the same–but, there is no way that he wants to be a girl, surely? The odds of it are so phenomenally against–we already have a statistical spike for the occurrence of gender dysphoria/transsexual syndrome compared to the rest of the world. It just didn’t compute.

“What happened next?” I asked trying to draw out this child what he/she was feeling.

“We tried some makeup–we were rubbish.”

“It takes a bit of practice.”

“That’s what I did, I pinched some of Julie’s stuff–she’s got so much an’ practiced an’ I looked in one of the books she has about makeup and it showed you how to do eyeliner and mascara an’ things, an’ the internet–there’s loads on the internet about using makeup to disguise you’re a boy.”

“You told me you were upstairs reading.”

“I was–how to do makeup.”

“So the next time you went to Peter’s, you had some idea of what to do?”

“Yeah, an’ he had a spare wig. I was pleased. He was calling himself a girl, ’cause he’s like got no goolies, an’ I was a boy but I looked better than he did.” Danielle was no longer crying, she was still in my arms, her eyes closed as she remembered what had happened and she was smiling, almost a look of triumph.

“You liked what you saw?”

The look changed for a moment as if her answer would cause me to think badly of her. I kept quiet, I asked a reasonable question and I didn’t want to influence the answer, other than to appear loving and supportive.

She nodded. After perhaps half a minute she said, “I realised that I’d been wrong about girls.”

“How were you wrong?”

“It’s fun making yourself look pretty and wearing pretty clothes. That’s what girls do, isn’t it?”

“Sometimes, but not all girls do it, some prefer plain things and no makeup or fussy hairstyles and yet they feel just as much girls as the frilly, fussy ones.”

“What sort were you, Mummy?”

I think some sort of improvisation is called for here, not having had much of a girlhood, so to speak. “A bit frilly at times, but not all the time, like I am now. Sometimes I like to dress up and look nice and other times I like to be comfortable. The smart, dressy clothes aren’t always the most comfortable, especially shoes. What sort of girl are you, Danielle?”

“I like the pretty things.”

“I thought you might. So how did you feel when you realised you looked prettier than Peter?”

“Good. I looked like a girl, he looked–well he looked pretty awful.”

“Then what?”

“He said I looked like a girl, and asked me to help him do his makeup–so I did. He looked better, but I didn’t do it as good as mine.”

“So he wouldn’t look as pretty?”

“Yeah–not quite, I’d practised on me hadn’t I? I hadn’t done it on someone else before and it’s different.”

“Yes it is. The next time we dressed up, I did a better job on him.”

“And on yourself?”

“Yeah, I s’pose I did.”

“Did you feel good again?”

“Yes–it’s wrong isn’t it?”

“What is, sweetheart?”

“Feeling good about looking pretty–when you’re a dumb boy.” The tears started again.

“There is nothing wrong with feeling good because you look pretty.”

“But I’m a boy.”

“Yes, a very good looking one.”

“Am I?”

“I think so, but I’m only a girl, so what do I know?”

“I didn’t think I was good looking–as a boy, I mean. After–you know...”

“I know, sweetheart,” I hugged her a little tighter.

“They all started calling me a fairy or a girl–and then, playing with the makeup and the dresses at Peter’s, I wondered if it was true.”

“If what was true?”

“That I’m gay.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because I sometimes like wearing a dress and makeup.”

“You know that Jim is gay?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“Can you see him in a dress and high heels?”

“Not really,” she laughed. “He doesn’t does he?”

“Not as far as I know, but that would be his business anyway. Gay men come in all shapes and sizes, some are very masculine and some are very feminine, but the same can be said for straight men, like women are all sorts too. So just because you like to wear a dress and makeup, doesn’t make you gay anymore than it makes you female.”

“Oh.” There was a pause as if the last thing I’d said made her stop. “So, you don’t think I’m a girl when I’m like this?”

“I’m prepared to treat you as one if that’s what you want me to do, but I just think of you as one of my children whom I love very much–and I love you just as much when you’re in boy mode.”

“D’you love me more as a boy, Mummy?”

There’s the sixty four dollar question. I hope I get the answer right. “I love you for you, not for what you’re wearing–that’s just clothes or makeup, or sometimes mud. I love you for you, Danielle or Dan, you are precious to me, and to your dad and the rest of the family, we all love you–very much.”

“Would you still love me if I said I wanted to stay a girl?”

I was itching to ask if that was what we were approaching although I part dreaded the answer, instead I answered honestly. “Yes, darling, I would–is that what you want to do?”

“Mummy, are you going to Alice’s funeral?”

“I’d like to, why?”

“Can I come with you–as Danielle?”

“I’d have to get you some time off school, but I suppose it’s possible. I take it you’d like to go?”

“Yes. I’d like to stay as Danielle until then.”

“Assuming I’m able to let you stay in girl mode and take you back up to Scotland, what happens after? What are we going to do about school?”

“I don’t know. I’ll probably go back to being a boy again–that’s what you want, isn’t it?”

“Why d’you keep asking me that?”

“Because I think it’s what you want me to do.”

“Danielle, I have already told you, I love you for who you are, boy or girl.”

“That isn’t what you want though, is it?”

Now it was me who was holding back the tears, “What I want, really want, is for you to be happy.”

“I love you, Mummy,” she said and I couldn’t hold back the wet stuff any longer.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2138 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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I sat holding Danni for several minutes before she’d composed herself enough to go upstairs and refresh her makeup. In her state, I’d have gone upstairs and removed it not refreshed it–but then I remembered how I used to be. I was living the dream, I could be as girly as I wanted or not, before I met Stella, that wasn’t an option. I was a captive of my fears–call it cowardice if you like–but I was scared of my own shadow and the thought of someone finding out about me, despite the fact that I’d told my Prof and he was okay about it, meant that the fears I had were all in my head and once confronted, they faded like shadows in the light.

Danni had that same opportunity and was just as controlled by the fears. In her case, being cooped up with seven or eight hundred psychopathic children, her fears might just keep her alive. I was in an institution which had a clearly structured difference and diversity policy, which I suspect the school has too, but I knew I could be protected she doesn’t believe she would be, and I was probably inclined to believe her. Schools can be full of all sorts of nastiness which isn’t approved, and at times is positively discouraged, but it still happens. Look at prisons, they have a no drugs policy, the inmates still procure them because they’re smuggled in by families, friends and staff.

No one can rule absolutely, despots and tyrants have tried it and failed, empires have tried it and failed, businesses and democracies have tried it and they also failed. Not everyone will comply and once people start to work out what’s happening, they resist.

Prison might have been a bad example because the people in it are there because they broke the rules, so breaking a few more is no big deal to many of them. Democracies have at least one weakness, everyone in them knows better than the government–which might be a truism when considered against the records of some governments.

I was fiddling in my study when she came back down, mascara and eye liner renewed though her eyes were still red. “You don’t always wear makeup, do you, Mummy–why is that?”

“All sorts of reasons. It takes time, it can mess up your skin or make your eyes sore, I’m lazy and why bother if you’re not going somewhere special? I don’t wear skirts that often either.”

“I like wearing it,” she retorted.

“Fine, no one is stopping you–provided you take it off at night before you go to bed.”

“I wish I could wear it all the time, it’s such fun changing how I look whenever I want to.”

“It certainly can be, and as I said there’s no one stopping you wearing all the time if you like.”

“How can I? I’m a stupid boy, remember?”

“Goodness, are you? You look so pretty, young lady, I don’t think I believe you.”

“Not as pretty as my mummy.”

“What are you after?”

“Just to go to Alice’s service as a girl.”

“I told you, I’d see what I could do, I certainly hadn’t said no, had I?”

“No, Mummy, you hadn’t. But you did say I could wear makeup all the time if I wanted to, but I can’t can I–not in school?”

“You could but I doubt they’d be terribly pleased with you for doing so, unless you changed schools.”

“Like what school would let me wear makeup every day?”

“St Claires.”

“That’s a girl’s school, I’m a boy.”

“I don’t see much of a boy at the moment.”

“He’s there, Mummy, just well hidden.”

“So why couldn’t he be hidden while you went to a girl’s school?”

“I don’t know if I want to be a girl all the time–well I do–well I like the clothes and the makeup, but I also enjoy things like football.”

“Livvie and Trish play football.”

“It’s not quite the same as boy’s football.”

“They’d better not hear you say that.”

“It’s different and I’m pretty sure that within five minutes I’d be spotted as a boy by the way I played.”

I suspected that was the case in women’s rugby. The little I’d seen of it was far removed from the bone-crunching tackles of the men’s professional game. So if someone who’d played at any decent level as a man went to play women’s, even after surgery, I believe they’d be spotted very quickly because they’d be used to the physicality of the men’s game where some of the ‘hits’ by tacklers make people watching it on television, wince.

“No one has spotted Trish yet?”

“Trish is a girl, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“She’s a good player, though.”

“For a girl, she’s okay.”

I wanted to say, patronising toad, then realised he wasn’t being so, he was telling the truth. Trish was as close to being a girl as it was possible for a non-biological female to get. She played against other females and their game was less physical than the boys–fewer sliding tackles and challenges in the air.

“So you don’t want to be a girl all the time?”

“I dunno–I dunno what I want.”

“I’m beginning to get the impression that you’d like to be a girl when you wanted to or a boy if that took your fancy, instead.”

She shrugged.

“C’mon let’s go and see what the others are up to.”

She walked over to me and shoved her hand in mine. “I’m so lucky to have a mummy like you.”

“Are you–why’s that then?”

“Because you love me, you care for me and you care about me.”

“Yep, that pretty well is the contract of being a parent.”

“Even when I’m unlovable?”

“I don’t recognise the term, darling, to me you’re always lovable.”

“Even when I’ve been a dumb boy?”

“If bicycles were involved, I’m not sure I want to know.”

“But, Muuummy, this is a good story.”

“Fine, we’ll collect it and leave the others to decide.”

“What?”

“Huh,” she pouted.

“Has Trish been giving you lessons?”

“In football?” she gasped.

“No pouting.”

“What?”

“Pouting–looking like a half dead salmon.”

She roared with laughter, “I’m gonna tell Trish what you said.”

“Feel free, she knows me well enough to make up her own mind.”

“I wish I could be as calm about things as you always are.”

He says this to the woman who has nightmares about him wanting to be a girl all the time.

“I remembered a prayer which is attributed to St Francis of Assisi.”

“You a prayer?”

“Yes, it goes something like, “God grant me the courage to change those things I ought to change, to tolerate those things I can’t change and the wisdom to know the difference.”

“Hey, that’s good–but what does it say about boys who like to be girls–sometimes?”

“It says, missy, do whatever makes you happiest.”

She smiled so lovingly I wanted to hug her to death.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2139 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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The weekend came and went and I checked out the girl’s uniforms, they had all they needed to start school the following week. Then I had to check out Danny’s. I didn’t make him take off makeup or even his lingerie, I just needed to check the fit of his blazer and trousers and shoes. They were all okay, and I left him rushing off to become his alter ego. Thinking about it, I’d have killed for a chance to have been able to dress at home and be with my parents as me, not as the person they wanted. I felt glad that I was able to do that for him/her and the others, even though I really didn’t understand what was going on inside his head.

I sent a letter to the school saying that Danny had suffered a relapse of his PTSD caused by the attack in France and that he was seeing a doctor and I’d have him back to school as soon as I could. I received an email, thanking me for my letter and offering to email some work for him to do if he was up to it. I downloaded the homework and kept it for use later.

After sorting out the children’s wardrobes, I sorted out what I was going to wear to travel to Scotland and also what I’d wear while we were there. I organised flights for the Thursday and back on Saturday. Paul was going to collect us from the airport and take us back on the Saturday, he’d also arranged for me to have use of a car while we were there if necessary–I doubted it was the Range Rover.

I then looked at what Danni would be wearing and discussed this with her. She of course wanted to wear skirts the whole time in memory of Alice. It was likely to be colder there, so I took her shopping for a couple of things. There was no point in spending lots of money for clothes she might never wear again. We explored Asda and Tesco and found a dress in a dark blue with little flowers on it, which had long sleeves and a polo neck. It was in a jersey material and with a cami or long slip would give a bit of warmth.

In the other store we found a cardigan in dark blue which matched quite closely and a blue corduroy skirt, which I suggested she try with a red long sleeved top. It looked quite good. A pair of knee length black boots went well with both outfits and we also bought some sixty denier tights.

What proved to be the most expensive item was a wool coat in navy blue, but when I showed it to her, she loved it and it fitted quite well. She now looked like a daughter of the laird, and seeing as I’d be well dressed, it seemed incongruous to skimp despite her possibly never wearing the coat again–it would do for one of the others later on.

We looked at leggings but she told me she had some of those already. I bought a pair each for Meems, Trish and Livvie and some tights for Cate and Lizzie. Then we found a dress and a coat for Lizzie, as she would be coming with us. Tom had agreed to take us to the airport at Southampton where we’d fly to Edinburgh, and from there to Perth we’d get a ride in a small aircraft, the sort they use to hop over to the Scillies from Exeter or Land’s End. That was costing more than the flight from Southampton to Edinburgh. At least I didn’t have to worry about being able to afford the trip and we did have our own accommodation up there.

Back at home Danni seemed to spend half the afternoon on the phone to Cindy and Pia who wanted to come as well. I’d already told Danni it was just the two of us and any arguments and it would be just me that went. She got the message.

I hadn’t enacted Stephanie’s advice about stopping her seeing her two friends though I would monitor their contact and see if it had an effect on her behaviour. If there was a measurable difference, then I might have to stop them seeing each other. I didn’t believe that they’d encouraged Danni as much as Steph seemed to think, but on thinking about the effect of a transsexual or two upon a transvestite group, Stephanie might have had a point. Transsexualism is infectious, put one in a group of transvestites and half of them want to take hormones and live full time–until they appreciate the difficulties that can cause. We all want things we see others have even though we’re told not to covet our neighbours arse–I did as a kid, the girl across the road had a wonderful derriere of which I was very jealous.

On the morning we left to go to Scotland, the girls were very upset and wanted to come as well. I’d explained why just the two of us and Lizzie were going days before and they’d accepted it then but they seemed to have changed their minds since. Tom told them he’d take them to the cinema and buy them a pizza afterwards. That seemed to mollify them a little and I wondered if they’d pulled a fast one on us.

We said our goodbyes and Tom drove us to Southampton airport in his Freelander, dropped us off and went back to sort out the three girls. I pushed the carrycot pram into the airport while Danni pulled the cases behind her. Then we got a trolley and her job was much easier.

We hung around for an hour and half before boarding which was about the same time for the flight on Flybe–a bit quicker than the seven or eight hours it would take in the car.

Danni was strangely quiet. She’d been a little concerned that she’d be rumbled at the airport but wasn’t. Perhaps the fact that we had a baby with us made a difference because we were almost waved through boarding, Danni carrying her own little shoulder bag and the baby change bag, while I carried the baby in the carrycot. She had a seat booked in both directions and I strapped the carrycot to the seat once we got on board the aircraft.

As I said Danni was very quiet and I discovered it was because she’d fallen asleep. I let her snooze for the majority of the flight waking her as we approached Edinburgh. Then we had a bit of wait at the airport before our private flight was readied for us to go on to Perth. We arrived at the castle at lunch time and Mrs Cuddy had kindly made us a light lunch of soup and fresh baked rolls.

I fed and changed Lizzie, who’d been wonderful throughout the travelling then relaxed and put my feet up as Callum arrived with his mum and took Danni off for the afternoon. I was reading a book called, ‘Map’ by an author named TS Learner which made me smile though it’s lead in was taking me a while to get into.

When they returned, I was snoozing with the book on my lap and Lizzie in my arms. It took me a moment to work out where I was when they woke me, but after a cuppa and a piece of cake I was asked if I’d read a lesson for the service. I could hardly refuse.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2140 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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“Why is it always me they ask to read the lesson?” I asked no one in particular. Callum and his mother had gone and we were dining with Mrs Cuddy and Mr Dunstan at my behest. We were sitting in the nicest restaurant in Perth and I was getting the bill–well on Simon’s card. I’d ordered a very nice tuna jacket and salad. Danni had accused me of always eating the same, then she had a burger and chips while our two guests explored some Italian dish with chicken. I must admit I nearly succumbed to the tuna pasta bake but decided after eating David’s version of it, no one else would come close to it–hence the half dressed spud.

“I would suggest you have a lovely reading voice, ma’am,” offered Dunstan.

“How would you know, Mr Dunstan, what have you heard me read?”

“I once listened to you read to your daughters when you were here before, it was very guid, if I say so myself.”

“Aye ye’ve a bonny voice an’ ye’re used tae public speakin’ when ye’re lecturin’, we heard ye on the television,” Mrs Cuddy added. Teach me to ask silly questions–no it won’t, I seem to specialise in them.

“Whit is the readin’, ma’am?” asked Dunstan.

“Um–I have it here, Matthew seven verses one to twelve.”

“I ken why they asked ye tae read that,” smiled Mrs Cuddy.

“I have a feeling which one that is too,” I said hoping I had the right one.

“Aye weel, we’ll find oot later, won’t we?”

“We will indeed, Mrs Cuddy.”

“Which one is it, Mummy?” asked Danni.

“I’ll show you when we get home.”

She shrugged her curiosity piqued. Trish or Livvie might well have recognised it and if I was right, it was quite appropriate for the occasion.

I was tired that night and despite being away from home I slept well and woke at seven in the morning feeling refreshed. The morning was dreary–it was Scotland–and I suppose my mood wasn’t filled with sunshine considering why we were there.

I dressed in a jeans and sweater and made my way down for breakfast. Danni was already there eating a huge bowl of cornflakes. I asked Mrs Cuddy for toast and received some with a poached egg on top of it. When I looked to protest she gave me an old fashioned look and I surrendered and ate it. It was delicious as was the tea I drank to wash it down.

The service was at eleven and Paul was coming to collect us at ten thirty, the church not being far from the castle. I knew what I was wearing to the service and and Danni knew what she was wearing too. I did warn her that she should use waterproof mascara because she might have a few tears and she nodded, not far from them already.

After chatting for a little and reading the Guardian for a while I repaired to my room to shower and change. I decided to leave my hair down and just combed it after drying it. Then I dressed in my silk blouse with a pinstripe of thinner material woven in the garment, the collar was rounded on the ends and bore a slight frill as did the cuffs. Over this I pulled on the wool and silk mixture of a grey skirt and then the jacket. It would do–it was Chanel–so I supposed it would. Over the tights I wore I drew up the black leather boots with their three inch heels, given the coolness of the morning I decided I’d keep my feet warm in the draughty old church.

I kept my makeup and jewellery simple, my sapphire necklace and earrings, the ones my mother left me and which matched my ring. By ten I was ready after a quick squirt of No5–well it seemed to go with the suit and blouse and was the only perfume I’d brought with me.

Knocking on Danni’s door I went to see how she was doing–not well. She was sitting on the bed in the dress and leggings as we’d agreed but she’d been crying. I went and sat with her. “What’s the matter, darling?” I asked putting my arm round her.

“I was thinking of Billie and couldn’t stop crying.”

“I’m sure your sister would be very pleased that you thought of her, but she’s in a better place now and we need to sort you out or we’re going to be late and as Lady of the Estate, that would be very poor behaviour.

“Okay,” she said blowing her nose in the tissue I gave her.

“You can stay home if you’d prefer, Alice would understand.”

“No, I’m coming–I have to be there.”

“C’mon then, let’s sort your face out.” I handed her a facecloth I’d run under the cold tap and she held it to her eyes for a few minutes to try and cool them down. After patting dry, I used just a touch of grey shadow to her upper lids and then some mascara to her lashes. She did her lip gloss herself, a pale pink. I tidied her hair and she gave herself a squirt of her cologne–you don’t give thirteen year olds expensive perfumes–and the one she had she chose herself from John Lewis.

The temperature was quite cold and I decided to wear my coat, and she buttoned hers up while we waited for Paul with Mrs Cuddy and Mr Dunstan, clutching our bags and in my case a copy of the King James Bible–I’m sure William Tyndale would have been pleased.

The church was quite full when we arrived, although we could have used a side entrance which would have taken us into the choir and bypassed the hoi polloi, I chose to walk in from the west door, holding Danni’s hand as our heels clicked on the stone flooring. The murmur followed us as we moved towards the altar, “Is that yon Laird’s wife–pretty girl,” was one comment I did register and I didn’t know if it referred to me or Danni–probably her.

I wanted to sit with the congregation to show solidarity with them because I approved of them being there but the church was quite full and we couldn’t have sat at the back–it wouldn’t have been proper. So, much to my discomfort, we were led to two rather nice chairs which were just below the choir, Danni and I sat there and Paul sat behind us, we were thus sideways on to the congregation.

The minister who was going to run the show came and spoke to me and I asked him if I might say a few words as well as the lesson. He stepped back in surprise, “If ye’d like too, Lady Cameron, I’m sure the folk would like to hear them.”

“I don’t wish to steal your thunder,” I offered I hoped as conciliation.

“Don’t worry ye’self about that,” he said, “I’m always glad to share the burden.”

The small organ started and we all rose, Callum entered the church and carrying a photo of Alice and wreath of roses walked solemnly to a small table between us and the altar and laid them there. Danni was already sniffing and I handed her another tissue.

The minister started it with a prayer for the soul of the departed and then said this wasn’t a funeral but a celebration of a person who was much loved in the community, and the tragedy was that few would ever have known the real person.

There were one or two readings by estate workers and Callum’s mum read beautifully a letter Callum had written to his deceased friend. I really had to hold back the tears at that.

Some more of Alice’s favourite music, some Scottish group I’d never heard of, then it was my turn. “I’ll ask the Lady Cameron to read the lesson and to say a few words efter it,” the minister nodded at me and I rose and walked to the lectern having taken my coat off earlier, it had become warmer than I’d expected.

It got even warmer when the west door opened and in walked Alice’s parents. There was gasp from the congregation and the minister tensed waiting to see what happened. The two grieving parents stood and looked at me. I opened the bible at the bookmark and started.

“The reading is from the Gospel of Matthew, chapter seven.

1 Judge not, that ye be not judged.
2 For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged: and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again.
3 And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother's eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye?
4 Or how wilt thou say to thy brother, Let me pull out the mote out of thine eye; and, behold, a beam is in thine own eye?
5 Thou hypocrite, first cast out the beam out of thine own eye; and then shalt thou see clearly to cast out the mote out of thy brother's eye.
6 Give not that which is holy unto the dogs, neither cast ye your pearls before swine, lest they trample them under their feet, and turn again and rend you.
7 Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you:
8 For every one that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened.
9 Or what man is there of you, whom if his son ask bread, will he give him a stone?
10 Or if he ask a fish, will he give him a serpent?
11 If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your Father which is in heaven give good things to them that ask him?
12 Therefore all things whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them: for this is the law and the prophets.

I expected some sort of challenge, instead her father slipped down to his knees and began to sob. His wife stood by helpless. The minister nodded and two men approached and helped her father to his feet and off to a chair at the back of the church.

“Please continue, Lady Cameron,” urged the minister.

It might have been better had I prepared something, but I hadn’t so this was off the cuff and I really didn’t know if it was as appropriate as I’d first considered, but here I was and with a hundred people watching me, I had to do something–I was the Laird’s wifey.

“Thank you, Reverend Smallpiece. I travelled about five hundred miles to come to this celebration of Alice’s life because I felt it was important, as did my daughter, Danielle, who asked to accompany me. We both knew Alice for only a short time but we learned of her personal difficulties and felt great sympathy and respect. I too had a daughter who began life as boy, who alas died even younger than Alice through a brain haemorrhage. She told me that the months she spent as she really felt herself to be, were the best of her life. Alice only spent few days with us as she wished to be before she became overwhelmed by the enormity of what she was doing and decided she couldn’t face it.

“Since my daughter Billie died, I’ve helped several children and adults who were gender variant–that is they felt different to the gender to which they’d been born, and each of them has prospered and felt happier living as they felt themselves to truly be. I’m sure that Alice would have felt so too, and I thank you all for showing your support by coming here today, and I hope as we understand these things better, so fewer of these tragedies will occur and instead of ostracising we shall welcome and include people of all sorts of difference, of gender, colour, sexual orientation and faith into our communities.

“Alice’s death has brought us all together, let us strive to stay together to prevent any such tragedy ever happening again. Thank you.”

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2141 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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“Thank you, Lady Cameron, I hope all of us here can agree with your desire for everyone to live in peace and harmony irrespective of differences of any sort, and may God grant us his peace, and especially to the soul of Alice which was troubled in this life, may she find peace and happiness in everlasting life, through Jesus Christ, our Lord. Amen.”

With that summation, the remembrance service ended and people left, one or two coming up to speak with me and others to speak to the Rev Smallpiece. I asked Paul to check that Alice’s dad was okay and he discreetly slipped away to find out.

“Thank you for your help, Lady Cameron, I think your input helped the direction of the service very well.” I shook hands with the reverend gentleman who went off to attend to the crowd of people who wished to talk with him. Danni came and stood beside me, putting her arm round my waist and I draped mine around her shoulder.

“We’ll go home in a minute.”

“I don’t mind, what you said was right, Mummy, we need to live together whether we’re ordinary or special.”

“Yes we do.” I noticed the crowd had thinned and there were now just a few people around Rev Smallpiece and at the back of the church Alice’s dad was still sitting there as Paul and one or two others stood talking to him. I walked up towards him. Alice’s mum had gone to speak with the vicar.

“Good morning, how d’you feel?”

“D’ye really care?”

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t, would I?”

“I dinna ken.”

“I’m sorry you lost your child.”

“Aye.”

“I can’t say I know how you feel, but I was devastated when I lost my daughter.”

“Aye.”

“If there’s anything I can do to help...”

“Aye, gang back tae England waur ye belong and leave us simple folk alone frae yer ideas of sinfulness.”

“Man, that’s no way to speak to the Laird’s wife,” reprimanded Paul.

“I’ll speak as I wish.”

“I’m Scottish too,” I said to the distraught man.

“Aye, by marriage.”

“By birth. I was born in Dumfries.”

“Aye, sure ye were.”

“Dinna be sae rude,” chided Paul.

“I’ve lost ma son thanks tae her interference. He hanged himself in a dress–hoo’s that f’ shame on oor family. Until ye can answer me why, I’ll thank ye tae keep yer nose oot ’o ma affairs.”

“I think I know why it happened.”

“Oh Mrs clever I’ve been tae university, knows everythin’.”

“Watch your tongue, man,” Paul cautioned.

“She was completely screwed up by her upbringing and her needs to do something she knew you wouldn’t approve.”

“Aye, her unnatural urges.”

“They might seem unnatural to you, Mr MacDuff, but they weren’t to Alice.”

“His name wis Alistair.”

“His or her name is irrelevant, what is relevant is how your stupidity and small mindedness drove a child to take their own life. If there was one iota of love in you or your pathetic superstitions you’d be able to see that, but you seem unable. Until you can, you won’t ever be able to know what love is and so you’ll be consumed by your bitterness which will destroy you, you stupid man. What right have you to tell someone what to think or to feel–your arrogance is matched only by your ignorance. Good day to you Mr MacDuff, I hope you enjoy the hell you’ve made for yourself, just don’t go trying to blame it upon anyone else, because it’s all yours.”

Before he could reply to my broadside, I turned abruptly and collected my coat and pulled it on. Having vented my spleen, I felt cold. Danni came up to me. “You were right, Mummy, his bitterness will kill him, won’t it?”

“It could.”

“Is there no way you can stop it?”

“Why should I? It’s what he wants, then on his death bed he can curse everyone but himself. He’ll die miserable but that’s all he knows.”

“How can he do that, Mummy, that’s just stupid.”

“He’s locked into a mindset.”

“Can’t you unlock it?”

“No, sweetheart, only he can do that. What’s ironic is that he believes he’s a Christian, but it’s nothing Jesus would recognise.”

“No, he said, ‘Suffer the little children to come unto me,’ didn’t he, Mummy?”

“He did indeed, a point missed by some people who claim to follow his example. C’mon, let’s get out of here, I’m getting cold.” I put my arm around Danni’s shoulders and we went towards the door, Mr MacDuff walked towards us and I stiffened at his approach. He stopped in front of us and I felt Danni step in front of me, as if to protect me.

“I owe ye an apology, Lady Cameron.”

“Oh yes,” I said feeling myself tensing for whatever was going to happen next.

“Aye, I dinna agree wi’ onythin’ ye said, but I wis discourteous tae a lady. I wisnae brocht up like that, an’ I apologise.”

“In which case I accept your apology, Mr MacDuff.” I whisked Danni away by linking my arm in hers. Paul was driving up with the car as we exited the church and I thanked Danni for her support, then asked, “If he’d threatened me, what would you have done?”

“I dunno, Mummy: part of me wanted to slap him and part thought perhaps I ought to warn him that bigger men have spent time in hospital after trying it on with you.”

“You cheeky monkey.” She laughed as we got back to the car.

“What would you like me to do about MacDuff, Cathy?”

“In what regard?”

“Well he was rather unpleasant to his employer.”

“I don’t employ him, Paul, the estate does.”

“Want me to sack him?”

“What would that achieve except more bad feeling?”

“Might teach him a lesson.”

“I suspect it would do the opposite, it would confirm what he thinks he knows.”

“In what way?”

“He thinks we’re out to get him because we disagreed over his attitude to Alice.”

“I don’t have a problem with that, he hounded the poor kid to death not to mention screwing them up with his fire and brimstone religion.”

“He’s hounding himself to death as well.”

“Is he, can’t say I’d noticed.”

“Yes, Paul, his narrow view of life is so constrictive it’s squeezing the life out of him.”

“You could be right, five or six years ago he was a great deal more jolly than he is now, and I mean before–you know.”

“Her name was Alice, Paul.”

“Yeah, I know but remember I knew her as a boy for a great deal longer.”

“I’m feeling cold, perhaps we could go home.”

“Yes, of course.” He drove us back in ten minutes. The rain had started and the day began to close in on us and I was pleased that Mr Dunstan had lit a fire in the sitting room, because I snuggled down before it in a huge winged armchair, one I could bring my legs up in as well, and covered with a travel rug, I nodded off for half an hour or so.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2142 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

---

“The best laid plans o’ mice and men gang aft a gley,” says the poet from my home town. Burns wasn’t born in Dumfries but he certainly lived and worked there and finally died there. Whereas, I was born there but moved south soon after.

I had planned to go home the next day, in fact we had tickets booked for Danni and I and little Lizzie to travel south, alas, the poet was right we couldn’t. Somehow, I’d succumbed to the chest infection which had laid me low before and instead of travelling, I was being treated with antibiotics and deemed too poorly to fly in Dr Sinclair’s professional opinion, I needed rest and lots of it.

Mrs Cuddy’s professional opinion was that I needed broth to keep my strength up and was having nearly as much of that shoved down me as I could swallow. Any more of it and I’ll end up looking like a piece of barley. Meanwhile, Lizzie, while still feeding from me, also had to be helped with some formula milk which Danni would give her, sitting beside my bed in a lovely old upholstered Queen Anne chair and smirking. “If they could see me in school now, I hate to think what they’d say.”

“They’d probably go on about teenage mums,” I joked though breathing and laughing were not such good fun.

“Kids my age don’t become mums, do they?”

“I’m afraid so–the Virgin Mary started quite a tradition, didn’t she?” I said before a fit of coughing took my breath away and I wet myself–that was twice while coughing today, not much but it’s so bloody irritating.

“The Virgin Mary? Jesus’s mother?”

“Yes, she was only about twelve or thirteen.”

“Jesus,” said Danni.

“Yep, that’s my boy, she said.”

“Ha ha,” replied my assistant baby looker-afterer, which woke Lizzie and she then filled her nappy.

“Oh shit,” said Danni.

“Exacty,” I replied and started coughing again. “Go and change her.”

“You’d better watch me then.”

I nodded and coughed again, my chest felt on fire but at least I wisnae awa’ wi’ thae fairies like last time. I had Danni lay Lizzie next to me while she went to get a clean nappy and some more plastic pants as well as wipes and creams etc.

While lying there wrapped up in a heavy quilt and blankets, I was now beginning to feel warm, possibly too warm. I recollected the end of the day of the remembrance service, we’d come home and I’d changed into some more casual clothes and had settled myself down by the fireside with a cup of tea when I started to shake uncontrollably, spilling the tea. I called Danny who in turn called Dunstan and he picked me up and carried me up to bed where Mrs Cuddy washed me and changed me before putting me to bed and calling Dr Sinclair.

I was just so cold and for a moment I thought I was going to die, but instead some antibiotics and lots of Mrs Cuddy’s broth and I felt quite a bit better, if still weak and wobbly.

Lizzie chuckled at me and I tickled her making silly faces and saying even sillier things. She laughed, then shrieked before saying, “Ma ma,” and I felt myself getting hot with embarrassment. Had I done it again–taken someone’s baby and imprinted myself on them.

Danni returned with the nappy and other paraphernalia and I watched as she laid the baby on the towel–we didn’t have a changing mat–and carefully pushed her clothes up out of the way before taking off the poo filled nappy and wiping her bum. Lizzie laughed and weed herself which sprayed everywhere and nearly had Danni running away.

“Why’d she have to do that, Mummy?”

“Babies do I’m afraid.”

“God it smells awful.”

“It does when you do it too.”

“Yeah, but you don’t have to wipe it off my bum, do you?”

“I’ll bet someone did when you were her age.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Besides it’s good training, by the time I’m better you’ll be a past master at this.”

“Oh great,” she sighed and I sniggered.

“What’s so funny?”

“The look on your face.”

“Well I didn’t expect to have to do this, did I?”

“Girls do it all the time. How far did you take her in the pram?” I asked her about the walk she’d had earlier.

“Dunno, was out for about an hour.”

“Did you meet anyone?”

“I might have.”

“Wasn’t Richard Ralph, was it?”

She blushed beetroot, “Might have been,” she said very coyly, “Why?”

“He’s kissed all your lip-gloss off again.”

“What d’you mean, again?” she said blushing furiously.

“Same as he did yesterday.”

“How did–oh bugger.” She finished dressing Lizzie and gave her to me to hold. “Mummy, am I turning–you know gay?”

“I’m no expert on such things but did you feel like a girl or a boy when you kissed him?”

“A girl, I think–he certainly thinks I’m a girl.”

“So he’s not gay, and I suspect neither are you. Who kisses better, Richard or Cindy?”

“Richard–oh,” she blushed yet again.

“I see, what about Pia?”

“She kisses ok–um, how d’you know about these things?” She was still rather a cerise colour.

“It’s funny; boys tend only to experiment with girls as far as kissing goes, but girls kiss each other to learn what kissing feels like. It’s not an act of lesbianism but simple exploration of sex, whereas boys will masturbate each other without it being gay either. I suppose boys are more hands on,” I said and she nearly fell off the chair laughing–it took me a moment to see what I said that was so funny.

“I let Pia touch me, does that make me gay?”

“Touch you where?”

“Down below,” now there were moist eyes as well as blushes.

“Oh, well I said boys tend to touch each other more than kiss.”

“We kissed as well.”

“While both dressed as girls?”

She looked away, “Yes–I’m sorry, Mummy.”

“Sorry for what?”

“For doing it.”

“It’s part of growing up, kiddo, lots of people do it.”

“Did you?”

“No, I’m the exception to almost every rule. I was so inhibited as a child and so confused, I’d only kissed one man before I kissed Daddy and that was some car mechanic who literally stole a kiss off me while I was sitting in the car waiting for him to repair it.”

“He kissed you?”

“Yes, just leant in and kissed me as we were talking about cycling.”

“Wow, what happened?”

Now it was my turn to blush, “Uh–nothing,” I lied and she didn’t believe a word of it.

“What was his name?”

“Kevin.”

“Ah ha–you did like it, or you wouldn’t have remembered his name,” she accused gleefully.

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it, just that it was a complete surprise and that confused me rather than clarified things.”

“Why, you’re a girl, aren’t you supposed to like kissing boys?”

“Back then, I’d spent less time as a girl than you have.”

“What about the times in school?”

“That was different–I was so on edge then, I couldn’t really enjoy it.”

“I enjoy it,” she admitted in a very small voice and I wondered what was going to happen when I recovered.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2143 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

---

Simon phoned and asked how I was doing and just in passing–when I was I planning to come home.

“But I am home, I’m the mistress of Stanebury, remember?”

“Technically, yes.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I snapped back wondering if he’d done something I didn’t know about.

“I mean the mistress in actuality is Mrs Cuddy, she runs the place.”

“What about Mr Dunstan?”

“He’s like you, thinks he’s in charge, but in reality...”

“Mrs Cuddy is the boss.”

“Um–yes, sorry, Babes.”

“You realise this could cause me to relapse and I might be here another month.”

“You can’t, you have university to run.”

“They have professors to do that.”

“The one I know tends to do what you tell him.”

“Of course he does if he has any sense. Are you trying to show me some parallel here?”

“Meee?”

I wasn’t sure I liked Simon when he understood what was going on, he tended to say or do sensible things and that sometimes interfered with my plans. “Yes you, mister.”

“I was just calling to see how ma wifey is?”

“A little better each day, Danielle has been doing a sterling job helping to look after Lizzie, bathing her and bottle feeding her, taking her out in the pram and playing with her.”

“Tell her well done from me.”

“You can tell yourself,” I handed the phone to Danni and she chatted with her dad for a few minutes. She handed me back the handset and he’d rung off.

“He told me to be careful with the boys.”

“He’s your dad, it’s what they do.”

“I can hardly get pregnant, can I?”

“No, but there are other things that can happen.”

“You mean nasty diseases–they go on about those in school.”

“I was thinking more that if Richard discovers you’re not quite what it seems to say on the tin, he might want his money back and give you a beating in lieu of it.”

“Oh, you don’t think he would, do you?”

“Danni, I don’t know–you’re the one who was dancing with him, you’re the one who’s been kissing him. If you lead him on too far he might get upset.”

“I told him I don’t do sex.”

“Just make sure your body and your mouth say the same things.”

“What d’you mean?” She looked perplexed.

“Think about it, but if you’re saying no sex and kissing him passionately, he might think you’re undecided and try to get you to change your mind.”

“I don’t think so, he’s nice,” she blushed as she spoke tending to suggest she had some real feelings for the boy. If we’d been staying longer it might have worried me, but we’ll be home in a week at most.

“Just be careful.”

“I will.”

“So you’ve bathed Lizzie have you?”

“Yes, Mummy, and put on the outfit you told me to.”

“Good girl, so you’re taking her out are you?”

“Yes.”

“And meeting Richard?”

“I don’t know, he’s in school.”

“It’s his lunch time–be careful my girl.”

“I will, Mummy.” She pecked me on the cheek and went off with the baby in the pram.

I lay there fretting, Danni can be a bit of a worry at times. I tried to surround her with blue light but I didn’t really feel strong enough to think it would be very effective. “Goddess protect you,” I said to myself and felt the room go colder. Nothing else happened, so I added, “Thank you.” A few minutes later, the temperature returned to normal.

With nothing better to do, I sat and mused upon what had just happened. “I don’t believe in supernatural things because I feel they’re natural things we haven’t yet understood or explained. Having said that, I’ve experienced a number of things which seem to verge on what others would describe as supernatural including being told I was one of the Shekinah’s angels. If that was the case, how come I’m ill–I didn’t think angels got ill. Shows how much I know doesn’t it?

I tried reading my book–the one by TS Learner–I still chuckle at the author’s name but fell asleep, Danni waking me up when she brought Lizzie back for her feed. I took her and opened my top for her to suckle and nearly dropped her. Her nose was freezing against my warm breast.

As she suckled Danni took off her coat and the sat down so she could watch us. “I wish I could do that,” she sighed.

“If you did you’d have to wear a bra all the time and would likely have quite big breasts.”

“It would be worth it to be able to do that, it looks so–so amazing.”

“It’s the most natural thing in the world, an adult feeding a baby.”

“An adult woman,” she corrected, “an’ not all of those can do it.”

“No sadly they can’t, mind you not all of them want to do it.”

“I would if I were a proper girl.”

“You might feel differently if you were.”

“No I wouldn’t, I’d feel the same.”

This was the aspect of having teens that I didn’t like the insistence that they’re always right and that they tend to see things in black and white. I decided not to argue because she wouldn’t listen and it would only make things worse and I need her on board for the moment to help with the baby.

“Why don’t you ask Richard over for tea or dinner one night?”

“Could I–that would be ace, Mummy.” Then after a moment’s thought she added, “He won’t get the wrong idea will he, meeting my Mummy?”

“As I’m unlikely to end up as his mother in law, I doubt it, besides your father is the one whose job it is to frighten potential suitors.”

“Suitors–what’s that?”

“Don’t they teach you anything at that school?”

“Yeah, football and cricket.”

“Have you done no history or Shakespeare plays?”

“Yeah we read some of Twelfth Night.”

“Were there any suitors in that?”

“I dunno, I nearly fell asleep.”

Philistine. “Suitors are would be marriage partners.”

“Jeez–Mummy, I’m not marrying a boy.”

“Not yet you can’t, you’re too young but in a few years time you could.”

“I’m a boy too, remember?”

“Somewhere inside there it’s rumoured there’s a boy, why?”

“Well, boys don’t marry other boys, do they?”

“They will be able to soon.”

“Nah, you’re joking.”

“I’m not, sweetheart, this government in between destroying the economy and bashing badgers has introduced a same sex marriage bill.”

“What two boys can get married?”

“Or two girls.”

“Crikey.”

“Still want Richard to dinner?”

“You said I was too young.”

“Not for dinner, but you are for sex and marriage.”

“Duh.” She walked off shaking her head, “You’re nuts,” she said as she went through the door. I wondered what took her so long to work that out.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2144 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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The weather had become decidedly cooler with intermittent showers and occasionally longer periods of rain. Autumn, I decided was not the best time of year to be stuck in Scotland.

I spoke to Daddy on the phone and he assured me the dormice were all stuffing like crazy on the fruit and nuts we gave them with the odd meal worm. Their weights were also coming up to suitable for hibernation and in the next month or two they’d be looking to bury themselves in the peat we provide in their cages. We even make holes for them to use and the whole thing has a covering of grass. Most universities using dormice as experimental animals just let them bury themselves in a shed, but I’m trying to understand what happens to them when they do hibernate, physiologically and so on, without them being at risk from predators like rats. I know one biologist who lost all four of her captive dormice to rats because the soil container under the cage broke through old age and a rat got in and killed all the dormice.

I was now allowed up and walking on very weak legs, but I was doing so without getting so out of breath. Danni decided to invite her friend to dinner that evening and I instructed Mr Dunstan to set up the family dining room–not the banqueting hall.

Danny wore a dress and I did her hair for her–not much one can do with short elfin like hair, but I made sure it looked as nice as it could and I also did her makeup, which she seemed to enjoy. I began to wonder if I’d lost my last remaining son and in the next day or so, we’d have to have a very difficult conversation about her future.

Richard came with his mother whom I’d invited as well, his dad was away on an oil rig. He was smartly dressed in a shirt and sweater, the latter a handknit by the look of it, in a lovely Fair isle pattern. He wore jeans and lace up shoes. He was quite a bit bigger than Danni with a shock of red hair topping off the lot.

His mother, from whom he got his red hair, had a mass of the stuff, green eyes and freckles–she was covered in freckles. I have some, because I’m a red head somewhere you won’t get to see it, but I didn’t have anything like as many as she, nor as big, some were two or three millimetres in diameter if not larger. She came from the south west of Scotland–as did I, Dumfries is in Dumfries and Galloway which is part of south west Scotland, and was all settled by Viking invaders a thousand years ago–hence the number of ginger nuts living there.

“So where’re you from?” she asked me.

“Originally?”

“Aye.”

“A little place called Dumfries.”

“Whit, you don’t sound Scottish,” she exclaimed.

“I was born there, we were visiting my grandmother.”

“Obviously, God decided you were to be one o’ the master race.”

The smile on her face meant she was joking, least I hoped so. “Perhaps, and my adoptive father, is another Scot.”

She looked puzzled until I explained that since my own parents had died that Tom had sort of adopted me, although I was an adult at the time. I decided that was enough of my personal disclosure, except how I met Simon, through Stella bumping into me which made her laugh.

“So, she quite literally bumped into you?”

“Yes, knocked me into a hedge which probably saved me from more than a few bruises and scratches and as she was a nurse and realised that I was in mild shock, she took me home and plonked me in a warm bath. She had to loan me some clothes because I was in cycling skins which had become shredded and by the time I’d sort of changed and she tidied up my hair–she was hairdresser before she took to nursing–Simon had come home and I Iiterally fell for him.”

“Love at first sight–how romantic,” she purred.

“No, I caught my heel in my skirt hem and fell on top of him.”

“Oh no,” she shrieked then roared with laughter. If this woman was the audience I could quite easily be tempted into doing stand up.

We chatted for perhaps half an hour before Mrs Cuddy told us dinner was ready, so we left the fireside in the lounge and moved into the dining room, where another log fire sparked and roared.

Danni had chosen the menu–would you believe we had cottage pie–not a sign of haggis anywhere, with a trifle for pudding. I’d asked Mrs Cuddy if we could have a paté for starters, and she made a wonderful smoked salmon one with very thin slices of toast.

The two teens chattered away to each other, occasionally calling one of us to answer a question or verify something.

“So what d’ye do for sport, Danielle, play hockey?”

Danni blushed and looked at me, I winked back encouraging her to tell the truth but perhaps not the whole truth. It would also be interesting to see how much she actually said about herself–boys tend to talk more about themselves than girls–as an indicator of how much boy was still left inside.

“I’ve played hockey, but I prefer football.”

“Aye fitba’s a great game,” agreed Richard.

Melanie, his mother having started the discussion added her opinion, “I wish we’d had the chance to play it like they do today. I did try a bit at university but it wis too late and I stuck to hockey.”

“Which uni?” I asked her.

“Leicester, I did English.”

“Sussex, I did biology/ecology.”

“Aye, I saw your film aboot dormice, it wis very guid.”

I thanked her and the conversation went back to football. “Which position d’ye play?” asked Richard.

“Right wing or outside right, depending upon which formation we play,” offered Danni.

“Aren’t ye a bit sma’ f’ a forward?” he replied.

“How big d’you think the other girls are?” was Danni’s response which I thought very clever.

“Aye, I wisnae thinking o’ girls. D’ye score ony goals?”

“Fifteen last season.”

“Wow, ye’re obviously a guid player.”

I began to worry that she’d say something which could be checked up on line so I changed the topic.

“It’s certainly gone colder this last day or so, no wonder they don’t get dormice up here.”

The cottage pie arrived and we tucked into it. My appetite hadn’t come back to normal since my illness, probably because I was a regular couch potato at present; however, Richard tucked in with gusto and Danni and Melanie ate their share as well.

At one point I had a coughing fit and had to leave the table, Danni rushed over to me with some hankies and a glass of water. It took me a minute or two to return to the meal where I had to apologise.

“Don’t apologise, ye canna help a cough, Richard said you’d been ill.”

“Yes, that’s why we’re still here, Dr Sinclair won’t let me fly home yet.”

“Aye, take yer time, no point in rushing things.”

“I have to get back soon, I’ll be teaching in October and I’ll need to check my notes against the syllabus.”

“Of course.”

“Plus, this young lady will need to get back to school.”

Mrs Cuddy came to collect the dishes and bring in the trifle which despite it being one of my favourites and it looked absolutely wonderful I decided I’d eaten enough. “Lady Cameron, the bairn’s waked up, I think she’ll need feedin’ soon.”

“Thank you, Mrs Cuddy, I’ll come and get her.”

“I’ll get her, Mummy,” and with that Danni followed Mrs Cuddy out of the room.

“She’s a nice girl, isn’t she?” commented Melanie.

“I think so,” was my response.

While the others ate their pudding I fed Lizzie who spent more time watching the others than suckling.

“She looks like you,” observed Melanie.

“Um–she’s not mine.”

“What?”

I then told her the long story of Neal and Gloria and she gasped. “You’re a wonderful friend, Cathy, taking in his sister and his baby, but whit could make a young mother kill hersel’?”

“I don’t know, but I felt I had to help as much as I could him being friend and a colleague and Phoebe being a friend of my eldest daughter.”

“My goodness, you’re a one woman charity,” she observed.

“So Simon keeps informing me.”

“Aye he’s a banker and a Scot, so he would,” she joked.

They left about an hour later as Richard had homework to finish, though Danni and he had a few minutes together before they left and she'd lost her lip gloss again.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2145 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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I needed a good talk with Danni to try and understand what she wanted and how to make it happen. If she stayed in role much longer, it would prove quite hard to extract the boy from all the makeup and frillies. The problem was I could understand part of what she felt, if my mother had said to me, ‘Charlie, if you want to be a girl, let’s get you some skirts and dresses and see how you get on,’ I’d have thought I’d died and gone to heaven.

I think she knew what was going on inside me, but my father’s opposition would have been so great she would never have dared allow me to become girlish, so she taught me how to housekeep. How many boys are shown how to sew curtains and use a machine? How many are taught how to cook, when their mothers are there all day–so it wasn’t like I needed to because she was absent. My dad was useless in the kitchen, claiming he could burn water. I was fairly competent.

My dad approved of what he saw me do, but most of the things he wouldn’t have liked happened surreptitiously–why did she teach me how to bake cakes and then ice them–it wasn’t as if I was going into catering. Why did she make me clean out the kitchen with her, choose new curtains and carpets for her bedroom and then for mine, making me understand the matching of colours. She did the same with clothing, all my things matched or could make reasonable pairings–no wonder they all thought I was a girl at university.

I looked at the curtains in the sitting room, if I had to replace them at least I knew how to measure them, or net curtains–making sure you have enough width to enable some folds which are what keep prying eyes out. How many boys are taught how to do that, compared to the number of girls.

Could my mother have had a premonition about her own death and was thus preparing me to keep house for my father? I can’t believe she had, I’m sure she’d have told me and she didn’t tell me how my father liked things especially though I suppose I knew quite a bit of that already from sitting at the same table with him for so many years.

It was true that some of what she taught me would enable me to cook for myself at university, soups and stews which I could do in the slow-cooker, but she taught me so much more. How to launder delicates and iron them after they were dry, boys don’t wear them as far as I knew, even today. Why did she show me how to wash her lingerie and dry it. How many boys know how to iron a bra? Yeah, I know how, I rarely do it as to me it seems like it’s looking for work.

Why did she teach me skin care and buy me cleansers and moisturisers, and she insisted my hair was properly shampooed and conditioned–‘If you’re going to have hair like a girl, you can jolly well look after it like a girl.’ All those years, when I enjoyed what she was teaching me, I didn’t take on board she was training me as a wife–my goodness, how did I miss it? How did Dad miss it? He’d have killed the pair of us if he’d found out–or was he in on it as well? Nothing would surprise me anymore.

“Mummy, shall I put some more wood on the fire?”

“If you like, sweetheart, but do be careful and watch out for sparks they can burn.”

I watched Danni place two further logs on the fire. It was done with greater precision than I’d have expected from a boy, or was it just because I was watching her? I patted the seat alongside mine. “Would you like me to teach you to knit?”

“I don’t know, Mummy, will I have time to knit anything before I go back to being a boy?”

“You can knit as a boy as well you know.”

“I hadn’t thought of that, I thought it was only girls who knitted things.”

“The vast majority of them probably are, but some men also do it, like they do embroidery and other sewing.”

“Yeah, but I bet they get teased to hell about it.”

“Some people are strong enough to cope with such things.” But was Danni one of them?

“I don’t know, Mummy–will the girls laugh at me?”

“Why should they, they’ve enjoyed having another sister for a week or two.”

“I s’pose.”

“Have you enjoyed your feminine side this past couple of weeks?”

“Oh yes, it’s been great fun.”

“Are you ready to turn back into a caterpillar?”

“Eh?”

“Well you’ve been a real butterfly, so I just saw it as back to the drab colours of a caterpillar.”

“Some caterpillars are pretty too.”

“Yes I know, but others are designed to merge into the background to hide from predators.”

“Are the pretty ones poisonous?”

“Possibly, certainly some of them are and others mimic it, it’s called Batesian mimicry, so they look poisonous and copy the way the poisonous ones flaunt themselves.”

“Does it save them?”

“It certainly could if a would be predator ate one of the really poisonous ones and was sick or had a bad experience, then it would avoid anything like that again. It’s called negative feedback.”

“You sound like my science teacher, except what you say is much more interesting.” She paused, “If I’m pretty and using Bateswhatever mimicry, dos that make me less likely to be eaten?”

“In humans I’m afraid it often has the opposite effect, beautiful things and people are often destroyed by those with ugly intentions, perhaps out of jealousy or a desire to possess them.”

“Possess them–like in a horror movie?”

“No, sweetie, some people become obsessed with another, sometimes because they think them so beautiful they can’t stand to share them with anyone else.”

“Ugh, that is an ugly thought.”

“It is, but there are some funny people out there.”

“And they think I’m weird because I like to look like a girl sometimes.”

“So you wouldn’t like to do it all the time?”

“Do what?”

“Be a girl.”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you ready to go back to being a boy?”

“Not really.”

“Okay, stay as a girl as long as you like. Right off to bed with you.”

She sat there looking at me for a moment. A tear welled up in hr eyes and dripped down her face and she suddenly threw herself at me hugging me and crying all over me. I put my arms around her as much as a reflex as anything else being as surprised by her action as she possibly was by mine.

“You’re serious, I can stay as a girl for a bit longer?” she mumbled in between sobs.

“If that’s what you want, yeah, why not?”

“But what about school, Mummy?”

“You’ll either have to go to the convent or I’ll have you home schooled.”

“I love you, Mummy.”

“I love you too, sweetheart. Now off to bed with you and I’ll be along in a short time to tuck you in.”

She kissed me on the cheek and went towards the door.

“Don’t forget to use your cleanser and moisturiser–and take your makeup off properly won’t you?”

“Yes, Mummy, I will.”

I poked the fire and asked Mrs Cuddy for a cup of tea–I know I could make my own but it’s more than my life’s worth to go near her kitchen. I drank it and went to tuck Danni in. She was lying very still and for a moment I wondered if she was asleep or even dead. When I looked closely she was crying, silently weeping holding a teddy bear Trish had given her.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

“I don’t know, Mummy. Part of me wants to stay as a girl and part of me wonders what’s going to happen to me if I do?”

“I’ll do my best not to allow anything bad to happen, but that’s all I can try to do. Look why don’t you sleep on it and see how you feel in the morning.” I kissed her goodnight and switched off the bedroom light.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2146 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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I hoped Danni slept better than I did. I tossed and turned worrying about what was going to happen to her or to him. With Trish and Julie and largely with Sammi, it was pretty well cut and dried. They knew they should have been female and at the first opportunity went for it. Billie, I wasn’t as sure about, though it seems it was ultimately right for her, which I’ve since learned is true. Danni–I’m just not sure about.

Why did it take so long? What was the effect of the assault in France and then hanging out with Pia? Why would a relatively normal boy allow himself to be dressed as a girl by his friend and then offer to do their makeup?

Okay, let’s try and look at this logically if I can, being somewhat involved. If Danny was just a cross dresser, this would be a great fun, being allowed to wear fancy dress for a couple of weeks with very few consequences and the complete support of his family.

If he was gay, why would he need to dress up? All I could think would be to catch a boy like a girl does but it doesn’t feel right. Surely, he could find another gay boy without all that fuss unless he was wanting a boy who wasn’t gay. It still doesn’t feel right, but it’s working if it was the case, he has Richard sniffing round him like a bloodhound.

If he was transsexual, wouldn’t he have known it earlier? He’s thirteen years old, I knew in nursery what I was, so why didn’t he? The psychologists have great fun with us as a group trying to classify and reclassify everything and everyone. I’ve read stuff where they suggest there are primary and secondary transsexuals, the primary are like me, knew from a young age, the secondary being older, perhaps transitioning after a midlife crisis. However, that sort of reasoning doesn’t take individual circumstances into account. What if it wasn’t possible for the individual to do anything until they were thirty or forty or even older? What if they lived in a poor country where subsistence level living made ordinary life hard without trying to tell others you were in the wrong body?

I glanced at the clock, it was after one in the morning and my head was spinning with all sorts of things the bottom line of which was simply, how can I help my child do what is best for them?

Sleep must have occurred because I woke up having a very strange dream.

I was about nine and my parents had removed all my boy clothes replacing them with girl’s stuff. Instead of feeling joyful and rushing to thank them, I was horrified. I looked in the mirror and I still had a boy’s haircut. In girl’s clothing I was going to look stupid and I’d be teased to death in school.

Looking down, I realised I was wearing a ‘Care Bears’ nightdress and all I wanted to do was get it off me before someone saw me in it. I called to my mother.

“Yes, Charlotte, what d’you want?”

“Where are my clothes, Mummy?”

“In your chest of drawers and wardrobe, why?” I heard her walking towards me. “They’re where they always are, you silly girl.”

“But I wear boy’s clothes, Mummy?”

“You used to but you’re always telling us you’re really a girl, so we thought we’d let you wear girl’s clothes from now on.”

“What about my hair?”

“What about it? You’ll just have to wait until it grows, won’t you?”

“What about school?”

“You’ll still have to go–it’s the law.”

“But they’ll laugh at me?”

“Too bad, you kept saying you wished you were a girl, now you are so get on with it.”

Suddenly things were changed and I became the mother and Danny became the child and he was protesting and I was telling him hard luck.

I woke up in a lather and struggling for breath. It was two o’clock. My chest was on fire and I knew I had another infection. At this rate I was going to end up on intravenous antibiotics and probably in Perth general hospital. Sitting up in bed, my chest was wheezing like a set of ancient bellows and I was struggling.

For a few minutes I wondered if I was going to die, as I couldn’t seem to breathe at all. Initially I felt a surge of panic then gradually I began to calm down. I’d possibly see Billie again and find out if death was the end. The tunnel of light started to develop and part of me thought, here we go–endorphins are kicking in, my brain is dying.

Suddenly, I felt someone shake me. “Mummy, what’s the matter?” it was Danni, “Mummy, wake up.”

I opened my eyes and there beside me stood Danni, resplendent in nightdress and slippers. I sat up, I was bathed in sweat–I’d been dreaming.

“What are you doing here?”

“You called out in your sleep, it woke me up.”

“Did I? I’m sorry sweetheart, I must have had a bad dream.”

“I’m getting cold, Mummy,” she stood there shivering and despite her appearing as female, I didn’t think it was appropriate to have a thirteen year old boy in my bed.

“Okay, go back to bed–and thanks for coming to help me.”

“’s okay,” she shrugged and left me.

I could recall quite a bit of the dream which was weirder than usual and I was quite damp. Changing my nightdress seemed a sensible course of action so that’s what I did, having a quick wipe over with a flannel and a towel before donning the pyjamas I had in my case.

The clock said three o’clock, well in reality it sort of said, ‘tick tick’, but you know what I mean. I wanted a drink so went in search of a cuppa. I was just filling the kettle when a voice behind said, “Lady Cameron, just what are you doing?”

I jumped about a foot in the air and nearly dropped the kettle. Blushing like a naughty schoolgirl who’d been caught midnight snacking, I spun round and there was Mrs Cuddy. “I was thirsty and wanted a cuppa.” How could I feel guilty saying that to an employee–but I did–this was her kitchen.

“Aye well back t’ bed wi’ ye, an’ I’ll bring it through t’ ye.”

“But that’s unfair on you,” I protested.

“Och, it’s nae bother at a’. Awa’ tae yer bed, noo.” So saying she shooed me out of the kitchen and like a dog with its tail between its legs I retreated to my room feeling like I’d been put in my place in my place, if you see what I mean? I’m the lady of the house and I was being ordered about by a servant. Wonderful.

I was still sulking but in bed when she brought me a pot of tea on a tray with milk and sugar, even though she knows I don’t take the latter and plate of toast which smelt absolutely fabulous.

“There ye hae this an’ go back tae sleep, ye need all thae rest ye can get.”

Duly chastened, I thanked her for her kindness and waited until she was out of the room before pouring a cup of tea and taking a big bite from the toast.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2147 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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The toast was delicious and to my surprise I lay back down and went off to sleep quite quickly, which of course I only realised on waking. It took me ages to wake up and Danni was dressed and made up and ready for breakfast while I was still trying to open my eyes and keep them open. I also called Danni, Billie, twice.

“No, Mummy, that’s the other transsexual kid, and she’s no longer with us, if you remember.”

“Uh what?”

“You called me Billie, and I’m Danielle, remember?”

“Of course I remember,” is what I said but what I was thinking about was what she said before, the other transsexual kid. Has she decided what she is?

I sat up and as I did so my mobile peeped to indicate a text message. It was from Trish. ‘How does a cat use a video player? Answer, she presses the paws control. When u comin home? Lol Txxx’

I groaned at the joke and showed it to Danni, who groaned even louder. “Would you like breakfast in bed, mumsy dear?”

I wondered if it got rid of her for five minutes, it might be a good idea. “Okay, I’ll have some tea and toast please, oh and could you take that tray back to the kitchen?”

“When did you have this?” she queried, “I don’t think I saw it when I came in when you were calling out.”

“It was rather late and you had been asleep, it’s very easy to miss things then,” I lied and immediately remonstrated with myself for doing it as it wasn’t necessary or helpful, I suppose I just felt that I didn’t need to explain things to my child. I’m an adult and should be allowed to do things without giving reasons for them.

“Yeah, I probably did, okay, tea an’ toast comin’ up.” She disappeared with the dirty crocks.

I should have got up and showered and woken myself up, instead I laid down again and went off to sleep, almost jumping out of the bed when Mrs Cuddy’s voice announced, “Your breakfast, Lady Cameron.” It was a pot of tea and two poached eggs on toast. When i grumbled she replied, “No wonder you’re no recoverin’ ye dinnae eat enough.”

I sat up as quickly as I could and she shoved a pillow behind me then placed the tray on my lap, one of those bed trays that balance on the bed with legs that unfold either side of you. I felt quite opulent and I suspected after the breakfast, corpulent.

Despite my protests that I didn’t eat much for breakfast, to which she retorted, ‘Nor lunch or dinner,’ the eggs on toast went down very well as did the pot of tea, although now my bladder had awakened, I had to dash to the en suite. After that, a shower seemed a good idea and I did so without being out of breath. I was feeling much better and decided we’d head off home the day after.

Before telling the family, I called the chap who’d ferried us up from Glasgow and he wasn’t available for two days, so I had to go with that, he also told me he’d organise the flights from there to Southampton. I let him get on with it and finished drying my hair and placed it in a ponytail.

‘Come to bonny Scotland,’ invite the posters and show a picture of different places where the sun is shining. When I glanced out the window, we had a mist or low cloud enveloping everything. Danni disturbed my thoughts by arriving with Lizzie so I had to feed her and felt well enough to bathe and change her. I don’t know who was more surprised the baby or Danni.

As I fed her, I decided to check out what I heard earlier. “So have you decided what you want to do?”

“What, this morning?”

“No, when we get home?”

“Yeah, get a sex change and sleep with David Beckham.”

“I’m not sure which part of that was the joke,” I replied thereby killing it, mainly because I didn’t find it funny. Sex change isn’t funny neither are the people who undergo them.

“It was all a joke, Mummy.”

“So you don’t want a sex change operation, then?”

“I dunno, do I?”

I did when I was her age, but that doesn’t mean anything. “So what are we going to do?”

“What d’you think I should do?”

“Whatever makes life easiest and hopefully happiest.”

“I dunno,” she said chewing her bottom lip.

“We’re going home in two days time, you’ll need to have made up your mind by then, or I’ll do it for you.”

“What would you decide, Mummy?”

“I’m not telling you.”

“But it might help me–to make up my mind.”

“Why don’t you go off and draw up a chart of the good and bad things that would happen if you decided to stay as Danielle, or if you went back to being a boy. Write them down.”

“I don’t think I get you,” he looked puzzled.

“Pass me that piece of paper,” I pointed to a sheet of paper on the nearby occasional table. “Right, on the top we put, ‘Staying Danielle.’ Now underneath we draw a line down the whole page, like so.” I showed him the line running vertically down through the middle of the page. I then did a plus and minus signs on opposite sides of the line and asked him to give me a good reason for staying a girl.

“I like the clothes and makeup.”

“Is that one or two things?”

“Um–one I think.”

“Okay, another one.”

“I like being pretty.”

We carried on doing this critical path analysis listing positives and after that some negatives, then I left her to it for a while. She returned about half an hour later.

“Has it helped?” I asked.

“Helped what, Mummy?”

“To help you come to a decision.”

“Oh I made that ages ago.”

“Oh did you now?”

“Yes.”

“So what is it then?”

“You tell me what’d you’d do and I’ll tell you if you’re right.”

I wasn’t aware I could be wrong. So perhaps her cheek served a purpose.

“No, you tell me first and if it’s what I was going to do, I’ll tell you.”

She looked very suspiciously at me. After several minutes she eventually asked, “If I said I wanted to stay as a girl, can I?”

I took a deep breath, “Provided Stephanie agrees with it, yes.”

“An’ if I wanna be a boy again?”

“Of course you can.”

“What if I wanna be both–you know when I felt like it?”

My heart sank. “Yes, that’s perhaps the more difficult option, but it’s possible.”

“I don’t know, do I?” she then burst into tears and ran out of the room.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2148 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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“Whit’s thae matter wi’ yon lassie, she took off like her sporran wis on fire?”

“Where did she go?” I asked after searching her room.

“Oh she went oot by the main door,” answered Shona, a girl from the village who came in to help Mrs Cuddy while she’s home from university.

“Her boyfriend hasn’t been about has he?”

“I didnae see him.”

“Okay, Shona, thank you.”

I rushed back to my room grabbed my coat and bag and went down to the front door. Now which way did she go? I tried to visualise the blue light coming from her but to no avail. Perhaps I wasn’t meant to find her just yet, however, something kept telling me to keep looking.

It was odds on that she’d have gone off to where she’d meet Richard, but I seemed to be walking away from that area. My legs seemed to be taking me into the woods and an awful sensation crept over me. What if she was going to do the same as Alice had done? Oh no–she wouldn’t, would she?

I walked on with legs which seemed to become heavier and heavier and my breathing got worse and worse as I set off up into the woodland. I spotted a fresh footprint and it could well belong to her shoe, it looked like a girl’s shoe. Someone had come this way very recently. I struggled onwards but the path went upwards and I had to keep stopping to catch my breath.

I huffed and puffed and wheezed my way onwards along the sticky track, the mud becoming slippery with the recent rain, and the bushes were wet as well. I was so glad I’d put on my trainers, though walking boots might have proved more useful on the slippery path.

Once or twice I nearly lost my footing but by snatching at a bush or tree managed to keep upright but my pitiful progress was slowing me down. I had to keep on, she’d left her mobile behind along with her bag she’d rushed off in such a hurry–a natural girl might not have done that but we all do strange things when we get upset.

I had to stop and rest, my chest was burning and making the most awful noises. I also felt quite strange, as if I was detaching from everything. I looked around me and the trees and bushes looked different. I was someone who’d spent hundreds of hours in woodland of different sorts at all times of the day and night, but this woodland was beginning to feel very strange, as if the trees were individual entities.

Suddenly it felt as if the one I was leaning against was holding me and the others were looking down and glaring at me. “Humans–huh, they are no friends of us,” said the dominant Scots pine.

There was broad agreement from the other arboreal types and lots of shaking of leaves. “What shall we do with her?” asked the pine.

“Kill her,” clamoured the mob.

“Might I say something?” I asked trying to stand up, but my cuff seemed stuck to the tree.

“Then we kill her,” began the clamouring which started like a rustling of leaves and ended like a roar of the wind gusting.

“I’m Lady Catherine Cameron, my husband owns this woodland.” That seemed to be the wrong thing to say, but having started I’d have to pursue it and quickly. “If anything were to happen to me, he’d have the whole of it clear felled and burned. All of you would perish in his anger.”

There was no reply, I’d obviously got their attention. “Something else you might like to know about me is that I’m an ecologist and I spend much of my life trying to protect forests and their occupants, especially dormice.”

“Whit’s a dormice?” asked a pine marten which had strolled up in front of me. I was astonished–I’d never seen one in real life before, let alone a talking one.

“I seek my daughter who I fear is lost in these woods, please help me to find her safe and well and I’ll do the very best I can to protect these woodlands.”

“I saw some human up near thon hanging tree.”

“Hanging tree?” I asked the pine marten.

“Aye, where we hang humans we want rid o’.”

“You can’t hang humans, that’s awful.”

“You shuld see whit yer gamekeepers do tae ma relatives wi their gin traps an’ snares.”

“I’ve seen and I’m as disgusted as you are.”

“Wait till ye see the snare we hae fa ye, we won’t hang ye, least no frae a tree.” He gave the most horrible laugh and I found myself having a coughing fit and vomiting up the eggs I’d had for my breakfast. The marten just managed to jump out of the way.

“Sorry about that,” I apologised to the small mustelid.

“Ye will be,” he snapped back, “Let the killing begin.”

For a moment nothing happened then I felt something around my neck which began to pull tighter. “Wait,” I gasped rather than shouted. “I’m an angelic emissary from the Shekinah.”

“Who?” asked the marten.

“The goddess.”

“Which one?”

“The goddess.”

“O’ thae heavens an’ thae earth?”

“The same, and she will not be pleased if you harm one of her messengers.”

“Ye’re a liar, I’ll bet,” challenged the marten.

“Am I now?” I called down the blue light to help me and with my free hand I threw some at the pine marten knocking him off the log on which he was standing to make himself look larger.

“Here, dinna ye dae that tae me,” he spat back at me.

So I did it again. Then as he clambered back onto the log, I sent the energy down my other arm into the tree which suddenly lost all its leaves. My arm became free again.

Next I asked the energy to remove this strange feeling from my head and to restore my breathing to normal. This time I was nearly knocked over but as I clung to the tree, the burning in my lungs turned to coldness which stopped as quickly as it began. I stood up straight, my whole body tingling and my breathing was normal.

The pine marten had gone and I began to wonder if I’d dreamt it all, except I had leaves all over me. I set off with renewed vigour towards the place where I thought I seen Alice’s inert body.

Suddenly I heard Danni’s voice, she was talking to someone and the way she was speaking it could only have been Billie. I stopped and listened.

“What’s the point of going on? I can’t decide if I want to be a boy or a girl and my family don’t seem to care one way or the other.”

“They do care, but they don’t know how to help you other than to support you.”

“But I want them to tell me what to do?”

“They are frightened to do that in case they tell you the wrong thing.”

“As a boy, you’ll achieve more than a girl.” That voice sounded like Alice’s.

“Like what?”

“Like, you might be good enough to play professional football.”

“Like you’d know?”

“I have no future now, Danni, so I can’t see my own, but I can see yours and it isn’t as a girl.”

“But I like the dresses and makeup.”

“Fine, but you’ll never play for England in a dress, will you?”

“I could do that?”

“If you really try your hardest, you could be that good.”

“I don’t believe you, you’re just trying to wind me up.”

“I have no reason to do other than show you your potential. It isn’t certain because you have to help it happen, but it could happen if you make it so.”

“Will I stop wearing dresses?”

“That’s within your power as well.”

“An’ I could really play for England?”

“So it is written.”

“Where is it written?”

“In your future, go now and find it, begin it, waste not another moment here. Go now.”

Danni turned round and began running down the path until she ran smack into me. I just managed to stop both of us falling over.

“Oh hi, Mum, I’m gonna go back to being a boy, got tired of the dresses–can we go home now?"

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2149 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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“What about Richard?” I asked.

“He’ll live.”

“Danielle, that’s rather a glib answer. The boy is fond of you and you seemed to be fond of him until this morning.”

“Yeah, well a girl can change her mind, can’t she?”

“That simple is it?”

“Yeah, why?”

“So that’s it, is it? When we get back to Portsmouth, no more Danielle?”

“Um–possibly, I dunno, but right now I wanna get back to playin’ football.”

“I see. Well we’re booked to fly home tomorrow, so I think you’d better phone Richard and say goodbye.”

“What for?”

“Because I asked you to.”

“And if I don’t?”

“I’ll send you to the convent school as a girl.”

“You wouldn’t–would you?”

“No, because you’re going to say goodbye to Richard.”

“Oh all right.”

I wasn’t altogether sorry that we were going because I suspect keeping him out of her panties was going to prove a tad difficult for Danielle. So we can call it a holiday romance and everyone moves on. I’m still saddened by Alice’s death, it shouldn’t have happened but perhaps I’m partly responsible for it. If I hadn’t interfered she might have survived, after all she’d lived with it for several years and the frustration of not being able to give full vent to it. So when her fairy godmother arrived and waved her magic wand, the poor kid, who’d never spent more than a few hours en femme, was given everything her heart desired and the shock of it, turned her mind. One hears similar stories about people winning huge amounts on the lottery. Suddenly being able to realise all your dreams means you have nothing left to wish for and life is over.

I wondered if this was why I was so insistent that I work rather than being a ‘kept woman’ because if I just had to ask Simon for everything I wanted, I’d have no ambition to do anything myself–and that isn’t me. I like to do things for myself, een though it sometimes gives me lots of grief–like the PhD–was it worth it in the end? Yes, because it was my own effort with some guidance from Tom–well, okay, a lot of guidance–more than the average cruise missile has.

Goodness, life is so complicated and such a struggle, but once it becomes too easy we get complacent and lazy. On the other hand once it becomes too difficult we either give up hope or work ourselves to death.

I saw in the Guardian an article about the boy who was born in an internment camp in North Korea and he gave away his mother and brother as she was planning to help his brother escape. She was hanged and his brother was shot by firing squad. What a way to live, like something mediaeval, where all that matters is your own survival and because you have no time to yourself you don’t have time to question it or to worry about betraying friends or family. Now he’s free, he has time to worry and to realise what has happened to him and part of him wishes he hadn’t left there. What a disgusting regime the sooner it falls the better, though it protects itself by these tyrannical means very well. Then one hears that old men wish for Stalin to come back and one or two who fought for Germany during World War II, would like to see the Fuhrer back in power. We seem to like what is familiar even if we know it’s wrong–or rotten to the core.

Richard came round to see his ‘girlfriend’ off and gave her a present to open when she got home. They spent ages kissing each other’s faces off before we could go and Danni had to repair her makeup as we drove to the airport. I still couldn’t make her out and I suspect I won’t be able to understand him, any easier. Such is life, so it would appear.

Paul drove us to the airport where, Callum and his mother saw us off. Paul had a note from his mother thanking me for my help with her illness. I heard that Alice’s father had had some sort of breakdown and was in the local psychiatric hospital, part of me wanted to say, ‘couldn’t happen to a nicer bloke,’ but I resisted the temptation. He was a prisoner of his own restricted thoughts and would be unless he looked beyond them. I had a strong feeling that would never happen so his illness was unlikely to resolve itself any time soon, if ever.

I suspect he blames me for encouraging Alistair to become Alice, and thus for the subsequent suicide. If it helps him that’s okay with me. If he discusses it with too many people, then my lawyers will be pointed at him and told to destroy and my conscience will be as clear as his seems to be–rather like shooting a rabid dog.

As these thoughts whizzed around my brain, I began to realise I wasn’t all sweetness and light, so angel might be a misnomer by some degree of magnitude. I had a dark side and when provoked used it. I wasn’t proud of it, at the same time I hoped I wasn’t as bad as the North Korean regime.

The flight back was uneventful except for some turbulence, which in a small plane, is even more dramatic than in a big jumbo. One passenger did get covered in red wine which stayed in mid air for half a second before dropping all over them. Fortunately, I wasn’t sitting near them.

At Southampton, I knew Stella would be there to collect us so I relaxed. Not a good idea–going into the airport as we were coming out was one of Danny’s classmates and they didn’t recognise him until after they saw and recognised me. Then they put two and two together and got four and began to tease him about it.

By the time we got to the car, Danni was hysterical. “I’m dead,” was all she kept saying not listening to either Stella or what I was saying. I had several options, including leaving that school and going to another one as a boy, or a girl if preferred or even being home tutored, but Danni was too upset to even listen to them.

“What happens now?” asked Stella as she drove us home in my Jaguar.

I think I hide my car keys, was what went through my mind but I just shrugged.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2150 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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The children made a huge fuss of us and immediately noticed Danni’s downbeat mood. Trish followed her up to her room. I gave them some space had a cuppa and a chat with all of them after handing over Lizzie to Jacquie to look after for a while–I was a bit tired of being treated like a cow by her as she tried several times to suck my breasts inside out–more suction than a Dyson.

On the pretext of taking my case up to my room, I nipped along to Danni’s room where she and Trish were in deep conversation. “But you could come to our school, and they play football.”

“How many times do I have to tell you, I’m finished with being a girl. Alice and Billie both as good as told me I was going to play football for England.”

“What, England women?” snapped back Trish.

“Don’t be daft.”

“Did they say England men’s team?”

“No of course they didn’t, they wouldn’t have to, would they?”

“Why, there’s an England women’s team as well–they beat Ukraine six nil. Of course had I been playing it would have been ten.”

“Of course,” teased Danni.

“An’ if you’d been playin’ it woulda been twelve.” Trish seemed to know how to play Danni.

“Yeah, well, natch,” replied the teen totally sucked in by Trish’s flattery.

I knocked and entered the room, “Could we have a little chat?” I spoke to Danni and Trish took the hint and left. I closed the door.

“At least you’ve calmed down a little.”

“Yeah, well–yeah.” Danni was having one of her more articulate sessions.

“What would you like to do after the incident at the airport?”

“Dunno.”

“Who was the boy?”

“Robert Clanton.”

“Pity Wyatt Earp’s dead,” I mused to myself and by the expression on her face of total confusion, I realised she’d heard it too. “Um–the gunfight at the OK corral?”

She shook her head, no.

“Three cowboys were shot by the Earps and Doc Holliday.”

“I thought people got shot all the time in the wild west.”

“Things were pretty lawless especially in Tombstone, which is where it happened. It apparently unleashed a sort of vendetta because one of the Earps was badly wounded in his arm and it became disabled, and another of them was shot in the back playing billiards or something. The other guys also ended up dead one way or another. Life was pretty cheap in those days and all sorts of people carried guns which apparently hit more bystanders than duelling gunmen.”

“Wow, you always know so much, Mummy.”

“Nah, I watched a documentary about it years ago–I think the general finding was that both lots were as bad as one another, though the Earps were lawmen at the time.”

“What sheriffs an’ things?”

“Yeah, sheriffs or marshals–never sure what was which, except they all carried guns which they justified as being necessary as protection against marauding Indians. Seeing as they’ve killed most of those off, I’m not sure what the excuse is to still carry guns, but loads of Americans do.”

“You don’t like guns, do you?”

“I hate them, they have one purpose, killing things. It’s bad enough when the military have them in the hands of civilians, it’s not good.”

“But you fired one.”

“In self defence and I’m not proud of it.”

“Yeah, but you saved Trish and Gramps and some policemen.”

“Yeah, look let’s discuss your future not my past. The future is malleable, the past is fixed.”

“What does that mean, Mummy?”

“It means we can influence the future, you can’t change the past just how you remember it. Now, about this boy at the airport...”

“I dunno what to do.”

“If it hadn’t happened, what would you like to do?”

“Go back to being me.”

“Aren’t you yourself now?”

“Not really, it’s been fun but I’m a boy.”

“So what do we do with your girl’s stuff, get rid of it?”

“Can we keep it a bit longer–in case I want to wear it again?”

“If you want, just be careful where you wear it and with whom.”

“Of course, Mummy, I will be careful.”

“Good, so are you changing back tonight or what?”

“Um–no, I’ll do it tomorrow.”

“Don’t forget to cut your nails, not many boys have finger nails like Rhianna.”

She laughed, “Okay, I’ll do it tomorrow.”

“Okay, tidy yourself up then and we’ll have some dinner.”

I went down and Trish got me to one side. “Is Danni gonna stay a girl?”

“I don’t think so, darling; why?”

“Because I think being a girl is better than a hairy arsed bloke.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Well that’s what Daddy called some bloke.”

“I don’t care what Daddy did, I don’t want to hear you saying it again–or there’ll be trouble.”

She blushed and dashed off, I let her go as pursuing the matter would only give her a stick to beat me. Usually I pretended to ignore swearing, as if I hadn’t heard it. If it happened twice I cautioned them or tried to show that it merely demonstrated a poor vocabulary.

Once when asked to put my money where my mouth was, I’d heard Danny call someone a bastard, I suggested he could have implied his parents weren’t married as it wasn’t yet legal for pigs to become betrothed, let alone wed.

They thought it was funny but too long winded. I tried to explain that witticisms were sometimes short and sometimes long, but telling someone he had a face like a cockroach’s scrotum was likely to be more effective than calling him shitface, another of Danny’s insults. They agreed and for the next few days they showed some inventiveness in insults to each other. One of the better ones being when Livvie asked Trish if she’d born ugly or had it thrust upon her. Trish replied that she wasn’t ugly, she was quite attractive, but only to humans not to a talking gate post. Livvie is quite thin.

I was quite happy that instead of swearing they stopped and tried to outdo each other because it meant real conflicts didn’t arise so often. Danny wasn’t very good at it, he’d preferred to hit someone, so his period in dresses might be interesting to analyse in terms of his behaviour, it certainly seemed less boisterous than when he was in boy mode. I wondered how much would carry over.

Simon was happy that Danny our son was due to return the next day, although it proved not to be the case. Danni arrived for breakfast, still with painted nails and wearing makeup and girl’s clothing.

“I thought you were going to give all that up?” challenged Si–who else?

“Yeah, okay, I will.”

“When?”

“I’m seeing Cindy later, and she likes me in girl mode.”

Simon shook his head but thankfully didn’t say anything disparaging although I have no doubt it was what went through his mind. I asked him not to put the boy under any extra pressure and to let him come to a decision to revert back to being a boy when he was ready. He reluctantly agreed.

I could see that there was little chance of him going back to school on Monday, so I decided that early next week I’d find someone to educate him at home, or perhaps it will be educating her rather than him.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2151 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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“Can I go and see Cindy?” asked Danni.

“Have you got the bus fare?”

“I was gonna cycle.”

“It’ll mess your hair up.”

“Okay, I’ll take the bus–unless you’d like to take me?”

“No I wouldn’t, you’ve had quite a bit of my time recently so I need to spend some time with the others.”

“Okay, I’ll catch the bus–no biggie.” She took her coat with her and her bag and clomped off down the drive.

“I can’t believe that’s your son,” said Stella watching her bum rolling as she walked on the heels.

“You can’t, how d’you think I feel?”

“Guilty I expect.”

“Guilty?” I looked at her as Danni disappeared out of view.

“Yeah, they all caught transsexualism from you, it must be infectious.”

“So how come you and Simon didn’t?”

“Ah, we’re immune being true blue bloods, it only affects proles.”

“I thought plebs was the in word?”

“Only if you’re a chief whip.”

“I thought that had been shown to be a lie?” I was sure I’d read it in the Guardian once I managed to pry it from Tom’s paws.

“Anyway, compared to us, he’s a pleb.”

“Compared to your money, I suspect most people are.”

“It isn’t about material wealth, it’s about breeding. I mean Mr Gates from that dreadful software company that tried to take over the world, is richer than we are but he’s still a pleb as is that grocer chappy.”

“What Lord Sainsbury?”

“I wasn’t thinking of him, who’s that bloke in America who owns that grocery chain?”

“What Walmart?”

“Yes, Mr Walmart.”

“I hate to say it, Stella, but his name isn’t Walmart.”

“Well how would I know, I don’t associate with blue collar people.”

“Is owning an empire of supermarkets blue collar?”

“Well of course, he’s barely merchant class, is he?”

“Just billionaire merchant class.”

“Exactly, one doesn’t have to have breeding to be wealthy.”

“Who am I to argue?”

“Exactly.”

“Thanks, Stella, that’s made me feel a whole lot better.”

She gave a me a very serious stare then the corners of her mouth began to crinkle and a moment later she was practically rolling with laughter. What’s that acronym–ROTFLMAO. Yeah, that’s the one–describes my sister in law perfectly or it did for a moment.

“If you’ve finished your wind up perhaps you could feed Lizzie this morning, my nipples still have scorch marks on them from last night?”

“The things I do for love,” she sighed.

“Thanks.”

“Mummy, can we do some sewing today?” asked Trish.

“What about the others?”

“Livvie’s happy to do some, dunno about Mima or Cate.”

“Go and ask Meems if she wants to play dollies with Cate.”

“Okay–can we do some on the machine?”

“Perhaps, just remember that machine was my mother’s, so I don’t want it broken.”

“As if,” she tossed over her shoulder as she went in search of Meems.

Luckily, Mima was happy to play with Cate, she usually is, and so Trish, Livvie and I spent a couple of hours using the sewing machine. Trish is making a skirt for herself and Livvie is doing a cushion cover for their bedroom. I’m astonished they all still sleep together–well share a room–they have their own beds. As they get older they’ll become more self conscious and want their privacy. Fortunately we have two more rooms which are used as guest rooms at present, but we built them on in expectation that the girls would one day want their own rooms. Mind you if Stella found a bloke that survived to the wedding day, we’d have three more rooms. Some things it would appear are not meant to be.

After a sumptuous lunch of omelettes and salad which I had to make as David had the morning off–Hannah had to go to the dentist and Ingrid couldn’t take her as she started a new job this morning. She’s got a job with the tourist department. She’s been doing a course online–the crafty cow–and she’s used it to get this job. I think it’s brilliant even though none of us knew anything about it, except David of course and Hannah–duh.

I put the dirty dishes in the machine and told the girls we’d go out for a walk as it wasn’t cold nor was it raining. In fact they forecast a warm spell, though it looks on most weather forecasting sites as if it’s going to be short lived. Oh well, not much I can do about it.

I remembered that I had Sister Maria’s mobile phone number, so while the rest of them went off for a few minutes to avoid being asked to help me clean up, I rang her.

“Hello?”

“Hi, it’s Cathy Cameron.”

“Oh, Lady Cameron, to what do I owe this pleasure?” If it was sarcasm, it was so gentle I missed it.

“I could need a personal tutor for one of the kids.”

“Oh, which one?”

“Dan–ny.” I nearly said Danielle.

“You haven’t thought to enrol her here, then?”

Am I that predictable? “It’s my son, Danny, I’m talking about.”

“That doesn’t usually stop them ending up here, does it?”

“This time I think it will.”

“Oh well, if she changes her mind, I’m sure we can squeeze her in somewhere.”

I was going to protest but decided against it. “Is there someone you might recommend?”

“There is...” and she gave me three names plus a website address for online education which you have to pay for.

I checked out the website and thought it would be a useful fallback position especially if the tutors objected to a transgender kid. I called the first one, a woman. She asked loads of questions including whether it was a boy or a girl, age, abilities and so on. Then what range of technology they had access to and how much the used it. I apparently switched pronouns a couple of times.

“Mrs Cameron, are we talking about a boy or a girl?”

“Um–she might be transgendered–hence my resort to private education.”

“If you can afford my fees, then I’ll cope with your undecided son stroke daughter. If she stays as a girl it might be worth speaking to St Claire’s convent.”

“That’s where I got your name.”

“The lovely Sister Maria, bless her.”

“The same.”

She reeled off her charges which until you add vat, seemed quite reasonable. She told me as I seemed undecided to give her a shout if I wanted her services and for how much of the curriculum I wanted my student to study. I decided we’d found a tutor if we needed her. Homeschooling would be a misnomer, if we used her, her students went to her house where she had a room made up as a classroom. That sounded fairly risqué until I remembered who’d recommended us to her in the first place.

Things were beginning to improve and I began to wonder if I’d resolved our problem until a phone call just after I finished talking with the tutor.

“Hello?”

“Is Dr Watts there?” asked a feminine voice that I thought I recognised.

“Speaking.”

“Hi, it’s Cindy.”

“Hello, Cindy, how are things?”

“Okay, I guess, Dr Watts, where is Danni, I thought she was coming over to us today?”

I began to wonder if my blood had frozen it ran so cold, especially in my solar plexus which felt like an iceberg.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2152 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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“Have you tried her mobile?”

“Yes, either she’s not answering or it’s switched off.”

“I expect she’s run into an old friend or something.”

“I rang Pia, she hasn’t seen her either.”

“She left here about ten, so that’s three hours. I’d better inform the police, just in case, I’ll ring you as soon as I know anything.” I rang off and called the police asking to speak to Andy Bond. Thankfully he was there.

“Hello, PC Bond.”

“Hi, Andy, it’s Cathy Cameron.”

“How are you?”

“Look, Andy, we could have a bit of a situation.”

“Oh, in what way?”

“I’d prefer not to talk about this over the phone, can I come and see you or better still could you come to me?”

“I can be there in an hour.”

“Quicker would be appreciated.”

“Is it one of the kids?”

“Yes, Danni.”

“Okay, I’m on my way.”

He arrived twenty minutes later with a woman officer. “This PC Amanda Lane, Lady Cathy Cameron, aka Dr Cathy Watts expert on all things biological.”

“Come in,” I invited them in and asked Jacquie to make us a pot of tea.

“Okay, what’s this with Danny–one of Cathy’s adopted kids.”

“It’s like this...” and I told them the whole story, Amanda’s eyes became very large when I mentioned the cross dressing. “I was pleased that he said he was going to stop but this morning he decided he’d go and see a girlfriend still dressed in a skirt and top. She left...”

“Sorry, who’s she?”

“Oh, when Danni is dressed as a girl we call him her, it’s easier if any strangers are about.”

“A bit unusual, isn’t it, allowing a boy to dress as a girl and go out like it?” Amanda Lane obviously found my household a bit unconventional.

“Have you dealt with transgender children?”

“No, but I’ve dealt with trannies all dressed up like drag queens.”

“The advice of the psychiatrist who’s been seeing Danni was to let him/her find her own level and to allow him to explore his gender situation.”

“Bit weird if you ask me.”

“I wasn’t, but I do have experience of transgender children, my daughter, who was transgender died a year or so ago.”

“So how come you get another one?”

“I have five children here plus a colleague’s baby girl–his wife died and he had a breakdown, plus my sister in law has two little girls.”

“Even so, it’s a bit strange, two in one household.”

I glanced at Andy Bond and he winked at me.

“All my children are adopted, they’re all kids with a damaged past, usually involving sexual abuse. Danny was abroad in the summer on a school trip and he and another boy were raped by two Frenchmen when they went in a public toilet. The other boy has since removed his genitals, he nearly bled to death. I encouraged Danny to maintain the friendship because they’d a shared history of the attack and beforehand they were good friends. The other boy decided he was more of a girl now than a boy and started dressing as one and calling herself Pia. Danny sort of did it to maintain his support, then we went to Scotland and met another who was being abused by his family, who subsequently committed suicide. We were invited to go to a memorial service and Danny asked to go dressed as a girl in solidarity with Alice, who died.”

“Still can’t imagine one of my boys doing that to support a weird friend.” Amanda Lane wasn’t endearing herself to me, one bit.

“Well that’s what happened, and this morning after expecting my son to reappear, he came down madeup and wearing a skirt and top. I suggested he caught the bus to go and see his friend.”

“His girlfriend?”

“His friend who’s a girl, yes.”

“And she’s okay with him dressing up?”

“Yes. She phoned about half an hour ago to ask where he was because he hadn’t turned up at her place.”

“What time did he leave?”

“Ten. I’ve tried calling her mobile but there’s no answer, it just says not available.”

“Have you a picture of him as a girl?”

“I can do you one,” I dashed off to my computer and printed off the one of Alice and Danni at the dance.

“Very pretty for a boy, who’s the taller girl?”

“That’s Alice, the girl who took her own life.”

“You can’t tell from the photo that these aren’t two girls.” PC Lane shook her head.

“The only reason she was recognised at the airport was because she was with me, and I was recognised–I’ve been on telly a few times–and they put two and two together. After it got out that the two boys had been raped in France, they received abuse from several of the boys at school.”

“Wouldn’t allowing him to go around dressed as a girl going to make things worse?”

“I’d prefer he did it with my knowledge than covertly.”

“Good point,” interjected Andy who’d kept quiet most of the interview. “Where was she last seen?”

“By us, leaving the driveway to catch the bus.”

“On her own?”

“Yes, she’s thirteen, so often does things by herself.”

“While dressed as a girl?” asked PC Lane.

“No, usually I take her by car, but I was busy.”

“Do social services know you’ve turned two boys into girls?”

“What’s it got to do with social services?” I asked feeling offended.

“Everything if you’re abusing these children.”

“Now hang on a minute, Ms Lane, if you’d like to continue this course of questioning I want my solicitor here.”

“Amanda, I’ve know Cathy several years and abusing children is one thing I know she’d never do.”

“Isn’t turning boys into girls abuse?”

“I haven’t turned anyone into anything. I allow them space to explore if they want to but they have to ask, I don’t encourage them to do it, but neither do I walk away from it. Gender different children suffer appallingly from their peers and from ill educated and bigoted adults.”

“Oh so I’m bigoted now, am I?” PC Lane got quite red in the face.

“I don’t recall implying you were anything, but if the cap fits...”

“Ladies, can we please remember why we’re here,” said Andy trying to calm things down.

“Mummy, phone,” called Jacquie. PC Lane gave me a very strange look as I got up to answer it.

It was Cindy, Danni had been chased by a group of boys who recognised her when she got off the bus in town and it had taken her three hours to lose them. She was okay but quite upset. I told her I’d be over as soon as I could.

I strode back to the two police officers and overheard the following conversation. “Mandy, don’t upset this woman, she has friends in very high places and some of the best counsel in England. They call her the pension killer, because one or two coppers who tried it on, ended up losing their pensions, one ended up dead another in prison.”

“Andy, I don’t care who she is, if she’s abusing that kid, I’m gonna get her.”

“She isn’t abusing anyone.”

“Yeah, well I think anyone who buys their son skirts and dresses and makeup is some sort of perv.”

I walked into the room and PC Lane blushed. I pretended I didn’t hear what she said.

“Good news, Danni has turned up at her friend’s.”

“Oh well, false alarm then,” said Andy placing his notebook back in his pocket.

“Not quite, she was chased round the town for three hours by a gang of thugs who recognised her.”

“Does she have names?” he asked.

“I don’t know, but if she does I am going to press charges.”

PC Lane looked perplexed. “What if they accuse you of abusing the boy?”

“Let them, I’ll bankrupt them and the social services department if they want to try it.”

“Could cost you quite a bit of money,” quipped PC Lane.

“Um–Mandy, Lady Cameron’s family own a bank, money isn’t a problem.”

She scowled at me.

“Yep, I’m a rich bitch and in defence of my family I’m prepared to spend it.”

The two coppers left and I hoped Andy talked some sense into her otherwise we could meet over a hot courtroom and I suspect she could be the loser.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2153 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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I was elated that Danni had shown up safe and sound, I was angry that PC goody two shoes, thought I was abusing a child by allowing her space to explore her gender and sexuality. Part of me wondered if she’d experienced the sort of assault that Danny had survived, whether she might see things differently.

I grabbed my bag and car keys and by the end of the drive discovered that Stella had practically emptied the tank of fuel. I’ll murder her–slowly. That required a detour to a garage or supermarket to fill up–the car had been practically full of fuel when I left home.

That took an extra ten minutes, so by the time I arrived at Cindy’s house, Danni was getting very worked up. “I thought you weren’t coming,” she said wringing her hands.

“I had to do one or two things before coming, I’m sorry.”

“You coulda let me know.”

“You haven’t been answering your mobile–how could I?”

“It’s broke. I dropped it when I was running down a flight of stairs, it slipped over the edge and it doesn’t work now.”

“Okay, we’ll send it off and see if they can repair it, I think we have some insurance on it, somewhere.”

“Did you recognise the boys who chased you?”

“Not really, they were a couple of years older, but I’ve seen ’em round school.”

“How did they recognise you?”

“I was lookin’ at some makeup in John Lewis an’ they had a free raffle if you bought anythin’. The girl asked me my name an’ I gave it as Danielle Maiden, and one of the boys was standing behind me an’ recognised my name from the football team–I was top scorer last year. I suddenly realised they was gonna grab me and ran off. They chased me round the shops an’ I nipped into the ladies loo–well the disabled. They followed a couple of minutes later and I held myself off the ground by grabbing onto the coat hook behind the door. The pushed it open, didn’t see me and left. I waited for two hours before I dared go out. My phone was bust, so I couldn’t let anyone know where I was–sorry.”

“That’s twice you’ve been chased in John Lewis–might be better if you stay away from there in future if you’re in girl mode.”

Brenda brought us all a cup of tea. I sipped it and felt my blood pressure falling, then I thought about the woman PC and it raised again.

“You’re very quiet,” said Brenda to me.

“I’d called the police and had two coppers in my sitting room, the one I knew quite well and had asked him to come and see me. He, unfortunately, brought a woman PC with him who took a dim view of letting my child run the streets of Portsmouth in skirts. She likened it to child abuse.”

Brenda spat tea all over the carpet, “She did what?”

“She thought I was pervert and should be investigated.”

“Has she never dealt with anyone transgender before?”

“Certainly not a child.”

“You said there were two of them came?”

“Yes the other one had no problem with Danni’s dress sense other than wanting a description to circulate if it became a real missing child case–thankfully it didn’t.”

To my surprise, Danni came and sat on my lap and rested her head on my shoulder. She felt heavier than I thought she was. “I’m sorry, Mummy,” she said and burst into tears.

“Sorry for what?”

“Causing you trouble–I’m always causing you trouble.”

“No you aren’t, sweetheart.” I held her while she sobbed on my shoulder. Brenda looked quite concerned.

“Perhaps I should go and see this woman and explain what it feels like to be transgender,” offered Cindy.

“That’s a very generous and courageous offer, Cindy, and we both appreciate it, but I think you’d be wasting your time.”

“It’s worth a try though, innit?” she bounced back at me.

“She’d suggest I put you up to it.”

“But I’d tell her it was my own idea.”

“She wouldn’t believe you.”

“I’d make her.”

“How you gonna do that, Cindy girl?” asked Brenda.

“I’ll go and tell her like it is...”

“So then she’ll accuse me of abusing you, will she?” asked her mother.

“How can she do that? You’re my mum.”

“That don’t count, Cind.”

“But that’s stupid,” she protested.

“It might be stupid, but it’s also true that most sexual abuse happens by adults known to the child, usually family or close friends of the family,” I explained.

“But they’re the ones who should be protecting their kids,” she said loudly.

“I agree entirely, but it’s a fact, I’m afraid.”

“That’s dreadful.”

“Much of what humans do is, so it’s understandable that we have police who are suspicious of even innocent motives or actions.”

“But you haven’t abused Danielle.”

“To some extent it would depend upon what you mean by abuse.”

“I mean, hittin’ ’em or doing sex with ’em.”

“Abuse can mean physical, mental, sexual or emotional and probably more than that. Constantly bullying a child, shouting at them, hitting them, doing depraved things or just not doing your job as a parent, all of these are abuse.”

“Mum shouts at me all the time,” said Cindy.

“Only because you have your music on so loud you can’t hear me speak.”

“It’s still shoutin’ at me–an’ that’s abuse, innit, Dr Watts?”

“I don’t think so, it’s usually shouting unkind things or threats, they consider abuse.”

“Oh.” She sat back down and rethought the ideas we’d discussed.

“You’ve never abused me,” announced Danni. “Sometimes I abused your trust.”

“That’s different, sweetheart.”

“No it isn’t.”

“What you do is irrelevant to the police, what I do is a matter of concern.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m an adult and you’re not.”

“Perhaps you’d be safer in boy’s clothes?” suggested Brenda.

“No I wouldn’t, they’d still recognise me and I couldn’t have run into the ladies.”

“So what are we going to do in the long term?” I posited.

“I dunno, Mummy, I really don’t.” She began wetting my shoulder again with her tears.

“We can’t go on like this, can we?”

“I dunno,” she sobbed on my shoulder.

“What do you want to do, Danielle?” asked Brenda, “Give your mum some help here.”

“I dunno,” she replied.

“Anyway, I think we’d best be getting home before they add me to the missing person’s list.”

“That police woman, she needs to know what we’re about,” said Cindy.

“Don’t you go tryin’ to teach her,” said Brenda firmly.

“We’ll see,” said Cindy.

“Oh no we won’t,” Brenda said loudly and firmly, “because if I get wind that you’ve been trying to change their minds, you won’t sit down for a week.”

“That’s abuse, Mummy,” squeaked Cindy.

“No it isn’t, it’s retribution.”

On the way home I told Danni that I was going to have her home schooled.”

“Okay.”

“No disputing it?”

“No.”

“Not even a little?”

“No.”

“Okay, I’ll set it up for next week if the tutor is available.”

“Mummy, can I stay as a girl for a bit longer?”

“I told you, you could as long as you wanted, but you have to realise there are consequences to everything.”

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2154 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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I had explained to Danni there were consequences to everything, now I wanted to have the boys who chased her understand the same thing. She had spoken with Pia who managed to put names to Danni’s descriptions. Armed with this list I accosted the headmaster and insisted he give me an urgent appointment. Given my earlier veiled threat he agreed to see me after assembly.

He came back to his office where I’d been sitting doing the Guardian crossword. I’d pretty well completed the puzzle and was irritated he’d arrived before I’d got five down.

“How can I help you, Lady Cameron?” he asked though I was aware he was looking at the wall clock behind me. This was a total chore for him, but I felt I’d change his mind or his employment status.

“You’re aware of what happened to Danny in France?”

“Yes, I’m afraid despite the best planning, these things can always happen.”

“I’m aware of that, Headmaster, but ever since that and what Peter did to himself as a consequence...”

“You can’t be certain he did that because of what happened on the school trip.”

“Perhaps not, though I’m sure my lawyers could find an expert witness who wouldn’t necessarily agree.”

“Are you threatening me, Lady Cameron?”

“Not at all, I’m just exploring options of a parent whose child has been sexually assaulted whilst away on a school trip.”

“I see.”

He didn’t because I hadn’t placed my trade off in front of him then. I wasn’t suggesting that if he played ball, he’d be off the hook, just that I wouldn’t look to sue at the moment. I was holding most of the trump cards but I needed him to do the trumping for me. I explained what had happened.

“So let me get this straight, you’re letting your son run around in dresses and makeup and then get upset because some of his schoolmates think it’s weird and want to tell him so.”

“He’s being supervised by a paediatric psychiatrist who’s familiar with gender non-conformity in children, and she like us, is convinced it all arises from the assault.”

“Okay, so what d’you want?”

“I would like you to discipline those boys who chased her around the town.”

“But they weren’t in school at the time, so it’s hardly my responsibility, is it?”

“They were suggesting what they’d do to her if she came back to school.”

“Perhaps it would be for the best if you removed Daniel from the school?”

“That is an option I’m exploring, as well as a law suit.”

“I thought you’d removed the threat for now?”

“On the understanding of cooperation, I don’t believe you want to cooperate.”

“Of course I do, but I’m also obliged to report weird behaviour.”

“You don’t find it stranger that a teenage boy who is sexually assaulted has some strange behaviours afterwards? So in your book they just get on with things and live happily ever after.”

“I didn’t mean to imply that at all, Lady Cameron.”

“No, but a judge might think you did?”

“I can’t punish boys for doing something on a weekend.”

“No? I’ll bet you can, especially for bullying an already vulnerable schoolmate.”

“What d’you want me to do?”

“Tell them in no uncertain terms that they’re not to do it again.”

“How am I supposed to do that?”

“If you don’t know, I have little confidence in your skills to manage this school. An alternative might be that you allow me to speak with them, with you present of course.”

“And if I allowed this, you’d back off?”

“Yes. See it as being in the vanguard, the family of a victim show they’re not prepared to allow bullying.”

“I’m not convinced their parents will see it that way.”

“Progress usually means some sacrifices.”

“Yeah, all of them mine,” he sighed.

“On the contrary, they’ve been paid by Danny and Peter.”

“All right, when d’you want this to happen?”

“Tomorrow, just before they go home.”

“Very well. I must insist you don’t threaten them or we’ll be in trouble as well.”

“I won’t threaten them, I just want them to accept there are other equally valid forms of behaviour they might have adopted and that I might also adopt depending upon their behaviour.”

“That sounds like a threat to me.”

“I assure you, it isn’t.”

He accepted my assurance and agreed to a meeting the next day. All I had to do now was to talk Danni into agreeing as well. I wasn’t going to have them confront each other unless she wanted it, but I wanted her to confirm the identity of her would be assailants. She agreed she would.

She almost considered reverting to boy appearance, except her hair and dyed eyelashes would make that look somewhat incongruous. In the end we drove to the school and met with the headmaster. The headmaster didn’t recognise her or twig she was a boy until he saw me walk behind her a few moments later. Now he got very tense and Danni began to wonder if this might work after all.

To be honest, she looked an absolute babe, Phoebe had dressed her and done her makeup and hair, which had been perfect for her age. It wasn’t overstated, but young teens don’t do subtlety either. It was just perfect.

The boys had been told to report to the secretary’s office in the next room, into which he had a peep hole. Danni nodded at each one.

“Are you going to stay for this?” I asked her and she nodded. We had her sit in the corner behind me, they wouldn’t see her until I was ready and she was still in agreement.

The boys walked in. “This is Lady Cameron, she would like to speak to you about an issue that happened this weekend just gone.”

They all shrugged, presumably having memories of the same capacity as an earthworm but being far less useful than that lowly Lumbricus, on whom we all depend so much.

“Yesterday, my daughter was chased by a gang of boys whom she has identified as you four boys.”

They all looked at each other and were shrugging or shaking their heads. “Not me,” said one and they all agreed it wasn’t any of them. Then one gave me an opening, “Just that little woofter in John Lewis,” and they all sniggered. It was as much as I could do not to punch him on the nose.

“I see, so you have no understanding of gender different children?”

“Wot?” asked one, probably the tallest of the bunch.

“It means that the child has a different gender to that of their original biological sex. Some call it gender dysphoria or gender identity disorder or...”

“Being a screaming woofter,” said the tall kid and I decided I would take him down in front of his friends.

“That is not helpful, Warton,” admonished the headmaster.

“So, Mr Warton, I suppose you’re completely male, it’s written in every cell like a stick of Blackpool rock?”

“Yeah, you could say that.”

“Yet chromosomally, you’re all half female.”

“No way.”

“But you are, you have an X chromosome, that’s the female one.”

“No it isn’t, you gotta have two of them.”

“Have you now, okay, so I’ve got two X chromosomes and you’ve got one. That still makes you half female.”

“Nah, the Y makes me male.”

“So two Y’s would make you extra male?”

“Yeah.”

I glanced at the headmaster who rolled his eyes. “No, that would make you dead.”

“Eh?”

“You need the X chromosome, the state of being exclusively male of female doesn’t exist except in the malicious imaginations of teenage morons who have nothing better to do than to bully or persecute those smaller than them, despite it being illegal for them to do so.”

“No it ain’t.” Warton was walking on thinner ice with every step.

“I’m afraid it is, it’s against the law to discriminate against anyone on the grounds of their age, sex, gender, race or beliefs. This school has a definite policy supporting the law–I checked before I came, or my barrister did. You boys, in chasing my daughter, who was scared for her very life, transgressed those laws and are thus guilty of discrimination.”

“He ain’t got the right to walk down the road dressed as a girl when he ain’t one.”

“She has, actually and she’s been seeing a medical specialist who agrees with her doing it. Would you like to argue with her?”

“I always knew there was something funny about him–no wonder them guys in France ’ad ’em, the two of them–he ain’t cut his dick off too, ’as ’e?”

“That’s enough Warton,” snapped the headmaster looking more angry with every minute that passed in the company of these four imbeciles.

“But it’s true, the other woofter sliced off his dick, so they say.”

“You have no idea of Peter’s sexuality, do you?” I addressed the loudmouth directly.

“Yeah, he’s a poof.”

“You mean you think he’s homosexual?”

“Yeah,” he laughed in derision.

“On what basis d’you make this diagnosis?”

“Well ’e is, in ’e?”

“And this was pure logic, was it Mr Warton?”

“Yeah,” he said and laughed only this time only one of his friends laughed with him.

“And you’re well aware that the people who declaim others the most do so because they suffer from the same problem but wish to distract by pointing out others who may or may not be what they accuse them of. It’s called a witch hunt because the same tactics caused the deaths of thousands of innocent people three hundred years ago. It’s okay to be a witch today, but not it seems a homosexual. Tell me, Mr Warton, are you homosexual?”

“No, course I ain’t.”

“Can you prove it?”

“Yeah, get yer knickers off...” the other boys began to snigger and blush. The headmaster nearly had a fit he was so embarrassed.

“How dare you?” shouted the headmaster.

“Well she asked, din’t she?”

He was about to take issue with the discourtesy of referring to me as she, when I interrupted.

“Had I removed my lingerie, assuming you didn’t put it on yourself, what would that prove about your sexual orientation, other than being an opportunist who has probably never even seen a real woman naked let alone made love to her.” Warton blushed and his colleagues laughed.

“You see, you can’t prove these things just like that, the majority of men who cross dress are heterosexual, so running round in dresses isn’t necessarily a sign of being gay. But jumping to conclusions without any real information is both hypocritical and dangerous–it might just mean you’re a small minded bully disguising his own failings by pointing the finger...”

“I don’t have to listen to this shit,” Warton walked towards the door.

“Warton, stay where you are,” ordered the headmaster.

“No way, she’s mad.”

“And you aren’t?”

“No I ain’t.”

“But you are gay, aren’t you?”

He went very red, “No I ain’t.”

He was, but he ran off before I could ask him again.

The headmaster read the riot act and I called Danielle to come with me as we left in front of three astonished schoolboys. I wouldn’t allow her to return to the school whatever happened to her or him and we left it for the last time my arm round her shoulder and three red faced schoolboys being dressed down by the headmaster.