This is the story of Penny. A closet Transwoman thrust into the outside world 24-7 when she would rather go and hide away. Perhaps the title should be Welcome to Penny’s Paranoid World…

A few hours every morning as Penny keeps me sane. I look after my mother, Jenny, who suffers from dementia. What had started as keeping a gentle eye on her in years past has gradually become a twenty-four seven life of looking after her for the past seven years. Yes, it can be frustrating. How could it not be. I do not really have a life of my own anymore.

But what really, REALLY, pisses me off is when people say how wonderful I am for looking after her and not putting her in a home. Why would I do that? She is my mother, she went through hell with my father looking after me and my sister. Why would I discard her now in her hour of need, when she needs someone close to her she can trust and hold onto to keep her sanity.

Okay, rant over. But it really pisses me off when people say that.

Anyway, it is about ten past seven on a weekday morning. Looking out the kitchen window into the back garden I can see it is a bright blue sunny day with high up in the sky wispy little clouds on show. Cirrus clouds if you want to get technical about it. Sunglasses will be a must. And to top everything it is one of my special days

And what makes Tuesday so special you may ask? Well, every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday the milkman comes to the village in the small hours of the morning to drop off everyone’s milk for the next couple of days. That means so long as I go out before seven or at least just after that time, I can go down to the gate as Penny and collect the milk without fear of anyone spotting me all dressed up. Even the mad jogger with her flapping pony-tail is not out until after seven-thirty. If you were to ask me why it is such a thrill to go roadside all dressed up in my heels and everything, the truth is I don’t know, but it is
.
As I said in our little village nothing ventures out and about until after seven-thirty. That is when the London workers hit our lanes with an old fashioned Le Mans start from their driveways for the Next Village Railway Station Car Park Grand Prix, a Monday to Friday fixture featuring a high speed saloon car race along our narrow winding lanes to the railway station car park in Mid-Steeping roughly a mile and a half away from us to bag the best parking spot for a quick evening getaway for the return home race. After the mornings Grand Prix, it is the turn of the school double-decker bus making its trawl through the local villages to arrive at ten past eight to take the older kids off to Saint Bart’s Church of England Secondary Modern School in the nearest town, as well as any adults brave enough to travel with the marauding brats into town at that time of the morning. Then twenty or so minutes later it is time for the four young mother’s in the village to walk their young offspring to join the six other slightly older kids waiting at the bus stop for the mini-bus that will take them to the junior school in Mid-Steeping.

After that the village is empty of traffic apart from the odd bod off to the supermarket until it is coming home time. Oh, bar the odd dog walker of course, we have a few of those and not forgetting the mad jogger out again trying to kill herself with exercise and heart attack in the afternoon. The only other daytime entertainment in the village is the occasional lost delivery driver misdirected by Sat-Nav down through the village and after fording the river at the bottom (easy in a lorry) where they find having gone round the bend on the other side of the river… they find it is a dead end about a hundred yards further on. Then having to reverse all the way back to our little road junction before they can turn around. That is when they usually find out speaking to a villager that they are actually looking for another village entirely that is twenty miles from here.

There is as well the occasional fisherman sneaking off work and heading down to the river to spend the day lazing with a bit of nylon dangling in the water.

So, having settled Mother down with her cuppa soup of choice and the BBC’s breakfast telly coming through her headphones. I grabbed the milk bottle carrier and step out the back door into the morning sunshine. Henry our aging cat is lounging on the old wooden picnic table at the bottom of the garden. He gets up expectantly and waits watching me.

“You could always jump down and come over here yourself you know.”

Henry stands his ground the tip of his tail twitching, waiting for me to walk over the wet grass to pick him up. We both stand playing the ‘waiting still’ game until I get fed up and give in and head across the lawn getting dew on my toes while trying to balance on them to stop my heels sinking in the grass. As I bend down to pick him up the little sod jumps down and dances off just keeping in front of me out of reach until we hit the path where he immediately rolls over his paws straight out daring me to walk past him or try and pick him up. His claws at the ready to grab my hands or ankles, whichever should come close enough for him to grab. I bend down on my haunches my weight on my heels.

“Come on, then.”

Effortlessly he rolls upright and hops up onto my shoulder turning and purring in my ear before turning round again to settle on the towel I have draped over my shoulder. Standing up we restart with Henry hanging over my shoulder happy today to watch where we have just been rather where we are going.

You can’t beat early morning in summer for that fresh clean air smell of overnight rain unpolluted as yet by the fumes of petrol and diesel engines. I love it, I’m in a summer dress wearing strappy heels, can feel the gentle breeze on my naked arms and legs.

Henry moves around to face front as we near the garden gate, stopping mid-way for a quick purr in my ear to let me know he loves me and I grab him before he can leap down putting pin holes in my shoulder through the towel. He wants to be by the gate so he can slip through it the millisecond it opens so he can race out to chase the pigeons off the front lawn before they can fly off. For some reason he hates. No, make that, loathes, pigeons. Any other bird he couldn’t care less about apart from being a potential meal. That said there is an old bird he lets eat food off his plate while he is eating. I should take a photo of them really before the bird dies of old age. When you look at it, it looks ready to expire any second. It is sort of a tired dull brown colour, with a mix of grey feathers sticking out all over the place and looking like it has just come through a hedge backwards. It stays away from the other birds, but hops up to eat cat food beside Henry.

That said, Henry chases off the pigeons whenever he sees them. He then sits under the phone wires they take refuge on to spend the next couple of minutes giving them a right earful of cat talk for having been on his lawn.

I continue past the car to where the gate use to be to collect the milk bottles waiting for me.

With the milk in the fridge, and Henry having joined me for his breakfast of chicken and dry cat food on the little metal café table we have had since I was a small child, on the small patio outside the kitchen door. His technique is to take a mouthful of chicken, dump it in the dry food and then alternate between the two as he eats. This allows the old bird to peck away as well at the same time.

After a quick check that mothers ok (she’s asleep), I head outside with a cup of tea and the baby alarm to sit with Henry enjoying being ME, taking my breakfast of a plain soft French baguette with of slices of bacon and two eggs sunny side up joining them to spread runny gold over the bacon and in the other hand Britain’s answer to the world’s problems, a cup of tea.

Henry is busily washing his whiskers on my lap when his head snaps round to face the corner of the bungalow and freezes, waiting, watching. Moments later I hear the side gate close.

Shit!

I must have left the gate un-done when I went to fetched the milk.

Shit, shit, shit. I am about to be exposed. My chest is tightening and all I can think is. Please don’t faint. Please don’t faint. I know if I was to grab Henry and run for the kitchen, I would never make it and they would hear my heels clattering away like crazy, anyway.
Fuck. It will be all round the village by lunchtime. You know the weird loner guy who looks after his mother at the bottom of the village. Well! He dresses up as a woman. What’s his name found him all dressed up in his back garden this morning. I cannot describe how sick I feel at the thought of it spreading round the village.

The next moment Clair my next door neighbour comes round the corner full of the joys of spring smiling broadly at me, as I just about to have myself a heart attack. Even though she does not know about Penny. She is my friend and can keep a secret. Henry relaxes, since he knows Clair and goes back to his ablutions. He thinks her garden belongs to him anyway, as she makes a fuss of him and gives him smoked-salmon when he visits her.

“Hello Penny, sweetie, glad I caught you.” She stops by me, bending to study my face. “Wow! Make-up really makes you look younger. That is just so unfair, I’m really jealous. Mind if I help myself.” She points to my empty cup.

I sort of nod my head, unable to speak. On a summer afternoon we often sit out here with a cup of tea and natter. In the winter we stay in my small kitchen and natter.

This has to be a weirdest dream I‘ve ever had. Because please god please let this be a dream. Please let me wake up in a minute wanting to go to the loo in the middle of the night or something. I close my eyes and in my head tell time to stop. Yes I know, stupid to think I can do that. But desperate moments and all that.

Clair and I have been friends for around five years, ever since she and her husband moved in next door. I was already looking after mother full time by then. But then that is the everyday me, Paul, male of the species. Not Penny, woman, female of the species. Someone she has never met. No one has ever seen or met Penny apart from Mother and Sukie the beautician who taught me how to put on make-up last year. Oh, and Jasmine who pieced my ears at the same time.

Clair comes back out and I open my eyes. Well the stopping time thing did not work. She has two cups of tea delicately balanced on the cake tin she brought with her and sits down. Handing me a fresh cup grinning and opens the cake tin, handing me a plain ring doughnut with a milk chocolate coating with a tissue. She knows they are my favourite.

“Here, sugars good for shock.” She looks closer at my face. “God, this is so un-fair. You look, maybe, thirty-two.” She harrumphs, “Ha! Maybe thirty-five on a bad day. You are one lucky cow.”

I smile, I am forty-seven to her forty-eight, and she knows it. Sukie said the same sort of thing about me looking younger. But let’s get real. No-one plonks on make-up and earrings and loses fifteen years. No one is That Lucky.

Clair is still studying my face.

“That is just so damn un-fair on the rest of us… Still,” she smirks with a wicked glint in her eyes, “you’ll be in demand for dinner parties, there’s always a shortage of unattached attractive females in their thirties to partner the divorced guys around the dinner table. And god knows there are enough of them around nowadays. They’ll stop lusting after their friends wives with you at the table. And start lusting after you. Better learn how to repel boarder’s, girl. And how to run in those high-heels. You’re going to be a popular dinner guest with the men.”

Yeah, more like the village pariah, I think. They will be terrified to be sat next to me or even speak to me in case anyone thinks they are gay.

Clair starts to eat her own doughnut watching me. I think I am just sitting there still in shock with my mouth stuck open. Let’s be honest, when I finally come out I expect to be a shunned by everyone. Maybe even have to move. This is a very conservative area. That is why I put off living as a girl or having a sex change until after mother passes away. She maybe as dotty as a fruit cake, but she would notice and would be hurt by people being nasty to me. I would never do that to her. And to be truthful I do not know if I have the courage now to face the scorn as well, and I don’t I have enough money left to fund a sex change anyway. To fund anything, really. So, short of winning the lottery or robbing a bank it is all an academic idea.

Those that do change I think are the bravest people in the world. I just do not think I am that brave. I have hidden away, lived undercover for far too long. I think it is engrained in me now.

What I did not expect, was to become in Clair’s view, ‘Target for tonight’ for lonely local farmers. I grin, it makes me think about all those sheep and farmer jokes. Naughty girl!

I had gone through this moment so many times in my head where I told Clair about myself and what her response might be. And none of them were remotely like this.

“Come on, seriously,” she says intently looking at me, pulling my attention back. “Eat up. It’s good for you, Missy”.

She giggles. “I feel like I’ve just acquired a little sister. This is so much fun.”

Wonderful. For some reason I cannot imagine I want to burst out giggling uncontrollably. I start eating the doughnut just to keep myself quiet.

Clair carry’s on watching me. Swallowing some tea and smiling very pleased with herself. “This has got to be the real you. Paul was a fake. Hi there, Penny.” She gives me a little girly wave.

I smile slowly and nod and nervously return the wave.

“Guess you’re wondering how I know? Hey, Hun.”

I nod, but think no, not really. I just want to go inside and hide pretending this never really happened.

“Well,” she leans back in the metal chair stroking Henry. Seeing as the little traitor has left me and gone across the table to let her adore him. “You’re not as careful as you think you are, sweetie.”

She’s very, very pleased with herself.

“Putting the bins out late at night in high-heels for a start, you don’t have to be wearing a dress, the sound of those heels carries in the night air. And despite having the hedge in the back garden between us, you can still see through it, and sometimes I glimpse this lovey woman putting out the washing, or sitting with your mother with Henry in her lap.” She stops, sighs.

“Also when I sat with Jenny a couple of weeks back. Remember, when you went to the dentist. Well, you were in a rush and left the photo she has of Penny out and I asked her who it was.”

Clair gives me a big smile, “She told me it was Paul, then Penny, then Paul, then Penny. Anyway, she really wants to go out shopping with Penny by the way. She was pretty adamant about that.”

I slowly nodded. That’s not going to happen. Not in a million years. Penny is not stepping a foot outside the house from now on. No doing anything that will give anyone a clue or draw attention to her. Well maybe in the back garden soon as I have put a padlock on the back gate. But that is all.

“Oh, and she wants you both to come to our village coffee mornings from now on. She use to go you know before… well anyway that’s Penny of course, not Paul. And… the next one just happens to be today, my place, this morning. Eleven for eleven-fifteen. Don’t be late.”

What a coincidence. There just happens be a meeting of the Piranha Club on the day she has caught me out. That by the way is the name I know the village men call the woman’s group behind their back. And me, THEIR. That is REALLY not going to happen. I have crossed Piranha Club members before. When we moved in fifteen years ago I had some trees cut down in the front garden to put a drive in. There had been complaints as I was parking on the grass verge outside in the lane as I had no drive. Then I got a letter from the county council telling me I was not allowed to park there. Then the same woman who had lead the complaints about me parking, complained again to them about me cutting the trees down to build the drive. Where the hell was I supposed to park the car.

“Nooo. I don’t think so. Some of your members think I’m a close relative of the devil.”

“Oh, don’t be silly and so dramatic. Anyway, it’s all arranged. We discussed it at our last meeting that it was about time Penny and her mum joined us.

“What! You told others about me!”

“Sweetie, the only person who thinks Penny is a secret in this village is you. All the girls know.”

“All!” Now I really do feel sick.

“Of course, all of them. So no excuses. Eleven-fifteen next door. Don’t be late or we will come round to find you.” She smiled to herself and added. “Oh. And we’ve signed you up to the W.I. as well. Jenny’s already a member of course. We need more bodies their too. So don’t change, you look lovely. Remember, no show and we will come and get you.”

Oh crap. Now I am really in trouble. I know Clair, she would too.

She put her cup down. “Anyway, Sweetie. Must run. Better go and do John’s breakfast or he will be grumbling he’s being abandoned again if it’s not on the table five seconds after he comes down. Don’t be late.”

She gets to the corner and turns back smiling. “Oh, and the other give-a-way was last week when you took Jenny out for walk round the village in her wheelchair. I stopped by you in the car for a chat. Remember.” I slowly nodded. “You know I really like those earrings that you were wearing. You know, the ones that are just a gold chain you thread through the ear and just let hang down a couple of inches.” She grinned, “So light you can forget you are wearing them… You did!”

I had just bought them and tried them out just before we went for a walk. I loved the idea of four inches of little chain hanging down from my ears. How could I forget to take them out. Idiot.

“You know Sweetie, you swapped from being a boy who liked being a girl to a girl who was pretending to be a boy at least six months ago. It’s time to finish the job and enjoy the benefits of being one the superior sex. Ciao!” and with one last stroke of Henry who had follow her, was off back home next door.

I sat shocked by what Clair had said. Looking after Mother 24/7 has left me permanently tired and careless without realising it. I had not realised just how careless I had become. Henry mewed and jumped back up onto the table.

“Hello traitor.” And rubbed him behind the ears the way he likes.

Before I can give it more thought there is a noise from the baby alarm, Mother is awake and trying to push her little table away from her chair. That means she wants to go to the loo.

Henry has sprawled himself across the metal surface watching me get up without a care in the world. Rolling onto his back with his head upside down he stretched out his paws into the air trying to reach me. I move my hand and let his paw pads press into my fingers. Henry started to purr again.

“It’s alright for you laying there, some of us have work to do.” Henry rolled over onto his other side twisting to keep watching me as I left him.

“Stand-by for Action!”

The bath seats little electric motor whines as Mother descends into the bath water.

“Dum-der-Dum, Dum-der-Dum, Dum-der-Dum,”

“Dive! Dive! Dive!” Mother sings out laughing, then warbling “StiiingRaay, StringRay.”

Then her bottom meets the bathwater and she screams.

“Too Hot… Too Hot, Too Hot.” She yells, panicking.

“It’s okay, I’m putting cold water in.” I hurriedly tell her.

The water really is lukewarm already. But feels hot to her. I pour some cold water from a jug I have ready behind her and swish it round till she is happy and hit the descend button again and the bath seat hits bottom. She happily starts washing and singing ‘High Hopes’ to herself.

“Ok, call me if you want me.” I tell her, but she is not listening.

I gently close the bathroom door, leaving her to her ablutions, which she can do just fine by herself. Normally I would try to grab a cup of tea, or more likely with unfettered access to her chair, gather up the half a ton of scattered paper tissues and crisps in the chair and on the floor around her foot cushion. So I do that. But the question on my mind is do I take mother to the coffee morning or cry off. And if I do that, will Clair make good her promise to bring the Piranha Club round to fetch us. I have a horrible feeling she would too. She has decide Penny’s coming out. And that is what is going to happen regardless of what I want. I can hardly hide behind the front door while she demands entry outside it. Anyway she has a set of door keys in case of an emergency. So she can just sneak around the back and let herself in the kitchen door while I hide behind the front door. No way am I letting that happen. So this is happening. No way out of it. God help me.

I look down at my painted toes and bare legs. Stockings? I nod to myself. Yes, it may be summer, but the Piranha Club are a pretty posh lot. I doubt there will be bare leg among them. That means old fashioned nylon RHT stockings (no seams) in my case, as they are all I have. No tights (pantyhose) I prefer stockings, ok. When you dress for yourself and yourself alone at home, you wear what you want, don’t you. Well, just enough time to put them on before mother wants out of the bath. I dash into my bedroom, kick off my mules and grab a suspender belt and a packet of my favourite nude grey stockings.

I am about done when the doorbell goes. Damn, what now. Clair checking up we are still coming round I suppose. I fix the last straps metal clasp in the nylon and let my dress drop down quickly stepping into my heels thinking Clair could just as easily have phoned. She doesn’t need to come round in person. I am a bit miffed at her for doing this.

“Clair,” I say. “I’d… Oh.”

Crap, it’s the postman.

“Hello. I need this signed for.” He smiles at me. Has he not recognised me? No he has not, thank god, for small mercies. Sorry god. I must stop saying ‘God’ all the time.

“Oh, sorry. Thought you were someone else.”

His laugh is friendly. “Yes, I gathered that.”

He keeps smiling as I signed the screen and smiling give it back. He glances at it and a frown crosses his face. Bum. I didn’t even think about that. It never occurred to me before now. Paul, Penny. Same initial, same surname still of course, so same signature. One he recognises. Just the wrong face and wrong sex staring back at him. Shit.

“Thought I would swap sides.” I say rambling. “The girls have better restrooms. And it makes sense too, makes it easier to take mother to the loo when there isn’t a disabled loo around.”

And that is a reason for becoming a girl, I think? Shut up will you.

“I’d never have guessed.” He is still smiling at me. Still talking.

“One of the blokes at work, another postman. He has gone over all girl too, but you can still see he was once a guy. But you.”
He whistles a kind of Wow, whistle. But not the sort of two tone one girls hate builders doing.

“You, I would never have guessed. And you look younger as well.”

We have always had a laugh about things while commenting on the weather, that sort of thing as the mail was being handed over. Nothing personal. But this is different. I suddenly become very aware in his eyes I am The Girl in this conversation. Before we were equals. Now I suddenly feel at a disadvantage, despite being five seven and now add to that, five inch heels as well. He is still taller than me, must be six foot six and time seems to have stopped. He seems to loom over me.

Mother breaks the spell wailing from the bathroom. “I’m cold.” Followed by the sound of tearful sobbing.

“No peace for the wicked.” I say glancing back at the bathroom door. How the heck did I get to be outside the front door?

“I better go.” I nip back in closing the front door wondering what just happened.

“Well, you’re looking great, very dateable.” He says grinning as the door closes.

Thanks. I think. Blushing. I flip the lock, and lean against the door thinking, ‘What the Hell do you think you were doing out there’. That is all you need. Flirting with the postman, turning him into an over sexed randy male with the hots for you. Idiot. Stupid idiot.

Sobbing from the bathroom gets my attention again. I go and stick my head into the bathroom. “It’s alright, don’t worry. I’m just going to get some hot towels for you, and get your clothes.”

She reaches out grabbing me tight with a wet hand.

“I’m so cold and lonely. I thought you’d gone to town and left me.” She shakes and shivers. At eighty-eight, I can have the bungalow heated up like the tropics for her and she will still be cold. Old age can sometimes be a cruel mistress to those who live to reach it
.
I take the small towel from the radiator I’ve had warming for this and put it over her shoulders.

“Ooo, that’s lovely.” She smiles back at me. The last few minutes gone from her mind instantly.

“I know. Just let me get the towels from the tumble drier. Won’t be a moment.”

I mean, I’ve never flirted with anyone before in my life, so how do I know what is and is not flirting. Anyway, I am very much a lipstick lesbian girl in a male body. Have been all my life for as long as I can remember.

This is the third dress I have tried on. There is an hour before we need to go next door. Clair said to say in the white summer dress I had on, but I think she more sort of meant stay girl, not to change back into man stuff as I would usually do so by nine in the morning in case someone called. Like the Postman! Har! Well, too late for that one. But there was still was Tesco’s supermarket home delivery driver, the district nurse, the Doc, the cleaning lady, they were all regular visitors among others. And they would all have to know.

So which dress to wear. I finally put on the dark blue one with the scoop neck with a Vee cut which shows off my cleavage without being slutty, but clearly shows the person wearing it is a woman of the species on account of showing her boobs. I have two kinds of boobs. Natural and Cleavage. Natural are glue on fake boobs, the bouncy kind you can buy on the internet that look real under clothes. Cleavage is a different matter altogether, it is like an iceberg, nine tenths of it under cover. Just take one of those bras that ups your size by two sizes, a pair of falseys, and your very own man boobs, add together and Wow! Real boobs that can be exposed to the view of real people up close without frightening the children and giving the game away. But sadly no bounce.

I glanced at my watch as I wait for my nails to dry, fifteen minutes left before ground zero. Normally I only paint them on Sundays when I know we would not be having visitors. I like painted nails, on both fingers and toes. Women’s nails look kind of un-finished when left plain. But not black polish, I really do not understand why some women like black nail polish. they just make nails look dirty. Think my nails are dry now. Better get my stockings back on.

“Mother, do you want to go to the Loo before we go round to Claire’s?”

“Are we going out?”

“Yes, round to Claire’s coffee morning.”

“I want to go shopping. You promised.”

I did not, but, “We’ll go shopping later.”

“I want to go, Now.” she turns and buries her head in the side of her chair and sulks big time. She’s a little girl at the moment.
Now which shoes to wear. I put on the pee-toes and go back to put Mothers shoes on her.

“Sure you don’t want to go to the loo?”

“Noo.” That is said with a hard shake of the head. She has slipped back to when she was six or seven and still living with her gran. It is strange, but you really can see the little girls face in hers when she slips back like this. It is the wonder in her eyes. You may be looking at an 88 year old face, but you can see the child there clear as day.

We are just going out the front door when in a big whisper she tells me “I need to Pee-pee!”

With her on the loo I decide to change shoes and go and put my expensive black six inch heel courts on and then once on decide to change them for my comfy five and half inch black mules that I practically live in. I change my earrings as well for the little drop pearl ones from the normal long tinkling dangly ones I wear at home.

“All done?”

“Yes. Are we going shopping?”

“No. we are going round to Clare’s. She is having a coffee morning. We’re going there.”

“You said we were going shopping.”

“Later. This afternoon.”

“Noooow. Now. We never go shopping.”

“I promise, after Clair’s.”

“That means Never.”

I had my back to the front door now and pause. I have never been out dressed this way in the day time. While I was more comfortable in my mules, nylons and dress etc. than I ever would be in men’s clothes. I still paused, I had never been out front in a dress passed seven-thirty in the morning before. It was now nearly eleven-thirty. I gripped the door handle tight and close my eyes waiting for sanity to take effect, for all this to turn out to be a dream.

I sigh, better get on with it. The Piranha Club are waiting next door, so with a deep breath I open the door and pull mother’s wheelchair outside into the sunshine.

With no bolts of lightning striking me, or stones raining down from up above hurled by an angry mob. It was kind of: So that’s it, what’s the big deal. There is just a pleasant feeling of warm sunshine on my face and shoulders. As we passed the car, I moved the wheelchair sideways a bit to stop mother grabbing a door handle. For someone with no strength it is surprising how strong a grip she can have when she wants. First time it happened I thought I had broken her arm for all the noise she made in the supermarket. Little old ladies with dementia have the same instinct as little children when it comes to supermarket shelves within arm’s reach. Items I do not want find their way into the shopping trolley if I am not careful to be found at the check-out.

I feel kind of crazy, light headed out in the lane pushing mother past the hedges between the driveways of our homes. The sound of my heels on the road seems enormous. Then my lips tighten as Clair comes round from the back of the house to greet us as we go up the drive.

“Hello Sweetie. Hi Jenny. Come on round the back, everyone’s in the sun room, and you can bring Jenny’s wheelchair straight in that way.”

I looked up to see a sea of female faces, the Piranha Club is out in force. They turn to us as one smiling, as we entered.

To be continued…

This is the story of Penny. A closet Transwoman thrust into the outside world 24-7 when she would rather go and hide away. Perhaps the title should be Welcome to Penny’s Paranoid World…

From part one:
The sound of my heels on the road seems enormous... Clair comes round from the back of the house to greet us… “Hello Sweetie. Hi Jenny. Come on round the back, everyone’s in the sun room, and you can bring Jenny’s wheelchair straight in that way.

And now as they say, read on…

“Here, let me take mum.”

Before I can say anything someone has taken mother’s wheelchair away from me and over to one side where her friends in the village are sitting around a glass coffee table surrounded by a wicker sofa and chairs set with a space left for her wheelchair.

“Come on, sweetie, come and meet the girls.” Clair pulls me off the other way. I glimpse a cup of coffee being handed to mother. I may be scared stiff of being here, but at the moment I am worried that as soon as mother finds she cannot see me she will panic, and I do not want people to see her in distress. But it is also good for her to talk to her friends again even though I know she will probably not remember who they are, she is very good at disguising the fact she does not know who she is talking to. So both sides are happy. When we get back home I know she will say, ‘I don’t know who they were, but they were very nice people.’ The sad thing is she has known them for years and now does not have a clue.

“Hi. I’m Evie.” A tall good looking women in her sixties told me.

“Hello. I’m Penny.” I say back nervously, I’m about to put my hand out, but Evie is quicker and moves in and hugs me and does the cheek to cheek thing with air kisses. I try to follow half a second behind her. Tall and thin like me, and around the same height, if a tad taller, and totally un-bothered about being tall. She must have been quite a looker in her younger days. As we part two more hugs and kisses follow quickly from Trish and Jill. I am a bit stiff at it but they act as if they have not noticed. I knew Evie and her husband Johnny by sight as they have the farm a couple of doors up from up from us and we wave to each other when we past each other. There are three farms in the village. Evie and Johnny’s Apple Tree Farm is the biggest. They have three of those big tall four wheel drive JCB tractor things and a couple of the caterpillar track kind as well. As well as some bog standard tractors of various ages along with two combine harvesters and all the other weird powered machines a successful modern arable farm has. One of the combines is an all new all singing and dancing thing that looks like it came out of the spaceship Enterprise. I know they hire out the old one with a driver to the smaller farms that do not have one of their own come harvest time.

Trish’s husband turns out to be a surgeon at one of London’s big teaching hospitals, ‘The Queen Ann’s Medical Centre’. Jill and husband Nigel’s Back Beck Farm is one of the smaller farms on the other side of the village down Back Lane.

I keep waiting for someone to get nasty as I am introduced to the ladies one on one, sometimes two or three at a time. Expecting someone to make a caustic remark or something as time went by, but it does not happen. Clair keeps me moving around so everyone gets introduced. All have their moment to say hi to me. Some are pleasant but not interested in me. Others clearly want me to feel at home among them. Closest I come to the nasties is Zoey MacTavish, a solicitor who is taking a break from the practice she and her husband run, to bring up there six year old daughter, April. Zoey wants to know how I feel about being a woman, now. She is the only one to mention the male2female thing.

I am not sure if she is genuinely curious or is trying to remind the others I am a male in a dress pretending to be female among them and not really a proper woman. Or maybe I’m just being paranoid. But solicitors like politicians are word people and very careful about the words they use, and this puts me on edge.

“I’m at last at peace with myself.” I say. I can see in her eyes that she is going to continue with this, but Clair grabs me and hauls me away to meet someone else before she can.

“Sorry about that. Zoey is going stir crazy now April is in school. She would like to go back to work part-time at least, but Donald won’t hear of it. He likes coming home to a ready cooked meal too much to let her do that.” She lets on that Donald has told Johnny that before April was born it use to be takeaways every weekday night and restaurants at the week-end. Zoey never cooked. Now she thinks he is having an affair every time he is five minutes late arriving home after work.

I find myself sitting between Evie and Trish as I drink my tea. Mother is with her friends enjoying herself. I’m glad about that. When she gets bored she tends to start singing to herself. Being hard of hearing, the volume of her singing is not something mother thinks about. I have to endure it, but others might not be so kind. I think Evie and Trish have appointed themselves my protectors from any unwanted attention. Although apart from Zoey everyone seems ok. It is a coffee morning, but tea is available which is good as I hate coffee. I know that sounds a daft thing to say, but I have gone into coffee houses/cafes before and asked for tea and been told, ‘It’s a coffee house. Dum, Dumb. No tea’.

Clair rings a small glass bell when the consumption of the cakes the Piranha Club members have brought along has taken place and a second round of hot drinks are being enjoyed.

“Everybody. Tomorrow. Our visit to the new Boundary Mills Store. I take it everyone is still coming.” There are nods, voices saying ‘Yes, can’t wait’ and so on. “Good. Travel arrangements as usual then if that is ok with the normal drivers. Now meet up time is…”

While Clair is going on getting confirmation of this and that and discussing dates for a future visit to a big shopping centre in a nearby town. Evie leans in. “Normal, I take Clair and Trish with me, but my Audi’s at the garage getting the brakes fixed tomorrow. Do you mind if we ride with you and Jenny.”

“No of course not. My pleasure.” Then thinking about it, add, “Um, when is it though. I have to take mother to the hairdresser’s tomorrow morning.”

“That’s fine. We won’t be off until around two, to two-thirty. Have you got your appointment booked too, Penny?” Trish askes.

What appointment is that? Then realise Trish means me at the hairdressers. “Ur, no. no not yet.” Going a bit red. I had not thought about the fact that I would have to meet Rose and her granddaughter tomorrow dressed as a woman. I guess that I still thought I would be switching back to being Paul, despite the way Clair had been talking this morning. Now it is becoming clear that as far as the ladies of the Piranha Club are concerned I have crossed over from the boy’s side of the room to the girl’s side and it was a one way trip.

I mean I want to live as a female, I know that, have always known that since I was about seven years old. But now it has happened. All I can think of now is how it is all going to blow up in my face.

Evie and Trish are nodding understandingly. Oh god. Normally I take a magazine or read a book on the kindle and sit on the sofa for an hour or two with a cup of tea while mother has her hair done. That is because if she cannot see me she panics. Except now I am going to be sitting there in a dress. Will Rose want to do my hair as well? No, I think not, at least not this time. Hairdressers are funny about bookings and appointment times, aren’t they. So there would be no space to add me into tomorrow’s schedule. But I bet she will want to next time. I’ll have to think up an excuse when booking mothers next appointment to get out of it.

This is going to be embarrassing. I ask myself again, is this what you really want? All this embarrassment. Is it worth it just to wear make-up and a dress and heels when you go shopping. The answer is yes, I know that. I want to be able to go shopping as a woman, be outside, go places in a dress with nail polish on. I have always regarded female finger and toe nails without polish as kind of un-finished, naked. But I am scared. No, I’m terrified of being rejected and scorned out loud and stared at. And I am not sure if I am brave enough to handle all of that.

I’m dreaming. I sort of know it, but it does not help. I am in a big clothing shop with the doors about to be opened to let the shoppers in, and I’m wearing a cute flimsy bra and panty set with a matching suspender belt and cream stockings along with super high heels that I absolutely love. I feel like a fashion model. I’ve got perfect make-up on. I’m also running about panicking looking for Evie and Trish. My boobs are jiggling away like crazy and I’m trying to hold them down and I’m mortify because there is a foot long soft penis swinging around mocking me sticking out from my panties, and I don’t know how it got there and I don’t know how to get rid of it as I know it’s not mine. The doors open and the store is suddenly full of shoppers and I’m running around among them in my underwear like a headless chicken with that damn thing swinging away and no-one seems to notice it or me. It is like I am invisible. But I know they will see me soon and they will all be staring at me pointing and laughing.

I wake up bathed in sweat. The bedside clock says three am. I get up shaking and go make a cup of tea. I cannot face going back to bed yet. Too afraid I will slip back into the dream. Around ten to four I slip back in bed and hardly asleep when I hear Mother talking to herself. Clock says it is four-twenty.

“…well I don’t know how to get up. And I need to have a wee. Stop it. STOP IT, It’s not my fault I don’t know…”

I think it is like when you have a baby. They make a noise and you wake up regardless of the time of day. For me it is mother. She only has to be mumbling to herself and I wake. That is why I got the baby alarm with a tv screen, so if she wakes I can see if she is just mumbling in her sleep, or if she is awake and needs me. This time she is sitting up.

“Hello there, do you want to go to the loo.” She look up smiling. It is the little girl smile.

“Yes. How did you know that?”

I grin back, “Magic.” She giggles. I move her covers and hold out my hands and she takes them. A gentle pull and she is upright and wobbling as I lead her the three feet to her wheelchair. She has slept in an arm chair for the past twelve or so years. It started with the odd night. A new bed and mattress did not improve things and eventually she choose to sleep in an armchair or on the sofa fulltime. To be honest I do not know how she does it. This was before the dementia took hold. I guess there were signs before then, but I did not notice them.

“Can I get you a bacon roll?”

“No. it’s alright, I’m not hungry.” We are in the bathroom now and she has forgotten she wants to go to the loo. “Okay. Are you going to get on the loo, now.” I ask gently.

“Are you sure, you don’t want a bacon roll. They are good for you.”

“No, I’m fine, do you want to move over onto the loo.”

“Nooo. Why?”

“You said you wanted to have a wee.”

“No I didn’t.”

“You did. That’s why we came in the bathroom.”

She shakes her head. “Noooo.”

“Yes. That’s why we’re in the bathroom.”

“Are we in the bathroom?”

“Yes.”

“Really. We are? Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Well I don’t want to go, now. Thank-you.” There is more than a hint of I’m not going to play ball in her voice.

“How about you give it a try just in case.”

She firmly shakes her head. “No.”

“Please, it won’t take a moment.”

She considers this, should she indulge me.

“…I suppose…” I say nothing. “I suppose I could… just in case…”

“That’s a good girl. Up you get.” Reluctantly she gets up holding onto the wheelchair, and with prompting turns around and starts to pull her nighty up out the way. Sometimes I have to remind her what to do. Most of the time she remembers.

“Ohhh, ohhh, I’m going to wee… I’m going to wee.” She is starting to panic. “Oh, oh, I’m going to wee in my knickers. Oh, oh, oh.”

“It’s alright, let’s get your knickers down.”

“I’m going to go. Oh, dear, oh dear. I’m going to gooo.” She is making little girl sobbing sounds now, panicking.
I get her sat down seconds before she goes. Tears start welling up.

“I wet my knickers.” Big little girl sobs now. “I wet my knickers.”

“No you didn’t. You got them down in time.”

“Nnooo. I didn’t.”

“You did, it’s alright.”

“Nnooo.”

“Honest. You did.”

“Really. Are you sure?”

“Yes, really.”

“Really.”

She is back in bed, her armchair by quarter to five. A super expensive recliner I got her so she could lie back as far as she wanted to, but she refuses point blank to use it that way. With an empty bladder she curls up and snuggle her head on big Ted while cuddling Fred who is a soft toy dog, or bear. I’m not sure which. He has a wry grin on his face and a small brown leather patch on his bum for some reason. I have told the district nurses that if anything happens to me, while she is being looked after till family gets here to make sure she has Fred with her. He is her comforter. The two of us are her safety net. I go back to bed. Setting the alarm so I do not over sleep. My back aches, I do too much lifting with mother, so I take a buprenorphine and settle back to sleep.

I don’t know how I did it, but here we are outside Rosemary’s Hairdressers in Mid-Steeping at five to ten. Lucky it is only a five minute drive away. I still have to remember to factor in the time it takes to put my make-up on in the morning now as well as decide what to wear. I went for the same as yesterday and show boobs again. It is a psychological boost to my brain. I.e. boobs equal female. i.e. you are female. i.e. everyone else will see you as female. Like I said. I’m paranoid.

I was economical with the truth when I said I begin every day as Penny to stay sane. Make that two, three times a week and Sundays if I can. It depends on if we have to go out that day or not and how tired I am. That is why I am amazed we are here on time this morning.

I go through the door bum first as is common with people who drive wheelchairs from the back.

“Hello Jenny, Hello Penny.”

I turn to see Evie who pulls me into a cheek to cheek greeting. She whispers in my ear.

“Thought you would like some moral support since it is your first trip out, proper.”

“Thanks, yes. I am a bit nervous.” I whisper back.

“Don’t worry, Darling. Everything will be ok. All is arranged.”

Rose is saying hello to Mother, Melissa her granddaughter is watching me. Then Rose turns to face me, taking hold of my arms.

“Wow Babe! Who’s got a painting hidden in the attic, then? Who would think this pretty thing was hidden in plain sight under that boy. And where did these boobies come from.” She says looking down at them and grinning, before letting go and spinning on her heels to survey her world while talking to Melissa.

“I’ll start on Jenny, you start on Penny.”

Before I can get mother out of the wheelchair, Melissa takes my hands and pulls me away to the other chair.

“It’s okay, I don’t bite. Gran and Evie will look after Mum.” Melissa’s smiling at me.

Melissa is a lovely very pretty sweet natured young woman and probably because if I was younger I would fancy her something rotten. I am embarrassed.

In my mind I can easy imagine us kissing, two pretty young woman. Funny that I think so easily of myself as a young woman in my fantasy. Instead all I can think of is I am FORTY-SEVEN YEARS OLD. I am a old tramp ship with its rusting hull painted white to make it look like a superyacht. Fine from a distance, but a mess up close. I think of those old ladies you see in the supermarket with way too much make-up on and Melissa young and beautiful pulling back from that embrace to see she is not kissing a beautiful girl like herself, but an old hag.

Embarrassed, I try to argue, but Melissa tells me it is all arranged, Evie’s treat, and has me in the chair before I can stop her. She has changed the subject to ask if I have any ear buds on me as I cannot use my beloved Bowers & Wilkins headphones while she does my hair. I often wear then to listen to music where Mothers hair is done. I do not, but she delves into a container, pulling out a packet of ear buds. Telling me she always saves the ear buds that come whenever she gets something that comes with a free pair. I am dismissed to my mp3 player until done with.

Still embarrassed, I close my eyes and take refuge in the music and then with all that tugging going on with my hair, I fall asleep. When I am nudged awake, all is done. Clair has arrived it seems for the un-veiling and they are all very pleased with themselves. They make me close my eyes again and I feel all embarrassed and stupid for falling asleep. Clair and Melissa manoeuvred me to the waiting area of the small salon.

“Okay, you can open them.”

I… I… I am stunned.

About a year ago I saw on google a website for a make-up artist who did make overs for transsexuals, and booked a day with her so she could teach me how to put on make-up. I arranged it for when my sister was coming over from America so I could have a break from looking after mother. So I spent a day with Suki up in Lancashire.

My Mother and sister have never worn much make-up. Just foundation and lipstick and with my sister a bit of eye shadow. So I had no-one to learn from and left it alone. I was stunned by what Suki did to me. The thing was I looked so much younger with make-up on. I always thought you were supposed to look older with make-up. After she had brushed my hair to a more feminine style I was amazed. I looked younger, much younger than I was. She said I had lost fifteen years, which I found it hard to believe even though the evidence was staring back at me. But then I could never tell peoples ages.

When she took me to get my ears pierced she asked Jasmine who was doing it, how old I was. She looked at me hard and said, ‘Well, since you’re asking me, I guess it’s older than you look.’ She paused and stared at me some more. ‘Ok, I’m just going to go with how she looks right now this moment and that’s around I guess, thirty-two to thirty-fiveish. So ok, how old is she, Suki.’ Suki smirked, grinned at me. ‘Forty-eight.’ I watched Jasmines mouth doing gymnastics as she shook her head. Before she just said. ‘You lucky Cow! Whatever it is you’re eating, I want some.’

Now I could see my mousey light brown collar length hair was gone. In its place I had long light blonde hair over my fake boobs and past my shoulder blades down my back. Looking in the mirror even I have to admit I look no more than thirty-two. I’m stunned, I can’t speak, say anything. How could I look so young? This is me through some weird looking glass. This is the woman I always wanted to be. I just stared at myself. I touched my hair.

“Not a wig?”

“No way a wig, babe.” Says Melissa grinning.

“Well, I think she likes.” Adds Rose.

At last I turn back to them and nod as I try to speak with a broad smile on my face. Finally I manage to get words out. “It’s fantastic, I can’t believe it. It’s unbelievable.” I turn to Mellissa. “Thank-you, thank-you so much. It’s unbelievable. It’s fantastic.”

If I had not been so gobsmacked that I would have noticed mother desperately trying to get hold of me. She finally manages to grab hold of my dress and pulls hard as she can to get me within reach to grab hold of my wrist. I realise and turn back to her bending down.

“Well. What do you think.”

The determined frown gives way to a big smile on her face. “Oh my! Oh my, you’re so beautiful.” She grabs my new long hair and keeps hold to make sure I do not move away. For a moment I think she is going to pull the new hair out, I can feel the pull against my scalp. But see just wants to keep me there so she can look at me.

“Oh my, Oh my. So beautiful.” She keeps repeating and starts to cry. I move in closer and hug her till she stops.
Smiling I gently ask her. “Are you going to let me up now. My backs killing me bent over like this.”

She blinks, smiles and releases me.

I turn standing trying to ease the pain in my calf muscles and back to see myself in the mirror again. Wow! My hair. This long blonde hair is mine. Ok, mine with a fair bit added. With a shy, but enormous smile I turn and take hold of Evie and hug her. “Thank-you. Thank-you so much for this.”

“That’s alright. It suits you perfectly.”

We drive back in a convoy. Evie leading in the farms muddy 4x4 pick-up, then Clair in her small Fiat 500 and Mother and me in our ageing Mercedes E220 estate. I found it was not totally plain sailing having super long hair. It may look great, but as soon as I got in the car I trapped my new long hair behind me with my head bent backwards. Leaning forward I swept it forward over my left shoulder so I could look through the windscreen and turn my head.

Back home I wanted to just sit down and fall asleep. I’m knackered! It had been an eventful morning. Who would have thought having your hair done was so tiring. Melissa had put a scrunchie on it with a black bow on it, and I liked that. I am so much on a new learning curve on everything regarding having long hair. But, mother is ready for her lunchtime soup. So no peace for the wicked. We alternate between Heinz chicken soup and Heinz mushroom soup. She will not have any other. That done I set the alarm for one-thirty to make sure I am ready if I fall asleep. But my head is buzzing too much with everything that has happened for sleep to come visit and I decide to change my boobs for fake bouncy stuck-on boobs.

It takes about an hour to get to the New Boundary Mills Store. I picked up Trish with Evie at the farm house. Then we went back to form up with the other cars outside Clair’s house. Then at half two on the dot Clair stood by her car grinning.

“Ladies, start your engines!” then got in her little red car.

After that I half expect her to stand up on the doorsill and sweep her arm forward yelling ‘Wagons Roll.’ Especially as Rawhide had just started to play on the radio causing us to have a fit of the giggles in the E220. Clair’s little Fiat 500 moves off and so do we. Behind us another five cars start one after the other.

The new Boundary Mills Store is about the size of a football pitch full of quality discounted clothes and footwear. Nine tenths of it female. When my sister Carol was over last year we went to a similar place closer to London. For me it was the pain of being somewhere where all I wanted to do was hit the rails for myself checking out the dresses I liked, and all I could do was act the male part by following around behind her pushing mother’s wheelchair with the traditional bored man’s expression on my face. So close and yet a million miles away at the same time. It was the most depressing day of my life.

Now I was going to go through it all over again. Only this time I was wearing a dress and make-up and the place was going to be full of female assistants and shoppers and at least some of them were going to see straight through me from the start. That was unavoidable with so many women about. This was going into the lion’s den and sticking your head in his mouth, yanking his tonsils and hoping he does not bit your head off. Part of me wanted to finally be able to be ‘Me’ and just look through the dresses like any other woman. The other part of me just wanted to just ‘Get the Hell out of Dodge’.

To be continued…

This is the story of Penny. A closet Transwoman thrust into the outside world 24-7 when she would rather go and hide away. Perhaps the title should be Welcome to Penny’s Paranoid World…

From part two:
Now I was going to go through it all over again. Only this time I was wearing a dress and make-up and the place was full of female assistants and shoppers and at least some of them were going to see straight through me from the start. That was unavoidable with so many women about. This was going into the lion’s den and sticking your head in his mouth, yanking his tonsils and hoping he does not bit your head off. Part of me wanted to finally be able to be ‘Me’ and just look through the dresses like any other woman. The other part of me just wanted to just ‘Get the Hell out of Dodge’.

And now as they say, read on…

As I said this place is about the size of a football pitch. That’s an English one. Haven’t a clue about the size of the one that is the strange adaption of rugby that the good folk of America play dressed as if they are about to go play dodge with a hippopotamus. The women of the Piranha Club admire my new long blonde locks before doing a sort of ground level aeronautic starburst on entering and spreading out in all directions in Boundary Mills and disappearing among the clothes racks. Evie and Trish stay close by me till I tell them to go and do what they want to do here.

“…I’ll be fine” I tell them. “I want to look for some summer dresses for mother anyway. Now be off with you both.”

“You need at least two cocktail dresses if you haven’t got them. Remember that.” Evie tells me.

“And a couple of evening dresses as well. Don’t forget them, too.” Adds Trish.

I laugh, “I’m hardly likely to need either of those.”

“I’m having a Dinner party Thursday and you need a cocktail dress for that. It’s time you stopped hiding away. Time to get out in the world. Clair has said she will sit with Jenny.” The look on Evie’s face said she would accept no arguments, it was a done deal, and here in the middle of Boundary Mills is hardly the place to start having an argument over it.

“And you’re coming to my dinner party Sunday. You need an evening dress for that. So that’s at least one cocktail dress and evening dress, needed. A load of Malcom’s colleagues will be there and given your medical condition it always helps to have some top medical people in your corner. So no excuses, get looking young lady. Go get, if you don’t have already.”

That was Trish again. It seemed my social life is going from totally non-existence to the top of the pile in village life. I nodded and try not to smile. I was after all in my late forties in reality, and Trish could only be in her early fifties at best. She looked more mid-thirties than I do, and she was calling me, ‘young lady’ like she was dealing with her recalcitrant sixteen year old daughter. The rest of the Piranha Club had taken from the start once past introductions to talking to me as if I was a particularly naïve just married thirty year old housewife who had spent all her life until now in a nunnery. Which I suppose in weird sort of way I have; I keep house and looked after mother. But at this rate they would have me back at school as a teenager dating the football captain by the end of next week.

“Okay, okay. Alright I will look for some. Now go and do the things you want to do here, and stop making me feel guilty at stopping you enjoying yourselves.”

I sighed as they reluctantly moved away. Inside I was wishing they were still by my side giving me confidence and protecting me. My heart was banging away like crazy watching them go, but it was not fair on them to spend their time here babysitting me. People smiled at us the way they normally do. Only now I was not sure if it was at Mother and Fred they were smiling at and not at seeing me in a dress.

So as not to become a nervous wreck before I got out of there, I decided to keep in my mind it was Mother holding Fred that they were smiling at and nothing to do with me at all. It is usually Fred being with Mother that gets the nice smiles and strangers talking to her. I just had to keep thinking, ME female and go nowhere near the changing rooms or loos and getting myself arrested. Well the disable loos were ok, as that was where I normally took mother.

Ok, so I was not getting women standing and pointing at me screaming their heads off like something out of the Invasion of the Body Snatchers movies. But it is that kindly smile they keep doing that creeps me out now I am in a dress and make-up.

As I look for dresses that mother likes and are ok. I look up now and again to see where everyone else is. Looking to spot Evie and Trish and Clare, but the place is so vast you cannot spot anyone. I try not to think two days ago none of this had happened. That I might have been a frustrated male, but had been a Safe, frustrated male.

Now I am paranoid about the slightest thing… and… and… and to be truthful part of me is bubbling over like crazy with the joys of spring. I alternate between pure horror and terror at simply being here in a dress, and having to stop a silly grin bursting out all over my face every time I see my new long blonde hair in the mirrors the store has spread all over the place.
Anyway as I get down to looking for some summer dresses for mother I start to relax and have a couple of dresses and cardigans in the basket by the time the coffee break is due.

“Hi, sweetie. How’s it going?” Clair makes me jump, but it is nice to see her.

“I’ve got these for mother.” I say lifting them out of the basket to show her.

“And what about you, sweetie.”

“Oh, you know. Been a bit bus… Don’t!”

I move fast reaching out to grab the white jackets I have inadvertently left mother by talking to Clair, and Mother in her delight at this is pulling hard on the sleeves of one of them to get it closer to her and in doing so is about to pull half a dozen off the rail. I grab at them and fail to stop them making an untidy pile on the floor. The two of us, me and Clair put them back on their hangers and back on the rack and hope none of the assistants come by to help us.

“Noooooooo…”

“It’s ok, were putting them back.” But Mother is not listening. She turns away from us and curls herself up as best as she can into a ball in the wheelchair holding Fred tight. Her eyes tight shut whispering over and over to herself.

“Not a bad girl, not a bad girl, not a bad girl, not a bad girl, not a bad...” In between heaving up big little girl sobs.

I bend down to lean over wrapping my arm over her holding her as tight as I can. I am five-seven plus five inch heels and bending over is killing my back. I know she is eighty-eight in physical age. But right now in her mind she is a little six year old living with her Gran and Grandad who seems to think she is always in trouble. It hurts me, physically pains me in my chest when she is frightened like this. When her gran died she went to live with her mum in London. Her mother, my Nana, loved her dearly, but she did walloped her a lot for the smallest indiscretion.

“No, you’ve not been a bad girl. No one said that. The rack was wonky and going to fall on you. That’s all, sweetheart.”

Ok, so I tell lies, we all tell little white lies at times. Suddenly she turns to face me burying her face against my fake boobs crying. She has never done that before when upset and I want to cry myself, now. Realising Channel No.5 and I guess the smell of make-up has made me a woman to her small Child’s mind and the contact is giving her comfort.

My back is screaming at me. As soon as I can stand I am going to get a couple of buprenorphine from my handbag. Thank god you don’t need water or anything to take them. Just put them under the tongue and that’s it. Clair gives me a tissue to dab my eyes.

“You all right.” She asks me softly.

I nod and I’m vaguely aware of Evie and Trish around me concerned. When mother stops whispering I ask her if she would like a cup of coffee.

“Yes.” She says shyly and releases her grip a little on me and I know things are easing up for her. As we make our way to the cafe. She pulls me down to ask the more important question on her mind.

“Can I have some Teddy Bears with my coffee?”

“Yes, you can. What does Fred say.”

She lifts Fred up and nuzzles him, then looks at me. “He doesn’t want any.”

“Okay, that’s alright.”

After a quick stop off to pay for her new clothes. We arrive at the coffee shop and join the rest of the Piranha Club. Mother’s memory of recent events has gone. Her memory is pretty short term now. Her main interest now is getting her Cheese and Onion Teddy Bear crisps. Half way through them mother is watching another shopper with a light blue jacket on sitting a couple of tables away.

“That’s nice, can we look for one. Do we have enough money?”

I nod, adding. “Yes. I don’t see why not.”

Mother is back to her older self again smiling, having the odd word with Fred and putting his nose and mouth to her ear for his reply. The little girl, I know like the other ages she slips into has gone, but she will be back when I least expect it.

My mistake after coffee was to admit I had seen some dresses I liked when looking for mothers. When I came back from putting Mother’s, Trish’s and Evie’s dress bags in the back of the car. We were using one of the shops wheelchairs for mother to leave more space in the E220’s boot space (that’s the trunk area in USA speak). I found them ready to begin the hunt. Clair had taken command of the wheelchair. I merely had to lead the way to the first dress. Which I did with I guess male single mindedness.

“Penny, back here.”

I turned to find them stopped thirty or so feet back pulling out a dress from the rails. A bit self-conscious I went back to have a summer dress held up against me with a cream base and a multitude of small summer flowers printed all over it with a sweetheart neck. They nod and added it to the basket I had not seen when we started off. By the time we reached the first dress I had seen we also had a dress with a gipsy top in light pale green. The cocktail dress was deep blue covered in thick glass beads that looked like un-cut diamonds. On the next rail was an evening dress length version in champagne. Both looked very glamorous in a sixties sort of way which I like.

Reruns of the ‘The Man From U.N.C.L.E’ formed an important part of my television viewing as a child. I just could not work out my feelings about Napoleon Solo, did I want to be him running around with my gun shooting Thrush baddies or did I want to slink around with him as the girl in some high-class eatery in heels wearing a glam evening dress on his arm. It was about then I realised I had a strong desire to have breasts of my own. Even though I had no concept of what sex or the sexes were. I just identified with my mother for who I was and was surprised when I was told I was not. I remember having a profound feeling of resentment about it, and that she was probably wrong.

When I started to head for the tills I had seven dresses in the basket and no more fight left in me. It was easier to give in to them. I’m not a wimp, but I really did not want to cause a scene in the shop by arguing the toss and bring attention to myself. The day dresses I would wear, but the cocktail and evening dresses would get worn once if I was lucky and then hide in the cupboard until I donated them to a charity shop in umpteen years’ time.

“Penny, where are you going?”

“To the tills.”

Most of the Piranha Club members had already left. Clair had already left to take Zoey home. Trish taking over on the wheelchair. Evie’s husband Johnny was going to collect Zoey’s daughter April as well pick-up his granddaughters from school, something Evie normal did. But Zoey wanted to get back to prepare Aprils tea.

“Don’t be silly. You need to try them on first.”

I shook my head. “No. they will send for the police if I go in there.”

Trish and Evie looked at each other with a sigh. “You’ve got to try them on first. Don’t worry, one of us will go with you.”

Despite my fears and thumping heart, the girl at the changing rooms said nothing and I was soon being helped into dress after dress by Evie who then cast a critical eye over them. Trish stayed chatting to mother outside. With Evie helping me to change, I’m glad I changed to the stuck-on boobs. The dresses I am trying on would have failed miserably with the ‘me’ boobs.

As I drove back to Lower Steeping my heart was gradually slowing down, I played little attention to the conversation Trish and Evie were having with Mother. I was just feeling at peace with myself at having survived the trip to Boundary Mills and concentrated on the driving. Trish had asked to be dropped off first as she had to get husband Malcom’s dinner on. So we drove pass the farm and our place to the bottom of Sheep Dip Lane and turned sharp left onto Church Lane with Trish’s high stone wall on the left till we came too two scowling stone lions atop the two stone pillars of their gateway and turned in leaving our rather plain Norman Church over on the right side of the lane. I followed the curving gravel drive round past some trees leading to the side of a circular drive. Looping round it I stopped in front of the house. Trish hopped out and with a smile and wave danced her way across the flagstones to the front door in her flimsy four and a half inch heel sandals to disappear inside with a quick wave goodbye. Just watching her so light on her feet made me feel like an elephant.

We back tracked and when I turned into the gateway at Apple Tree Farm. Evie asked if I minded dropping her off at her son John’s farmhouse half a mile away across the farm as Johnny would be watching the girls there and would be champing at the bit to get back to the farm.

“No problem. Just point the way.”

Evie directed me onto a track of crushed stone just past the farm house that went round the back of the farm buildings.
“When John and Susan got married, her parents, Bob and Cerys retired to Wales leaving them the farm which is next to ours. John and his father joined the two together and work them as one rather than two separate farms.

“Susan didn’t come with us to day?”

“No, four years ago she got leukaemia, Emily was just three, Eve and Lizzy were five, just starting school. It was very aggressive, she went downhill rapidly. All it took was six weeks and she was gone, poor girl. Poor John.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know. It must have been a very painful time for you all.”

“That’s all right, darling, you wasn’t to know.” She thought a bit. “The sad thing is the Emily never got to know her mother, and the twins barely even remember her, now. I spend a lot of time with them, but they need a mother, really.”

I pull up behind the four door Toyota Hilux pick-up Evie was driving yesterday. I smile, it has been washed and pulled up behind it. The house is quite an impressive fake Elizabethan affair. All oak beams and overhanging first floor.*

“Nice house.”

“Yes, the old farmhouse, the one Susan was born in was rather small. She and John had great fun knocking it down one week-end and had this one built in its place from a kit.”

As Evie got out three pretty young girls, all with long blonde hair burst from the farmhouse yelling “Grandma!” As they mobbed her I raised the tailgate, and saw the two bags Trish had given me back at Boundary Mills. Oh well, easy enough to go down to Trish’s to drop them off after we leave here. Evie’s husband, Johnny, had come out behind the girls with a young collie dog running excitedly around his legs. After he greets Evie with a kiss, he turns to me smiling.

“Hello, you must be Penny. Nice to meet you.”

“Hello.” I said smiling nervously back. Not sure how he was going to react to me being a girl.

Then realising I was holding Evie’s shopping bags, he moved towards me.

“Here, let me have those.”

”Johnny, did you start dinner for me.” Evie called after her husband while making a fuss of the dog.

He stopped, half turning back to her. The girls were around their grandma, looking inquisitively at me.

“In the oven love. Be ready in about half an hour.” Then, looking at his watch, added. “Thinking of which. I best go and give John a hand or he won’t be back in time.”

He looked back to me grinning. “No peace for the wicked. Bye Penny.”

I nodded and grinned saying ‘Bye’. As he headed back to the Hilux calling to Patch to come too. Once there the young dog jump in the open driver’s. Passenger window powered down and Patch stuck his head out grinning at us.

“We shouldn’t be more than half an hour, love.” Johnny called out from it to Evie pulling a face. “Well maybe a little longer. Bye all.”

The girls yelled “Bye Grandad. See you later.”

After they have gone Evie took the bags from me. “He’s sixty-five years old and still needs written step by step instructions on how to put the oven on.”

Shaking her head she turned to the girls to hand them each a Boundary Mills bag. “Okay girls, one each for you.”

“Thanks Grandma.” They chorused, as they rushed off back into the farmhouse.

Evie laughed and shook her head smiling. “They will be straight up to their bedrooms to try on their dresses.”

I moved closer to her.

“Well, anyway, we best be off. It’s been a lovely day, Evie. Thank-you.” I grinned, adding. “If a bit nerve racking at times I must admit at Boundary Mills. But thank-you for coming into the changing room with me. I would never have gone in by myself. And thank you thank-you, for my hair. I love it. I know I’m a bag of nerves, but this hair gives me such a boost of confidence. Anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

I made to leave, but Evie took hold of my hands, stopping me. She looked over at mother and back to me. “Why don’t you both come in and have a cup of tea, before you go.”

“Thank-you, but no, I don’t have Mother’s wheelchair with us, I left it behind to give us more room for the bags. And I forgot to give Trish her bags, so I’ll drop them off now, on the way home.”

“We have a wheelchair here. That’s no problem.”

Before I could reply. There was a plaintive cry from the car.

“I need to, Weeee!”

“You won’t get home in time. I’ll get the wheelchair. There is a downstairs loo, just inside to the left of the door.”

I got Mother out of the car just as Evie came back and quickly got her in the wheelchair. Emily had come out with her grandma and Evie asked her show me the way to the bathroom while she dashed back to the kitchen and check on their dinner.

“Is that the dress Granny brought you today?” Emily nodded her head. She was for some reason a little in awe of me I think. “Well you look lovely in it.” Emily smiled and opened the door into the bathroom for me, which I found was big enough to get both me and the wheelchair in easily.

“Thank-you, Emily.”

She smiled and then a touch embarrassed, scooted away before I could say anything else.

When we came out I pushed mother down the short hall to the kitchen where I could hear Evie taking to the girls, to say thank-you and give our good-byes. The kitchen was a large open plan affair with a centre work counter. Evie smiled as we entered. Over in one corner by a western style round table with a half round bench and some chairs. Beside it an old sheepdog was watching us from his bed by a radiator, he slowly got up and plodded over to us with a happy grin on his face, tongue hanging out.

“That’s Nelson. He’s quite friendly, but he’s quite an old chap now.”

You could see why he was called Nelson. Mostly white with a few black patches, with one of them over his left eye like an eye patch. He stopped, looking from Mother to me and back. Mother got in first cooing and reaching out to stroke him. So he moved closer to her enjoying the fuss. I bent down and fussed him too. Evie laughed.

“He’ll let you do that forever. And before you say no, again. You’re staying for dinner. I have some chicken soup Jenny can have. The girls have laid places for us all at the table, so it would be rude for you to refused, wouldn’t it.” She smiled knowingly at me. “Besides, Penny. How many times do you cook yourself a proper dinner? I know Jenny can only take liquids. So I’ll bet it’s not often.”

True. But I was not going to admit it. I sort of cocked my head sideways in a wry way trying to look impassive as I rose up from fussing Nelson my knees complaining. Evie giggled.

“Oh god! You wouldn’t be doing that if you could see how cute you looked bent down with Nelson...” Then amused, added, pointing. “I’ve poured you a cup of tea with the stupid amount of sweeteners in it that Clair says you have.”

Evie picked up another cup and went to mother. “Cup of coffee, Jenny.”

“Thank-you, thank-you.” Mother taking it with both hands smiling up at Evie. I love it when she smiles like that. There is such pure innocence in her face. It is a pity it is born out of such a cruel illness.

I drank some tea and sighed. You cannot beat a decent cup of tea and had my eyes closed savouring the taste. I opened them for a quick glance at mother, but she seemed happy enough with her coffee and with Nelsons head laid on her lap. I closed them again. With everything that had happened today, I could now relax a bit. No more worries. It was bliss.

With my eyes still closed I heard the front door open and the sound of male footsteps come down the hall into the kitchen. I froze, trying to stop my hands from shaking.

“Hi Mum.”

“Hello darling. Where’s your dad, he should be with you.”

“He was right behind me.”

At that the front door opened again and I heard the girls tear through the kitchen to greet their grandad as Patch’s frantic sliding paws shot into the kitchen to greet Evie. I opened my eyes my heart thumping. I had not really met any men so far. Just the postman and Evie’s husband earlier, and that had literally been for only a few seconds. I had to hold my cup with both hands to my mouth out of fear of either dropping it or spilling my tea. I turned and put the cup down just in case, then turned back.

Her son is standing about five feet away watching his daughters with their grandfather.

“There, he is.” Then to the girls. “Hey, girls. Not going to say Hi, to your old dad, then?”

The girls left their grandad and charged back into the kitchen jumping onto their father in a big hug. Laughing. He staggered, but stayed upright. Emily was hanging round his neck, the twins hanging on each side, there arms wrapped around his shoulders, his arms tight around their waists.

“John. This is Penny and her mum, Jenny. They were our ride to Boundary Mills today. I’ve invited them to dinner tonight. Is that alright?”

“Sure, of course mum.” He turned to me and smiled a friendly, not forced smile. “Hello. I presume you’ve met my trio of little banshees, here.”

The girls giggled as they hung on to him. He nodded to each of the girls in turn.

This little’un here is Emily, and these two horrors and Eve and Lizzy.”

The girls giggled some more. The twins really are perfectly identical twins.

“I bet you have great fun at school, Eve and Lizzy.”

They grinned and cackled with laughter.

He sort of moved a hand towards me somehow.

I reach out my hand and he took it in his lightly. His hand bigger and a lot stronger than mine, but very gentle. I have always been told I have pianist’s hands. Long and thin and they have never done a day’s manual labour in their life as well as had dollops of hand cream lavished on them since the age of fifteen. I’m very vain about my hands and legs. Everywhere I’ve worked people have said I have woman’s hands. Obviously bigger than your average woman’s hands I know, but soft and wrinkle free. And of course I have always denied using hand cream claiming they are just like that naturally. Another of those little white lies!

He winked and let go my hand.

“Well, I better go change and make myself decent as we have guests. Or I will be in trouble with mother. Come on, off girls.”

The he made a bear like sound and shook about letting the girls laughing drop off him. Picking up Emily off the floor where she had managed to fall down on her bum. He gave her a quick hug and left us. We heard him in the hall talking to his dad. “Hey, dad, we got company. Mum says to make ourselves decent or else!”

“Okay girls, you go watch television or something while Penny and I get dinner ready. And take Patch with you.” She looked at me grinning. “That dog has got begging down to a fine art.”

The girls and dog gone, Eve turns back from checking the oven to me. “You don’t mind, do you.”

“No, I would have been embarrassed if you had not let me help.”

“Good girl, if you can get the plates, they are in the warmer draw.”

I went where she pointed. This was a ‘has everything’ kitchen. It made mine at home look positively primitive.

It was a nice meal, chops, boiled and roast potatoes, runner beans and broad beans which the girls pulled faces at, reluctantly eating them only on the promise of ice cream afterwards. John asked me to cut Emily’s chop up for her as she was next to me. It was fun deciding with her what size she wanted it cut to.

I lost my uneasiness as we were eating with John and Johnny at the table. I had not thought how even before my enforced change, how much I was already living in a female only world. Taking mother to town shopping, stopping for coffee. It was all female assistants; shop. Café, wherever we went.

And now here at table it all seemed perfectly natural. Emily the youngest was next to me on my left followed by her sisters, Eva & Lizzy. Opposite me at the head of the table was John. On my right mother was between me and Evie, then Johnny. We looked like the perfect family gathering. Husband, wife and children, with great granny and gran and grandad.

Talk was about all sorts of things, the girls about school that day. John and Johnny about what they had done on the farm, and Evie and me about our day at Boundary Mills. The girls were very interested in seeing my evening dresses. Nelson and Patch sat between the men getting titbits off both their plates. No wonder Nelson is a fat happy old fellow.

I helped Evie take the plates away and dish out the ice cream. I enjoyed playing housewife with kids and a hubby. It felt like that sitting opposite John at the table. But it was also sad. Seeing a life I would never have. Never really being mum to these three lovely girls.

When Evie and I finished in the kitchen, we left Nelson asleep in his basket and joined the others in the sitting room, me carrying the tray with coffee for the men and Evie bring up the rear with the cake tin. I didn’t realise until I had done it that I had given them a right eyeful of my fake boobs pressing against my dress when I bent down to let them take their coffee. Evie and I went without. Diets and all that.

Mother was out of her wheelchair and fast asleep in an armchair which was a nuisance. I had wanted to get her home before she fell asleep for the evening, now she would be dead to the world for a few hours. By the sofa the girls had the Monopoly board out on the coffee table and Evie ask if they would like us to join them.

“Please Gran - Dad! You and grandad going to play as well.”

“O-kay, sweetie. Come on dad, we’ll have to get the old grey cells working seeing as we are outnumbered by the females.”

I followed Evie to the sofa and kicked off my high-heels, feeling the soft carpet on my stocking toes was lovely, but as I tried to land my heels...

“Aaaaarrrh…”

After spending all day with my heels five inches higher than my toes my arches did not want to go flat anytime soon and instantly cramped up locking my feet in invisible super high-heels with my toes at a right angles to my arched feet. Unfortunately with only thin air between my heels and the ground, I stumbled backwards, found Patch in my way and tumbled over.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaarrrrh…”

With my rear end fast heading for the floor, John grab my arms and yanked me back upwards, losing his own balance as he did. With the result I sort of flew past him as we both fell back, me landing with my legs flying up in the air and coming back to land across his lap as we landed each end of the sofa.

Evie giggling, told us. “Now children, no hanky-panky in front of the girls.”

I would have laughed, but you cannot laugh and cry out in pain at the same time and pain won.

“Aaaaaaaarrrrh.”

“Cramp?” said John pointing at my feet.

I nodded in pain, “yes – and - my calves.” I managed to half whisper, half hiss out.

The next moment two powerful hands began rubbing my calves.

“Give us a hand, Em.”

Soon Emily was working hard on my left calf while John rubbed my right. Before they switched to massaging my arches.
It was pure bliss, and weirdly quite sexy as they switched to massaging the stockinged arches of my feet. I thought about that expression about women purring with pleasure. I was sure I heard some sort of sound like that come from me, but it may just have been relief as the pain eased away.

I hugged Emily thanking her and gave her a kiss making her giggle.

“Are you going to give daddy a kiss as well?” The twins said expectantly.

Instantly both of us became embarrassed.

“I…” then I realised what to do. I tucked my legs up under me and puckered up my lips like I was in a slap-stick comedy and dived in landing a quick one on his cheek and then pulled back like he had the plague shaking my head before sitting down with my legs under me, then gave my shoulders shake while holding my hands against my boobs covering them and making a disgusted noise. The girls were in hysterics, as was Johnny and Evie.

John put on a hurt look on his face and asked if it was that bad would I like to try again and see if kissing him got any better. I declined saying only one kiss per-person per night and he had had his quota. He said he would remember that. Then we played monopoly with Emily after a while slowly reversing herself up onto the sofa and into my lap where she made herself comfortable which ended with my stockinged legs back in John’s lap. Eva snuggled up to her gran as we played. Lizzy climbed up into her granddad’s lap. John grinned and started to massage my feet and toes again. Which was nice until he ran the knuckle of one of his thumbs under one of my arches making me jump. I’m sure he did not mean to do it.

“Sorry.” He smiled apologetically.

A tired Emily turned to her father and told him off. “Stop that, daddy. Not in front of the children.” And turned back sleepily and made herself comfortable against me again and fell back asleep. We adults just looked at each other trying not to laugh.

“Well that told me.” Said John, resting his hands across my feet with his fingers curled around my left foot.

I should have freaked out really, John touching my feet, but until he had done the last bit. It had all been rather nice. Normally when I got cramp, it was just me trying to ease away the pain. It had been wonderful having someone else this evening to work the pain away far better than I ever could.

Later when John called time, Emily was still curled up fast asleep in my lap. He scooped her up and took her up to bed while Evie shooed the twins up behind them. I stretched, slipped my heels back on and went out and started the car engine to warm it up inside before taking mother out.

*In the UK we have a ground floor, followed by the first floor (i.e. the first floor above ground level. In some countries the ground floor is the first floor).

To be continued…

This is the story of Penny. A closet Transwoman thrust into the outside world 24-7 when she would rather go and hide away. Perhaps the title should be Welcome to Penny’s Paranoid World…

From part three
Later when John called time, Emily was curled up fast asleep in my lap. John scooped her up and took her up to bed while Evie shooed the twins up behind them. I stretched, slipped my heels back on and went out and started the car engine to warm it up inside before taking mother out.

And now as they say, read on…

I turned over and look at the clock on the phone. 3:10 am. God. Why can I never sleep past three in the morning. A quick check on the baby alarm showed mother was still asleep. She went to the loo when we got home, so that should let her sleep until six or seven or longer if I’m lucky.

It is nice and warm under the duvet, perfect for snuggling up asleep. The only problem is I am now wide awake, and all I can think about is last night at John Farmers house where I sort of played mother to his three girls and it felt so natural, so normal, so fantastic, so what my life should have been.

Instant motherhood and then later on a feeling of utter contentment when little Emily decided to climb up unasked into my lap to curl up and fall asleep tired in my arms. Perfect. My forever hidden dream of being a mother played out for just one night. Something to remember and dream about when times are bad. The perfect memory. And when Emily was on my lap, and John Farmer massaging my feet. Oh god, that felt so good after having cramp in them, and having someone else do that for me. Pure luxury.
And it was so sexy when he was doing it, as well. I had to stop myself squirming about with pleasure. I lost all though of me not being a proper woman. If we had not been playing monopoly at the time and I had not had Emily on my lap, I could have closed my eyes and… well, I was a woman and he was a man doing things only couples do with each other, and I loved it. He could have picked me up and carried me off to…

Oh Crap. What am I thinking.

And Ye Gods, who do I think I am fooling.

I may look for some unbelievable reason like a thirty-five year old woman, but I know the truth, I am like Clair, three years off of fifty. And a Man. A M.A.N. man, for Christ’s sake. I must be thick, an idiot, to be lying here daydreaming about this. When John finds out who am, I mean really who I am. I will not see him or the girls for dust. You are just setting yourself up for one almighty fall you stupid fool. And you like women, remember that little fact, not men. You’re a lipstick lesbian stuck in a male body. You have been for as long as you can remember. You’ve never been attracted to a man. Any man, before in your life have you? No. Not once, ever! For god’s sake, GROW UP!

Oh, fuck. What a mess… What a mess.

I turn over and try to sleep, but my mind keeps wandering.

Why me. I’m not some weak willed little girl who goes all gooey-eyed at the first glance from a handsome man. I am five-seven, six foot in five inch heels. But when I looked up the three or so inches to his eyes in their kitchen, and had butterflies in my tummy. I put it down to nerves, then, afraid he would realise I was not really a woman and say something horrible to me.

Oh God. How could I be so completely and unbelievable totally stupid as to get a crush on a man.

I forced myself to think of something else. What do we have to do later today. Shopping, need to go shopping. And how the hell do I do that now?

The Big problem was we are known in the local supermarkets. A thin middle aged man pushing a friendly old lady in a wheelchair who waves and says hello to everyone while cuddling and talking to a stuffed dog is a hard combination to forget. Maybe I could change back to Paul just to do the shopping? No, that is not on. I have long blonde hair half way down my back and a pair of eyebrows only a girl would have. Phone shopping was a non-starter. We need shopping today. Out here in the countryside you had to book your slot three days in advance to get on the delivery list.

In the end after dropping Trish’s bags off with her, I decided to drive forty miles south to a Morrison’s supermarket on the coast. They are all the same inside, anyway.

I think there are those for who driving is an automatic process and a pleasure, and then there are others like my late father who have to think about every gear change, making driving an ordeal to endure rather than something to be enjoyed. But for me it is relaxing.

At the moment the sky is bright blue with no clouds in sight and I have on my big girly sunglasses I can at long last wear when driving and not just in the back garden. I have on my neat red A-line dress, sexy red underwear, matching pale red sheer old fashioned RHT stockings and red court stilettoes with five inch heels. Chest wise it was my stick-on boobs again today (so I’m getting bounce in them over bumps etc. Now, that was a new driving experience!), as tonight at Evie’s dinner party I am going to wear a slinky cocktail dress that kind of moulded itself to you. With every little bounce in the road a manic little laughter came out of my mouth as I felt the pull on my chest, and when I glanced at my London double-decker bus red nails a broad grin went right across my face. At this moment in time I felt Sexy, Sexy, and a million dollars.

Mother was happily watching the world go by her window, Fred on her lap. Occasionally she would lift him up to show him something of interest as we past it. Until she went quiet and I looked across to check on her and saw she looked subdued and deep in thought.

“Can Morris get in? Does he have a key?”

That is Morris, my late Father. “No, He’s not coming, he went to heaven, remember.”

“Nooooo. He was here last night. He’ll be left outside. He’ll get wet in the rain. I better go back.”

“No, I’m sorry, he passed away three years ago.”

“Nooo! Someone’s been telling you porkies. He’s going to get wet and catch a cold.”

“It’s a sunny day Mother. But he had leukaemia, remember. His blood stopped working and he had to go to heaven. I found him, I did his funeral service, and put his ashes in the family vault. Remember?”

“Noooo.” She thinks about it for a while, then. “Are you sure?” she says slowly.

“Yes.”

“Are you really, really, really sure.”

“Yes, I’m afraid so.”

“Oh… oh.”

I glanced at her and saw her begin to smile to herself.

“Noooo. I think someone is telling you porkies. He was here last night. And he said he was going to Wycombe library.”

“No, he was…”

What am I doing? I am arguing with an eight-seven year old lady whose memory at times does not last the length of a sentence she is saying. “Your right dear.” I told her. “He went to Wycombe library. He is not coming today.”

“Oh-hmmp, right. Well I’m going to give him a piece of my mind when he gets back.”

Then she adds, peeved. “He’s always going there. Clearing off to heaven like that. And he never takes me with him, does he. Never Ever. I would like to go too. To visit my Mum and Dad. He’s selfish.”

Okay. I think. I’ll settle for that.

We pull out and pass a lorry.

“Past you.” She sings out. All about father forgotten the moment she saw us start to pull out to pass the lorry.

I can’t but help grin. She says that every time we pass a lorry or car and is most put out when someone has the audacity to pass us. I look at my shiny red nails on the steering wheel. Sometimes the littlest things in life that can give you so much pleasure.

Glancing in the rear mirror I can see an Audi coming up fast in the outside lane from way back. Some smart arsed super sales executive no doubt who thinks he owns the road. I was going to overtake the foreign lorry in front, but with Speedy Gonzales trying to make warp speed in the outside lane behind us I will let him past first. Very quickly he closes in and I wait for him to zoom past… and wait… and… wait… and… nothing? Where is? He is not in my rear view mirror…

Slowly the Audi’s nose edges past my door inch by inch and I realise the Audi is not the body beautifully I thought it was, but a beat up wreck with a bunch of boys in it leering at me. I avoid looking at them and drop our speed a couple mph to get them in front of us, but they drop back to keep window to window with us, only now they are grinning at me making kissing faces on the window glass. The one in the rear seat is making a lurid ‘O’ with a fingers and thrusting two fingers back and forth in it, grinning at me flicking his tongue up and down.

Startled, I chop the accelerator and they shoot past, the car behind hits his horn as he swerves violently around us to avoid us. I vaguely notice him yelling at me as he shoots past shaking his fist. I get my foot back down fast before we hit the next car behind us. My hearts banging away in my chest, my hands and arms shaking as I grip the steering wheel.

We are skirting around the city now, the great feeling I had earlier on has gone. I am on edge in case the battered Audi came this way and sees us, as we turn right on the navy base turn off from the A3 and then make the left turn to run alongside the dock yard wall before turning into Morrisons supermarket carpark. Once in a disabled bay, I turn the engine off and just sit holding the steering wheel still shaking. My heart still thumping. Not thinking about anything. Just sitting letting the world pass me by.

“Are we going shopping? Have I got penny’s to spend?”

All I want to do at the moment is forget the world and everything in it and sit here in my own little bubble, safe from the world outside, but… I nodded, then turned to her so she can hear me. “Yes, you have pennies to spend.”

She smiles happy and asks if she can spend it on anything. I nod, then tell her yes. She tells Fred this, cuddling him.
I let out a big sigh. Knowing I cannot just sit here, I have to get on with things, and then do what I have done every time so far since going all fem and catch my heels in the door frame as I get out. I laugh. I am just not use to swinging five inches of stiletto heel out of the car yet. It will come. Eventually, I tell myself.

I feel a bit better now. Although why I should feel better because I cocked up getting out the car in high heels. Yet again! Is a question in its self about my state of mind. Anyway, I am feeling better when I swung the tailgate up, and am just about to haul mother’s wheelchair out, when.

“Here, let me do that for you.”

A Naval Captain at my shoulder smiles at me and steps around me and lifts the wheelchair out for me. With a twinkle in his eyes he has it opened up and is putting on the footrests on before I can say a word.

“That was quick, thank-you.”

He smiles at me.

“My mother has one just like this. I’ve had plenty of practice.”

“Well, thank-you, anyway.”

“No problem.”

I give him a big smile, and he smiles that beautifully smile back at me.

“Well, must be off, I’m late for a meeting.” He smiles at me again, picks his folder up off the tailgate and walks away.

Wow! I am on cloud nine. Maybe it is because he looks like Cary Grant, and I have always had a soft spot for Cary Grant. And if he had said ‘Why don’t you come too’. I would have been tripping alongside him in my heels, checking my hair while pushing an empty wheelchair with stardust in my eyes and mother abandoned in the car. When I think of Cary Grant I always think of the French Riviera and Grace Kelly and Cary and their sexy banter.

“Paul… Penny… are you there? I’m frightened.”

I am watching Captain Grant walk across the carpark with my head in the clouds.

Mother. Bum. I quickly move round to her door with the wheelchair.

“Sorry, was lost in my thoughts for a moment.”

She grips my arm and holds it tight to her chest. “I was so frightened. I thought you had left me.”

I knee down beside her.

“I would never, ever, do that. Shall we go shopping?”

“We going shopping?”

“Yes.”

“Noooo. I’ll stay here with Herbie. He’ll get lonely by himself.”

“No, he will be alright.” After a quick look around I bend in close and whispered, “He wants to chat up that little red Fiat over there, while we’re in the supermarket.”

Mother looks over at the cherry red Fiat 500 as if deciding if it’s good enough for her Herbie, then shakes her head and firmly adds.

“No, I’ll stay and make sure he doesn’t get lonely.”

I sigh, and whisper some more. “Herbie’s shy, he won’t talk to her if you don’t go. And he really wants to as she is such a pretty little car.”

She stares at the little red Fiat.

“Are you sure?” Mother whispers back.

“I am. He really wants to chat her up.”

It is getting more and more difficult to get her out of the car these days when we go shopping, as she is sure he will be lonely without her staying with him. Same thing when we get back home.

“Won’t be long.” She tells Herbie, patting him as we head for the supermarket.

I parked Mother in the warm of the store, there is a gentle breeze outside and while to me it is a nice cooling breeze, to her it will feel ice cold. I go back to the trolley park outside for a wheelchair shopping trolley.

We have about half the shopping done with mother helpfully telling me what we need.

“We need butter, dear.” She say pointing at loo rolls. “I used the last one this morning.”

No we do not. We move to another aisle.

“We need milk, I used the last of the milk this morning.”

Our milk is delivered every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. We are never without.

We need none of these things. I take us on a short cut down an aisle with custard powder and bags of flower and other cooking products on the shelves.

“Teabags, we need tea bags,” she says pointing to the custard powder packets. “I used the last teabag this morning. I know that.” She is starting to get a little annoyed at my ignoring her suggestions.

I slowly become aware that guy’s heads are following us as we pass, well, I guess following me, as we pass. Some women are watching us too. I become very conscious of the slow tap of my heels on the floor as I push mother around the aisles. This is not like yesterday when we were at Boundary Mills when I had Evie and Trish riding shotgun beside me. I am here alone with mother and a trolley load of shopping and making a quick escape is impossible. I try not to panic, but I can feel the cold rising up my spine. I carry on and hope to god my face is not as red as it feels, because it feels like at the moment you could fry eggs on it.

Somehow I get through the rest of the shopping, aware of every glance I get, or think I get.

“Do you get any help?”

I’m at the till and the woman there has on more make-up than I do, but she has a nice smile. Actually I’m jealous. Her make-up is perfect. I mean really super-duper perfect. She should be in Boots or in a department store on a make-up counter, not sitting at a till in a supermarket.

“Someone comes in once a week to help with the cleaning, but I have no other help.”

“You have your hands full then.”

I nod, ‘yes’, adding. “Yes you could say that.”

She smiles as she moves the shopping over the scanner as I packed it into plastic carrier bags.

“Must make life difficult at times.”

“I promised her I would never put her in a home, and I won’t do that.”

Mother has been trying to grab me and finally does and pulls at my dress to get me down to her.

“I didn’t bring the purse. We can’t pay for the shop-ping.” She tells me in a loud whisper.

“It’s ok, I brought my purse with me.”

“Oh, oh… ok.”

The woman on the till sighs.

“We had to put my mum in a home in the end. Broke my heart, but I have to work and it’s a fulltime job in the end, and the kids didn’t understand about their Gran, you know. But I still feel bad about it. And then my husband…” She shrugs, “well, you know men, their big kids really…”

She trailed off leaving what we both knew un-said. At least that was something I will not have to worry about.

Back outside in the warm afternoon sun I felt the pressure ease off. Even the sound of my heels outside seems to lessen. I hurried us at first, but as my panic eased off, slowed down as we went back to the car.

We were soon back on the M275 going around Portsea Island. In fifty-five minutes we will be home.

It is a subdued drive back home for me. Mother without a care in the world is still happily telling the trucks and cars we have past them and getting cross with any cars that have the audacity to speed pass us telling them how lucky they are a police car is not present as they are breaking the law passing us. But I cannot shake off being down in the dumps for being so stupid. Thinking I could carry this off and get away with it.

It’s spitting with rain when we arrive back. The sun has taken the rest of the day off. Must have caught my mood. I get mother and the shopping inside and make her some soup to drink while she watches a cycling race on the television. In Italy by the look of the houses.

“Isle of White.” Mother declares emphatically as I take in her soup. “Yes, Isle of White.”

Well, it makes me a smile for a moment when I go back to putting the shopping away. I was never like this before, but here and now, I am close to tears. I’ve let the fact that Clair and Evie and the others in the Piranha Club have been so nice to me, to let me get carried away with thinking I could really live as Penny full-time in the real world. If it wasn’t for needing to care for mother and Henry. I would lay down and will myself to take the big sleep.

The shopping packed away. Mother is asleep when I go back in with a cup of tea for me. She has had about half of the soup which is good going for her nowadays.

I try to figure out what I am going to do. Can I switch back to being Paul. Not sure I can do that now. That switch in my head has been thrown well and truly from boy to girl. I can get Tesco to do home shopping deliveries, but I will still have to go out to go to the bank, get money out for the milkman etc., and then there is the docs. God knows what my Doctor David Walker will think. And my sister Carol in New Hampshire in the good old US of A. Her disappointment was palpable when I got my ears pierced when she was here last year. She did not want anything to do with a part time Penny, then. And that hurts me more than I can ever say. We are, or maybe it is now were, so close. Penny fulltime is going to be her worst nightmare. I know she will just go on and on over the phone about how she can never bring the boys over to see their grandmother ever again.

I woke up with someone knocking on the door.

“Oh. Hi Clair.” I stand back to let her in. Still a bit sleepy.

“Penny, why aren’t you getting ready.”

“What?”

“Evie’s dinner party.”

“Oh. Not going.”

“Don’t be silly, of course you’re going.”

“No – Look. It was all just a stupid fantasy. I let myself get carried away.”

She is looking shocked at me. I try to grin, brush it off.

“I’m, I’m all in a mess doing this, I must have been mad to even start it. All this dressing up and everything.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing happened. I just opened my eyes and saw what a deluded fool I was being.”

“Come.”

She grabs my wrist and just about drags me into my bedroom to the long mirrors on the wardrobes.

“Look!”

I shake my head, I do not want to look up and glimpse what might have been, or worst still, look up and see a man in female clothes. That would be the ultimate horror and humiliation. My worst nightmare.

“Look.” Clair puts her hand firmly under my chin and lifts my head up forcing me to look. “Do you know how many real women close to fifty look like you?”

I sort of shake my head, thinking, ‘none if their lucky’.

“None. Only Movie stars and actresses on chat shows. And believe me they spend a fortune in make-up to look that good. And here you are, just breezing it. I can’t believe how different you look by just wearing make-up. And having your hair long, the whole of you changes. No, don’t shake your head at me. Do you know what Zoey MacTavish called you the other day at my place. ‘A Yummy Mummy, a right little honey pot’. And that she would have to keep an eye on her husband round you. You think she would say that about a guy in a dress.”

I did not say anything.

“Well?”

“No.” I mumble half shaking my head.

She draped her arms around me. “Exactly. Now. What brought all this on. Tell big sister Clair.”

I reluctantly tell her about this afternoon, the drive down, the boys in the car, and what happened in the supermarket. Getting more upset as I tell my tale.

“Oh, you silly sausage.” She hugs me. “Those boys, disgusting as they were, they just saw a hot woman. In the supermarket the men were admiring you. That’s what men do. Ogle pretty woman. Thinking what it would be like if you were there girlfriend or wife, and wondering what you looked like naked and thinking how hot you must be in bed.
You know after John saw me the first time in just stockings and heels when we were young. He told me that whenever he got bored when we were doing the shopping, he thought of me walking around the aisles naked in just my heels and stocking. See, that’s what men are like. One track minds. And the women were doing what women always do when they see a pretty rival, check her out and compare themselves with her.”

“Understand this silly. No one clocked you. That sweetie, is not going to happen to you in a million years, you lucky thing.”

When I did not reply.

“Understand.”

I sort of nodded, not really believing her.

“Now. Time you got ready. You’re behind schedule, so get to it and get that slinky dress on you planned to wear. I’ll keep an eye on Jenny. Now off you go.”

She smacks me lightly on the bum to get me moving.

I head into my room with a little smile on my face, we are more mother/daughter at the moment than the sisters she joked about before. But that little bit of intimacy also reminds me of what I no longer have. To be able to sit and talk with my mother about my hopes, fears, or anything else for that matter. She is the child now and I am the parent. And Claire is a great friend, a true friend. But she is not my mum.

Sitting down at my dressing table I look at the woman in the mirror staring back at me. Clair’s right, the long blonde hair changes everything. I can see none of the old me in her at all. Not even a tiny bit of me.

I have a little grin and smile. What did she say Zoey called me. A Yummy Mummy. Yes, that was it, that is who is looking back at me in the mirror. Someone’s Yummy Mummy. Maybe after a year of putting make-up on most days I am getting it right.

I’m still not sure if I am going to go or not, pretty much sure I’m not going. But I strip my make-up off anyway and nip into the bathroom for a quick shave. Don’t think I need one, but better safe than sorry. And a quick shower with my hair in a shower cap to keep it dry and freshen up. Then back into my bedroom to swap my red underwear for the dark blue set I put out before we went shopping and a pair of my champagne stockings.

Before I do my face I use make-up to conceal the edge between my fake boobs and skin. The dress is a deep dark blue and sort of strapless, above boobs it is a dark blue mesh with sleeves and round neck cut out with a slit and button at the top at the back. But the thing is the mesh is dark enough to disguise they are fake boobs. So I get to show boobs and cleavage if someone looks down my dress without being found out. Well I’m not inviting men to do that. But given a chance men will do won’t they.

When I am all done and just sitting there ready, all dressed up with my make-up on like so many times before now when I had nowhere to go. Only this time I do have somewhere to go and do not want to.

I put some Daisy on before I put my dress on. You know on my wrists, between the boobs etc. hope I have not gone overboard. Last thing I want to do is embarrass myself in front of Evie smelling like a tart.

A gentle knock on the bedroom door is accompanied by Clair’s voice softly asking if I am ready.

“Yep. I guess I am.”

I stand and turn to her as she slips in.

“Oh my. You’re lovely. Zoey will put poor Donald on a lead tonight if he takes a step towards you.”

“I’m sure he won’t.”

She grins at me. “Well anyway. Your date is here.”

“Funny, funny." I say grinning. "I don’t have a date.”

Clair smirks at me. “Well, that’s not what John Farmer thinks. He’s waiting in the sitting room.”

“What!”

To be continued…

This is the story of Penny. A closet Transwoman thrust into the outside world 24-7 when she would rather go and hide away. Perhaps the title should be Welcome to Penny’s Paranoid World…

From part four
A gentle knock on the bedroom door is accompanied by Clair’s voice softly asking if I am ready.
“Yep. I guess I am.”
I stand and turn to her as she slips in.
“Oh my. You’re lovely. Zoey will put a lead on poor Donald tonight if he takes a step towards you.”
“I’m sure he won’t.”
She grins at me. “Well anyway. Your date is here.”
““Funny, funny.” I say grinning. “I don’t have a date.”
Clair smirks at me. “Well, that’s not what John Farmer thinks. He’s waiting in the sitting room.”

“What!”

And now as they say, read on…

Clair raised her eyebrows at me. A smile playing on her lips.

“Well, I hear you were pretty friendly with him last night. Cuddling up on the sofa. You reap what you sow, girl.”

“No. I, I, I, I. I didn’t… I. Shit, what am I going to do.” Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Giggling Clair takes pity on me. “Relax baby girl, Evie sent him down with an umbrella because it’s raining.

My relief is palpable, but my heart is still thumping from the panic that was rising in me.

“Come on, you look adorable.” Says Clair as she opens my bedroom door.
Before I know it Clair with her hand in the small of my back has moved me into the hall and on into the sitting room where John Farmer is sitting on the sofa with Henry purring on his lap. Mother’s still asleep in her chair.

John shifts Henry back onto the sofa and the aging cat lazily sprawls over on his side watching us. John stands smiling. He is wearing a dark grey suit with a light blue silk tie. Very smart.

“Hello, again. It’s raining cats and dogs outside. I’ve brought a big umbrella.”

I nod, smiling, we touch hands. My minds a blank. Say something you idiot.

“It was just spitting when we got back earlier.”

He grins with a little shake of his head. “Not now I’m afraid. Anyway, are you ready?”

“I guess.”

“Well, we better not keep mother waiting, then.”

I nod and follow him out into the hall where he has a big golf umbrella ready to put up.

“Here.” Clair puts my zip up faun jacket over my shoulders. It could be for a man or a woman.

“Thanks.”

“Have fun,” she whispers in my ear. I look back smiling nervously at her. She gives my shoulders a hug. “It’ll be alright, don’t worry.” She whispers. “Enjoy yourself, be the girl you are.”

John has put the golf umbrella up outside and he holds it over the two of us as he leads me to his car. The rain is not too heavy, now. It is not far up to Evie’s, but you would still be soaked if you walked. I had intended to drive myself up to Apple Tree Farm.

The cars door handles extend from the side as we reached it.

“You have a Tesla!”

“Yes.” He laughs, and paused, looking down at me. “You know, you’re the first woman to know that.”

We settled in the seats. Then silently moved off.

“The first thing my mother said when I got it was, ‘How long is the electric cable, and what do you do when you go too far and pull the plug out the socket’. We both laugh politely. “Oh, and how many ‘AA’ batteries does it take! She asked.”

“Unfortunately it’s only leased, I have to hand it back in three years. I could buy it from them. But who knows what the batteries will be like then. And what they would cost to replace. This sort of car is such a new idea. Nobody knows, really. ”

“So, get another one?”

He laughs, “Yes, I wish.” Then adds half seriously, “Maybe. Who knows, I may be married again by then, and the first thing she will say when I tell her about it will be, ‘HOW MUCH!’”

He chuckles about this. On the big screen between us the top half was zoomed in on a map of our part the village, our position marked on the slowly moving map.

“That’s us!”

“Yes. You can do all sort… sorry. I tend to go on a bit about the things you can do on the screen any chance I get. The girls say in an exasperated voice when I tell them something about it, ‘Ooh, daddy. It’s just a car.’ They learnt that expression from their Gran.” He has a nice warm self-deprecating sort of laugh.”

“That’s alright. I think it’s rather cool.”

We turned into the farm and drove passed the house and a couple of cars parked by the front door to turn and reverse into an old low farm building and park next to Evie’s Audi. Getting out I could see beside it the battered Toyota Hilux Johnny was driving yesterday. As John put the umbrella up he pointed to the top of the range Range-Rover next to him.

“I remind dad every time he goes on about the Tesla, how much more he spent on getting his Range-Rover than I did.” He grins at me, “of course he does get to keep his!”

He waves a hand to encompass the building. “This use to be where they stored the horse drawn carts in the old days. Great Grandad use to tell me all about it when I was a little kid. What the farm was like in the Second World War when they still used horses. Now we use it to keep the cars dry. We keep the wagons and tractors are in the big shed over there, now.”

Evie hugs me as we enter the Hall.

“You look stunning, darling.”

“Thank-you. You don’t look too bad yourself.” I say as we look at each other. She is wearing a very similar dress, but hers is sleeveless and in a slightly darker blue. Their again she just about choose this one for me, so the same dress rule thing can not apply I guess.

She giggled. “Come on, come and meet everyone. David and Alison are not here yet, but they…”

We were interrupted by the doorbell. She turned back to the front door.

“That will be our missing doctor.

Oh flip. Just about everyone in the village has David Walker as there Doc. I have not even made an appointment yet to see him to tell him what I have done. Then he and a pretty dark haired woman who I guess is his wife come through the door out of the rain. They greet Evie and he sees me and does a double take worthy of ‘Babe’ Hardy in an old Laurel & Hardy short. He says something to Evie and she nods agreeing.

Ok. It does not mean it is about me. But I bet it is and I can feel myself going red faced.

“Hello Doc, hello Alison.” John is moving towards them taking me with him.

“Hello, John. Hello Penny.” David says smiling before turning to his wife. “Al, this is Penny, she looks after her mother here in the village and is far too modest about it as well.”

We exchange greetings. Alison giving me the once over. Me being very careful to not to look at her low cut top and her rather generous cleavage on show. We move into the sitting room and I am introduced to everyone else.

The first to do the cheek to cheek thing is Zoey and her husband Donald. Donald putting his hands on my shoulders when he did. He is not what I was expecting. At least she seems friendly to me today and looks really hot in an off shoulder red dress with a pear drop cup-out showing the crease of her cleavage and is wearing super high heels, while he is, well, kind of ordinary. Not the ladies’ man I was sort of expecting. I was thinking he would be like John in looks department. But he just looks nice but boring. Jill and Nigel Brown are the other farmers in the village here, and are a friendly couple. Jill has got the cleavage out as well.

It seems cleavage is the thing tonight for the ladies and I made a good choice with this dress in having the girls on show but covered up at the same time to get away with it.

“Penny!”

Trish rushes in from the hall and wraps me up in a big hug. With an arm around me she steers me away over to a tall distinguished man by the door who has a small clipped moustache rather like the leading man in a forties Hollywood movie. He is clearly watching my every move, but smiles when we get close. It is a nice smile, but I still have butterflies in my tummy. Of all the men here, he is the only one who knows my secret. Well, that is apart from Doc David.

“Penny, this is my husband, Malcom.”

“Hello Penny.” He takes my hand in a light shake. The sort you do with women. “I have some friends who can’t wait to meet you Sunday night. And I think they will be most pleased when they meet you.”

He has a soft educated Scottish voice.

“That’s good.” I warble and can’t stop myself adding. “I hope.”

He is still holding my hand and adds the other one in a gesture of comfort.

“Don’t worry. Their nice guys and gals.”

That soft Scott’s voice of his has that reassuring tone of caring doctors you see in tv documentaries have, but you never actually ever meet in real life. I wonder if I have finally fallen on my feet for once in my life and found two fantastic doctors. I was amazed when I met David when he came to see mother and realised he was that sort of doctor I could finally admit again who I really was. I had done that five months ago.

Trish leans in and whispered. “He wants a word later. Evie’s fixing it.”

I nod, I bet that makes two of them. My Doc I am sure wants a word with me later, too. Evie appears handing round sherry, I give a little shake of my head to her. Can’t stand the stuff. She smiles and turns the tray to move one glass pointedly towards me and I feel obliged to take it.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be ok.” She says quietly and winks at me. “Oh, I nearly forgot. I told the girls I would get you to pop up and see them. Up the stairs and follow the noise.”

I grin at Trish and Malcom. “I best go and see them.” And start to ease my way over to the hall door.

“Penny.”

I turn to find Donald MacTavish has given Zoey the slip and is within feet of me.

“Hello there, not leaving already are you. Just wanted to say hello. We live in such a small village, that everybody knows everybody else’s business. But you are a complete mystery to me. When did you move in?”

Somehow he is holding my elbow. How did that happen?

“Oh, Mother’s lived here for ages. I use to work away from here. But I’ve lived in the village on and off over the years.”

I take a sip of my sherry for something to do and am stealing myself not to pull a face, but discover it is a lager shandy instead of sherry, which makes me smile. I keep edging towards the door and Donald somehow keeps up close to me. Too close to me. I thinks Zoey is right. He is a Casanova when he gets the chance.

“So, what kind of work were you in.”

“I was a flying instructor.”

“Oh. Jumbo Jets or the RAF. Should I salute? I was only an airman in the A.T.C. as a kid. Am I talking to an officer?” He mock salutes me, smiling. “Mam?”

I shake my head, smiling. I think this is his idea of chatting me up, not him taking the piss. But I am not sure. I stop edging towards the door, what if he follows me out into the hall. What do I do then? Would he try and follow me up the stairs. Is he that bold?

“No. I taught members of the public, people like you and me, to fly Spam-cans.”

That confuses him.

“Small two and four seater planes with propellers. Not Biz jets or airliners.” I added.

No need to admit that this was a long time ago now, when I was young and foolish. In the end I gave it up and got a proper job. One that paid more than survival wages. Five years of my life down the drain. In the beginning I had driven a taxi at night to save up and get my private pilot’s licence, carried on saving like hell and got my IMC and night and instrument ratings and finally my instructor’s licence and got paid to teach people to fly. And at the end of it was still driving a taxi at night to make ends meet. My dream like so many others was to get into the airlines and fly jets, but it never happened and I grew disillusioned and gave up and stopped flying.

“Huh, spam-cans? What are they?”

Does he listen to what people say to him?

“Little planes. Two seaters like the Cessna’s 150’s and 152’s, the four seater 172’s, Piper Cherokee’s, Tomahark’s and twin engine Navajo’s when I got my Muiti-Rating, that sort of thing.

“Oh.” He still does not have a clue.

“Oh.” From me too. He has somehow backed me up against the wall without my noticing it. I’ve got nowhere else to go and he is enjoying the view down my cleavage. Ha! If he only knew he was looking at a pair of America’s finest handmade boobs.

“Donald, leave the poor girl alone.” Zoey had arrived beside him and taking his arm moved him away from me. Looking back to me she mouthed ‘Sorry’ as she led him off. I heard her asking why he could not behave for once and him replying ‘I was only being friendly, love’. Before I was through the door into the hall and going up the stairs before doc David could grab me for a word as well. I felt guilty about that as he really is a great doctor and I should have made an appointment to see him. But I was thinking more of Zoey at the moment and what she had to put up with.

It is not too difficult to find the girls. I can hear the twins chatting. They are in a room with bunk beds for them and a single for Emily. The beds are in an ‘L’ shape.

“Hi girls.”

“Hello.” The twins chorused back. Emily does say hello, but is much quieter.

“Sleeping at grans tonight.”

“Yes.”

I am smiling. I hope it looks friendly. Kids can tell a phony smile a mile off. Emily is holding a book and has one arm around a well hugged Tiger soft toy.

“He’s nice. What’s his name.”

“Tig.” Emily almost whispers to me.

I sit on the edge of her bed and stroke Tig’s head, then tap the cover of Emily’s book. “Favourite book.”

Emily nods.

“What’s it called.” I whisper to her. She holds it out to me. I turn it round to read the title.

“*The Tiger Who Eat Stories.*” The book was old, I guess from before John’s childhood.

“Em always has a story to go to bed. Gran said you would read her one.” The top bunk bed tells me.

“Ok, would you like that, Emily.” Em nods her head.

“Okay. Do you have a favourite chapter?”

“Em, likes them all.” Comes the helpfully advice from the bottom bunk. I have not a clue which twin is in which bed. I should have asked when I came in.

“Well, let’s start at the beginning then, shall we.”

Emily closes her eyes and snuggles down cuddling Tig.

“Oh, before we start.” I looked over at the bunk beds.

“Which one of you is in which?” I said grinning.

“Lizzy.” Said the top bunk.

“Eve” said the bottom bunk.

This was followed by giggling.

“Mmmm, Me thinks, it’s the other way round.”

This was followed by more intense giggling by the guilty.

“Thought so. Right.” I looked down at the book.

“The Tiger Who Eat Stories. Chapter one. A Surprise in the Bedroom.”

I glanced down an Emily holding Tig tight, her eyes closed, a smile on her face in contented bliss.

“Time for bed’, Timothy’s mother said. They climbed up the stairs, and went into the bedroom, and Timothy climbed into bed. To their surprise, at the end of the bed, was a small tiger. ‘Grrrr,’ said the tiger at the end of the bed. ‘Who are you?’ Asked Mother. ‘I’m Ti-Grrr’. Said the tiger. ‘And I eat stories, and I am hungry’. ‘Oh’, said Mother. ‘I’m just about to read a story to Timothy. Would you like to hear it too?’ ‘Yes’. Said the Tiger. ‘But it has to be a good one,’ he said, ‘or I die. Like this.’ And the tiger rolled over onto his back with his feet pointing straight up into the air with his eyes closed. Then he opened one eye looking at them. ‘See’, he said. ‘Like this’. ‘Oh’, Mother said. ‘Well. I only tell good stories’. ‘Good!’ Said the tiger, and slowly creeped up the bed to lay beside Timothy.”

“That was a good story, mumbled the tiger as he fell asleep.”

I looked down at Emily. She was fast asleep too, still tightly cuddling Tig. I glanced over at the twins. They were asleep as well. I carefully got up and quietly left the room just as John came up the stairs. I held up a finger so he talked softly.

“Thought we had lost you. How many?”

I smiled. “Three.”

“The Tiger That Eat Stories?”

I nodded.

He chuckled, “Em loves that book, so did I as a kid. I think it was mum’s when she was a kid.” He stuck his head in the door and quietly said. “Night girls.”

“Night dad.” The twins whispered back.

John joined me, and we headed back to the stairs I turned to him. “I thought they were asleep. They pretended to be asleep.”

“I know. They do it to their gran all the time and she never guesses.”

I have Malcom on my right and Evie on my left at the bottom of the table facing Johnny at the other end. John is opposite me with Trish beside him and David the Doc next to him. So I am well protected from awkward questions from those that do not know about the real me. Well, John does not know, but I do not think he would try and put me on the spot. As I think he quite likes me.

“Did I hear you tell Donald, you were a flying instructor, before you stopped to look after your mother?” Malcom was asking me.

“Yes. I was an instructor at ‘Jay-Air**’ at Biggin Hill.”

“And that was on planes with propellers on them.”

I nodded “Mmm.” Having just popped a Brussel sprout and part of a roast potato in my mouth.

“One of my colleagues fly’s. He has… now what did he call it. Oh yes, a Europa. Does that make sense?”

“Yes. It’s a kit plane. Looks nice, flies fast, but is a bit too small for my liking.”

We eat for a bit.

“You didn’t want to move on to Jets.” David asked looking over me.

I swallowed the piece of Yorkshire pudding I had on my fork moments earlier before replying.

“Oh. I think all private pilot instructors dream of moving up to the right seat of a 737. But most don’t, they can’t afford the cost of the training. You need a sugar daddy or parents with big pockets for that. Very few get an airline paying for a commercial rating. Most have to self-finance and end up with an enormous debt to pay off with no promise of work at the end of it.”

I saviour another of Evie’s perfectly cooked roast potato’s.

“So you never got to fly jets, then. Would you have liked to? That was Malcom again.

I grinned at them. “I wish. I did fly a little biz-jet once, though. That was a big thrill, great fun.”

“Only once. You didn’t crash it, did you?” John quipped, grinning at me.

I tried not to laugh. “No. I, did not.” And smiled at him.

“A friend had a positioning flight up to Glasgow to collect a client with their baby jet, a Cessna Mustang, which only needs one pilot, and he asked me if I would like to go along for the ride in the right seat up there. Had to make my own way home, though.”

“Thought he might put on the old auto-pilot and do some riding on the way up joining the mile high club, himself, no doubt.” Donald chuckled to himself under his breath, but everyone heard him. There was a silent pause, everyone but Donald noticed.

I kind of sighed, and continued. “Well anyway. He let me do the flying on the way up, while he worked the radios. It was great fun flying airways and taking off and landing a jet. Even a small one. It took forever coming back on the train. While he picked up this golfer, took him to France, and was back home at Biggin Hill before me!” I shrugged, “c’est la vie!”

They were good enough to chuckle. Then we went silence again as we continued to eat.

“Do you ever go back to visit. To the flying club.”

I looked up at John, a piece of roast beef poised on my fork, ready to be consumed. “No. The owner was driving home one night after I left and stopped at some traffic lights. Unfortunately the Polish lorry driver behind him didn’t. I was told his car was reduced to a two foot piece of crushed metal. His wife sold up and moved to the Algarve.”

“Horrible, that’s awful.” That was Alison, she had not said a thing for ages.

“Shades of Mr Solo.”

We looked across to her husband who added. “Goldfinger, the James Bond movie. After shooting the gangster Solo dead on the back seat of this brand new 63 Lincoln Continental. OddJob, the villain, drives into a scrap yard, parks up, and has it crushed into a two foot square block of metal and dropped into the back of a pick-up. Which he then drives back to his boss’s lair.”

He looks up grinning at us and then at his wife. “The American scrap workers could not believe the Bond people were going to crush a brand new Lincoln Continental. They were only just on sale and still quite rare in America at the time.”

I had forgotten David has prints of sixties American cars all over the walls of his surgery.

“Shame, lovely car.” Says John shaking his head.

Evie touches my arm smiling. “Quick, change the subject or John will start talking about his electric ‘teasmaid’ on wheels thing.”

“That’s a point John. How is the Tesla going?” Donald asks.

Evie groans, shaking her head at me. “Too late. Were doomed.”

The men begin a long discussion about the John’s Tesla and the new ‘X’ model that was now on sale. And comparing petrol and diesel cars with them and everything in between. Evie and I tune out and discover we both take our respective charges to the same beach in the small south coast town of ‘Bexly-on-Sea’.

“I take Mother there most Sundays, we have a beach hut. It is a nice way to while away the hours, and you can make a cup of tea when you want.”

“The girls look at those beach huts all the time and ask why we can’t have one. I’ve tried and tried, but their never is one for sale.”

“We bought ours ages ago. I think only two others have been sold since then. Most get past down in family’s. The council has about half of them and locals have to go on a waiting list to get the chance of renting one for a year and then go to the back of the list.”

“Which one in yours.”

“The blue and white one. Fifth from the carpark path end.”

Oh, I know the one. The girls think it’s pretty.”

I wonder if I dare ask. “We are going down Saturday, would you and the girls like to join us?”

“I’m sure they’d love it – John – You doing anything with the girls on Saturday?”

John looked up, “Sorry Mum. What did you say.”

“Thought I’d take the girls to Bexly-on-Sea, Saturday. Penny has a beach hut there.”

“Ok, sounds nice.” And his attention was back to car conversation he and his friends had been having since the main course and on into the dessert.

I helped Evie clear the table onto the trolley before we joined the rest of the girls in the conservatory for tea and coffee after taking a trolley to the men with tea and coffee on and inviting them to help themselves. Except she side-lines me into to the farm office at the end of the kitchen away from everyone else.

“David wanted a word. Good luck.”

I closed the door behind me feeling guilty for not seeing him yet. I forget it is only day three of full-time Penny. It already seems like it has been forever.

“Hello Penny. How are you?” He gets up a friendly smile on his face to take my hand and offer me the armchair. “I must admit I did wonder if we would ever get to meet. I didn’t think Paul would let go.”

“Hello David. I was going to ring the surgery to make an appointment, you know. I was just building up courage to walk in their like this.”

“That’s all right. You look perfectly ok, you don’t need to worry about that. No one knows here tonight, do they.”

He has a friendly boyish grin.

“So… you have started the real life test all by yourself, and by the looks you’re doing fine, and you’re coping with people like Donald MacTavish and his comments.” He grinned and confided. “One day a woman or her husband, or boyfriend is going to turn round to him and slug him one when he opens his mouth a bit too loud.” We sort of laughed and he pulls over a hard back chair to sit beside me.

“Big step forward tonight, don’t you think.”

I nodded. David had been mother’s doctor for nearly six years. Mine for only six months. He has never asked me why I had not moved over to the village surgery years before now. I had always implied to him I was going to move over, but never did. But six months ago when I had taken Mother to see him, I told him I was a transsexual and embarrassed to be telling him and others now that I was older. Its ok I said when you are nineteen and skinny as hell with long legs as I use to be and… but I lost my confidence and now I was old and felt stupid saying it.

He had just said don’t you think it’s about time we did something about it, then. And found a joining form in his desk and gave it to me. ‘Why don’t you fill in the form and hand it in at reception and we can start doing something about it.’ So I did and later that week had a long talk with him and he referred me to a gender clinic. A month later I received a letter from them says due to high demand it would just over a year before they could see me for a consultation. And here we were six months later.

I told David everything that had happened; the Piranha Club and Boundary Mills, having my hair done. How much I liked it. Going to the supermarket. The boys in the car, everything. He asked questions, I answered and agreed to visit the surgery next week. He would get Linda who worked reception to call me with an appointment time to check it was ok and he would arrange my name change at the surgery on my promise I would talk to my solicitor tomorrow about changing my name.

“I think I I’ve taken up enough of your time tonight. Al will think I’m planning to run away with you.” He said that with a smile and a twinkle in his eye. “If anyone asks, just say I wanted to talk about how Jenny was doing.”

I slipped out and almost bumped into Eve with a plate of cakes in each hand.

“Here, let me help.” I reached out for one of the plates.

“Thank-you Darling.” She looked at me concerned. “You okay.”

I nodded and smiled.

“Alright. You take that one into the men and come back and join us before the girls scoff this lot.”

The men were still around the dining room table, but the drinks trolley was close by them with the hard stuff on the table.

“Eve thought Gentlemen that you might like something to soak up all that alcohol.”

I smiled as they laughed and placed the large plate of small cakes on the table and ignored whatever it was Donald MacTavish said and wished them pleasant conversations and left them.

The rest of the evening flew by and before I knew it everyone was getting ready to leave. It was quite a pleasant evening out now. The rain having left the air smelling fresh.

“John, you’ll see Penny home?”

“It’s alright I’m fine.”

Not really truth, I don’t really want to walk the few hundred yards between our homes in these heels if I’m honest, but I’m too shy to say so.

“Here we are.” John brandishes the rolled up golf umbrella. “Better safe than sorry.”

I turn and wave to Eve when we get to the road, and shiver as we carry on. Damn, I left my coat behind and hug my arms.

“Here.”

Before I realise what he meant, he has dropped his jacket over my shoulders.

“Thank-you.”

Trish and Malcom drive past in there ‘S’ class Mercedes on their way home at the bottom of the village. Trish waving out the window and calling out “Night” as they pass. I wave back.

“Can you smell that.” John took in a big breath of air. “Wonderful.”

“What?” I said grinning, watching the disappearing ‘S’ Class. “Trish and Malcom’s diesel fumes.”

John laughed. “No. The smell of the sea. The rain has blown in from far out at sea. It leaves the smell of the ocean in the air.”

I had noticed. My father was a Chief engineering officer on P&O cruise ships. I spent most of my childhood holidays at sea on various P&O’s cruise liners, but mostly on Canberra when I was young.

Soon we were at my front door. Only then did I think of the situation I was in, would he expect me to kiss him goodnight? I’ve never kissed anyone before. I don’t even know how to kiss someone. What do I do, how do I act?

To be continued…

* ‘The Tiger Who Eat Stories’ was small book, I guess from the fifties or sixties that my Mother use to get from the public library to read to my younger sister when she was about six. They were lovely little stories, each chapter story featuring Timothy and the Tiger read by Timothy’s Mother with interruptions from both Timothy and the Tiger. Despite extensive searches I have not been able to find anyone who even remembers the book. As I would love to get a copy, but I guess they are all gone now. I sometimes wonder if the Calvin & Hobbes cartoonist Bill Watterson had ever seen the book as a boy.
** Jay-Air – There may be or have been a flying club or clubs called Jay-Air somewhere, but for this story it is a made up name and club.

Time to hit the Beach!

This is the story of Penny. A closet Transwoman thrust into the outside world 24-7 when she would rather go and hide away. Perhaps the title should be Welcome to Penny’s Paranoid World…

From part five
“Can you smell that,” John took in a big breath of air. “Wonderful.”
“What?” I said grinning, watching the disappearing ‘S’ Class. “Trish and Malcom’s diesel fumes.”
John laughed. “No. The smell of the sea. The rain has blown in from out at sea. It leaves the smell of the ocean in the air.”
I had noticed. My father was a Chief engineering officer on P&O cruise ships. I spent most of my childhood holidays at sea on various P&O’s cruise liners, but mostly on Canberra when I was young.
Soon we were at my front door. Only then did I think of the situation I was in, would he expect me to kiss him goodnight? I’ve never kissed anyone. I don’t even know how to kiss someone. What do I do, how do I act?

And now as they say, read on…

I had not even thought about it. That he might expect me to kiss him goodnight. I mean I had never had a girlfriend so I had never been in this situation before as a boy or a girl. I only knew what I had seen in movies to go on, and they always seemed to end in a chased or passionate kiss. But the movies were make-believe, fiction, not real.

“Well, here we are. I hope you had a good evening? Mother said you have not had much chance to get out and about in the past couple of years. It must have been a shock going from the life of a flying instructor to that of a carer. ”

“Yes, I guess it was. It seems a long time ago now.” I looked up at him. “But what about you. You lost your wife, your partner in life. That left you with three young girls to bring up.” I smiled at him. “Your trio of little banshees. After you’ve had a hard day on the farm, you must be wacked just when the girls want your attention.”

He smiled thinking of them. “Yes. Well. I get a lot of help from mum. She had to basically become mother to them, they were so young. She does far more than she should have too. And she never lets me see her tired. I mean she must be absolutely knackered at times, given all the time she spends with them, but she never complains. Never lets me see it.”

John grinned. “Anyway, what about you and…”

Before he could finish we started to feel rain drops on us.

“Oh.” We said together.

“I better go in.” And felt for my door key in my clutch bag on its thin gold chain and opened the door.

“Thanks for the loan of the jacket.” I said slipping it off as I stepped inside, handing it back.

“No problem, my pleasure.” He slung it over his shoulder rather than put it on. He seemed reluctant, then glanced up at the sky.

“Hmmm, better put this up.”

He put the umbrella up. Before turning back. “All done. Well, good-night Penny.”

“Good-night, John.”

He nodded, and then walked down the path and was gone. I closed the door and turned back leaning on it to see Clair leaning in the sitting room doorway watching me. Smiling.

“Well. You, clearly had a good night.” Said Clair pleased.

“Evie just asked him to walk me home in case it started raining again.”

“Oh, is that what they call it nowadays.”

We moved together and met mid-hall. She hugged me.

“So, you had a nice time. Yes.”

“Yeah… was okay.”

She giggled. “Was okay she says. Walking up wearing a man’s jacket.”

“You were watching!”

“Of course. Anyway don’t go trying to change the subject. Guys putting their jacket on you is their way of telling the other guys, ‘Hands Off. Mine.”

“No. he was just being nice. I was cold… Damn, of course I was cold. I left my coat at Evie’s. Oh god, will he think I did it on purpose won’t he, to get him to do that. Crap.”

Clair laughed.

“Oh, you have so much to learn. Baby girl.”

“Anyway I better be off home. Jenny’s fast asleep. She went to the loo about half an hour a go, so you should be good for the night.”
“Thanks. Here, you better take this, it’s raining again.” I handed her the transparent umbrella I bought and then never used. It was the type with the deep hood you stuck your head up inside. She took it, but half way down the path folded it back up holding out her hand to show the rain had stopped again and started back to me.

I waved her away. “Tomorrow.”

She nodded and turned and carried on home and then I was alone. I locked the door.

I had the kettle on when the phone rang.

“Hi, I home. See you tomorrow.”

“Thanks Clair. Night.”

I checked Mother was still asleep, and went back and made a cup of tea. I sat there in the quiet of the sitting room thinking about everything that happened tonight.

The banter at the table, the togetherness of the girls in the conservatory. The men regarding me as just an attractive woman in her thirties. Unbelievable as that was. But the thing was, they saw me as a woman, not a man in a dress. I was not one of them. I WAS THE OPPERSITE SEX. Although what it said of the impression I had made on everybody in the seven years I had lived in the village as a man. It seemed Paul Johnson was an invisible man as far as the people of Lower Steeping were concerned. Maybe because I had never been in the pub I did not exist. I was not a beer drinker. I like a can of the Bavaria larger shandy from Holland with my evening meal, but that was it as far as beer went. But I have never been a pub person.

David had been nice. John putting his jacket over my shoulders when I was cold had been really nice too, and what that meant or did not mean the way Clair thought about it, I did not know. Slipping my heels off I put them up on the foot rest and wiggled my red toenails in my nylons with sleepy satisfaction. I woke when Henry jumped into my lap with cold paws and circled a few times before settling down purring. I stroked him lazily, making him purr louder, and just closed my eyes enjoying the quiet. The only sound Henry’s gentle purring as he fell asleep.

I woke up cold with a stiff neck at something gone three in the morning. I eased the still sleeping Henry off my lap into the chair and went and shut myself in the bathroom to take off my make-up and go to bed.

“I need to go to the bathroom. I need to do number two’s. Wee’ll, I don’t know, but I can’t git up. My Paul’s not here. He’ll know what to do. I don’t know... Well, why’d you keep askin then… stu’pid person.”

I am awake instantly and am up out of bed heading for mother before I am almost aware of it. It is light. I glance at the digital clock in the sitting room as I reach her. Ugg, twenty past five.

“Hello there. Do you want to go to the bathroom?”

“Yes. How’d you know?”

“Magic.”

She laughs, then panics. “Ohh, oouu, oohh. I need to go to the bathroom. Please. Oh dear! Oh dear!”

“Ok, then. Up you get.”

“So, you had a nice time, then.”

I nodded. Clair and I were outside at the small round café table basking in the sun. House work can wait. We had turned the chairs around to face the garden. Cold tall glasses of Tropicana smooth orange with loads of ice cubes in them are on the table between us. Mother was dozing in a wooden steamer chair, her feet up, under the folding gazebo I had got at the start of summer.

“You happy then. Being a girl full-time.”

I smiled, my eyes closed. “Yeah. I needed the push. Thanks.”

I have on a pink sun dress with faded yellow-pink flowers on it that ends about a foot above my knees when I am standing. Sitting it is considerable shorter. If I did not have my latex girl bits from the USA, I would be exposing myself. Instead my girl crotch and panties are covered up. But, Oh boy, does it make my legs look good. And not a hint of boy in sight, crotch wise.

Something made me look over at Clair. She was watching me, unsure about something.

“So you’re okay with it.”

“Mmmm.” I had a quick glance at Mother to check she was ok, and lent back feeling the warmth of the sun on my face.

“Good.”

Well she may have said ‘good’, but did not sound it.

“What is it.”

“Hum.”

“What is it. Something is bothering you.”

“No, it’s nothing.”

Clair was trying to cover, I could hear the embarrassment in her voice.

“Oh, come on. You’re my best friend.” I smiled, and looked over at her grinning mischievously. “Well, until I met Evie and Trish, but you’re still my number three best friend.”

Our eyes met and I giggled “And you are still my very best friend. So ask. I won’t be offended whatever it is.”

She shook her head sighing. “It’s kind of personal.”

“So?”

She eyed me.

“Okay Missy, you asked for it. It’s just that all the time I have known you, you have been very flat. You know.”

I looked down at my covered glued on boobs, not looking too flat at the moment.

“Yeah, well it’s a design flaw, but that’s the way males are put together, to be a bit flat up top.

“Not up top, stupid.” Clair said laughing. “Down below I mean. You know, where you’re supposed to swell out at the front… between your legs. Where girls don’t. Well, you’re very flat there. Very girlish.”

“Oh, that.” I said and left it at that and just nodded to myself.

“Well?”

I looked over at Clair keeping a straight face.

“Well?”

I chuckled. “Ok... I got this latex thing from the States about a week before you moved in. On it’s inside it has a pocket for little Jim, making him look like Miss Jim. If anyone were to put a hand on my knickers they would just feel my pussy. I can pee through it and everything.”

Now I really had Clair’s attention.

“So if you and John Farmer got amorous. You could do the dirty?”

I smiled coyly at her.

“A girl doesn’t talk about such things.”

Clair grinned at me. “So! You’re not denying it is a possibility, then. Oh, and get used to it girlfriend, we talk about everything. We’re not squeamish like boys.”

Hmm. That was a can of worms I was not ready to open just yet. What did I feel about John Farmer. Apart from whatever it was, it scared the hell out of me just even thinking about thinking about it.

I was just about to do mothers lunchtime soup when the phone rang. We have one of these modern electronic ones that look like a mobile phone with a flip down cover vintage Star Trek style. What sold me on it in the shop was one of the ringing tones was like the phone ringing at the start of The Rockford Files. I guess 70’s America telephone. I tried to get a fake answerphone voice like James Garner’s Rockford in the tv series, but the only one I could find was total crap. Not a bit like him. My Sat-Nav has a great Daffy Duck, on it though.

“Hello, Penny? This is Carol from Mid-Steeping Medical Centre.”

“Hello Carol, yes its Penny.” I answered nervously.

“Good. Thought it was you. Doctor Walker asked me to make an appointment for you to see him on Tuesday. I’ve got a ten-thirty and two-twenty available at the moment, would one of those be ok for you.”

“Two-twenty would be best. The other is a bit early for getting mother ready.”

“I thought it would be, but I thought I would give you the choice. Okay, I’ll put you down for the two-twenty, then.”

“Thanks, Carol.”

“Okay, bye Penny. See you Tuesday.”

I put the phone down on the counter and continued with mother’s soup. Chicken today. In no time I was taking it in to her watching the BBC News channel. She will watch the cycle racing on Eurosport, or Formula One on Sky or the BBC. But she is not interested in drama anymore. Last of the Summer Wine or Dad’s Army is ok, so is M.A.S.H. When my sister Carol is here she will watch Doc Martin with her laughing away. But if I turn over to it for her at other times I will be curtly told ‘I was watching that’, even though it’s a rolling news program and they keep re-telling the same news over again, most of the time.

I extract the crisp packed from her as I tuck in her napkin.

“Mine! Mine.”

“Look, I’ve put them here on the table. But its lunch time now. Here’s some chicken soup.”

“Oh. That’s nice. Would you like some? Shall I save you some?”

“No, it’s ok. I have some as well.”

There is about an inch and a half left in the kitchen, I finish that off.

I’m about to make a sandwich when she shrieks loudly. I grab another napkin as I race in knowing what I am going to find.

Mother is panicking, her hands pulling at the napkin. I can see a tiny spot of soup on it.

“It’s ok, it’s ok.”

It’s wet, it’s wet. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. I promise, I promise. I’m not bad. I’m not…”

“Its okay, It’s okay. No worries, no problem. It’s ok. That’s the napkins job. To take care on any stray drops of soup.”

“You’re going to smack my bottom.” She wails.

“No. why would I do that.”

“My mummy does.”

“Well, I’m not. Here another napkin, all nice and clean.”

She looks around, the panic subsiding.

“You’re not going to smack my bottom.”

“No.”

“Oh.”

I cheat. I put on the dvd of Cliff and The Shadows Final Reunion concert at the 02 in London. Then as the music hits her headphones.
“It’s CLIFF and THE SHADOWS.”

Is yelled at me and this little old lady who normally moves so slowly and is so fragile is bouncing up and down in the chair with her face bright and smiling full of joy.

“LOOK! It’s CLIFF and THE SHADOWS.”

“Okay,” I say trying not to smile. “Slow down. Slow down and drink your soup, and enjoy the music.”

“Okay.”

Getting her to have her soup can be a problem. But now she is spooning it up without thinking listening to Cliff and the Shads. I use a paper towel to remove the tiny amount soup from the napkin, and am making a cup of tea when the phone rings.

“Hello.”

“Hello, is that Penny Johnson? This is Pearl from Richards, Richards and Richards.”

Yes, I know it sounds like a name from a comedy sketch. But it really is my solicitors. Two brothers (both now dead) and John Richards, the son of one of them. Don’t ask me which one. I have never asked John. I had sent John an email this morning about my change of sex, name, etc. asking how I change the legal stuff.

“Hello, would you hold for one moment while I connect you with Mr Richards.”

“Thank-you.” This was a moment’s wait. Then John’s friendly voice came on.

“Penny? I received your email. First, let me ask you. Have you thought this through? Are you sure this is what you want to do?”

I tell him I have felt this way all my life really. That I cross dressed at times in my early twenties till a bad visit to Charing Cross Hospital in London. Now I wanted to change before I left it too late. He asked me to fax a copy of my driving licence to him with some other details along with a signed brief letter saying what I just said and we agreed to meet on Thursday at two in the afternoon at his office. I was to bring my passport and bring six passport size photos of the new me along with me. We would change my name and I would then sign some forms for him to send off.

I checked mother was still ok. She had finished her soup and was busy again with her packet of Teddy Bears. I took her dish back to the kitchen, taking the phone with me and rang Evie.

“Hello, hi there Evie. I just wanted to say thank-you for inviting me last night..."

"Yes I had a lovely time, thank-you..."

"And it was a lovely meal. I really enjoyed it…"

"Did I leave my coat by any chance… yes I thought so…"

"Oh, yes. That would be nice. Are you sure, I wouldn’t want us to intrude. Ok, yes, thank-you. See you then. Bye.”

Mmm, what to wear. And to tell mother.

It is still nice for an English summer’s day. Warm, sunny, and it is not raining! So my white dress with red poppy’s and broad shoulder straps and my yellow high-heel mules. My bare legs are starting to tan nicely. So I am feeling good pushing Mother up to Evie’s. Past the village hall on the right. Very convenient when you had to vote. A minute and a half door to door! Not so convenient when there was a village dance going on. Forget television or the radio on those evenings. It becomes your very own building size karaoke machine that you have no control over.

The road curves round to the left past Clair’s house next to us, then does an about turn curving the other way for a full ninety degrees to get to Evie’s and Johnny’s farm on the left. We go over a bump in the road which is a little road bridge with the Slayers Brook under it, which you would never guess was there. Unless you took it at speed and then you would be suddenly wondering why your car suspension had gone strangely light and why were you going straight ahead through a hedge into a field of sheep.

One of Johnny’s farm labourers had been down the lane recently with the hedge cutter on the tractor, so the path on the right side was useable and not overgrown. Someone was renting the field on the right to put their horses in again this summer. So the horses watch us in case we just happen to have a treat for them. And then deciding we do not, ignore us. A little bit further on round the field and it is time to cross over the lane to go into Apple Tree Farm. Evie waved from the kitchen window as we reached the kitchen gate and opened the kitchen door for us.

“Come on in.”

Evie’s kitchen was the sort found in country home magazines you can buy in the supermarket. Big, warm colours. Lots of wood, old wonderful sofa to sit on at one end. An Island with a double sink and cooker top. No I am not jealous of Evie’s kitchen, or of John Farmers super-duper kitchen to die for. Ok, well just a little bit. I would not be human if I was not.

Evie had tea cups and milk waiting on a tray as she warmed the tea pot, after dealing with the coffee percolator for Mother’s coffee.

“Why don’t we go outside, it’s too nice to be inside today. Can you take that tray out for me, darling.”

“Okay.”

I take the tray of cups and saucers etc. out to the wood table in the sheltered ‘L’ shape made by the wall of the main part of the house and the shallower setback bit of the ‘L’ that had been once been I would think the bakery and wash house, but now had the farm office and the kitchen in it with the conservatory on the end wall. The farm building beyond that kept any breeze away and made the flagstoned area a really pleasant place to be with a low dry stone wall to the front with the kitchen gate in it.

We both made another trip out with cake and biscuits tins and a bowl of mothers Teddy Bear crisps (you call them potato chips in the USA & Oz I think?) and finally the tea and coffee.

As mother tucked in to her Teddy Bears and a cup of coffee that probably tasted a million times better than the Nescafe instant I made her at home. Evie had made it with one of those coffee pots with a plunger in it. We talked about what to feed the girls tomorrow. She though they would love having a beach hut to go in. we decided not to tell them about it and let it be a surprise when we get there.

When it was time for Evie to go and collect the girls from school. I roused a sleeping mother by taking Fred’s floppy paw and gently tapped her hand with it. When she woke she saw this and she smacked Fred.

“Naughty Boy.” Then was instantly sorry and kissed him and hugged him. “I’m sorry. I love you. I’m sorry.”

Evie smiled watching her. “She’s a darling.”

As we walked home I thought of what we needed.

“Shall we go shopping?”

“Can we. Have I got pennies.”

“Yes, you’ve got pennies.”

“Can I spend them?”

The birds are singing the morning chorus and as much as I like to hear it, I wish they would have a lay in and start singing a bit later on in the morning. Four fifteen is not my preferred waking up time if mother does not want to go to the loo. So I lay their feeling warm and snug and willed the birds to SHUT-UP, thank-you.

We did the shopping at Bexly-on-Sea last night. It may be a small seaside town, but it still has a 24 hour Asda supermarket. The town council owns the land the beach huts are on and sets the rules on using them. No, overnight stays. You can use them between sun up and sun down. No night-time beach hut parties. So some extra loo rolls as we have guests, and tins of soup in case it turns cold and something warm is wanted. Plus fruit drinks and cans of pop etc. Things I could leave in the beach hut for tomorrow. We took mother’s old boneshaker wheelchair down with us as well to leave there to make more room in the car today.

I took my boobs off to shower and be kind to my chest for a bit, but stuck them back on a couple of hours later. Today I am going to wear my white halter top bikini. The bottom is big enough to cover my latex girly bits and the halter top has mesh up between the breasts to cover up any boob joins that might show. A big white T over the top and a pleated short skirt to cover my bum etc. and all I have to do is my make-up. Then I changed my mind almost soon as I was done, and looked for something else.
Oh, yes. Why did I not think of this before, perfect for my mules of yesterday. I pulled my genuine 1960s Biba aline bright yellow mini-dress from my wardrobe. I bought it a couple of years ago off e-bay and positively drooled at the thought of wearing it outside one day. That day had come, Baby!

When dressing mother after her bath, I told her Evie and the young girls we met the other day would be coming with us to the Beach Hut. Instead of being pleased as I thought she would be, she shook her head, No.

“Sweetie, why don’t you want Evie and the girls to come with us?”

She burst into tears. “They’ll want my Fred. They’ll take him away from me.”

I cuddled her. “No they won’t. Emily, the youngest has a tiger called Tig. Which she loves just like you love Fred. And the twins have Teddy Bears they love too. They won’t take Fred from you.”

I leave her for a moment to ring Evie and explain what has happened. She knows Emily will take Tig, but will have a word with the twins. We will pick them up in half an hour.

I pulled up outside the mock Tudor farmhouse and was opening the tailgate when three whirlwinds shot from the farmhouse to excitedly bound down the path to us. Each had a cloth shoulder bag. The twins with their longer legs leading Emily.

“Someone will have to trave…”

The twins were faster. “Bags, Us.” They chorused laughing as they raced round me to the tailgate and were climbing aboard before they had finished getting the words out.

“Seatbelts, girls.”

Giggling the girls had got hold of the tailgate strap and were pulling it down, closed. They nodded, grinning.

A quite Emily stood looking a little lost watching her sisters having all the fun, holding her booster seat and Tig. I bent down and hugged her and gave Tig a stroke on his head.

“Ready for the seaside. There is a dvd player on the back seat by your seat, if you want to you can watch a movie.”

She nodded, but looked wistfully at her sisters messing about in the back of the estate car. Evie had locked the front door and joined us. Taking Em’s seat booster she put it on the nearside rear seat.

“Come on darling, in you get. You sit with me.” Evie strapping her in behind mother.

Instead of going back to Apple Tree Farm to get to the road, we used White Gate farms own entrance on the road between Mid and Lower Steeping. Turning right we headed back towards our own village. Minutes later we were passing the Wagon & Horses at the top of the village and carried on to Great Steeping three miles further on. The funny thing about Great Steeping is the village is smallest one out of the three Steepings with only half a dozen houses in it. Oh, and before you ask, Mid-Steeping is the biggest, having the Railway Station, the Co-op shop, the newsagents, the Doctors surgery. And important to me! The fish and chippy! Most important to just about everyone else is there are three Pubs! Well, one is technically now a Bistro, ironically called Le Bistro. The Station Arms is amazingly by the railway station. Serves meals day and night and is a touch expense to eat at, but the food is really good according to Clair, The Old Plowman at the far end of the village is a down to earth village boozer. Just a pub, where you can play darts and the like, has a garden for the kids to play in while eating crisps and drinking lemonade, and is also the smallest, and busiest pub in the village. Our Waggon & Horses is twice the size.

Switching the radio to CD player, I soon had the sound of the opening drums of Apache coming through the speakers followed by the twanging of Hank Marvin’s guitar. A few minutes later Cliff and the Shads were belting out Summer Holiday. Ten minutes later we were on the motorway heading south.

I had made a cd the other day with a mix of sixties songs and fun ones like Terry Scott’s My Brother, Bernard Cribbins Right Said Fred, The Avons Seven Little Girls Sitting In The Back Seat. And one of my Favourites, Charlie Drake’s My Boomerang Won’t Come Back. Not the girl’s modern day music, but I hoped the girls would find the old comedy songs fun to hear given their age.

Evie and I chatted while Mother dozed. Em was quietly nodding her head to the music while engrossed in a Barbie sticker magazine Evie had given her. The twins were keeping themselves occupied waving to drivers behind us, giggling and finishing each other’s sentences. They also had cottoned on to the songs and the next time My Brother came on they were giggling and singing My Sister to it instead.

We left the motorway and took to the B roads to avoid everyone else heading for the coast.

Bexly-on-Sea is one of those small sleepy seaside towns that was surrounded by hills on the landside and has a high cliff overlooking the east beach, in the centre of the sea front is the pier, and to the west there is sand dunes. That was where in the 1930s they built a concrete promenade whose main purpose was to have somewhere for day trippers brought by the railway to go after spending all their money on the pier, and it was a great place to sell beach huts to the locals as well.

A quick visit to the ASDA store for some French stick loaves and fresh fruit. Then it was down the private road behind the sand dunes which was really the council’s service road for the café and toilet block that was mid-way along the promenade and also for fire engines to be able to reach the odd Beach Hut its owners had managed to set on fire. The road ends in a small carpark almost at the end of the Beach Huts. To make life interesting a miniature railway runs between the dunes and the service road, even having a little platform for it at the beach huts carpark before going a further quarter mile to the light-house before quite literally looping around it and heading back again.

“Right, who is staying with grandma and Jenny for the moment. And who is coming with me to open up the beach hut.”

“Beach Hut. You have a Beach Hut!” that was all three girls together, even if the twins drowned out Emily.

“Yes. I just need to go and open it up and get Jenny’s wheelchair from it first.”

Evie and I had agreed we would do it this way.

The three of them buzzed around me excited as we crossed the miniature railway track and went through the dunes onto the promenade and headed for our beach hut.

To stop vandalism when not being used, the beach huts have two big sheets of thick plywood covering up the front. The bottom half lets down to form the veranda floor and the top half folds up to clip up in the veranda roof.

“Oh, Wow!” The twins are peering in the windows. I give them the keys to open the twin doors. The three girls are in like a shot.

“Okay, we just need the wheelchair for the moment, lock the doors behind us. We’ll be back in a minute.”

“Nooooo. We just got here! Please, can we stay. We’ll behave.”

“We’ll be back in a moment. We just have to go and fetch Jenny and Granny from the carpark. Then we’ll come back.”

“Please, let us stay. Please. We’ll be good. Please.”

“NO. Lizzy, lock the doors. Em, want a ride back.”

The twins look astonished at me. I could tell them apart. They were so use to people not being able to tell which was which. What they did not know was Evie had told me how she knew who was who. Lizzy has a faint small scar on the left side of her neck. If you do not know where to look, you would never see it. Emily had a big grin on her face as she sat in the wheelchair as we set off back. The twins followed behind us quietly talking trying to figure out how I had busted them. This was serious business!

I suppose I could have let them stay in the beach hut with the doors locked. But that’s how girls disappear. You could break into the hut and carry them away screaming their heads off and with the wind, and the sound of the sea and the dunes in between the beach huts and carpark any noise they made would never be heard. And while cars are banned from the beach, a fisherman has a track onto the beach up by the lighthouse. He drives a tractor onto the beach to dig up cockles or something at low tide. Any four wheel drive car or 4x4 could use it.

“Pamm-Pamp” the little railways BR Blue class 37diesel hits the horn as it pulls away from platform and rumbles across the paths level crossing pulling its three coaches with SeaSide Express written on them, heading for the lighthouse.

Evie smiles. “That’s how we use to get here from the carpark back by the pier. On that little train.”

We crossed over walking between the dunes to the promenade. Evie leans in close and asks if had to tell the twins off, they are so quiet.

“No. they discovered I could tell them apart. They are still trying to figure out how I know.”

Evie chuckles. “They have always assumed that I can tell them apart as I’ve known them from birth. Everyone else they think, can’t tell between them. Their teachers can’t. You have them foxed. As they get older that little scar, faint that it is on Lizzy’s neck, is very useful.”

We are on the prom now. The sea is also most fully in leaving only about a two hundred foot of dry sand.

“Can we, please, can we.” The twins plead.

“Yes, go on.”

The girls rush off and let themselves back into the beach hut laughing.

When we get there they are sitting on camping chairs looking very pleased with themselves.

“Gran, it’s got a loo!” she is excitedly told.

Em adds that she really needs a wee, and the twins quickly join in they too need to spend a penny, as well. Em is dispatched to the camping porta-loo behind plywood wall I added at the rear of the beach hut so those on ablutions duty do not provide entertainment for passing walkers on the prom. Em is quickly followed by each of the twins. Meanwhile it’s on with the kettle for a cup of tea and out with the fry pan to cook the Grillsteaks we are going to have with the French stick bread for lunch.

After an enforced period of rest after lunch with the girls champing at the bit to hit the sand. Evie lets them loose on the beach. Three screaming banshees charge across the prom and jumped the three feet down to the beach despite Evie’s calls to be careful.

Half way down the beach Emily slows and stops and sits down. As her sisters carry on screaming and run into the sea to start splashing seawater at each other.

“Damn. I had hoped she would go all the way this time.”

“Why?” I asked.

Evie glances at me. “The twins have grown up with each other for company. They are amazingly self-confident. The whole twin’s thing. Em on the other hand has always been withdrawn, by herself. The twins have always been too boisterous for her when playing being two years older. She noticed the other girls when she started school had Mothers and she did not.” She sighed, with a sad little smile added. “She would have been a real Mummy’s girl, too. But has to put up with her old gran. She’s waiting for me to go with her down to the sea and paddle.”

Evie looked at me. “You said you were going to wear a costume under your dress. Did you?”

“Mmme.”

She smiled at me “In that case, you wouldn’t helping an old lady and take Em down to the sea would you. It would be nice to just sit here with Jenny and read my book. I must admit I get weary pretty quickly walking on the sand these days.”

“No, of course not.” I’m glad I put waterproof make-up on! I reach back to pull the big gold zip ring down.

“Here, let me.”

“Thanks.” Evie un-zips me, and I slip out of my sixties yellow dress.

“That’s a nice bikini.”

I laugh. “Yes. It most importantly covers all that needs to be covered up.” I look down at the white halter-top hiding the girls, but the mesh still leaving them sort of seeable. I turn and grin at her.

“I’m not going to ask if my bum looks big in this.”

Evie laughs and pats my bum as I move to the doors.

“Off with you Darling. Go take that little girl down for a paddle.”

I am halfway down the beach, my mind caught for a moment seeing my feet and red painted toenails walking in the sand when it hits me where I am. There are people on this beach. I’m in just a big bikini. They must be able to see it’s a guy in a bikini. Just as I start to panic inside I reach Emily.
I have to push down my fears and smile at her, dropping to my knees.

“Hi, their sweetheart, want to go for a paddle.” I hold my hand out to her.

Em looks up at me eyes shining with instant excitement, and grabs my hand and we stand up.

To be continued…

I can think of nothin' better
Than dancin' on the beach
The Twist'll have you on your feet
On the beach, come on everybody stomp your feet…

This is the story of Penny. A closet Transwoman thrust into the outside world 24-7 when she would rather go and hide away. Perhaps the title should be Welcome to Penny’s Paranoid World…

From part six
I am half down the beach caught for a moment seeing my feet and red painted toenails in the sand when it hits me where I am. There are people on this beach. I’m in just a big bikini. They must be able to see it’s a guy in a bikini. Just as I start to panic inside I reach Emily.
I push down my fears and smile at her dropping to my knees.
“Hi, their sweetheart, want to go for a paddle.” I hold my hand out to her.
Em looks up at me eyes shining with instant excitement, and grabs my hand and we stand up.

And now as they say, read on…

The twins see us coming and wave their arms yelling, “Over here.”

Emily shakes her head, and grips my hand tighter, starting to hold back.

“Come on, Em. We promise not to splash you. Pleassseee, Em.”

The twins really want her to join them, but Emily shakes her head hard and holds onto me for dear life, swopping from my right to my left side to put me between her and the twins.

“It’s alright, girls. Em and I are going to have a little paddle down towards the pier and back.”

We turn towards the town walking along the sea edge. The sea is rolling only just past Emily’s ankles. But while still keeping a firm grip on my hand I can feel her begin to relax. I turn back to the girls watching us go.

“Just remember the beach starts to drop away quite deep further in, so don’t go out any further, will you.”

They grin, and yell, “Yes Mum.”

I wag my index finger theatrically at them, laughing at the cheeky monkeys. They do a celebrative dance and fall down laughing in the sea. I hope Evie did not hear them. She might think I was encouraging them and this could end up being the first and last time we all share a day at the beach together.

I glanced down at Emily beside me to see she is happily making little jumps as small waves rolled past our feet, while keeping a firm grip on my hand. There is some splashes behind us as the twins join us. Moments later Lizzy’s hand finds my free one as she falls in beside me.

“Give us your hand Em.” On the other side Eve was taking hold of Emily’s other hand. We all kicked our way through the water and jumping up and down as one. All too soon we are near the pier. Time to turn around.

“Gran takes us up their sometimes to go on the dodgems, before we go home.” Lizzy informs me about the funfair on the pier.

That takes me back, I haven’t been on the dodgems since I was fourteen, and while they were fun, I lusted after the Jets where you were in your own little spaceship and worked a lever to go up and down long before Star Wars was around. You also had a button to press if you lined up behind the ship in front correctly, you hit the button and they would sink down to ground level before they could power back up again. Great fun. My mother took me on it once which was very brave of her as didn’t like going on any of the rides. My father had refused to take me on it, and every year after year, I had to watch others having great fun on it. So she took me and I had that one glorious go on it.

When the fair came to town, the last night it was there, we had four goes on the dodgems and that was our lot as far as my father was concerned. Then it was off back home after being given some pennies use in one of the penny arcade amusement tents. I use to hate going to school on the three days the fair was in town, having to hear during break all the things the other boys and girls had done at the fair on those three days.

“Hmm, candy floss.” Said Eve mimicking Homer Simpson.

“We’ll see, girls. Depends on what the time your Gran wants us to leave. I don’t know what time your Dad will have your tea ready for.”

“Dad’s roasting a chicken.”

“So the skin will be all crackly and burnt with bacon stuck to it, and roast potatoes you need an axe to open.” The twins giggle, at giving away their father’s cooking secrets!

“Daddy likes to cook sausages.” Em told me. “Long thin ones for breakfast with burnt sides you can stick in your egg.”

“Dad burns everything. That’s why we always have Sunday lunch with Gran and Grandad.”

“Come on, let’s turn round. We’ll get ice creams from the café on the way back. If you like.”

“Oh please! Thank-you.”

For some reason it took far less time to walk back to the café on the promenade than it did going. The girls had a double cone of Mister Softy ice cream each and I took back three tubs of Mister Softy for Mother, Evie and me.
We arrived back at the beach hut with three very satisfied girls absorbed in ice cream licking.

“Well! What have you got there?” Evie grinned at them.

She had assorted grins and murmurs back and took photos of them with her camera before tucking into her own ice cream tub.

Ice cream consumed the girls used the inside of the beach hut to play i-spy until they noticed the battered old boombox down in the corner. I use to use it to let Mother listen to music. That was until she decided to serenade everyone on the beach at full volume. That did not make us popular and I received a letter of complaint from the council. So now its only duty is The World at One news program on BBC radio four at lunch-time.

“Can we play some music so we can dance on the beach?” Said the twins as one.

I pulled it out. “There’s a cd in it.”

With not too many people about, I do not think we will have a problem, so long as it is not too loud.

“Here we go.” I turn it on and put it on the edge of the prom facing away from the nearest people to us; a mother with a push-chair on the beach a couple of hundred feet away. Excited, the twins jump down onto the beach and turn back to me.

“You going to dance with us as well... Please, Please.”

I turn to Evie laughing. “The only dance I know is The Twist. My aunt Peggy taught it to me when I was seven.”

Evie grinned and looked over to the girls. “Do you know how to do the Twist, girls? Penny does.”

“Please, Penny. Please show us how to do the twist.”

“Please.” That was Emily.

I looked at back Evie. She laughed pulling a face. “You kind of walked into that one, Pen.”

There was a tugging at my wrist. “Please.” I had forgot Emily was still beside me on the Prom.

“Okay. Alright then.”

I helped Emily down onto the sand and let myself down onto the sand as the perfect song for the Twist, started.

Well, they've got a new dance and it goes like this
(Bop shoo-op, a bop bop shoo-op)
Yeah, the name of the dance is Peppermint Twist
(Bop shoo-op, a bop bop shoo-op)
Well, you like it like this, the Peppermint Twist

It goes round and round, up and down
Round and round, up and down
Round and round and a, up and down
And a one two three kick, one two three jump…

The girls are enthusiastic twisters. Picking it up quickly. So there we are, a long way off from the 60s, four long haired blondes doing the twist on the beach in bikinis. And I feel a right chump as the occasional bod passes along the promenade walking their dog watching us perform.

Correction. Watching ME, twisting away like I am a nineteen year old in Summer Holiday with Una Stubbs and Cliff and the Shads, on the road to Greece in that that old double decker London bus.

It is a hot summer’s day near the end of May, and the beach is virtually empty. A sad, sad, take on the British seaside summer holiday nowadays. Everyone is off to Spain and the Med or anywhere else a jet plane can take them to a far off sun.

The Peppermint Twist ends and Cliff starts up.

I can think of nothin' better
Than dancin' on the beach
See a girl, you can go and get her
All your troubles will be out of reach

On the beach, you can dance to a rock 'n' roll
On the beach, hear the Bossa nova played with soul
On the beach, you can dance and twist and shout
On the beach, everybody hear me come on out
On the beach, come on everybody stomp your feet
On the beach, you can dance with anyone you meet…

The girls are still twisting away, laughing and enjoying themselves. Em is happy, having fun dancing away with her sisters. And I guess so am I. Evie is taking more photos and I hope to god she is not taking any of me.

She was afraid to come out of the locker
She was afraid that somebody would see

2, 3, 4 tell the people what she wore

It was an itsy bitsy teeny weenie yellow polka dot bikini
That she wore for the first time today
An itsy bitsy teeny weenie yellow polka dot bikini
So in the locker she wanted to stay

2,3,4 stick around we’ll tell you more…

The girls, with the total lack of inhibitions only pre-teen girls can have when dancing, have stated to do their idea of the motions to the song. Emily stands in front of me looking serious at me with her head on one side and her hands on her hips. OK. I give in and join them or I am going to burst out laughing. So feeling even more of a right twit than ever I am doing the motions. But it’s making the girls happy.

…And I wonder what she’s gonna do
Now she’s afraid to come out of the water
And the poor little girl’s turning blue

2, 3, 4 tell the people what she wore…

Then it was over and I fell into doing a sort of sixties disco dancing to Dance On, Foot Tapper and Wonderful Land played by The Shadows. This was the sort of thing I did around the house where nobody could see me dancing. Then Mike Sarne and Wendy Richard sang Come Outside. That had the girls giggling away. After that I begged off and left them bouncing around to more sixties tunes.

I heaved my bum up onto the prom and sat with my legs dangling over the sand.

“Here.” Evie handed me a cold drink.

“Thanks. I’m bushed.”

The sight of a drink brought the girls around me.

“Gran, can we have a drink too?”

“Course you can, darlings.”

Soon there was four of us sitting on the prom dangling our feet over the sand.

“Here you go girls.”

Drinks consumed, a Frisbee flew over our heads.

“Yay!” yelled the girls, jumping down and chasing after it. Well the Twins did. Emily sort of moved as if she was going with them, but stayed with her bum superglued to the prom. Her hand slipped into mine and gripped it.

“Do you want to play.” I asked her, and got a nod back.

I am so going to ache tonight.

“Come on, then.” I slipped off the prom and lifted her down. The twins were good and did not throw the frisbee too high for Em to catch. Me, on the other hand, they took great delight in making me have to jump up to catch it. Crap! Now I know why women hate driving over speed bumps!

In the end I was ready for a break, and told them so.

“Okay girls, you carry on, this old lady is going to have a rest and a cup of tea, now!”

“Please Muu… another five minutes. Please.” The girls glanced at each other, and I wondered if something was going on.

“Okay, another five minutes, but no more after that as I’m bushed.”

I pretend not to have noticed, that Eve nearly called me mum. At least that’s what I think she was going to say. I saw both Emily and Lizzy look at her. I just hope Evie did not hear.

Ten minutes later I call it quits. I needed to rest. The girls left me with the frisbee and raced off down to the sea making enough noise to wake the dead. Emily going with her sisters laughing and shirking as they splashed each other in the surf.

I took the easy way back up to the prom, using the stone steps that were about a hundred feet away from the beach hut, rather than using my arms to heave my bum up onto the hot prom and then hauling myself up onto my feet. I preferred the steps and a short walk on my feet on the hot tarmac back to the beach hut. Far easier on my tired old legs.

“I’m knackered.” I told Evie flopping down into a chair.” She grinned back at me getting up.

“That’s motherhood for you. I’ll make us a nice cup of tea.”

I sat watching the girls playing in the surf still full of energy. How do they do it. This time Em splashing away with her sisters. Mother was gently snoring in front of us on the beach hut’s veranda in her wheelchair. A sun hat finally protecting her head. I closed my eyes, god could I go to sleep right now. I heard a man’s voice on the beach and my eyes snapped open scanning for a man anywhere near the girls. Then I saw him, a couple of hundred feet away calling his own set of girls not to go out too far in the sea. I relaxed as I found the girls on the beach digging into the sand to make a channel for the surf. I eased back down in the chair watching them.

Evie handed me a cup and sat down beside me. I know Americans, and I guess most of the world too, love their cups of coffee, but you cannot beat a hot cup of tea. I think if I cut myself at times my blood would run the colour of rust. I looked over at Evie who was just smiling at me.

“What?”

Evie just shook her head a little and still smiling turned back to watch the girls.

I drank my tea.

“Lizzy said you often go to the funfair on the pier before heading home.”

Evie chuckled. “They do like the Dodgem cars.”

“The twins in one, you and Em in the other?” I asked.

Evie laughed. “Em’s steering is a bit erratic, but she ruthless in hunting down her sisters and bumping them. That girl is going to be into fast cars when she is older.”

Evie turns to face me with a serious look on her face. “You know, you make a good mother.”

I have to turn away. For a moment I think I’m going to cry, and have to fight back tears. Who needs hormones and HTR to get weepy? “Yeah, well… somethings were not meant to be…” I mumble.

On the way home the girls are at last tired and eventually sleep, but at first it does not stop them singing along with the CD they danced to on the beach. Remembering all the lyrics. It always amazes me how girls can pick up the lyrics like that. With me, songs, poems, it is in one ear and out the other.

We avoided the motorway tailbacks as everyone heads back home from the coast, by taking the side roads, it does take longer, but not as long as the tailbacks on the motorway would have taken. And I have done it so many times I could do it in my sleep if it was possible. It was close to half five when we turned into the drive at White Gate Farm to delivery my passengers to the farm house, before heading home for a cuppa and a well-deserved rest.

“I need a wee.”

“Can it wait ten minutes till we are home?”

“Nooooo.”

“Evie, would John mind if we used the loo again.”

“Don’t be silly, darling. Of course not.” She look back to the house and Elizabeth about to go in. “Lizzy sweetheart, would you bring the wheelchair out to us.”

Sometimes mother can spend ages on the loo. When it happens you can bet it is when you are just about to dash out to get to the bank or Post Office before they close, or running late for a doctor’s appointment. Tonight it was more socially embarrassing as we were probably holding up their evening meal. Mother can’t help it, it is not her fault, but I really don’t want to have to walk into their dining room to say good-night as they are sat down waiting to eat.

I like this house, but it kind of weird. I am a fan of Tolkien. Lord of the Rings etc. I am not one of the crazy Harry Potterits, who seem to populate the world nowadays, but the house would be at home in any of HPs movies.

The front door opens onto a short hall with the loo at the end on the left. A door opposite the front door opens into I guess John’s farm office, with the kitchen door over on the right. The kitchen is big square affair with an Island in the middle with the cooker tops and a prep area, the ovens etc. are on the office wall with a load of cupboards and a BIG American Fridge, the sinks and more prep areas are under long windows on the next wall with a stable door out onto the kitchen patio and the back garden.

Johnny and Evie are chatting leaning on the island as we come in to the kitchen to say our goodbyes. They turn to us.

“There you are.” Says Evie smiling.

Then, before I can say anything.

“Hello, Mother.” A grinning Johnny booms at mother making her laugh and whisks her wheelchair away from me and wheels her off away around the island. Evie links her arm in mine and walks me after them.

The kitchen is sort of open plan at the other end where it lets onto an open hallway with U shaped stairs going up on the left with open wooden railings set into the kitchen wall.

“Come on darling. John is just serving up. For once, the men are doing all the work. We merely have to sit and eat. Of course the chicken will be over cooked!”

“I heard that, Mother!”

Evie laughs. “Big ears!”

Just past the stairs large openings on both sides that let into the sitting and dining rooms with a mini library in the alcove between them. It is all very old English, all oak beams and panelling. While at the same time having that open plan American feeling with their being no actual doors. Like I said, kind of weird, but a house with a warm friendly feeling to it.

We turned right into the dining room and everyone is sat the same as last Wednesday. Evie leaves me at the bottom of the table with mother on the right side of the table with Evie next to her and Emily on left next to her sisters. John is dishing out slices of chicken breast at the head of the table.

“Would you like a leg or wing, Penny?”

“No, I’m fine with some meat thank-you.”

Emily wants the same as me and Evie, while the twins want a wing each, leaving the legs for the men. The girls grumble at having Brussel sprouts again. But are again blackmailed with the promise of ice cream afterwards.
It is very nice, all of us eating together. It has a feeling of completeness about it. Of everything being in its proper place. I have to stop myself from sighing at the thought of how much I will miss it when John finds out about me.

“This is lovely soup. Yum.” Mother beams at me.

“That’s John’s chicken gravy, Mother. You like it.”

She looks bothered and looks at John. “I’m sorry, did I take your soup. Would you like it back.”

He smiles shaking his head. “No, I’m glad you like it, it’s yours, Jenny.”

“Thank-you, it’s lovely.”

I get the girls to help me do the washing up. I tell them the men made the meal, so we do the washing up. I expected the girls to grumble, but they happily helped me put the dry dishes away.

Then they drag me upstairs so they can show me their bedrooms. The twins shared a room across the end of the house over their dads study, they share a bathroom with Emily whose bedroom is over the kitchen looking out on the back garden and only a little bit smaller that the twins. Both bedrooms are pink and girly with canopy beds and lots of soft toys.

We come down to find Evie has already made the drinks. The girls charged in and by the screams of delight coming from the sitting room are piling on top of their father. I tell Evie I’m just nipping to the loo and to start without me.

I come in to find the girls rosy cheeked and looking very pleased with themselves, the twins are sitting either side of their dad on the sofa. Evie’s camera, a Canon Powershot is hooked up to the tv. On it is a video of the miniature train crossing the little level crossing over the path to the beach. It then shows the girls screaming and running off down the Prom to the beach hut ahead of us.

Johnny is in an armchair with Evie sitting sideways in his lap like a teenager, with Patch lying at his feet. Emily is in the other armchair.

I’m not sure where I was going to sit, but before I can do anything. John tells Emily to, “Em, let Penny sit down.”
I was about to say, ‘no, it’s ok’, but then, where do I sit? So I sit down and am thanking Em, as she scrambles up into my lap and makes herself comfortable laid back on me.

I thought Evie was taking photos with her camera, but it is all HD video. From lunch in the beach hut with the French stick loaf and beef steaklets. To the twins playing in the surf. And of course Emily and I walking in the surf with the twins joining us. Evie seems to have videoed everything.

The girls coming back all smiles licking ice creams.

And then, embarrassingly showing me dancing and twisting to sixties music with the girls and playing frisbee with my boobs joining in as I jumped. Oh, the embarrassment. If I could have hid behind Em on my lap, I would have done. But my thoughts are tempered by Emily as she snuggled into my arms, tired, starting to get sleepy. Having to work to keep her eyes open to watch the video.

Evie looked over. I mouthed ‘she’s falling asleep’. Which was slightly pointless as she could see that for herself. Evie smiled and nodded and said something to Johnny who looked over and smiled too.

I glanced over at John and quickly looked away feeling myself going red. He was watching at us with a quizzical little smile on his face while the twins either side of him intently watched themselves on television.

Em was fast asleep by the time we were watching video of us in the dodgems and her hunting down her sisters to bump them and laughing with delight when she did. To my surprise the Jets from my childhood were on the pier as the restored Vintage Jets. The girls wanted to go on them and Emily once again flew up and down hunting down her sisters in front of her. I’m not sure they quite understood why they keep sinking down to the bottom every now and again. Perhaps it would be diplomatic, Not, to tell them. The RAF has a budding fighter pilot in Em!

When it was time for the girls to go to bed Emily resisted all attempts by her father to remove her by tightening her arms round my neck. In the end John settles for helping me stand up with said Emily attached and I carried her up to bed. Evie helped me get her ready for bed and I do not think she ever really woke up.

Back home mother was soon fast asleep and it seemed strange when standing in my little basic kitchen making a cup of tea, realising it would almost fit in White Gate Farmhouses downstairs loo!

To be continued…

Henry was asleep on the microwave doing dead cat impersonations. He was laying on his back with his head flopped over the side upside down, legs all over the place with one back leg stuck up in the air like a furry flag pole. All he needed was a thick white line drawn around him and a little dagger sticking out of his chest to complete the picture

This is the story of Penny. A closet Transwoman thrust into the outside world 24-7 when she would rather go and hide away. Perhaps the title should be Welcome to Penny’s Paranoid World…

From part seven
When it was time for the girls to go to bed Emily resisted all attempts by her father’s to remove her by tightening her arms round my neck. In the end John settles for helping me stand up with said Emily attached and I carried her up to bed. Evie helped my get her ready for bed and I do not think she ever really woke up.

Back home mother was soon fast asleep and it seemed strange when standing in my little basic kitchen making a cup of tea, realising it would almost fit in White Gate Farmhouses downstairs loo!

And now as they say, read on…

It was gone eight-thirty when I got up. Mother was still asleep. Henry was asleep on the microwave doing dead cat impersonations. He was laying on his back with his head flopped over the side upside down, legs all over the place with one back leg stuck up in the air like a furry flag pole. His tail hung limp down the other side of the microwave. First time I saw him sleeping like this I thought he had electrocuted himself. All he needed was a thick white line drawn around him and a little dagger sticking out of his chest to complete the picture. Although now just to be safe, I pull the microwaves plug out every night.

First things first, I put the kettle on for a cup of tea. Then placed some prawns on a dish below the Dead Cat impersonator and waited for a reaction. First a leg twitched, then his nose sniffed the air, and with consummate easy he rolled and stood up, stretched, and slipped down to the prawns and tucked in.

Mother was stirring so I went to check if she wanted the loo yet. My mind was on other things though.

Last night when we were watching the video at the funfair on the pier. John had told Johnny. ‘Dad, we should go with them next Saturday, it’ll be the last chance we have for a break before we start the harvest.’ Then laughing added. ‘And I haven’t been on those Jets since I was a kid.’

The thought made me nervous, I still did not know how to handle John and how to deal with the way my heart thumped when I thought of him. The day was saved when the twins demanded they wait until they were back from Brownie camp next week-end.

With Emily fast falling asleep on my lap, soon as the video was finished, John told the girls it was time for bed. But when he went to pick up Emily, she refused and wrapped her arms tight around my neck. And I heard her quietly whisper a determined ‘No.’ In the end John had to help me stand up and I carried her up to bed. As we went up the stairs I thought of a female gorilla with a baby clinging to her tummy and it made me smile, despite the weight of carrying an all be it slim seven year old girl while wearing high-heels. I was glad John walked up the stairs behind me in case I slipped. How he can walk around with all three girls hanging off him, I don’t know.

I’ve really bonded with the girls. Especially Emily. It has only been two evenings and a day at the seaside, but feels like it has been forever, I feel so close to them, like I really was their mother. We just seem to have instantly connected. It’s silly, but I can’t explain why. But the feeling is so powerful inside me. It makes me want to cry when I think about it. Which makes it all the more tragic, as when John finds out about me, I know he will cut me off from them. So I have to do it first, and back away.

I tell myself it is for the best. It is not how I feel, but how the girls will feel if I let this go on and then we break. Trying not to cry I phone Evie.

“Hello, Evie… yes… thanks. I was wondering if before John and the girls join you today, if I could come up and have a quick word.”

“O kay, see you in a minute.”

As I cut the call, the music from the Pink Panther’s TV show starts on my mobile. I have a text.

in hkong. about to board flight to nz. kate very ill in hosp. please check home for us. love clair

Kate is Clair’s daughter. Her only child. She had a really bad first pregnancy and is five months gone with her second. I sent Clair a ‘thinking of you both and fingers crossed for Kate’ message. O’God, I hope she and the baby are okay.

Evie’s kitchen smells gorgeous. She makes mother a coffee and hands me a small mug of tea.

“Come on, let’s get the weight off our feet.”

We sink into the big old sofa she has in the kitchen and turned to each other. I have a quick glance at my watch for the time. Evie sees.

“Don’t worry about the time, I can see the kitchen clock from here. I’ll make sure you’re away before they get here, if that’s what you want. Now. You sounded very serious and worried on the phone, darling. What’s the problem?”

I tell her my fear about Emily and the twins getting hurt when John finds out about me and closes the door on them seeing me. Maybe I say I should tell John everything, so he knows and if he bans me, well the girls will be upset, but get over me. I tell her what Em said when John tried to take her from me at bedtime, and…

Evie laughs. “Oh dear, she can be a tenacious little miss at times, when she wants to be. Do you mind?”

“No. but John.”

“Oh, never mind John…”

Evie lets me talk out my fears, and then rubbishes them one by one. Now is not the time to tell John, she says. She knows her son and will tell me when the time is right to tell. And by the way; do I like him. Clair said I was a lipstick lesbian, but she saw me blush when John looked at me.

I admitted I thought of myself as that. A lipstick lesbian, but I did not know why I got all hot and bothered when he looked at me. That made Evie chuckle.

“That, girl. Is called attraction. It means you like him. And he wouldn’t be looking at you like that if he wasn’t attracted to you, too. But he is confused. You look a great deal like Susan and he has too sort out and separate his feelings for you both.”

“But it’s all lie, I’m not a proper girl.”

“Listen to me young lady.”

“I’m nearly fifty, Evie. Even him thinking I’m in my thirty’s is a massive lie. Even if he accepted me as a woman. He would baulk at my age. I’d be an old woman to him.”

“Don’t interrupt, young lady. In your past life, maybe you were older. But as Penny, you’re a child struggling to be an adult. You’re going from teenager to a young woman to mother in matter of days, not even weeks, rather than years. Understand this. If I did not think you were the right person to be mother to my grandchildren. I would not let you within a mile of those girls. Do you understand that?

I nod.

“Good! Now you can help me finish lunch.”

I do, but keep eye on the clock so mother and I can be gone before John and the girls arrive.

We are just about done when I remember Clair’s text! How could I forget? I tell Evie about it, and then realise I will not be able to go to Trish’s dinner party tonight. Clair was going to mothersit. To be honest I cannot say I am too sorry about missing having dinner with a load of doctors looking at me like I am a zoo exhibit. I remember how the student doctors looked at me the first time I went to Charing Cross when I was just in my twenties and how it destroyed my self-confidence as a young woman to be.

“Rubbish, of course you must go. Stay with us, then after lunch you can nip home and get what you need and can change here into that slinky silver evening dress you bought. You’ll knock out Malcom’s stuffy doctor friends, as I’m sure you are not what they are expecting. Jenny will safe here with us. And the girls will love seeing you in your dress.”

And then grinning mischievously at me. “And so will John.”

We are sitting back on the sofa when I see the kitchen clock, it is way later than I thought it was. I know Evie would like us to stay for lunch, but I need to think things out. So I shake my head ‘no’, and try to look apologetic.

“Thank-you. But no. I think it better if we go. I’ll call Trish and apologise.”

I stand and my head swims. I must have got up too quickly, as I fall straight back down onto the sofa my head swimming and sort of black out. I can see nothing, my ears are singing loudly, and gradually I hear Evie’s voice in the distance, though not quite understanding what she is saying. As I get more with it, I can feel Evie holding me and begin to see John and the girls standing around me looking concerned. Evie sends the twins off to lay the table and Emily sits beside me looking very worried holding my hand.

I try to explain I just got up to quickly and I am fine now, and mother and I should be going. But Johnny’s in as well and says to be on the safe side we should stay for lunch and I should take it easy in the afternoon with them where they can see I am all right.

With Evie and Johnny at the ends of the table, John is one side with the twins either side of him. I am opposite him with mother on my right and Em between me and Evie.

Evie is telling a curious John why I am off to Trish and Malcom’s medical dinner party.

“One of the doctors is single. Trish needed a damsel to even things up at the dinner table.”

“Oh. Anyone we know?”

“It's the one Malcom mentioned on Thursday. The one with his own plane or something. You remember, Penny?”

“Yes, a Europa. A little kit built two seater. A sort of modern half size home built Spitfire.”

“Oh.”

I look up. Knowing the real reason why I have been invited and we are certainly not telling John that. He does not look too pleased about it, anyway.

“He a young guy, mum?”

“I don’t know, darling. I’ve never met him. But Penny will be able to talk planes with him at the dinner table.”

“Huh.”

Evie looked over to me trying not to smile, but her eyes sparkled.

After we had finished I was not allowed to help clear away or help with the washing up. John and the girls did that. I was uncomfortable with everyone being concerned about my health. I was use to forcing myself out of bed to help mother into her wheelchair to take her to the bathroom to go to the loo when I’m ill. It’s not often. But if by rare chance I was sick, I was not use to anyone knowing about it or offering comfort. It was all very strange and a bit un-nerving having people around me caring about how I was.

After much pleading on their part, John says the girls can come down to the bungalow with me to get my dress for tonight. But once outside he decides to come with us, too.

As we cross the lane to the footpath a pair of small hands slip into mine and his as Emily slides in between us forcing John to walk on the grass between the path and road and I giggle a bit. Which starts Emily off as well.

“Are you going to the dance on Saturday? It’s a sixties night.” He looks over at me with a touch of a grin on his face. “Should be right up your street.”

Before I can reply, the twins beat me to it.

“It’s this Saturday? But dad, we’re at brownie camp. We’ll miss it” With one twin saying the first part, and the second twin saying the second. And unless you see who is speaking, you haven’t a clue which one said what, but knowing they are doing it.

“Well first of all. I wasn’t talking to you, little miss but’ins.”

“Sorry dad.” They said in unison. “But…”

“And there will be other dances. You’re only missing one.”

“Yes dad.” Was said with a big sigh.

“But I can come to the dance, can’t I daddy.” Piped up Emily.

“For some of the time, Em. Not all the evening.” I could hear the smile in his voice when he tells me. “As you can see, what prefect manners my little banshees have. Anyway. Are you coming? We can all go together.”

“I don’t know. It depends on how mother is really."

We were close to Clair’s. Which lets me change the subject.

“Do you mind if we just walk round Clair’s house. I promised her I would keep a check on it while she is away.”

“Sure.”

The girls were in my bedroom before I was. Luckily my bedroom has become a female room slowly over the years and now there was no sign of boy anyway in it. For some time now I had kept my male stuff (there wasn’t much, now) in the spare bedroom that Carol slept in when she was over from the states.

While the girls having checked out my dressing table and its contents had moved on to giving my wardrobe a thorough inspection. I went into the kitchen where Henry got up from being lazily sprawled on top of the microwave. He stood on the counter top rubbing his head under my chin while I gave him a standing up cuddle. He quite likes to be carried around, but his favourite is the standing up cuddle. After a fuss I put his food out and he settles down with his nosh.

John had picked up the E220’s keys since I have my hands full with my dress bag etc. the twins had commandeered my make-up box while Em had my shoes. Once everything and the girls were in the back seat, I moved to the front passenger seat without thinking, just as John went to the driver’s seat.

When we were getting out at Evie’s, she came out to meet us with an amused look on her face.

“Just like a man. Let them get anywhere near the TV remote or a set of car keys and they take ownership.”

“What, mother?” John was totally confused.

Laughing quietly to herself, Evie showed me to the guest bedroom and banned the girls from the room for the moment.

“You can come in when Penny’s doing her make-up, girls.”

Evie helped me change.

“I’m not sure I want to do this.”

“Why not?”

“Had a bad time with the consultant at the Charing Cross Clinic when I was young. That’s why I’m still like this now. I always thought by the time I was twenty-four, it would be all over and done with, and I would be all girl for the rest of my life. But he destroyed my confidence. The only time I met him, he sat one end of the room with a lot of bored student doctors between us looking at me like I was an animal in a zoo. Until that day only four people knew I was a transsexual. Then, there I was in this narrow room with around fifteen people looking at me like I was a zoo exhibit.”

I look down at my hands visibly shaking as I gripped my knees.

“I don’t really remember what he or I said. I was very shy and it was too much for me to cope with, although I think I kept a sane face, I was destroyed inside by them looking at me. You could see on their faces how I was just an object to them, not a person, just something to observe, not a human being.”

I just sit there, shaking. Evie holds me, letting time pass with just the warmth of being held close by another person.

“Don’t worry. I’ll talk to Trish and she will talk to Malcom. And you met him the other night. He’s a nice man.”

“That was socially. He wasn’t in work mode. They’re different, then. ”

I feel stupid getting a panic attack over this. I fold my arms across me, holding them tight against me, feeling them shaking against me.

I don’t turn and look, Evie has moved a little away from me, but I can hear bits of the conversation.

“…yes, I know… of course… yes, I will… yes, she’s very panicky… yes, I’ll tell her… stunning, only she doesn’t see it… okay, see you tomorrow, Trish. Bye.”

Evie came up behind me and put her arms round me with her head almost against mine.

“There. Nothing to worry about. Malcom is going to tell his colleagues that the person they are going to consider joining their program will be joining them later, after dinner. He wants them to meet you as just a friend of Trish’s who has been persuaded to make up the numbers as she use to be a flying instructor and the single Doc, Alec, is a pilot.”

I nod. She comes round smiling. “And you do look stunning in that dress.” She grins at me. “Just remember to lift the hem up when you go up steps, or you will be flat on your face.” She says grinning.

There is banging on the door.

“Can we come in, now.” said in a way that implies great cruelty on our part in keeping them out. And then after a moments consideration. “Please.”

Evie smiled. They are going to watch you intently as you put on your make-up. Is that alright?”

I nod. She grins and calls out. “Come on in then, girls.”

The door survives bursting open as the three of them hurtle in and come up short of me at the dressing table mouths open.

“Would you like me to stand up so you can see it properly?”

Three heads nodded. I do. The girls are transfixed. Evie slips away un-noticed from us as I make-up my face. It was a little bit strange having the three of them so close watching me and asking questions I hardly knew the answers to. But it was kind of magical, the four of us close together. Afterwards I made up their faces as well and hoped John did not get mad at me for doing it.

We went down stairs and Johnny saw the girls first as they entered the sitting room ahead of me.

“My, my. Three beautiful young ladies come to visit us. Are you really my granddaughters all grown-up? I mean. You are so beautiful, and they were such ugly ducklings.”

They laughed and giggled and hug their grandfather.

John played along as well, thank-goodness.

“You’re all grown up. Three lovely young ladies. Are you all married with husbands? Or do I have three wedding to pay for. Or are you off to the Farmer’s Ball to hunt for husbands?”

The girls giggled and went and hugged their father and then remembered me.

“Oh, daddy. You should see Penny. She’s a princess.”

They then raced back to me outside the sitting room door and pulled me in.

The men stood taking me in.

Johnny grinned. “I’ll give you this lass. You scrub up well.”

I blushed. “Thank-you. Johnny.”

“Yes, you are stunning.” Apart from that. John seemed lost for words.

I stay away from mother dozing in the conservatory. If she sees me like this she will know I am going out and want to come too. When Clair watched her when I went to the dentist earlier in the year. If she asked where I was, Clair told her I was in the bedroom having a rest. She accepted that. Evie will do the same this evening while I am at Trish’s. I'm only two minutes away if their is a problem.

They all came out to see me off. John had turned E220 around, so I just had to get in and drive out the gates. When I parked and got out at Trish’s I began to worry I was over dressed. Yes, I felt and looked fantastic. But was it over the top. I was coming to my friend’s for dinner. Not going to the opera with the Queen.

The cast iron oval painted name plate left me envious, Canberra House, and above it a painted out line of my father’s old P&O ship, Canberra. I had spent half my summer holidays along with my sister running around Canberra’s decks as my father was chief engineer on her until he retired. Smiling and lost in thought of my holidays on her. I reached the front door and it opened as if by magic.

Dressed as a maid in a black maids dress with a white apron and three inch high-heels was Melissa. She grinned at me.

“Wow, Girl. You’re Hot!” Then, seeing the surprise on my face. Broke out in a big grin. “Hey, it’s extra cash, and it's fun playing a posh maid for the evening.”

Then she pulled a face, did a twirl showing her black seamed stockings off with a kick of her leg and then went all servant on me.

“Good evening, madam. Would you step inside, please. And I will get the mistress for you.”

She closed the door and grinned at me again and flounced off clearly having fun. Moments later Trish came out of the kitchen, and to my relief was wearing a full length evening dress as well. And looked stunning. I told her so.

“And so do you, Penny. Now, everyone is here. Did Evie tell you. Malcom has told his colleagues that the older lady that might be their last recruit, will be joining them later. So they are just expecting one of my friends joining us to make up the numbers for dinner.”

“They will be able to tell, they are doctors.” I whisper to her.

“Nonsense. You pass one hundred percent. Malcom told me after meeting you at Evie’s that he would have never known, if he had not been told beforehand. So, let’s go meet everyone. The single guy, Alec is quite a dish.” She smiled with a naughty look on her face. “We must get a photo of you and Alec together for John to see.” And giggled at the thought.

“Not you too.”

I should have known. Evie and Trish are thick as thieves.

“What! You make a perfect couple. The girls adore you. And John watches you slyly every chance he gets, Evie told me that. And there is nothing like a bit of jealousy to help things along.”

“We’ve hardly met.”

“Perfect. You don’t know all his annoying habits yet to put you off.”

I was sort of towed with her arm around my waist into a large lounge.

“Everybody. Here she is. This is Penny, she looks after her mother, now. But she use to be a flying instructor in the real world.”

Six people turn to me, Malcom along with two older couples, and a tall quite hansom man with brown hair around John’s age. Malcom comes forward and we do the cheek to cheek air kissing thing.

“Hello, Penny. Thank-you for stepping in to the breach for us tonight and making up the numbers.”

“No problem, my pleasure.” I say.

He turns and leads me to his guests.

“Penny, this is John and Ann McFarland. Ann, like me is a senior surgeon at The Queen Ann’s Medical Centre.”
Ann and I air kiss cheeks. We both say ‘Hello’ to each other.

“John is head of our little project.” Again we air cheek kiss and pass pleasantries.

“This is Paul and Jenni André. Paul heads our lab workers.” Again we do the air kisses and pleasantries. Jenni grins at me and whispers “They are just the usual bunch of mad professors meddling with science.”

I grin back and tell her. “I feel like Penelope Pitstop.”

I haven’t a clue why I said that. Malcom turns me to the last person waiting. He’s smiling at me like I’m already in his bed in just my underwear. All I think is Tom Cruise and does he have a motorbike.

He reaches out with both hands and takes mine in them before raising it up to his lips and gently kissing my hand, before moving in to do the cheek to cheek air kiss thing. But he gently grazes my cheeks with his for the briefest of moments. My heart thumps and for a moment I half think if he lead me upstairs right this moment, I would let him pull me all up there with a silly grin on my face.

“As you can see, Alec is our ladies man.”

Jenni adds, “He charms the birds out of their trees, and then out of their knickers. Watch out, Penny.”

I turn to her grinning and totally miss whatever it was that Malcom was saying.

To be continued…

“I cannot let an Englishman, out do a Frenchman, now can I.”
He took my hand gently by the finger tips and lifting them up to his lips kissed my fingertips, then my knuckles, followed by the top of my hand, and my wrist, taking my elbow he raised my arm to kiss my forearm. I giggled as he raised my hand up so he could kiss under my forearm and then the side of my elbow.

This is the story of Penny. A closet Transwoman thrust into the outside world 24-7 when she would rather go and hide away. Perhaps the title should be Welcome to Penny’s Paranoid World…

From part eight
He reaches out with both hands and takes mine in them before raising it up to his lips and gently kissing my hand, before moving in to do the cheek to cheek air kiss thing. But he gently grazes my cheeks with his for the briefest of moments. My heart thumps and for a moment I half think if he lead me upstairs right this moment, I would let him pull me all up there with a silly grin on my face.
“As you can see, Alec is our ladies man.”
Jenni adds, “He charms the birds out of their trees, and then out of their knickers. Watch out, Penny.”
I turn to her grinning and totally miss whatever it was that Malcom was saying.

And now as they say, read on…

I moved over to Jenni and smiled.
“He’s a charmer. I don’t think I’ve ever had my hand kissed before.”

Paul with a twinkle in his eye grins at Jenni and sweeps past her to be by my side in an overly romantic manner. He looked into my eyes, a smile on his lips.

“I cannot let an Englishman, out do a Frenchman, now can I.”

He took my hand gently by the finger tips and lifting them up to his lips kissed my fingertips, then my knuckles, followed by the top of my hand, and my wrist, taking my elbow he raised my arm to kiss my forearm. I giggled as he raised my hand up so he could kiss under my forearm and then the side of my elbow.

Laughing I pulled away my arm. “Is he as good a lover as he is as a kisser, Jenni?” I giggled.

Jenni opened her hands and pulled a face as if to say, Well!

“Why Madam. You doubt me” Paul had turned to her and taking her hand did the same, kissing her fingers, hand, and onward up to the top of her arm and along her shoulder. Then he moved to her neck and cheek, kissing them both, before settling on her lips as both he and Jenni tried not to laugh and giggle.

As they parted Ann smiled and looked over to me. “Well, now the children have stopped playing.” But she was trying not to laugh. She tells me how lovely my dress is, and how well it shows off my figure, adding with a sly grin.

“I bet all the young farmers are chasing you. You must be exhausted from all that running.”

Trish was trying not to laugh as I went red wishing I had never worn this dress now.

Then Trish added mischievously. “Well, I know there is one farmer who is pretty keen on dancing the night away with her.”

The only person not laughing or smiling at my embarrassment was Alec, who looked a little put out. He started to move over to my side and was just opening his mouth to speak when my mobile started playing the Dr Who theme.

“Oh… Sorry, I thought I had turned it to silent.” I said to Trish and Malcom. Trish still grinning murmured “No worries,” and Malcom smiled saying. “You better check who it is, Penny.”

“Yes.” I fumbled getting it from my little chain purse to see my sisters face on the screen.

“It’s my sister Carol, she lives in America. Yes I better answer or she will think something’s dreadful has happened to us both and the next thing we hear will be sirens and see blue flashing lights as she sends in the emergency services. If you’ll excuse me, I won’t be a moment.”

I could see one of the row of French windows was open and headed around a sofa for it. I smiled at everyone a I slipped through to the patio outside to answer the call before it went to voice mail.

As I went through the French windows I had heard Alec saying, “She’s a bit of a ditz, isn’t she, but lovely, don’t you think…” I missed the rest thank goodness. I had cooled on him anyway. It struck me he was pretty vain.

“Hi, sis.”

I moved away from open French windows further down the patio that ran the whole length of the back of the house with some steamer chairs and tables spread about under those wind out striped shop style awnings. The house reminded me of the French Riviera.

“Paul?”

“Yes.”

“What’s wrong with your voice, are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m at a dinner party, I’ve just come out onto the patio to take your call.”

“Oh… yes... I called home and it went to the machine. I just wanted to check you and mom were okay.”

I was about to reply when.

“You said you were at a party! Where’s mother.”

She has gone all English voice on me. I was in trouble. Her boys told me when they were young that their mom always went all English on them when they were in Big Trouble, otherwise she was a normal America mom to them.

“She’s with Evie, I’m just a minute’s drive away up the road, if there’s a problem. But she’s okay with Evie.”

“Who’s Evie, and why are you trying to talk like a girl.”

I sighed. I knew this moment would come. I had just been putting it off. That was all.

“Evie and her husband have the farm up the road. And, I’ve… I’ve swapped sides, if you know what I mean. I’m Penny, now.”

There, done it. Said it. Problem is Carol does not want to know about Penny. She likes having an older brother, she says. Even though I am actually three years younger than her. I waited, the silence seemed to go on forever.

Her voice was full of concern when she came back.

“Paul, you need to be careful. I mean. Really, really, careful. Guys like that get beat-up all the time and even get murdered by men who think they have been tricked by them… Wait a minute! Did you said you’re at a party? Please to god don’t tell me you’ve let some guy think you are a girl and take you to a party with him, have you.”

I can hear the panic in her voice, now. But all I can think of is her saying ‘GUYS like that’, and still calling me Paul. It hurts.

“No. I said I was at a dinner party, long dresses and all that. I’m at a friend’s house, Trish and her husband, Malcom, who is a surgeon. Look, we are about to go into dinner. I better go.”

“Paul, be careful, won’t you. The world and people in it are not as nice as you think they are.”

“This isn’t America, Carol. People can still be nasty here, but it isn’t as bad as it is over there. Anyway got to go. Bye sis.””

“Kay, take care… call me.”

It sounded as if she was going to say more, but did not. I ended the call. Well, that blew the wind out of my sails.

Melissa had come out of a door down at the end of the house and was watching me. Seeing the call end, she waves and comes to me doing an over the top model walk very pleased with herself.

“Hi there. Trish asked me to come and let you know dinner is ready. She didn’t want to rush you, but… “

She let it hang, I nodded. “…but we need to take our places or the food will spoil.”

“Yeah.” Melissa nodded back, head on one side. “You okay.”

I shrugged my shoulders. “Had to tell my sister. She’s not a big fan of Penny.”

“Give her time. I think you are going to be a farmer’s wife anyway. She’ll change her mind when she comes to the wedding.”

I laugh a little embarrassed. “I think he’ll run a mile when he finds out.”

Melissa gently bumps shoulders with me. “I wouldn’t bank on it. Men go goo-gar when dating a women with long blonde hair who look

like an ex-models.”

“Don’t be silly. I don’t look like that.”

Melissa bumps shoulders again, harder, grinning. “Hey! You dissing my hairdressing skills.”

So I add. “Oh, so it’s all your fault, is it.”

She moves away turning back to me grinning. “Any way. Foods ready.”

She turns and goes back down the patio with her hand on hip walking like a 1950s model. When she gets down to the kitchen door she looks over her shoulder seductively at me, flicks her hair and flounces back inside.

I sigh, smiling. And go back inside. Trish looks up and comes over looking a little worried. “You ok, you look a little pale. Everything alright.” She asks me quietly.

I nod. “Yes, I’m ok. I had to tell Carol. I knew I had to tell her sometime.”

Jenni joins us. “You are ok, Penny? You are very pale, yes?”

I nod I am, okay, that is. It is funny in a sad way. While Carol went through teenage hood in flat heels and knee length skirts with the determination from the age of eight to be a nurse. I secretly wanted to be an airhostess waltzing up and down the aisle dishing out drinks and meals in a cute dress and hat and heels looking fab. If the two of us had both been born girls, I would have been the one causing our parents to pull their hair out, as I would have been the one in a mini that ended an inch below my bum and flashing my cleavage the second mother nature gave me some to flash.

I would have been a party animal as well. Instead I became a wallflower hiding in the shadows with a girl raging inside me to be the life and sole of the party. When I was a teen I started sneaking away pairs of my mother’s high-heels when I could, and found I was like a duck to water when it came to wearing them. It was a case of the higher the better for me. Carol on the other hand was taking her life in her hands wearing anything over an inch and a half and was liable to break an ankle if she wore kitten heels.

I am seated in the same place I was at Evie’s with Trish on my left where Evie was sat last time, conversation at the table is divided into two groups. At Trish’s end the conversation is female with the occasional dip by Alec into more manly subjects such as cars and the places he has been. He must come from money given the places he has been. While at Malcom’s end with Ann and John next to him and Paul next to Ann, the conversation is seriously medical about their project and way beyond my understanding when I briefly listen in. I wondered how they will react when they know I tonight’s subject.

One thing I do realise is that Ann may be a senior surgeon, but Malcom is higher still up the greasy pole than her at The Queen Ann’s Medical Centre. And John may be the projects head, but he defers to Malcom’s view. When both he and Ann bring up tonight’s mystery guest, Malcom puts it aside and neither Ann nor John try to bring it back. Paul manages to somehow flit between both sides of the table without missing anything at either end!

“Malcom said you use to be a flying instructor, Penny.”

Alec’s voice is a real Dr Kildare moment as my mother use to say for a real smooth talker. It annoys me the way he says ‘use to be’.

“Yes, I was at Jay-Air, at Biggin Hill.”

“Busy place to fly from.”

“I think it is good for students to learn in a fairly busy environment. They learn to use the radio and to fly with planes in the circuit. It means they don’t panic when they go to a busy airfield when they have their wings. You use to hear of the odd student pilot coming to Biggin on their cross country from one of the quiet grass airfields turning round and not landing because they were not able to cope with joining the busy traffic in the circuit.”

“I fly from a farm strip.”

I smile up at him. “Nothing wrong with that, a Europa isn’t it. Where did you learn to fly?”

“Texas, in PA-38’s, Tomahawks.

“Nice little aircraft. Nice and sunny in Texas too, but very flat and not very good for teaching to navigate when back in good old England.
Bit gusty at times I’m told, lots twangy bumpy air.” I ask with a grin.

Alec rocked his hand grinning. “And twangy noisy.”

“Why bumpy, why is aircraft bumpy? And twangy noisy?” Asks a curious Jenni.

Alec laughs. “Penny means did the metal in the tail twang a bit in the turbulent Texas air.”

I nod with a big grin.

“What? That does not sound very safe?” Says Jenni even more confused.

I turn to her. “It’s just the metal used on the Tomahawk is so thin that in turbulent air it can twang a bit, that’s all. It’s quite safe though.”

Paul laughs at me. “Bumpy Air! Twang! Are they technical terms?”

“Non-technical terms for civilians.” I say laughing back.

“What did you learn to fly in?” Alec is keen to get the subject back to him. And me, I guess.

“Well, actually I started out in Tomahawks, at a little flying club with two planes, but the weather was always grounding us. So come the summer I went to Biggin Hill for a three week intense course to get my wings and that was in C152’s,” I shrugged, smiling, “and I fell in love with those big beautiful barn door fowler flaps.”

We eat, I’m not sure what to be honest, but it tastes nice.

Trish asks Jenni if she has had to work out to fit in her bikini for the summer, adding she keeps meaning to run to keep fit, but won’t do it alone and Penny and Evie won’t run with her. ‘They have no problem fitting in their bikinis.’ She adds. It is the first time I have heard anything about running, mind you I could not run to save my life. My legs don’t do running any more,

“Ave you been on the beach already, yet, this summer, Penny?” Jenni asks. “Somewhere nice I ope.” She asks with a smile.

Jenni has a really nice French/English accent, ‘Ave’ for Have, and hope coming out as ‘Ope’. Distracted by this, I miss that I’m being led like a lamb to the slaughter up the garden path by Trish who is setting me up.

“Bexley on Sea,” I say innocently, “My mother use to take us there as children. We still have a beach hut there.”

"That sounds a nice place to go."

“I’ve got a video of Penny and the girls on the beach their, on my phone.” Trish gleefully tells her, her i-phone appearing surprisingly quickly in her hands. She passes it over to Jenni with a video clip playing.

“Aww, ils sont adorables, donc comme leur mère.” Jenni looks up realising she is speaking French. “Sorry. Your daughters, they are adorable, so like their mother.”

Alec is trying not to stare, he keeps his head up straight while his eyes are out on stalks watching the i-phones’s screen.

I wish I could pretend I was not here. But I remember what a good day we had there and at the fun fair afterwards. And I do wish with all my heart they were really my girls, an impossibly dream. And I think it might put Alec off, if he thought of me as a mum with three daughters. which could be useful. mind you once he knows about me. But I am going to have to come clean about them. Before I can.

“May I.”

Jenni hands the i-phone to Ann.

“Their lovely. Penny you must be very proud of them. What are their names?”

I sigh. “Sadly they are not my girls, they are Evie’s granddaughters. The little one I’m dancing with is Em who is very sweet, the twins are Eve and Lizzy. They are nine. Emily is seven.”

Ann looks hard at me. “But they look like you.”

Melissa who has been clearing away plates to a side table, decides to add her penny’s worth.

“The girls are very close to Penny. Their father’s a widow. He is taking her dancing on Saturday.”

My head snaps round to Melissa grinning at me. Trish is also looking very pleased with herself. What is it with the women in this village, organising my life for me. Melissa moves around the table placing the dessert before us, before going and loading the dinner plates onto her trolley and leaving us with a sexy walk. I glance around the table. Those that can see this are a bit wide eyed.

We are separating, splitting into two groups. Malcom’s group heads for the lounge carrying their coffee cups. Me, Jenni and Trish stay in the small sitting room Melissa has put the tea and coffee in. There is a large tv in here, so I guess this is the television room. There are these vaguely familiar easy chairs I noticed in the lounge earlier, Melissa comes in, and after closing the door sits down with a flump in one of them.

“All done.”

Melissa nods to Trish. “Yes, the dishes and glasses are all in the dish washer. The kitchen’s all tidy and ready for a new day.”

“You are good friends?”

Jenni is not quite with the idea of the maid and lady of the house being bosom buddies. I’m not a snob, my mother use to make mid-morning coffee for herself and Mrs Wood our cleaning lady every morning. And it would be the best biscuits barrel open on the kitchen table as well. Not a packet of own brand RichTea from Woolworths. But Mrs Wood knew her place and they had polite meaningless conversations each day with their coffee.

Trish laughs, “Mel is really our hairdresser. But she likes trying to shock people by playing a flirty French maid when helping me out at these little dinner gatherings. Although she did not do the accent tonight, with you being French, Jenni, thank goodness.”

“I was well behaved tonight, I was, Misses.”

Acts an outraged suddenly low class Melissa as she pours herself a cup of tea. Melissa’s normal voice is typical no accent southern England.

At that moment Malcom pops his head in the door and smiles at me. “Ready when you are, Penny.”

I nod. “Okay, give me a minute or two to get my head together, and I’ll be in.” Malcom gives me a friendly nod and disappears.

Jenni looks confused at me. “Qu’est-ce qu’il signifie.”

“I’m tonight’s subject.” I say with a nervous smile and wait for her reaction.

She is confused. “You are… non.” She shakes her head in disbelief.

I nod. “Yes.”

She gets up and I think for the moment she is going to walk out or hit me or something. This woman I had hoped to be friends with. Instead, she bends down slipping into soft spoken French as she hugs me. “Vie doit avoir été l'enfer comme un enfant.”

I get the gist of what she is saying, and please god, don’t let me cry. Since switching sexes I do not seen to be able to control my emotions. I’m ready to tear up at the drop of a hat. Melissa and Trish come and joined us in a group hug.

“I better go. Or they will send out search parties.”

They wish me luck. It is about fifteen feet door to door.
I breathe in and sigh, my hand just about to take hold of the lounge doorknob, only pausing when someone hisses “Wait!”

I turn to see Melissa coming from the television room. She quickly grabs my hand and leads me into the kitchen to gets me a tall glass of orange juice and ice cubes. Then explains.

“It’s Trish’s idea, they will be expecting someone to come in from the hall. Using the door from the dining room instead will put them off guard. Now go knock em’ dead.”

Melissa leaves me with a conspiratorial smile and I am alone. I take in a big breathe and holding the top of the tall glass by my fingertips, push open the connecting door and wander into the lounge taking them by surprise as if I’ve just wandered into a darkened back room at a Hollywood party and caught the guys playing craps.

Alec spoke. “You can’t come in here, Penny. We are expecting someone any minute now, it is a medical matter. You understand. It is private.”

“Oh.” I say absentmindedly.

They are sitting in a semi- circle facing an empty single chair in those oh so familiar easy chairs I am sure are from somewhere in my past. But I still can’t think where from. I languidly walk over to them channelling Raquel Welch in that Tony Rome movie I liked so much. I smile at them and look down at the chair puzzled. Ignoring Alec speaking again. I walked around it, touching it lightly letting my fingers gently caress the pale biscuit coloured fabric. I look up at Malcom sitting to one side of the group and I am suddenly aware they are watching me intently.

I get a sudden rush of feeling of power like nothing I have ever felt before and have a little smile. And continue to barely touch the chair.

“I remember, now. Their use to be easy chairs like these on Canberra. In the Meridian Lounge.”

Malcom smiles nodding, pleased I think, but surprised. “Yes. Trish and I flew over to the breakers as they prepared to strip her ready for cutting her up. We had to buy a dozen of them, as they wouldn’t sell us just four.”

I winced visibly when he says that. She was an old friend from my childhood. It hurt to think of that beautiful ship being cut into bits of scrap metal.

“You travelled on her?” Malcom asked when i did not say anything.

I smile, nodding, remembering. “Yes. A month every summer. And at Christmas or New Year, depending on when my father was on board. He was one of her Chief Engineers until he retired. He was very cross when he was off on leave when she went to the Falklands.” Then I added sadly. “We never showed him the pictures in the papers of her being broken up. That would have killed him.”

I sat down in the chair and patted her. “Every day Mother would take us into the Meridian Lounge and we would sit in these chairs and have cakes and tea for elevenses.”

I sat waiting, watching them with a gentle smile on my lips. I felt impervious to whatever happened in the next half hour or so in this room. It was John who spoke. He seemed a little nervous for some reason.

“Look, um. Yes, Penny. Very interesting, but you see. We are waiting for someone and you can’t stay. Medical confidentiality you understand. As Alec said. A possible…”

I interrupted him. “I know, it’s me your waiting for...”

To be continued…

“You are, beautiful woman.” He paused, seeing the sad, maybe rueful little smile on her lips.
“Non. Yes, you are. So it is only natural you must have been beautiful girl when you were growing up. Yes? But sadly you had been identified as a boy. Did not your parents not ask your doctors why was their son, turning into this beautiful girl in front of their very eyes? They cannot have failed to ave noticed this happening. And not turning into the andsome young man as they expected? Mmm.”

This is the story of Penny. A closet Transwoman thrust into the outside world 24-7 when she would rather go and hide away. Perhaps the title should be Welcome to Penny’s Paranoid World…

As it has been a little while since I posted part nine, I have included a bigger bit of part 9 that usual.
From part nine
“I’ve got a video of Penny and the girls on the beach there, on my phone.” Trish gleefully tells her, her i-phone appearing surprisingly quickly in her hands. She passes it over to Jenni with a video clip playing.

“Aww, ils sont adorables, donc comme leur mère.” Jenni looks up realising she is speaking French. “Sorry. Your daughters, they are adorable, so like their mother.”

Alec is trying not to stare, he keeps his head up straight while his eyes are out on stalks watching the i-phones’s screen.
I wish I could pretend I was not here. But I remember what a good day we had there and at the fun fair afterwards. And I do wish with all my heart they were really my girls, an impossibly dream. And I think it might put Alec off, if he thought of me as a mum with three daughters. Which could be useful. Mind you once he knows about me. But I am going to have to come clean about them. Before I can.

“May I.”

Jenni hands the i-phone to Ann.

“Their lovely. Penny you must be very proud of them. What are their names?”

I sigh. “Sadly they are not my girls, they are Evie’s granddaughters. The little one I’m dancing with is Em who is very sweet, the twins are Eve and Lizzy. They are nine. Emily is seven.”

Ann looks hard at me. “But they look like you.”

Melissa who has been clearing away plates to a side table, decides to add her penny’s worth.

“The girls are very close to Penny. Their father’s a widow. He is taking her dancing on Saturday.”

My head snaps round to Melissa grinning at me. Trish is also looking very pleased with herself. What is it with the women in this village, organising my life for me. Melissa moves around the table placing the dessert before us, before going and loading the dinner plates onto her trolley and leaving us with a sexy walk. I glance around the table. Those that can see this are a bit wide eyed.

-o0o-

We are separating, splitting into two groups. Malcom’s group heads for the lounge carrying their coffee cups. Me, Jenni and Trish stay in the small sitting room Melissa has put the tea and coffee in. There is a large tv in here, so I guess this is the television room. There are these vaguely familiar easy chairs I noticed in the lounge earlier, Melissa comes in, and after closing the door sits down with a flump in one of them.

“All done.”

Melissa nods to Trish. “Yes, the dishes and glasses are all in the dish washer. The kitchen’s all tidy and ready for a new day.”

“You are good friends?”

Jenni is not quite with the idea of the maid and lady of the house being bosom buddies. I’m not a snob, my mother use to make mid-morning coffee for herself and Mrs Wood our cleaning lady every morning. And it would be the best biscuits barrel open on the kitchen table as well. Not a packet of own brand RichTea from Woolworths. But Mrs Wood knew her place and they had polite meaningless conversations each day with their coffee.

Trish laughs, “Mel is really our hairdresser. But she likes trying to shock people by playing a flirty French maid when helping me out at these little dinner gatherings. Although she did not do the accent tonight, with you being French, Jenni, thank goodness.”

“I was well behaved tonight, I was, Misses.”

Acts an outraged suddenly low class Melissa as she pours herself a cup of tea. Melissa’s normal voice is typical no accent southern England.

At that moment Malcom pops his head in the door and smiles at me. “Ready when you are, Penny.”

I nod. “Okay, give me a minute or two to get my head together, and I’ll be in.” Malcom gives me a friendly nod and disappears.
Jenni looks confused at me. “Qu’est-ce qu’il signifie.”

“I’m tonight’s subject.” I say with a nervous smile and wait for her reaction.

She is confused. “You are… non.” She shakes her head in disbelief.

I nod. “Yes.”

She gets up and I think for the moment she is going to walk out or hit me or something. This woman I had hoped to be friends with. Instead, she bends down slipping into soft spoken French as she hugs me. “Vie doit avoir été l'enfer comme un enfant.”

I get the gist of what she is saying, and please god, don’t let me cry. Since switching sexes I do not seen to be able to control my emotions. I’m ready to tear up at the drop of a hat. Melissa and Trish come and joined us in a group hug.

“I better go. Or they will send out search parties.”

They wish me luck. It is about fifteen feet door to door.
I breathe in and sigh, my hand just about to take hold of the lounge doorknob, only pausing as someone has hisses “Wait!”
I turn to see Melissa coming from the television room. She quickly grabs my hand and leads me into the kitchen to gets me a tall glass of orange juice and ice cubes. Then explains.

“It’s Trish’s idea, they will be expecting someone to come in from the hall. Using the door from the dining room instead will put them off guard. Now go knock em’ dead.”

Melissa leaves me with a conspiratorial smile and I am alone. I take in a big breathe and holding the top of the tall glass by my fingertips, push open the connecting door and wander into the lounge taking them by surprise as if I’ve just wandered into a darkened back room at a Hollywood party and caught the guys playing craps.

Alec spoke. “You can’t come in here, Penny. We are expecting someone any minute now, it is a medical matter. You understand. It is private.”

“Oh.” I say absentmindedly.

They are sitting in a semi- circle facing an empty single chair in those oh so familiar easy chairs I am sure are from somewhere in my past. But I still can’t think where from. I languidly walk over to them channelling Raquel Welch in the Tony Rome movie I liked so much. I smile at them and look down at the chair puzzled. Ignoring Alec speaking again. I walked around it, touching it lightly letting my fingers gently caress the pale biscuit coloured fabric. I look up at Malcom sitting to one side of the group and I am suddenly aware they are watching me intently.

I get a sudden rush of feeling of power like nothing I have ever felt before and have a little smile. And continue to barely touch the chair.

“I remember, now. Their use to be easy chairs like these on Canberra. In the Meridian Lounge.”

Malcom smiles nodding, pleased I think, but surprised. “Yes. Trish and I flew over to the breakers as they prepared to strip her ready cutting her up. We had to buy a dozen of them, as they wouldn’t sell us just four.”

I winced visibly when he says that. She was an old friend from my childhood. It hurt to think of that beautiful ship being cut into bits of scrap metal.

“You travelled on her?” Malcom asked when I did not say anything.

I smile, nodding, remembering. “Yes. A month every summer. And at Christmas or New Year, depending on when my father was on board. He was one of her Chief Engineers until he retired. He was very cross when he was off on leave when she went to the Falklands.” Then I added sadly. “We never showed him the pictures in the papers of her being broken up. That would have killed him.”
I sat down in the chair and patted her. “Every day Mother would take us into the Meridian Room and we would sit in these chairs and have cakes and tea for elevenses.”

I sat waiting, watching them with a gentle smile on my lips. I felt impervious to whatever happened in the next half hour or so in this room. It was John who spoke. He seemed a little nervous for some reason.

“Look, um. Yes, Penny. Very interesting, but you see. We are waiting for someone and you can’t stay. Medical confidentiality you understand. As Alec said. A possible…”

I interrupted him. “I know, it’s me you’re waiting for...”

And now as they say, read on…
Penny waited. Alec looked at her stunned. Paul sat with a small smile on his face gently tapping the ring finger of his right hand against the ex-Canberra easy chair and gave her a friendly conspiratorial wink. John sat with a blank look on his face choosing to studiously study something on the wall behind her, and Ann looked faintly annoyed as if Penny was playing games with them. Malcom had a small knowing smile as he watched his colleagues and not her. Penny thought she saw a knowing look and slight nod pass between him and the Frenchman.

Finally it was Ann who spoke, her lips pressed tight together.

“Penny, how long have you been on hormones?”

With a little shake of my head, “Never had any.”

Ann stared at her for a moment, then said something to Malcom. He nodded. She looked back to Penny, she still looked cross, but her face and voice softened as if having to sweet-talk something from a reluctant child.

“Penny. Maybe not from your doctor… but perhaps, maybe from the internet? We are not judging you, you understand. We do understand how driven a transsexual person can be to have the body that matches there mind. But we do need to know what has been chemically introduced into your body to know what effect they may have had on it and what effect there might be because of it, if you joined our program. But it is clear you started taking something in your early teens.”

I shook my head, visually saying No... Some of my hair billowing out onto my shoulders. I resisted the temptation to brush it back behind me with my hand.

“No, I’ve never taken any hormones. Ever.”

“None at all?”

“Nothing.”

“Any other drugs?”

“Apart from Paracetamol when I’ve had a headache, tummy bug, that sort of thing. Nothing.”

“I believe Penny only spoke to her doctor a couple of months ago about the fact that she is a transsexual female, and is on the waiting list to see a specialist at a gender clinic. She has to yet to receive an appointment at this moment in time. Is that correct Penny?”

Malcom asked with a gentle smile.

“Yes - I did see someone at Charing Cross many, many, years ago when I was young, but that did not work out well and I only had two appointments.”

Ann smiled at Penny, nodding, but a little confused by Penny’s statement. Then began a quite convoluted murmured conversation with Malcom.

A quick glance at Alec shows he was staring Stoney faced at the carpet.

“Pen-ny.”

Paul looked at her with those deep friendly eyes that reminded her of Yves Montand in Grand Prix, she could see why Jenni had fallen in love with him. He had all the charm Frenchmen were supposed to have and never did have. If she wasn’t sort of entangled herself and he had been free, and she a proper girl?

“Pen-ny.” She looked up at him with her eyes, her head still a little down.

“You are, beautiful woman.” He paused, seeing the sad, maybe rueful little smile on her lips.

“Non. Yes, you are. So it is only natural you must have been beautiful girl when you were growing up. Yes? But sadly you had been identified as a boy. Did not your parents not ask your doctors why was their son, turning into this beautiful girl in front of their very eyes? They cannot have failed to ave noticed this happening. And not turning into the andsome young man as they expected? Mmm.”

The question caused her to vaguely remember long repressed memories of the arguments her parents had. How old had she, he? been then? Seven, eight at the most, she was not sure. It was hard to remember a time when it had not been a topic her parents talked about in hushed tones, but quickly dropped when she came into a room as a child. The rows getting more heated the older she got. She stopped thinking about it for a moment, another thought having captured her attention. She realised she was already finding it hard to think of herself as the boy that she was brought up as and not the girl she thought of herself to be. She remembered her father angrily telling her mother he knew his children better than any damn doctor did, when there was talk of her seeing someone. And that was that. Afterwards her father never called him by his name again until the year of his death four years ago. Always calling him ‘Son’, it was ‘Son’ this or ‘Son’ that. But never by the name had they given her.

She remembered telling her father in her mid-teens that she hated being called ‘Son’. Hated it, loathed it. She had a name the same as her sister Carol had. She did not say aloud that she hated the male name. Just as much as she hated being called Son. And that her REAL name was Penny. P,e,n,n,y. But all her father told her was he only had one son and having a son was important to a Man. That it was up to Paul to carry on the family name, and that was the end to the matter.

“I think my parents discussed it.”

“Just discussed it?”

“Argued, I guess. My father said he knew his children better than any doctor did.”

“Oh, one of those.” John said quietly sighing.

Penny shrugged her shoulders.

“School must have been hard.” That was Ann.

Penny tried to keep the smile on her face, but anyone watching her closely saw the involuntary twitch of her mouth as more un-wanted memories long put aside began to cloud her thoughts.

She quietly told them. “Oh, the girls would ask if I wanted to borrow a dress to wear as I walked past. Boys would say ‘Hello darling, give us a kiss’, some would offer to meet me round the back of the cycle sheds so I could please them in a more physical way. That sort of thing. You got use to it. Learnt to ignore it.”

She felt herself colouring up, embarrassment by the memories.

“You had a boyfriend?”

“No, I’m not gay.”

“If you are transgendered that would not be gay.”

She looked directly at John.

“However you want to describe it, I did not have a boyfriend or a girlfriend. Never have had one of either, ever.”

“Never ever, in all your life?”

She shook her head. “Never.”

There was a pause, until Ann spoke again, her voice soft, more caring, understanding, now.

“You must have been a very lonely child at school, did you not have any friends?”

Penny shrugged her shoulders again, embarrassed. “I guess… I had what you would call third best friends.”

“I’ve not heard that saying before, what do you mean by ‘Third, best friends.”

Penny did not look at them. “Well, they only wanted to be friends with me if they had no one else to talk to. If they did, then, I, I was not wanted and was told to go away. To leave them alone. Like I said, I was only their Third best friend. I guess I was more there, ‘occasional friend’ when required. So they were not alone in the playground.”

“And what about you. When you were alone.”

Penny just shrugged.

“That does not sound much like a friend to me.” John’s voice was quiet. As if he was almost embarrassed to say it.

“Beggars can’t be choosers.”

“Penny forgive me asking this, but are those your own breasts, or prosthetics.” Ann wanted to change the subject. She had been a popular girl at school and this was reminding her too much of maybe how her group of friends treated some of the other girls.

Penny smiled shyly looking at the carpet.

“Sadly, not mine.”

Malcom spoke again.

“I think maybe you do have some, though, don’t you Penny?”

She shrugged again. “A bit of man boob, I guess. That’s all.”

“You’re a bit thin to have male breast fat. Penny. You can’t have much fat on you at all. I’m jealous.”

Ann smiled, adding. “Oh to be in my thirties again.” And laughed. The doctors had begun to realised Penny was in a far more fragile state than they had realised on finding she was their subject to night. The arrogance that beautiful woman can have, which she showed on entering the room was gone, leaving them with a very vulnerable young woman they needed to treat carefully.

Malcom smiled. “Perhaps, Penny it would be a good time if you told my colleagues your age.”

“I’m forty-seven.”

Finally Alec smiled amused, and laughed. “Malcom. You really had us all going there for a while. Well done. Hiring an actress to string us all along. Brilliant.” He chuckled, “forty-seven indeed.” He got up, ready for them to go and join the women.

“I’m forty-seven. Although some people seem to think I look younger...”

Penny could not sleep. She lay awake for ages before giving in and getting up. A quick check on mother showed she was fast asleep with Henry asleep on her lap. She watched the two of them for a while. Henry seemed to be able to count the days as he spend exactly four days on her mother’s lap at night and then spent four days on Penny’s bed with her at night, and then back to her mother’s lap for another four days.

It was time to go and make a cuppa. Light was breaking over in the east and she always enjoyed this time of day. Outside seemed so fresh and clean and untouched by everyday life.

When Henry was younger he would disappear twice during the summer for five days at a time to enjoy his past time of annihilating the local rabbit population in the fields behind the bungalow, but now the picnic table in the back garden was as far as he went. He often went out at this time to take care of nature’s needs.

She did not understand why she was so depressed about the meeting with Malcom’s colleagues at Trish’s dinner party. They wanted her to go and have tests on Tuesday at their hospital in London. They were not sure if she would fit in there program medical. But they felt they could not leave matters to wait for the appointment with the specialist at a gender clinic to happen. They were clearly worried about something about her health and she thought she heard them mentioning the likely hood of an underlying cancer problem. When they realised she had heard them, they said it was most unlikely, but it needed to be checked just to make sure it was not present.

“I want to wee. No-one can hear me. I want to weee.”

Mother’s awake.

“It’s ok, I’m coming.”

Don’t know why I call out to her like that since she can’t hear me. But I always do.

“Okay, up you come.” I pull her up out of her armchair and start to move her over to the wheelchair.

“I’m going to wee.”

“No you’re not. You’re nearly in the wheelchair.”

“I’m GOING to WEEE.”

“No, you’re not. No, no, don’t stop. Don’t freeze… Don’t… DON’T”

She tries to sit down on a non-existent loo and I have to pull back hard to stop her falling down on her bum on the floor, but as we were turning momentum keeps us turning and topples us back onto me.

She screams,

I cry out in pain.

As we are going down backwards I fall hard against the corner of my wooden filling cabinet which until now has been hiding away in a safe out of the way corner minding its own business, and now I find is perfectly placed to rake a grove in my bum cheek you could float the Queen Mary down as I fall back breaking mother’s fall.

I get her up trying to ignoring the little yelp of pain I make as I do it.

“I wet my nikkies, I wet my nikkies.” Mother bursts into tears.

I can feel blood on my backside and move the wheelchair with mother crying into the bathroom.

“Lift your feet up. No, lift your feet up.”

If you are not careful she does not do that and just lets them drag on the floor and pushing the wheelchair backwards from the front you are in danger of tripping and falling over them. Done that, Been their! It hurts as you force yourself sideways to avoid landing on her and you bash your side on the wheel, the footrest and anything else sticking out of it as you head to the floor.

“I wet my nikkies, I wet my nik…”

“No you didn’t.” I have her out of the wheelchair now, the seat is bone dry.

“I’m gonna go agin, I’m gonna go agin.”

NO! you are not. Wait!”

I get her round and pull her nighty up. “Okay, drop your knickers.”

She does.
“Okay sweethart, drop your Bum!” I add in my best Humphrey Bogart, and lower her down onto the loo. Saying that normally makes her laugh, but tonight she is too worried about peeing in her knickers to really hear me. A couple of seconds later she lets rip a stream of wee.

“Okay. Let’s have your knickers."

She has wet them a little, but only a dribble. I have a quick glance at my bum cheek as I dump them in the laundry bin and see a thick red line of blood running down from my bum to my ankle. I grab some loo roll and run it up my leg and then use some more held against it while I get her fresh knickers. That I think, is going to be sore in the morning.

With mother in a new nighty and knickers and back in her chair. I cut the ends off two stick on dressing so I can use them together. The bleeding has just about stopped. It looks worse than it is really. All doctored up I check on mother who is fast asleep now, and go back and make another cup of tea. The old one is cold. I make some toast as well, despite feeling tired myself now.

In the morning I cancel my Tuesday appointment at the doctors asking Carol the receptionist to give David my doc a note letting him know why. And then get on with the laundry. Evie phones to check I’m ok, she says I was a bit washed out when I came to collect mother last night and did I want to leave her with her on Tuesday. I tell her thanks, but I think it would be too long a time for her. I will take her with me.

I should be excited about going to Malcom’s hospital as it should hopefully be the start of changing my body to how I feel it should be. But I feel nothing, I’m not moved, if anything I’m un-excited, untouched by it all. Which I do not understand. Tomorrow should be one of the greatest days in my life, and I feel nothing.

I’m glad I have the washing to take my mind off everything. My bum cheek hurts as well when I walk and bend down. But that is to be expected really.

I’m not driving up. The hospital is in central London on the south side of the river Thames. Traffic will be a stop start bumper to bumper crawl, once in London. Plus there will be the Eleven pound fifty congestion charge to pay and hospital parking is in the hospitals own underground carpark where they charge an arm and a leg if you can find a space for a couple of hours, and if we end up staying all day I will need a mortgage to pay to get the car back out again. So the train it is.

Mother’s enjoying the train ride. Pointing out to Fred whose sitting on the table anything of interest she sees out the window. The odd person looks a bit funny at her as they pass by looking for a seat, but most just smile and some stop and admire Fred asking his name. All who do are women. The men just glance and hurry on looking embarrassed. There is a little girl about Em’s age sitting opposite us on the other side of the carriage with her mother. She has abandon her colouring book and is watching Mother open mouthed as Mother talks to Fred.

Finally she asks her mother for something and her mother takes a pretty doll from her backpack and hands it over to her. The little girl holds her tight and cradling her in her arms starts to whisper and point to things she sees out the window.

I glance between the two of them. They are close enough mentally the same age at the moment. Both totally lost in what they are doing. Her mother smiles at me and I smile back. We both sort of connect recognising the fact.

To be continued…

and my nipples are likely to go into hiding the next time someone even mentions me having a medical

This is the story of Penny. A closet Transwoman thrust into the outside world 24-7 when she would rather go and hide away. Perhaps the title should be Welcome to Penny’s Paranoid World…

From part Ten

Mother’s enjoying the train ride. Pointing out to Fred whose sitting on the table anything of interest she sees out the window. The odd person looks a bit funny at her as they pass looking for a seat, but most just smile and some stop and admire Fred asking his name. All who do are women. The men just glance and hurry on looking embarrassed. There is a little girl about Em’s age sitting opposite us on the other side of the carriage with her mother. She has abandon her colouring book and is watching Mother open mouthed as Mother talks to Fred.
Finally she asks her mother for something and her mother takes a pretty doll from her backpack and hands it over to her. The little girl holds her tight and cradling her in her arms starts to whisper and point to things she sees out the window.
I glance between the two of them. They are close enough mentally the same age at the moment. Both totally lost in what they are doing. Her mother smiles at me and I smile back. We both sort of connect recognising the fact.

And now as they say, read on…
We sit waiting about twenty minutes before we see Ann alone in a small examination room. She tells me what is going to happen today and then leaves. A couple of minutes later a nurse comes in to take some blood saying she will be back after. I always make bad jokes when nervous, apart from when terrified like now, where I just go quiet.
I nearly joked to the nurse along the lines of Tony Hancock’s The Blood Donor (A Pint! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MXplfDguC9k) but I think she has probably heard enough Blood Donor jokes to last a lifetime by now. And then again she is young enough to maybe have never heard of Tony Hancock and will think I’m nuts and trying to chat her up!

That makes me smile, I’m me now, female. So just nervous, not seen as a randy male.

Anyway most people did not spend part of their childhood listening to old radio shows with their father on audio cassettes after Sunday lunch. Being at sea most of his life he had audio cassettes and then CD’s of all the BBC Radio comedy shows from his childhood. It meant me and my sister were brought up on recordings of The Men from the Ministry, The Navy Lark, Hancock’s Half-Hour, The Goon Show, Round The Horn, etc., when he was home. So ever Sunday he was there, after lunch he insisted we sat down with him on the sofa with a dish of ice cream and listened with him to two of the shows just as he had done with his parents as a kid every Sunday listening to them on the radio after lunch.

Soon as Ann had started the medical she wanted to know what had happened to the side of my bum. The result was she had the dressing off and sent the nurse off for medical supplies. She scared me when she started talking about putting stiches in, but settled for a row thin strips of something called sterri-strips that held the skin together to heal. After everything was covered up with an even bigger dressing than I had put on. Ann got on with the medical.

My man boobs got a working over and seemed a big interest to her, and my nipples are likely to go into hiding the next time someone even mentions me having a medical. She asked me again if I had taken anything, maybe experimented when pre-teen like taking my mother’s birth control pills. But that does not make any sense to me. Surly if they are to stop you getting pregnant, they must be a kind of anti-female drug thing, not flat out girly-girly hormones?

“No” I shook my head.

“Sure?”

I nodded.

“Okay, I had to ask, you understand. To be sure.” I nodded back again, just being polite really. We carried on. Ann was intrigued by my narrow waist. Way to narrow for a male she said. Adding I could have been a model with it and my long arms and legs.

I think she is forgetting how old I am and my sex. I know there is a guy who models as a girl on the cakewalks in Oz I think. But I don’t think it was done when I was that age. She’s friendlier now, easier to talk to. She’s skilled at it as well. She slips in the odd question every now and again about my childhood. As she does so, I keep hearing the Robots voice from Lost In Space in my head, “Danger, Will Robinson, Danger!” I still find it hard to talk about my childhood. I’ve locked so much of it away in my head and am very protective towards my Mother and Father. Nowadays be very easy to criticise them I think without remembering how people thought about boys wanting to be girls, in those days.

When she is down between my legs I’m scared stiff I will have a reaction, but instead poor old Will seems to have decide to shrink down to the shortest he can be. My balls have retreated up into me as well as if they know this is a dangerous place to be around at the moment.

There is a knock on the door and a porter and wheelchair comes in to take me to the ultra-sound suite.

“I can walk.”

“Against Hospital rules, love. Insurance and all that.”

“Fraid so, Penny. You have to ride.” Grins Ann. “It is a hospital rule I’m afraid.”

“I need to push mother, she will have to come too or she will panic.”

The porter sees mother with Fred in her lap. He grins and bends down to her and winks. “Hello love, what’s his name?”

“Fred.” Mother says quietly.

He nods, and adds with a grin. “Just a mo, love. Let me get you a chauffeur for your limousine there.” And sticks his head out the doorway.

“Hey Bill! You free for five minutes. Need you to push a wheelchair.”

We go down the corridor side by side as mother panics when she sees me being wheeled out the door. To make sure we are not separated she fiercely grips onto my arm when back beside me. The porters Bill and Dunks are unperturbed as everything parts in front of us with Ann walking behind us talking quietly on her phone.

The ultra-sound technician, Sally. Has to pull the examination bench away from the wall as mother insists on keeping a hold on my hand. So I have Ann and Sally on one side and mother on the other. It is hard to keep listening to what Sally is telling Ann as mother keeps wanting to talk to me to make sure I am ok. But I am sure I hear Sally tell her “there are the ovaries, and the uterus, both underdeveloped, the v”. She says more, but mother is talking louder as I’m not playing her enough attention to her.

I can only think, hope I heard her right as that means I AM FEMALE! I want to shout it out. I’m a FEMALE!

Two different porters wheel us back. They still have to wheel us side by side, but mother has relaxed enough not to have to hold onto my arm. But watches me all the way back keeping a firm hold on Fred. Back in the examination room Ann lets me get dressed before moving us to a sofa where she sits with me turned towards me rather than at the doctor’s desk in the room.

“Now, let’s talk about what we found out back there, and then you and mother can go and get some lunch. And then this afternoon there is someone I would like you to have a chat with about all of this, before we meet up with Malcom around three-thirty.”

I settled mother at a table with a space for a wheelchair and one of those little cardboard wheelchair signs on the table, and went and joined the que for food. I get chicken soup for her and child’s roast beef meal for me. In the past it would have been the adult’s full plate without a thought and I would have happily consumed the lot, but now I am aware of every morsel I swallow and the effect it could have on my flat tummy and wonder why on earth I put on this clingy summer dress this morning. Of course I wanted to look feminine and sexy didn’t I, and now I think about it, I wonder how many trans girls before me did just the same thing. Thinking about that stopped me thinking about what Ann had said for a moment. Even if just for a moment. Anyway I still leave half of the meal. I have no appetite. I even drink only half of my cup of tea.

Ann takes us to another part of the hospital. It is quiet here, higher up, there is even carpet on the floors. And no nurses, or at least ones in uniforms. She pushes open a door that has been left ajar and beckons me in.

“Go on in.” Thinking she is going to follow, I push mother in, but she closes the door behind us. My head kind of swivels back at the closing door before turning back to be shocked at who is moving towards us from around his desk, his hand out to greet us.

“Alec!”

“Hello, Penny. Nice to see you again.” He is beside me and does the French cheek to cheek air kiss thing, then bends down to mother. “Hello, you must be Jenny. And this must be Fred.”

His smile is warm, friendly. He is nothing like the man I met at the week-end.

He takes Fred’s floppy paw and shakes, “Hi Fred.”

“Yes.” Mother beams, then adds. “He’s mine.” Just to make sure Alec knew who Fred belonged to and he cannot have him.

“And I should think so too.”

Alec stands and waves towards a curved sofa with floor to ceiling glass windows behind it showing a balcony outside with a view across the Thames. A couple of garden chairs with a small table between them sits invitingly there in the sun.

“Why don’t we sit down here.”

I park mother at the end and sit beside her. Alec drops some papers in the space between us and sits down leaning back on the sofa with that soft relaxed smile still on his face. I look around his office. Nice carpet, big modern desk. A glass Conference table and chairs. Alec is not quite the person he made out to be at Trish’s, and this has to be his office. There are photographs of a Europa kit plane flying on the walls. The kind of plane Malcom told us at Evie’s dinner party Alec built.

“You have a very, nice office.” I nod towards the balcony. And then with a small grin, I add. “And a room with a view. I hope you don’t have any jumpers off there.”
I’ve said it before I realise it. My mouth drops as my hands shoots up to it. It just popped out.

“O my god, I’m so sorry I said that. I do apologise. That was inexcusable.” I can feel myself going red as my face burns.

Instead of looking shocked at me, he laughs lightly glancing at the balcony outside. “Actually, we gave that a lot of thought when it was decided to put psychiatry up here. It was felt with the view of the city and with the sound of London’s traffic below us just a mummer. It would help people relax, be more open, and when the weather is fine, we can sit outside in private to talk.”

He looks back at me, then turns and looks outside again. “If you were to look over the edge, you would see what looks like a rather flimsy looking candy striped window blind below you. However the blind has two purposes. First, to disguise the fact that there is a further balcony down there. And second that the blind is really a jumper trap. If someone jumps they will hit the blind, which has been carefully designed to promptly fold up with them in the fold of the blind. By the time they have got out of that, there will be plenty of people around them to make sure they don’t try for another chance at flying without wings."

I nod, still embarrassed at saying what I had just said.

“So,” he says turning back to me, still with that gentle smile on his lips. “You’ve had quite a morning yourself, I think. Had quite some revelations about yourself. How do you feel about them?”

I looked away, I was unable to meet those eyes for the moment, and my mind had frozen anyhow. I was afraid to think about it really. Afraid of what my reaction really would be once I let it sink in. So I looked around Alec’s office for something to divert my attention, and settled on one of the photos of his little Europa kit plane. Only to be a little confused for a moment as my eyes briefly refocused on the long haired blonde reflected in the glass. I still half expected to see Paul, not Penny.

“It’s alright,” he said softly, “I understand. It’s hard to talk about at the moment. It’s a lot to take in after all the time that has past.”

He waited, and when I still did not say anything, he changed the subject.

“Malcom said you had flown a Biz jet. How did that come about?”

I looked over to him with I think a faint smile and nodded.

“The pilot was ex-RAF, he had been flying VC 10 and Tri-Star re-fuelling Tankers at the end of his time with the raff. Had got bored flying 737 holiday jets as a civilian. So, he quit the flying cattle trucks as he called them, and got a job flying Biz-jets for a company out of Biggin Hill and in his spare time worked as a spam-can instructor at the flying club on the airfield. We became friends as fellow instructors. I’d told him I’d flown one of Stelio Frati’s original Falco’s from the UK to Italy for a guy I had taught to fly.

So when he was asked by an old mate to ferry two SF.260’s back to Coventry where they would be fitted with long range tanks for the flight to the US from Marrakesh. He asked me to fly the other one and I jumped at the chance.”

I grinned and suppressed a laugh.

“Care to share?”

“Mike knew I was Penny sometimes, and wanted to play a joke on the RAF air traffic controllers in the tower at Gibraltar. Even though its mostly commercial airliners landing there now, it‘s still an RAF airfield. We intended to park the planes their overnight to get them out of Africa, ASAP on collecting them.”

I saw confusion in Alec’s face.

“He wanted me to have on a mini dress under my tee-shirt when we left Tangiers for the hop across to Gib. He knew they would be watching us as we got out the planes and wanted them to see me in a mini-dress and high heels.”

I looked over at Alec, he was smiling. “And did you?”

“Oh yes. I wore a Tee-shirt dress bunched up in my shorts, so I just had to lose them and pull down the dress hem. More difficult to do than you think when flying in a sf260 cockpit."

I looked over at Alec. “I was twenty-nine at the time and looked about twenty-three with a body to match. Mike said they would fall over themselves trying to impress me. Before he did the big reveal. I didn’t really like doing it, being exposed like that. But I owed him big time for the gig, and I was getting a very nice payday from it. And I was broke.”

Alec nodded. “And did they?”

“Oh yeah, but it sort of backfired on him. The paperwork was done by a girl in the office below the tower, so she was the one who saw my passport. She thought it would be great fun not to let them know, period. And made Mike promise not to tell.”

“Did they?”

I grinned, nodding. “Oh yes. The four of us went out for a meal and they were very attentive.”

He smiled. “Is this your way of telling me Penny flew the Biz-jet.”

I nodded. “He said no-one would think anything of a pilot taking his girlfriend along for a positioning flight.”

“In a mini-dress and high heels, I take it?”

I grinned. “Yes, I think he liked looking at my legs. I took the heels off to fly of course.”

“He sounds more like a boyfriend?”

I shrugged. “No. He was a colleague I was friends with. Still am.”

“But he knew about Penny.”

“Yes.” I looked at Alec. “I use to drive a taxi three nights a week to help pay the bills. On one of my free nights I would do my shopping at one of the 24 hour supermarkets as Penny. He was in the car park one night and recognised my car pull in and saw Penny get out. He was curious, came over and we sat in the supermarkets café and I told him about me.”

He nodded. “You said you in touch?”

I smiled. ”Yes. He’s flying a Cessna Caravan at the moment for a company that fly’s into dirt runways cut into the hillsides to supply the remote hillside villages in the Indonesia interior.”

“Dangerous.”

I smiled. “Very. He told me once he was looking for the same thrill he use to get landing a Hercules in Afghanistan at night doing a steep STOL landing to drop off or pick-up troops with the Taliban firing at them.”

“Sounds like he has a death wish.”

I shook my head, maybe a bit too quickly as my hair when everywhere and I had to scoop it back behind me..

“No. I’ve met RAF and Navy helicopter pilots who after having done a couple of years in Search and Rescue found normal service flying boring and left to pilot civilian rescue helicopters to get the thrill back in there flying.”

Alec nodded, smiled and paused a moment before saying. “So, this morning…”

Mother slept on the train back. Fred tucked up under her chin.

I had told the guard before we got on we would need the wheelchair ramp to get off at Mid-Steeping. He nodded not particularly happy about it. Anyway he came and opened the doors from our carriage and had us out as soon as the commuters had departed like a herd of stampeding buffalo for the carpark. The train was gone before we even made the platform exit. Mid-Steeping like so many small stations was nowadays un-staffed. The goods yard had been turned into a large carpark for the commuters and was packed full Monday to Friday. A nice little earner for the train company at twelve quid a pop for a day’s parking.

Mother was a grumpy bunny getting out at home, as I made her use the loo soon as we went in, but she was fast asleep within minutes of settling in her chair.

“Hi Sis.”

“Hello, how are you.”

“Fine, and you?”

“Oh, ok.”

“So how did your friend’s dinner party go Sunday?”

“Ok. Trish’s husband Malcom, and his doctor friends wanted me to go to their hospital today, to do some tests they thought I should have. That’s where we have been today.”

“Was Mother ok. She hates hospitals.”

“Yes fine. I was a bit shocked about what they said about me, though.”

“What did they say. Are you alright. Is something wrong?"

“Yes, was just a bit taken aback, that’s all. I’m, I. They said my body is sort of both boy and girl at the same time. But not really developed either way sort of. But basically, I’m seventy-five percent girl and twenty-five percent boy. Roughly. Seems the reason I never had spots as a teenager was my body got bigger, but at the same time. It’s not grown up yet. Seems I’ve not gone through puberty yet. Think that’s why I’ve got a smooth skin and all that. They can’t understand why it was never spotted when I was young. If it had, I would have grown up a girl. It’s that screwed up.”

Silence. In the end I ask if she is still there.

“Yes… it's just.” Her voice is soft, quieter. “Kind of explains an awful lot, though, really.”

“Why?”

“Well, when you were small, you always wanted to play with my dolls. You liked cars and trucks, but you still wanted to wear my dresses. Mother let you until father saw and made her promise not to let you do it anymore.”

Another pause. I do not know what to say.

“I remember you looking so sad when mother took us to buy my party dress for Wendy Brown’s birthday party when I was ten. You would have been seven. I thought it was because you were never invited to any party’s and I always was. But it wasn’t that was it. It was watching me get what you couldn’t have and wanted. To wear a pretty dress, any dress I guess for that matter. I’m so sorry Pau… Penny.

It must have been a living hell growing up.”

“It’s gone now. It’s the past.” I say nearly in tears. “Anyway. They want me to go in next week so they can just have a look inside. You know, just check everything is ok, nothing nasty there. I’ll leave mother with Evie. Mother likes Evie and I’ll only be gone for the day.”

“No, it’s ok. I’ll come over.”

I can hear Carl Junior trying to tell her something. Talking over us.

“Shhsss, in a minute.”

Then she is back with me.

“I never thought I would say this, but I will be glad when that boy can have a driving licence next year. And he’s not getting the stupidly over powered Pick-Up truck he and his father keep looking at, ether. It going to be something safe to drive, something that takes six days to get up to sixty miles an hour. Look I better take him to his football practice or we will never hear the end of it. Do you know what day they want you?”

“Tuesday.”

“I’ll be with you by the week-end. But I better dash, bye. Take care.”

I do not know why, but I was still completely non-plus about it all. I had talked to Alec about things that happened nearly twenty years ago, and I have not flown a plane for nearly ten years now. It was almost as if they had happened to another person. Things that I had forgotten about, or at least hidden away and forgot.

I take a sip of tea, but it has gone cold. Oh well. Mothers still asleep holding Fred. She’s smiling, I wonder what she is dreaming of.

To be continued…

“Hey, Mum, you’re in a mag.” Emily looks up at me. “Are you a model? Is that why you’ve been away?”

This is the story of Penny. A closet Transwoman thrust into the outside world 24-7 when she would rather go and hide away. Perhaps the title should be Welcome to Penny’s Paranoid World…

From part eleven
I had talked to Alec about things that happened nearly twenty years ago, and I have not flown a plane for nearly ten years. It was almost as if they had happened to another person. Things that I had forgotten about, or at least hidden away and forgot.
I have a sip of my tea, but it has gone cold. Oh well. Mothers still asleep holding Fred. She’s smiling, I wonder what she is dreaming of.

And now as they say, read on…
I went to bed and had a sleepless night. Although I must have slept at some point, because the next thing I knew there was daylight coming through the open bedroom doorway and my mobile had the little green light flashing to show I had a text message during the night.
arriving friday on america airlines flight 6175 (a british airways flight, one of those partner flight things) at 7.09pm terminal 5 heathrow . pick me up please. see you then. love carol

Carol has never got text speak. Then again nether have I. All those letters and numbers jumbled together to make words. I much prefer proper English. It is a relief to know she is coming. I know it is just a quick look around with a keyhole camera inside me. I mean I am not bothered by them damaging the boy bits am I, I want rid of them. But things happen. People die when they never expected to on operating table, no fault of anyone’s. It just happens sometimes. It was just their time to go.

I will have to tell Carol that if that happens to leave Henry with Evie. It seems if he is not on the picnic table in the garden, he is in Evie’s little courtyard outside her back door laying in the sun. So he would settle down living with them, and as mother would once in America with Carol if something happened to me, they will soon forget me. Still look on the bright side, it may never come to that.

I am surprised really, I expected it to be around five in the morning, may be just approaching six at the most, but it is close to half seven and I am still dead to the world. Oh well, look at it this way. I have at least missed the Piranha Club as they met yesterday.

Anyway we have to be at Rosemary’s Hairdressers at five to ten. So I best get myself up and ready. I have the feeling Melissa will want to play with my hair again today. At the moment it is in a loose plait hanging forward over my shoulder. I have found that best way sleeping with long hair. It is already hard to think of it as having ever been short. And after a quick spot of lunch we better pop down to Morrisons in Portsmouth for the shopping. I am still not comfortable at the thought of going to the local supermarkets, so a fifty mile drive down the road to shop is ok with me. And I like driving anyway.

Last night the pretty weather girl with half her right arm missing said there was a cold front moving in across the North Sea from Russia and temperatures would drop leaving us with a cold morning with the chance of rain in the afternoon. I put the heating back on. Mother feels the cold. Although at times it feels like we are living in the tropics at home.

Still it gives me a chance to wear another of my sixties style dresses. This one is a mini, so tights today. It has a thick shortbread biscuit coloured material with a narrow V-cut at the boobs that shows a bit of cleavage. I can wear my cream suede two part courts with an ankle strap. I have them in black as well. They are comfortable to wear as well and are nice to look at.

When Melissa is near finished (Mother’s all done and having a cup of coffee waiting for Me! this time). The door opens and I hear Evie and Emily's voices. Emily comes round the wall and stands in front of me wide eyed and excited when she sees my hair. Which makes me wonder what Melissa has done to it. She washed it, then spent ages carefully brushing it out and has been taking forever blow drying it with me turned away from a mirror. Melissa has a sense of the dramatic where I am concerned!

Em dashes back to Evie. “Gran, Gran!” Grabbing her hand and pulling her back around the corner to look at me. “Gran. Can I have my hair like that, please? Please Gran. Please.”

She turns to Melissa with a pleading doe eyed look only a seven year old girl can manage. “Please Lissa.”

Melissa laughs. “I’m nearly done with Penny, Evie. It will only take about fifteen minutes, tops, to do Em as well.”

I am trying not to laugh as Melissa pats me on the shoulders to let me know all done. “So Young lady,” I ask her, “why are you not at school today?”

Em thinks about it and shrugs her shoulders, pulling a face as if to say ‘I don’t know’. She can barely contain herself watching me as I start to get out of the chair.

“Where are your sisters?”

“School.” Miss bright eyes quickly says as she happily skips past me into the chair.

As I go round the wall I see in the mirror what Melissa has done. My hair is big, and I really do mean BIG. Silky smooth, I look like I just fell out of a magazine shampoo ad. All I need is metallic dress and over the top make-up to complete the picture. Or a body hugging evening dress and a film premier to attend and I will have the complete high society bimbo look, down to a tee.

While Melissa gets busy with Em’s hair I sit on the sofa between Rosemary and Evie and relax. Rosemary hands me a cup of tea.

"Just made it."

"Thanks, Rosemary. I'm ready for this."

I look across at Mother who is in her own little world drinking her coffee and talking to Fred in her lap. I savour the taste of my tea and turn to Evie.

“Something wrong at the school.” I ask her.

“Ha! The first bit of cold weather this summer and the school boiler goes down. Shirley the Head teacher met everyone at the school gates. They have portable heaters on in the school hall for the kids that can’t go back home. The twins wanted to stay and be with their friends. Em couldn’t wait to get back in the car.”

The phone rings and saying there is no peace for the wicked. Rosemary leaves us to answer it. Left by ourselves, Evie quietly asks me how yesterday went. I tell her. She leans over and hugs me.

“See. You are a girl. You have been one all along, and if the doctors had got it right when you were young as they should have done. You would be a happily married mother with kid’s right now.”

She pauses, looking over at Emily who we can see in the mirror is beaming with pleasure as Melissa blow dries her hair. “So, what are you doing this afternoon?”

“Shopping.”

“And are you going to go all the way down to Portsmouth again?”

I shrug my shoulders not wanting to answer, having been found out.

“Thought so. You know you have to go to the local supermarkets sooner or later. Why don’t we go back to the farmhouse and have some lunch, and then we can all go to the supermarket together and you won’t be alone there.”

Emily comes downstairs wearing a dress that looks a lot like the one I am wearing today.

Evie laughs, telling me she had forgotten all about that dress, as she could never get Emily to wear it. She’s trying not to smile as she tells me. “Now, it seems she likes it.”

Evie has the two of us stand in the kitchen so she can take photos of us together on her mobile. She has Em stand in front of me with my arms down around her with Em holding my hands, then another with me bending down sitting on my heels beside Em who is grinning her head off as she posses with her arms around my neck. Then another with her pulling a silly face as she kisses me on the cheek.

It is fun and silly, but when the door opens and John and Johnny come in. I stiffen, panicking inside. My heart thumping.

John looks at us both, smiles and looks at his daughter. ‘And what are you doing at home, Little Miss. You don’t look ill. In fact you look very pleased with yourself at the moment’.

Emily schusses her father holding her finger up to her lips, telling him. “We are busy at the moment, daddy. Grandma’s taking photos. You have to wait and be quiet.”

"Well that's telling me." I hear John quietly tell his father while chuckling.

An amused Evie takes some more photos as I feel myself blushing even more, knowing we are being watched. When she is done. A smiling John moves over holding out his hand to me, saying “Let me help you up.”

To my embarrassment, I know I am blushing as I thank him. I am saved any further embarrassment by Emily taking a firm hold of her father and grandfathers hands and pulling them away to the sitting room, telling them. “You can put your feet up and have a rest while we ladies make you some lunch.”

Evie and I set too making chicken soup care of several cans of Mr Heinz’s finest. Evie chops up a cooked chicken from the fridge to add to it, while I do my best not to boil it. At home I would have just bunged it in the microwave. Evie however does things properly and has it on a hot plate.

I do like this kitchen. I feel really at home in it for some reason. I can’t explain why. I smile to myself. I have kitchen lust. Or is that kitchen envy! I laugh at the silliness of it. Mine is so basic compared to this one. Em helps by buttering slices of French stick loaf as I cut them off. I push away a wisp of hair from my face, blowing it away has not worked. As much as I like the kitchen I am embarrassed at being in John’s home at the same time as him. I am sure he is wondering what I am doing here all the time.

Mother does not seem bothered by any of this. She is making a fuss of Nelson, the old dog. He is happily resting his head on her knees, with his tail gently wagging away from side to side as she fusses and strokes him. She is lost in her own world with a happy little smile on her face. She once told me in better days that when she was seven. She had had a dog called Nelson, but he had to be given away when they moved into a flat when she was eight as pets were not allowed.

As well as the buttered slices of the French loaf, we have fresh soft rolls from the village shop. Emily is sent to get her father and grandfather while I go and get mother to bring her to the table.

“Hello there.”

“Hello.”

I am not sure if she really knows me at the moment, as she looks up at me with her little girl smile. “Ready for some soup?”

“No, I’ve had my soup. Thank-you.”

“No. You’ve been giving Nelson a fuss while we prepared lunch. It’s ready now. There is some nice chicken soup and a soft roll for you at the kitchen table.”

“Thank-you.”

I push her up to the table and give her the roll. She dips it in her soup and has a bite.

“Yummy. Thank-you.” She smiles at me for a moment, then turns back to the soup and tucks in.

Sometimes I want to both cry and smile at the same time. I feel so totally privileged. There may be an old lady in her eighties in front of me, but she is the youngest person in the room at the moment, as daft as it sounds. But you really can see the child in her eyes in that old face. And at the same time you cannot help but think of the person you loved and have lost as they stopped being your parent and you became theirs.

We all settle down eating. I look up to see John at the other end of the table watching me eating and blush. Embarrassed, I cover by checking Emily is ok. She looks up at me pleased and happy. Evie asks John if there is anything he wants from the shops as we are going shopping. I glance up to see him looking at her talking. Relived, I concentrate on my own soup and bit into a thickly buttered slice of French stick loaf.

Evie offers to push mother, so I can get a shopping trolley. We make are way into the supermarket with Evie and Mother just behind me and Em is beside me as my very own mini-me. She has one hand lazily resting on the shopping trolley handle beside mine.

I see us on one of those big tv’s they hang just inside in the entrance. We look like four generations of the same family. Mother and daughter with gran pushing her mum in a wheelchair behind them. It is only when I see mother in photos or in videos like this that I noticed how old and tired she has become. I do not really notice it otherwise. We just look so normal to me. I smile, even if it shows a fantasy image of the perfect family shopping.

We get a few looks as we shop, at me I think, but then I am easily the most paranoid person in the supermarket at the moment. But then I do have big seventies hair. I have to stop myself smiling as Emily does a little skip every now and again beside me. She seems so contented. She has already asked if she can have a comic and I said yes. Her favourite one goes on sale today it seems. So she cannot wait to get her hands on it.

With the shopping trolley three quarters full we hit it the magazines isle. With a look up to me for the ok, Em shoots off to find her comic. I debate with myself whether or not to buy a tv guide, but given that I never actually look at them when I do buy them. What is the point of buying one. My eyes look longingly at the model railway magazines I use to buy and turn reluctantly to the female glossy mags. Mother is looking at the children’s comics as Evie looks at the female mags above them. I bend down and ask her if she sees one she likes. She points to one with cats on the cover. I pick it up and give it to her.

“Why don’t you look at it till I need to pay for it at the till.”

Mother smiles and looks at the comic with lots of Cats on the cover aimed at five to six year old girls. She has had Womans Weekly all her life. Well, for as long as I can remember, and if I got her one now she would still be pleased to get it. But as soon as we got home, she would discard it unread. So now I ask her what she would like and her eyes are almost always drawn down to the children’s comics. Sometimes the CAT magazine, but mostly to the children’s comics. And if it gives her pleasure, who cares what anyone else thinks. I certainly don’t.

“Do you remember the magazine on the sofa at Rosemary’s?" Evie asks me.

I look at the magazine Evie is holding up. “Might be… why?” I really do not have a clue, but do not want to admit it.

She flicks it round to show an advert with a close-up of a woman’s head with big glossy hair. She is vaguely reminds me of someone. “She looks familiar.” I say, hoping for a clue.

Grinning and trying not to laugh Evie takes my arm and moves me over to a mirror set in one of the roof columns in the isle, holding up the mag so I can see the advert and my own reflection in the mirror...

“Good trick.” I tell her laughing, half looking at the photo. “I didn’t see you take that photo back at the farmhouse.”

Evie grins at me a smug look on her face.

“Melissa has made me look like a Bond girl from one of Roger Moore’s films. All I need now is a Bond Villain.” I laughingly tell her. Then we both say it together. “Donald MacTavish,” and laugh.

I look again at the photo Evie took of me, something is not right. I really am going to have to make sure I know what Melissa intends to do with my hair before I sit in her chair at Rosemary’s in the future.

“It’s not you.” Evie smiles back at me. “It’s a shampoo ad in the magazine. It’s.” she flips the magazine round to check the page.” Doutzen Kroes. Whoever she is.”

Ah! That’s why it did not seem right. I show my lack of girlhood, womanhood, knowledge, by saying. “Who’s that?” and looking closer at the photo I can see it is a hair product advert, now.

“A foreign model, I guess.” Evie looks at the magazine photo. And grinning mischievously asks. “You could be twins. Any chance you were adopted?”

Laughing I shake my head. In the past in my private fantasy’s I use to think on a good day with make-up on I looked a bit like Julie Christie in her thirties or maybe her forty’s. But this is just the big hair. It makes us look identical. That’s all.

Em comes to see what we are looking at, pulling her Grans hand down to see the magazine.

“Hey, Mum, you’re in a mag.” Emily looks up at me. “Are you a model? Is that why you’ve been away?”

She’s bright eyed and full of innocence and curious and not realising what she has just said, but Evie and I freeze. Evie gets her wits about her first, because I do not know what on earth to say.

“No, darling. Penny and this lady just look the same. They look like twins don’t they. So do you. Triplets! It’s the way Melissa did your hair today, darling.”

Em just stares open-mouthed at the photo and me, not believing a word her gram has said. Then realising she has been just told she looks like the model. Then we get a big smile followed by. “Cooooool.”

Evie glances at me and tells her. “Why don’t you go and get your sisters a comic each, as well. You can have another one today as well today. How’s that.”

“Yeah.”

Emily prances off doing a models runway walk back to the magazines, and it is hard not to laugh, even though we are both in shock. At least I am.

With Emily away out of earshot, and Evie moves closer to me apologetic. “I’m sorry, I should have warned you, but I didn’t want to spook you... When we were at your Beach Hut Saturday. The girls told me that you were their mother come back to them. Only you didn’t remember you were their mother yet. I didn’t know what to say to them.”

Evie sighs, glancing at Em who is studiously looking for her sister’s favourite comics. “You have to remember the girls have no memory of Susan. They were too young when she died. They just have the photos John has out to see. And you do look so like her. And I’m sorry as that is my fault too for adding to it by getting Melissa to give you super long hair.” She smiles at me. “But you do look good.”

She leans in our shoulders touching. “I expected John to react, I wanted him to react, and he did. But, I didn’t expect the girls to react as well. They don’t really remember their mother. She is just a photo to them. But up in their bedrooms away from us they decided you were their mother come back to them.”

Em holds up a comic to us to show she has one of them. We smile and nod to her. She goes back to checking out the comics.

“John is quite moved by the way the girls have attached themselves to you. They have killed off any relationship he tried to start in the past with any other woman.” She laughs quietly. “Mind you, there has only been three. One they told to her face they would not accept her as their mother when she came to the house and if she came back they would set the dog on her. The other two ran for the hills after one visit after they were very, very, scarily polite to them while standing watching their every move.”

Evie thinks for a moment. “I’m sure they haven’t seen Village Of The Damned, they are far too young to have seen that.” And certainly not for the twins to have read the book. Evie gives her head a little shake. “They are very determined on this. They want you back as their mother as they see it.”

Emily comes and dumps two comics for her sisters in the shopping trolley asks if she can have a dvd instead of a comic, then rushes off to inspecting the children’s dvd’s before we can say no. clearly she has one in mind.

“I know you like John. You blush every time he looks at you and positively glow at the same time. I know it has only been a week. But…”

I interrupt her. “I’m still very male, physically. I know I have my special front on that makes me look girl down below, but…”

“I know, and I am quite sure that will change soon. They have said you are a girl anyway, haven’t they.”

“Yes. But it would still mean an operation on the NHS, and that’s the way I will have to go as I can’t go private. There will be a waiting list. And then what will John think of all that. Be disgusted, I’m sure. I should back off. This is all a big mistake my being around them. The girls will be less hurt that way when John doesn’t want to know me.”

She put her hand on my arm stopping us. “Listen, you silly thing. Do want to be my granddaughter’s mother, honest answer now?”

I say it in almost whispered, “yes.”

Evie takes both my arms and holds me.

“Then trust me, and everything will be all right. I know you don’t think that. And I know everything is moving so fast for you right now. But this is who you were meant to be. Just trust me, Penny. Everything will work out alright.”

After that we made are way to the check-outs, and the café. Where Emily happily devours a cream donut. Oblivious to bomb she had just dropped in our laps. Despite what Evie said I still feel this is going to end in disaster and heartbreak for everyone. I just don’t know what to do. Evie has a little smile as Emily plonks herself quickly down beside me at the table in case her gran should try to sit beside me.

Mother sits drinking her coffee looking at her comic in a world of her own. She seems more and more distant from me now. More enclosed within herself. I shall have to warn Carol about that before she arrives Friday.

After picking up the twins Em has to sit on Evie’s lap for the short distance from the girl’s school in Mid-Steeping back to White Gate Farm. With the wheelchair and the shopping in the back the twins have to sit on the back seat with them. They are not happy about missing out on what they regard as ‘their’ backward facing seat in the back, and even more unhappy when they find out they missed out on the chance of a shopping trip with us this afternoon as well.

Evie tries to get me to agree to stay for dinner again. But if we stay for anymore meals, John will be giving me a bill when we leave. Besides, I have a lot to think about after Em’s little bombshell and what Evie has told me, and Henry needs to eat as well.

As we drive back home we pass the mad Jogger out again. I see who she is this time. We have not met before, but she gives me a friendly wave as we pass. She did not come to the Piranha Club last week. She is Claudia Harcort-Jones and lives in The Hall with her husband Charles Anthony Harcort-Jones. He is very posh, being something in the city of London. He has a little steam train that runs round the grounds of The Hall. And if I am honest I am very envious of that fact. They hold the village’s summer fate every year and he gives the kids and parents rides on it. Mother is frightened of it unfortunately. So I have never been able to get close enough to it to have a good look.

When we get in Henry is sprawled across the sofa in the late afternoon sun. But happy to get up and have a fuss and some nosh. I pick him up and he hangs over my shoulder like a dead cat watching everything behind us until we enter the kitchen and then he scrambles round to purr in my ear as I bend down to get his food from the cupboard. Jumping down to climb in over the packs of food to explore the back of his food cupboard. All thought of food gone for the moment as he checks out a potential afternoon napping place!

To be continued…

Sorry for the gap between 11 & 12, but for personal reasons I needed a gap between them. Sophie

“Daleks. A big Dalek. We got to hide. It’ll kill us.”
Em was really frightened. But then when I was seven I hid behind the sofa when the Daleks came on a 19 inch tv screen during Dr Who. And I liked the Daleks. I turned and dropped down wrapping her in my arms in a big hug.

This is the story of Penny. A closet Transwoman thrust into the outside world 24-7 when she would rather go and hide away. Perhaps the title should be Welcome to Penny’s Paranoid World…

From part twelve
When we get in Henry is sprawled on the sofa in the late afternoon sun. Happy to get up and have a fuss and some nosh. I pick him up and he hangs over my shoulder like a dead cat watching everything behind us till we enter the kitchen and then he scrambles round to purr in my ear as I bend down to get his food from the cupboard. Jumping down to climb in over the packs of food to explore his food cupboard. All thought of food gone for the moment as he checks out a potential afternoon napping place!

And now as they say, read on…
With Henry happily eating. I make drinks for mother and me. Coffee for her, tea for me. And none of those stupid posh named teas, you know the kind. Breakfast delight, Afternoon Pick-me-up, Evening Dream and whatever other daft names they come up with. No. Good old PG Tips for me, Britain’s bestselling cuppa. Heaven on earth.

Mother takes her coffee from me and asks me if we are home yet. I tell her we are. We are in the lounge now, but I can tell she does not really believe me. This has been going on for a couple of months now. Gradually more and more. Her not being able to tell the difference between sitting in her chair in the lounge and still sitting in the car when we have been out. I reassure her again and she is happy as I point out the newsreader on the television.

“Oh, I thought that was the car window. Hmm.”

I sink in the sofa chair and relax. I will have my tea, and then when mother falls asleep will go round to Clair’s and do a quick nip around the outside. See the doors are still locked up. I can check inside tomorrow morning after breakfast. But for the minute I am just going to close my eyes and sit back sipping my tea.

“Aarrrgg…”

I shoot up, mug falling to the floor, having just tipped hot tea all over my right knee. I hop around hissing through my teeth while I pull my dress up relived I did not get tea on it and quickly pulling my tights down below my knees. I bend down and undone my shoe checking for tea on it. Good. Nothing spilt on it either. Get tea on these shoes and they would be ruined. The stains would never come out. Shoe off I get the wet tights off my right leg.

“…damn, damn, damn and double damn…and damn again…”

I hobble to the bathroom with my left high-heel still on. Seeing as I am now a 24-7 girl I am trying to not swear. Especially if I do end up the girl’s mother. Be a bad example. Well, we all have to have our dreams, don’t we. Before it would have been ‘Shit, shit, shit and...’ I don’t use the ‘F’ word. Years ago I use to say ‘Poo Sticks’. But no one knew I was swearing and they just thought I was weird!!

My knee is still stinging and I put a cold flannel on it. I do not want it to blister, I am sure it will not. Then I sit on the side of the bath to get my other shoe off along with the rest of my tights. This is not the first time I have done this. I am unfortunately a repeat offender. Falling asleep while holding a cup of tea and pouring it over myself, that is. But normally I have stockings on. Easier to take off. And they make me feel sexy. I love the look of my toes in old fashioned sheer nylon.

I go into the kitchen and get the foam carpet cleaner and head back to squirt it over the wet tea patch in the carpet. At least my Poppy mug is still in one piece after its suicidal leap to the floor. Mother God bless her is fast asleep. You could let off a nuclear explosion next to her and so long as it was not directly in front of her she would not hear it. My hopping and damning was not going to wake her up. I gently ease the half full coffee cup from her fingers before she copies me and ends up with coffee in her lap as well.

Oh hum. The bedside clock says it is five-forty, where did the night go. My eyes are tired, but I am wide awake. I have been for nearly the past three hours. Must have been a sleep. But I do not remember it. I got up and took mother to the loo at around ten to three. I am always worried I will not wake up when she wants to go to the loo in the night and she will have an accident, but I always do wake up. But the fear is still there. She was fast asleep almost as soon as she is back in her chair. But I stayed resolutely wide awake.

I keep thinking about what Evie said about the girls thinking I am their mother back from the dead to look after them. They almost called me mum at the beach. That must be why they gave me the strange looks the first time we met. When we arrived back from shopping at Boundry Mills. There was the woman in front of them from the photos in their sitting room of their mother. Therefore as they saw it. I had to be their mother come back to them. When you are only nine and seven. Reasons are simple, only reason I could be there was for them. I just did not know them for some reason. Why else would I be there. It was us unsuspecting adults that made it all complicated.

What a mess. We adults play our games with each other and forget that the children have minds of their own. Often adding two and two together and making five or six. Evie trying to set me up with John has sparked a whole new ball game for the girls. They must have realised their gran must have found me and was trying to bring us all back together again. No wonder Em came and climbed up in my lap that first evening. As far as she thought she was getting a cuddle from the mother she had never known for the first time. Oh Christ, it is so easy for them to be badly hurt by all of this. And it will all be my fault.

“Shit, shit, shit.” I just do not know what to do. But I am going to have to come clean with John about me, and god do I do not want to do that. But not just yet. I will wait until after they poke around inside me next week. Get that out of the way. Then I can work out how to do this with as little damage to the girls as possible.

Then I cry as that means the girls will be out of my life afterwards, as John will not want me anywhere near them after I have told him. He will see me as this weird freak then. But just saying nothing would be just making things worst.

Sometimes I wish Mother and Henry had passed away, then I could just slip away and join them. I miss having Mother to talk to. For her to be her old self again, to be able to chat the way we did, but if they were gone, then I could too and life’s misery for me would be over.

I’ve fallen asleep again and now time is short. I am supposed to be seeing my Doctor this morning at eleven to tell him what happened on Tuesday at The QAMC (Queen Ann’s Medical Centre). Eleven is tons of time away, but I take forever getting ready nowadays. At least I have got the passport photos, John Richards my solicitor wants. I got them yesterday as we were leaving the supermarket in the photo booth. Actually I had to do it twice, once for the ones I needed and then again with Em who wanted to be in the photos with me. She took those home with her. Another reason why the twins were not happy at missing out on going shopping with us yesterday when she showed them her photos of us messing about in the booth.

Just when I am about done make-up wise. Carol from the Mid-Steeping Medical Centre, phones to tell me my appointment has been cancelled. Doctor Walker has twisted his ankle stepping off the curb in the Medical Centre carpark and will be off for a few days.

“…I can fit you in with Doctor Kelham this morning, if you want at twelve-thirty. Or would you prefer to wait till Doctor Walker is available again.”

“I’ll wait if that’s ok, Carol.”

“Ok, Penny. I will ring you when we know when he will be back at the surgery.”

We say our good-byes and ring off. Well at least that gives me time to go and check Clair’s before we have a bite to eat before we head for town this afternoon to see John Richards at two. A quick check to make sure mother’s ok, and I grab the baby alarm and head next door.

The useful thing about the baby alarm is it has a five inch widescreen tv screen on it. Normally it sits on my bedside table plugged into the mains so I know if mother wakes during the night. But un-plugged I can carry it next door with me while checking Clair’s home is safe. The screen is normally off, but the sound is on and with the press of a button I can see her on screen if I hear a sound that makes me want to check she is all right.

It is strange walking through someone else’s home when they are not at their, even a home you have been a guest in many times. I’ve a feeling they are going to be quite a while in New Zealand with Kate as she recovers and has the baby. I think becoming a grandma is going to keep Clair there awhile. I better come round and dust and get the vacuum cleaner out every now and again.

As I lock Clair’s front door Evie calls out to me from the lane. She is going round to Trish’s for lunch. Just soup and a bread roll and a chat and suggests I bring Mother along and join them. She knows Trish will want to know how Tuesday went.

The kitchen is un-like John’s hi-tec kitchen or Evie’s farm house kitchen. Trish’s kitchen is American Shaker farm house style. All be it as seen through the eyes of an expensive kitchen designer. Mother was at a little table up against her wheelchair happy with her soup and soft roll pointing out to Fred who was sitting on the little table the birds and a couple squirrels playing in the garden that she could see out of the glass kitchen outside door. The one I last saw Melissa popping in and out of during Trish’s dinner party the night her husband Malcom’s colleagues at The Queen Ann’s Medical Centre took an interested in me.

The three of us are at one end of the big island in the middle of the kitchen sitting on high wood stools with little backs on them. I had just told Trish I am seventy-five percent girl against twenty-five percent boy. Enough to get me legally changed from Male to Female in the eyes of the government according to Malcom. Basically I am the oldest teenager in the village as I have not gone through puberty yet. Trish slips off her stool and comes and hugs me.

“Welcome to the club, girl.” She says smiling.

I try to bring up the subject of John and the girls and why I think I should carefully, slowly back off from them, but the two of them gang up on me and will not hear of it. Evie has already adopted me as her daughter-in-law I think, And Trish has appointed herself as my aunt.

We all move into the lounge with the club chairs from Canberra. I cannot help but smile and caress the one I am sitting in. Such pleasant happy memories of being on board her.

“Darling, I would never do anything to hurt my girls.” Evie’s voice broke into my thoughts.

“Humm, what?”

Trish laughs. “Remembering the old girl.”

Evie looks confused. But Trish and I do not need to name names. We both knew she meant Canberra.

“Um, yes.” I smile looking at Trish. “You know sometimes we are in the supermarket and passing the fridge cabinets and I hear a sound from them and I am back on board.”

Trish regales us with tales of her and Malcom’s nightmare trip to the ship-breaking yard at Gadani, Pakistan, where Canberra was scrapped in order to buy some of the chairs. She had only just arrived and they had to go on board climbing a roughly made wood ladder to go in the sea door and then up through a dark ship with hand held oil lanterns. It was really spooky, she said. They lowered the chairs off the Promenade Deck on ropes down into this little rowing boat as the ship-breaking yard is just a long beach with boats run aground on it.

“I just glad they had not started to cut her up yet. I couldn’t have bared to see that.”

“Still,” she added. “She looked beautiful in the bright sunshine and sparkling sea just off the shore where they had grounded.”

I remember seeing it on the BBC News. The ship breakers had so many cargo ships coming in to break they kept cutting them up first as Canberra looked so beautiful they did not want to start cutting her up. But their contract said they had too. She could not be sold back into service.

I get lucky and manage to park in front of my solicitors. Richards, Richards and Richards. That always makes me smile since two of them have been dead for at least twenty-five years. I had to leave mother with Evie and Trish as she had a bit of a tantrum, refusing to come. After four years where she panicked at the slightest thought she might lose sight of me. I must admit it is a bit of relief to have some moments to myself and not have one ear out listening for mother whatever else I am trying to do. All the same it does seem strangely disconcerting her not being here with me.

I guess this is how a mother with a new born baby feels the first time she leaves it at home in the care of her mother or a friend while she goes out. Joy at the freedom to just be herself for once along with guilt and worry about leaving her baby behind.

John Richards sees a large well-dressed man to the outside doors who looks like he should have the word THUG tattooed on his forehead and be a permanent guest of Her Majesty’s Pleasure (in prison).

John turns to me smiling with out stretched hands taking mine, holding me at arm’s length.

“Well. Look at you. The change is amazing and one hundred percent the right thing to do. Seeing you I cannot imagine you the other way, now.”

He move in closer and did the cheek to cheek thing and stood back still smiling. “Let’s go in my office.”

He led the way to the small lift they have the size of a cupboard. As we went up we talked about Mother and how she was doing.

“…the dementia is slowly getting worse. Just little things. She doesn’t really understand what’s on the news anymore. She use to love watching programs like Dad’s Army or M*A*S*H. but they are just moving pictures to her now... she thinks Dad’s Army is a documentary.”

In his office John turns and admires me again. “When you told me last week, I was worried you were making the wrong decision. But seeing you. I wonder how you managed to hide disguised as a male for so long.”

After that we got down to business. First John had me sign the Deed Poll to change my name. Then he had letters for me to sign which would go with coving letters from him and Malcom to the Bank, the DVLA (Driver and Vehicle Licensing Agency) in Swansea, the Passport office, and it seemed half a dozen other official bodies who had to be informed that a mistake was made at birth marking me down as male when I was actually always a female. The procedure was different to that of a male to female transsexual in official documentation.

I emerged two hours later having done everything I was required to do. Now it was in the hands of John. He would phone the bank this afternoon and email them a copy of the deed poll. I rang Evie to check on Mother. They were fine she told me. They were down by Trish’s little lake watching the ducks and the family of swans that had taken up residence last year on the little island in the lake.

I did not know if this was good or bad. Three months ago she would have had a massive panic attack at being away from me. It was further proof that the dementia was further along that she was no longer bothered. I had had a couple of times when she asked me who I was. I hope she still recognises Carol. She only sees her twice a year at best when she flies over from looking after her own family.

Friday was Getting Ready for Carol, Day. We are picking her up from Heathrow tonight. After my shower the first thing was to decide if it should be my own tiny boobs pushed up to within an inch of their life in the 3x max bra where I could look down on the swell of my own breasts, or should it be my stick on bouncy boobs that had that natural attention gathering movement in your bra you get under light clothing. Hmm! Airport terminals get hot don’t they. And I want to look as sexy as poss to greet my sister. So stick on boobs it is and the red lace underwired bra I like. Then time to hit my closet.

Mother is still enamoured with Trish’s swans. She keeps asking to go take her down to see them. Even telling her we are getting the bungalow ready for Carol coming home today and that we will be going to the airport later on, has not switched her mind from them. And she loves going to airports. Seeing everything that is happening.

I knew Trish’s house had a small man-made lake with a small island in the garden as I had looked at the village on Google’s street view and seen it. I think everybody has looked at their house on it at some time or another. I did not know Trish had swans though. I knew we had them on the river. I guess they had flown across one day and stayed.

When Trish and Evie called in at eleven for tea and coffee, I had forgotten they were coming. But I was ready for a break. Both from making up the bedroom for Carol (most of the time I use it for storage) and from Mother not giving up on asking to go see the swans.

“Why don’t Evie and I take her down to see them.” Trish offered when mother asked for the thousandth time to go see them, as we sat in the sun in the garden with our drinks.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. Jenny,” she turns to mother. “Would you like to go see the swans in my garden.”

“Yes please.” Mother’s face beamed.

Where had that little old lady who panicked the moment she could not see me, gone. They all looked at me. “Ok, I said.

“Penny, come to mine for tea. The twins are off to Brownie camp afterwards and they are still smarting at missing out on not going to the shops with us Wednesday.”

I agree, but I think mother will want to be home before then. There again she did spend quite a time at Trish’s yesterday. In the end Evie rings me up to remind me of the time. She has mother with her at the farmhouse with Henry on her lap. Both she tells me are fast asleep.

I told Evie I was getting ready and would not be long. A little white lie. I dashed into my room and start throwing off clothes and pull the wardrobe doors open and started going through my stuff. I want to be sexy and feminine. I’m wearing my red bra, so my pale red stockings and red summer dress with the fine mesh sleeves that carries on up to my neck from where the low scoop neck finishes, and my red pee-toe five inch sling-backs. I quickly got dressed and sat down to brush my long hair before staring on re-doing my make-up. The hair will blow sis away. She likes long hair, but hates having to look after, so wears hers to her shoulders. She will be so jealous.

“Wow! Do you have a hot date?” John exclaims as he and Johnny stare at me when I enter Evie’s kitchen. Johnny grabs Patch
as he skids round the kitchen door heading towards me to stop him jumping up me. Patch’s tail working overtime.

Johnny looks mischievously at me. “I would chase you round the kitchen table myself. If Evie wasn’t here. But she wouldn’t approve.” He grins as he says that looking at Evie.

“No,” I tell them. “Mother and I are off to pick-up my sister Carol from Heathrow Airport after tea. Evie has very kindly been looking after her while I got the bungalow ready.”

“Can I go too?” Em has slipped into the room behind the twins who are admiring my dress.

The twins respond instantly. “Hey, that’s not fair.”

“You went to the shops and we didn’t.” continues Lizzy, “You went with Mu…ow.”

Eve having kicked her on the ankle. Lizzy turning to her twin crossly was about to say something, then seeing Eve’s glare, realised what she had been about to say. I do not think anyone else realised. Well, Evie probable did. I look around to see if John had noticed. But he did not seem to have done so.

“Please Daddy.” Em was looking at John with big puppy dog eyes. That girl is going to break boy’s hearts when she gets older. I’m going to be holding them off with a pitchfork. John, no doubt use to it by now, just looks sternly at her. He give me a quick questioning look. I give a subtle nod.

“Well, I’m not the one to ask, really, am I.” He tells her. Biting her lip, Em comes and stands in front of me.

“Can I please come to the airport with you to meet Auntie Carol.”

“Course you can, darling.” Em screams in delight, hugs me, and rushes off to change out of her school dress.

“Can we come too?” The twins ask cautiously, already knowing the answer.

“Don’t you want to go to camp anymore, then.” John replies.

“Yes, we could go later on tonight, couldn’t we. Afterwards.” Is their slow reply. “We wouldn’t miss much.”

“And what about your friends we are dropping off as well?”

The twins are deflated. “Maybe we could all go to the beach hut on Sunday.” I say and then realise I did not ask John if that was ok. I look at him about to apologise, but he is grinning.

“That’s a great idea. We could all do with a day off. What do you think, Dad? Ready to pack your bucket and spade.” He asks Johnny. Who laughs and pretends to clip his son round the ear.

“Cheeky. What do you think, Evie.”

Evie just grins. “I think I’m going shopping tomorrow.

The Twins are in torment. “But, we’ll be still at camp till Wednesday.”

“Well. How about we go the week after when you will be back, instead.” I say and get two instantly happy girls. “Yes.”

After that we all settle down to the tea Evie has prepared. Johnny at the head, followed by the girls down one side. Then Evie at the other end of the table. On the other side; Mother next to Evie. Then me and John. Evie has even put little place cards in our assigned positions.

Em can hardly contain herself the way she has been bopping around in her car seat in the back trying to see everything as we head round the Western Perimeter Road at the top of Heathrow Airport. I had already booked the Terminal Five Business Parking as it was an easy way to get mothers wheelchair into the terminal and back via the Pods, but I think Emily will enjoy going on them as well.

As we walked the short distance to the glass Pod Station. One has just left and was starting to make its way up the ramp to cross over the Western Perimeter Road. I was just about to point it out to Em, when she screamed and grabbed my hand with both hands and tried to pull me back to the car, panicking.

“We got to hide.” She called out.

“What?”

“Daleks. A big Dalek. We got to hide. It’ll kill us.”

Em was really frightened. But then when I was seven I hid behind the sofa when the Daleks came on our 19 inch tv screen during Dr Who. And I liked the Daleks. I turned and dropped down wrapping her in my arms in a big hug.

“It’s ok. That’s not a Dalek…”

“It is. Mum, it is. It’s a big Dalek.” Panicked Em back. I hugged her tighter.

“No. it would be a very fat Dalek, if it was. It’s a Pod. It’s a little automatic car that takes us to the Airport where Aunty Carol’s plane will arrive.”

I moved my head back so she could see my face.

“I promise. I would never let anything happen to you. I would never let you not be safe.”

I still felt her grip me tighter. I looked over my shoulder and saw another one of the Pods was just starting down the ramp to the Pod Station.

“There’s one now. Let’s watch it.” I twisted round and held her tight to me.

“Shall we go over and watch it at its little station.”

“No.” She fiercely held onto me.

We stayed where we were and watched. As it pulled in, I could feel her tense up. When the doors opened and a businessman with his case came out, she let out a nervous little laugh, but I felt her relax a little.

“Shall we go and get in one. It’s getting a bit cold out now.” It had been nice and warm when we set off from Lower Steeping earlier. Now there was getting to be a bite in the air.

“Kay.” Em said nervously, gripping my hand as I stood up.

A couple of Pods were waiting in the Pod Station, their doors closed. I let Em peer through the glass into them first, before showing her the touch screen used to open there doors.

“Touch the screen.”

After looking up at me to make sure it was not some kind of trick. Em carefully, quickly touched the screen and pulled her hand back in case it bit back.

“Hello. Where do you want to go.” A soft friendly woman’s voice asked us.

I pointed to the Terminal five square and Em did a quick touch of the screen.

“Your going to Terminal five. Is that ok.” The woman’s soft voice asked us.

Em giggled. She was getting the hang of it, and it was no longer frightening. She pressed the ‘OK’ button and giggled some more as the woman asked us to ‘Please to board your Pod for Terminal Five’ as the Pods double doors slid open for us. Once inside, I showed her the door close button and the start button. She pressed both one after the other. As the Pod backed out. She got up and knelt on the seat to watch where we were going. Big Daleks all forgotten about. It was now an exciting ride. The Pod moved off doing a U turn around the concrete guide way and started up the ramp leading to the bridge over the Western Perimeter Road and Terminal Five in the distance. EM was thoroughly enjoying herself, now, and switched between kneeling on the seat watching where we were going and sitting on it and looking out the side windows in the doors.

“Look! Big planes. Did Aunty Carol come in one of them?”

She pointed to a row of parked British Airways 737’s and Airbuses parked against Terminal air bridges. Looking around in wonder at the approaching wall of glass that was Terminal five.

To be continued…

So my mind was concentrating on the driving and not on what Carol was talking to Em about. Until I heard Em brightly tell Carol.

“Daddy’s taking Mummy dancing on Saturday, and I’m going too. So is Gramps and Grandma.”

This is the story of Penny. A closet Transwoman thrust into the outside world 24-7 when she would rather go and hide away. Perhaps the title should be Welcome to Penny’s Paranoid World…

From part thirteen
"Look! Big planes. Did Aunty Carol come in one of them?”
She pointed to a row of parked British Airways 737’s and Airbuses parked against Terminal air bridges. Looking around in wonder at the approaching wall of glass that was Terminal five.

And now as they say, read on…
I watched Em as she took everything in. You could feel her excitement as she bounced around the Pod wanting to see everything she could see from the windows. Especially when you remembered minutes ago she was in abject fear of her life as she thought the travel Pods were Daleks about to kill us. But now all thought of Daleks were gone in the excitement of riding in the Pod.

What was more pressing for me at the moment was in her panic she called me Mum again as she tried to pull me to safety. That begs the question. How long before Em or one of the Twins let’s that slip to their father. And how will John react to it. Because then, as they say, ‘The shit will hit the fan,’ and the girls are going to be hurt the most from the fallout. And that is even before he knows about the real me.

Although more pertinent for the moment is how my sister Carol is going to react to seeing me both as a female and apparently with a young daughter in tow by my side, when we meet in the next half hour.

In the terminal Em holds on to me, but equally I am holding on to her. In this vast long corridor that looks like it goes on forever. It would be easy to lose a small seven year old girl in the crowd if you were not careful. This turns out not to be a problem after all as Em took hold of my hand with both hands and I then appeared to be towing her along.

I looked down.

“Are your shoes roller skates?”

“Yep.” Said Em with much concentration. She appeared to be balancing on her heels.

The arrivals hall is vast and very impressive. Ok, I am use to small general aviation terminals, even at big airports, but then I have not been in an air terminal of any kind for it must be ten years now. Things may have changed. The only one I have been in since then has been Waterloo Station Terminus at London when going the QAMC hospital this week.

It is hard to believe, but a fortnight ago all this would have been a fantasy. A fairy tale dream if I had known about it. And if someone had told me what was going to happen, I would have thought them mad. I smiled looking down holding Em’s warm hand in mind.

Although I never got to fly the big jets and only flew a BizJet once. Being here among all this hustle and bustle makes me hanker after being back behind the controls again. I did not realise how much I missed flying before now. Then there is a tug on my hand as Em loses and regains her balance. Glancing down at the concentration on her face makes me realise that as much as I would love to fly again. Flying is nothing compared to hopefully being mother to this little girl and her sisters.

At the arrivals board it shows Carol’s flight is running an hour plus late. Since tailwinds normally decrease the flight times across the Pond to us, I am guessing there was a delayed departure.

“Shall we go and have something to eat while we wait. Aunty Carol is going to be a while.”

Em nodded and we set off around the terminal to both find somewhere to nosh and sit and waste time. A visit to Café Nero for food, followed by the loos and a visit to W H Smiths for a couple of comics to keep Em occupied while we were waiting took up the rest of the time before Carol’s flight landed. Another quick visit to the loos for Em when it had, gave me a chance to check my make-up and when Em was done in the loo, I nipped in with her to check my stockings were still tight, making her giggle.

“Just you wait Missy until you are all grown up and decide to wear stockings,” I said grinning. Making her laugh and giggle all the more. But why I did not wear tights, I’ll never know.

Now we were standing waiting about mid-way along the shiny metal handrail that forms the channel for people leaving customs. Well, we were standing a little way back from the rail. I was suddenly nervous of meeting my sister. Afraid of her reaction. Until now those fears had been kept at bay by my having Em to look after. Causing me to reflect that when I was with Em and the Twins I fell too easily into the role of being their mother. Was it due to my own selfish desires that they looked on me as their mother?

I watched Carol come out pushing a baggage trolley looking tired. I saw her glance along the line of waiting people and saw her eyes pass us by without stopping. And then look further around the people standing further back. I let her come round the barrier and stop. Scanning everyone again. Waiting. Thinking I was not there yet. Expecting to see mother’s wheelchair heading for her.

Oh well, here goes nothing. When she was looking at us again, or rather having glanced at us, was looking past us. I raised my left hand to shoulder height and gave her a little hand wave. Her head moved slightly back to us seeing the movement and I gave her another little wave. Her mouth opened and she just looked stunned at me, and then Em. I bent down to Em.

“There she is. I think she’s tired from the flight. Let’s go get her.”

We started to move to Carol and I wondered what we looked like. A tall blonde haired woman with long hair in a red dress and high-heels, holding hands with a seven year old girl with the same long blonde hair and in a red mini-dress as well.

I smiled, perhaps we were a bit too much of a colour coordinated, mother/daughter combination to hit my sister with straight off a six and a half hour flight from America. Plus however long it took to get to the airport in the first place. I had smiled when Em had come downstairs full of herself from her bedroom at Evie’s having changed into a mini me version of me again in her red dress. John had just smiled trying not to laugh, looking at us both. Evie had laughed and hustled us to stand over by the dresser so she could take photos of us. She already had her camera in hand at the ready. Then the Twins had wanted to be in them as well. So the photo session had taken a while before we sat down to eat.

While Em had been changing I made sure to ask the Twins all about their Brownie camp. They had excitedly told me all about the things they would be going to do in great detail. They wanted me to come with their Father on Wednesday evening when he went to collect them from camp, but I had to remind them they were bring their friends home as well, so that was not possible, but I would see them later on and they could tell me all about it on the Sunday when we all went to the beach hut. I kept a wary eye on John, not sure if I was over stepping the mark in saying this. He did not seem bothered, so I hope it was ok.

“Hello, Sis. How are you.” I let go of Em’s hand and give my wide eyed sister a big hug.

“F-fine,” she stuttered looking at me. “Tired.”

As I stepped back she added. “We left late as they had to fix a problem on the plane before we left. So we sat on board for an hour and a half while they did that. Once we were in the air and the seat belts signs were off there was a mad rush for the loos.”

I bent down to Em who was standing tight against me, her hand round my bum holding on to my dress. I put my arm around her and smiled at her and whispered, “Ready.” Em gave me an unsure shake of the head to say, ‘no’.

“It’ll be ok,” I told her and looked up at Carol.

“And this lovely young lady is Emily. She is Evie’s youngest grand-daughter.”

Carol’s eye flitted between Em and me trying to make the connection between us. Taking in the red dresses and the identical hair, courtesy of Melissa. It must have looked like we planned it that way, just for her. Carol put a warm smile on her face and bent down to Em. Not having a daughter was one of my sister’s biggest regrets in life. Only a medical problem stopped her and Carl from trying again after she had her third child, Carl Junior.

“Hello, Emily. You are very pretty. And that’s a lovely dress you’re wearing.”

“Thank-you, Aunty Carol.” Said Em quietly, keeping tight against me.

Carol held out her hand to Em, and gently shook hands with Em. Then Carol and I stood back up.
My hand moved to Em’s and she took a firm hold of it, and I gave it a little squeeze to reassure her.

“Where’s Mom.”

“Ah, she decided not to come. You lost out to Evie and Johnny’s dog, Patch.”

Carol, tired, nodded.

I added. “She was giving him Rich Tea biscuits when she thought no-one was watching. Thus getting undying love from Patch.”

“Oh, ok, sure.” Carol was trying to understand everything and not understanding much of anything. And probably disappointed Mother had decided not to come. Her eyes were still going from me to Em and back again. Un-answered questions filling her eyes.

“Later.” I said softly to her. “I’ll tell you everything tonight when we get home.”

Carol nodded. “Sure. You better, hun.”

We talked a little about her flight as we made our way to the lifts. What the service was like, who was sat next to her. That sort of thing. With Emily there we could not talk about me becoming, or rather finding out I was more girl than boy. As we went down in the lift and across the covered bridge to the carpark. I saw her out of the corner of my eye making curious glances at me. We turned into the Travel Pod area and I let Em run ahead, since she was in full view of us and no one else was there. So she could press the buttons on the screen to open the Pod doors for us.

“She acts like she’s your daughter.” Carol half whispered to me, and then with a knowing look to me, added. “And you act like her mom.”

At the moment, Carol sounds American. By tomorrow morning she will be sounding more English again. My sister soaks up dialects. When she joined the Navy to train as a nurse. The first time she came home on leave, she had a Brum accent. That’s Birmingham in the west midlands of England, UK. Not any of the ones in America or Australia or Canada. And it’ an awful accent. Sorry people from Birmingham. But it is. Funny thing is, she insists that there was no-one from Birmingham on the course!

“Like I said. I’ll tell you all when we get home and it’s just us. Have to pick-up mother up from Evie’s, first though.”

“Yes. Who is Evie again?”

“She and her husband have the farm just up the road from us. Henry likes to go and snooze in the sun in the court yard outside her kitchen door. I don’t think he wonders all that far now, just commutes between home and Evie’s courtyard depending on where the sun is.”

I tell her about Evie and Trish, and the Twins off away at Brownie camp till Wednesday. About John their father, and that Clair next door is now in New Zealand with her daughter who is in hospital having complications with her pregnancy. Then I stopped talking as we were back with Em waiting at the Pod with the doors open.

Carol grins. “Carl junior is going to be so jealous. He has seen these Pod things on YouTube videos, and wants to come over to England just so he can have a ride in one. Oh, and he wants to stay in a Yotel as well, whatever that is.”

She laughed gently shaking her head thinking about it as we entered the Pod. Em pressed the button to close the doors as soon as we were in. Then pressed the start button as soon as we were sat down. Then she sat down beside me looking pleased with herself, her hand seeking to mine to hold onto. I gave it a gentle squeeze and looked down at her and she smiled back up at me.

I realised then we had gone too far down the mother/daughter road to pull back now and reset our relationship. We had bonded. Whatever happened, I was always going to be her mother now, as far as Em was concerned. The trick was to somehow make John realise I was not a threat to the girls as well.

Carol has a slight frown on her face. Probable thinking that I was playing with fire. Well, I knew that already. Instead of saying anything though, she told us about her journey from her home in Laconia, New Hampshire, to Boston’s Logan international airport.

“I suppose I should not complain. But I was hoping to drive across to be honest, it takes only a couple of hours, but Carl and his friend Hank decided to take me in Hank’s little Lear jet. It only has six seats, its tiny, tiny inside, has no loo, it’s like being stuck in a toilet roll tube, it’s so narrow. Ugh, horrible.”

She shook her head as if to shake the memory out of her. “But at least it kept the boys happy and let them play airline pilot again.”

That’s my sister. The only person I know who would complain about getting a lift in a private jet.

“Did the boys fly down with you as well.” She has three boys.

“Just Carl Junior. He was excited by flying in the little jet. The older boys were blasé about it. They have flown in their Dad’s Panatava P68 so many times on holidays that flying to them is boring.”

At the car with Em installed in her car seat. Carol paused by the front passenger door, to watch me go round to the driver’s side.

“You know, Sis. You are beautiful. Have you got a painting of yourself hidden away in the loft getting old?” She grinned at me as I laughed at the idea of being though beautiful.

She grinned. “And all that long blonde hair.”

And she made the sick gesture with her fingers in her mouth and laughed her eyes sparkling with fun. That is the sister I know. Then she looked at me lost in thought for a moment, and smiled wistfully and said quietly, “Just as I remember you were.”

What! I think I did a double take looking back at her, but she was already slipping down into her seat. I quickly dropped down into mine and looked over at her before closing my door. But she said no more about it and started talking to Em.

It was dark as we left the carpark and headed for the M25 motorway going south. Always busy, never short on traffic whatever time of day. If it was too busy. Once we were further round I would pull off and go cross country. It would be quicker in the end and still be using main roads. So my mind was concentrating on the driving and not on what Carol was talking to Em about. Until I heard Em brightly tell Carol.

“Daddy’s taking Mummy dancing on Saturday, and I’m going too. So is Gramps and Grandma.”

“Really.”

“Yes. Cus Mummy’s forgotten her memory. And Daddy has to woo her again.”

What! Em said this with all the innocence of a seven year old.

Give me my due, I didn’t crash the car. But I could feel my chest, neck and face burning up all the same as I knew my sister would be watching me.

“Real-lly.” Said Carol slowly. “Are you looking forward to the dance.”

“Oh yes.” Em said, warming to the subject. “Daddy will kiss Mummy and everything will be alright.”

I could feel Carol’s eyes boring into me. And there was no chance she was going to think Em was talking about someone else. Thank-god the twins were not going to be there. I think they would be directing proceedings if they were. Those two are very hands on.

“It’s going to be like the sixties when they were young.” Em continues. “With old records from a museum, Lizzy said with Sid Naturta. He flew to the moon. And someone called Beatlhills.” Em proudly tells us.

“So it’s going to be fun, then.” I can hear the amusement in my sister's voice.

“Oh yes. I’m going to dance with mummy and daddy.”

I was glad I was driving and Carol could not ask me any questions with Em in the car. But, oh boy was I going to get them later on. With luck she would have so many questions, that she would forget some of them. Hopefully most of them.

I had forgotten about the dance. I do not actually think I said I was going. Although as far as Em and I guess everybody else is concerned, they thought I was.

Both my girls were tired and thankfully they fell asleep as we travelled on roads away from the M25 in the darkness. It was like old times when Carol was a naval nurse. When she went to a new base after leave. I would drive her and mother there with her trunk and anything else she wanted to take with her in the boot. Then on the way home mother would fall asleep feeling guilty for not keeping awake to keep me company. Even though I always told her I did not mind. I have always found driving in the dark enjoyable.

It gave me time to think of the mess I was in. which seemed to get worse with every minute of the day at the moment.

I woke Carol when we were about ten minutes from home, or in this case. Apple Tree Farm. Evie’s home, so we could drop off one tired little girl and collect another one and her wheelchair.

After I pulled up outside. I got a sleepy Em out with her arms wrapped around my neck. As soon as I had pulled her out of the car her legs went round my hips and she settled back down to sleep with her head resting on my shoulder. The hard work done, the front door opened and Evie, John and Johnny came out to greet us and welcome Carol.

“Here, let me.” John went to take Em from me.

But she grizzled and held on tighter round my neck like last time, thwarting her father’s attempts to take her from me.

“Why don’t you take her up to bed, Penny?” Evie had turned from greeting Carol to us. “John, why don’t you stay the night. Then if she sleeps in, you and dad can get on with your work. Without having to wait or wake her up to bring her down here.”

We go inside with Carol watching the three of us. I did not fancy carrying Em up around Evie’s narrow Farmhouse staircase in five inch heels. So I kicked them off and lent against the wall getting my ankles use to being back on terra-firma again before tackling the stairs. Looking at John I saw him grinning.

“What?”

“Oh, sorry Penny. It’s just that Suzy use to do same thing, kicking off her heels when holding the twins after being out. Said she would fall flat back on her bum if she didn’t.”

I grinned. “She was right, too.”

I turned to the stairs and started up them. “You coming up behind us.”

“Yep. I got your arse covered.”

Before I could reply to that. A sleepy Em must have opened her eyes.

“Hi Daddy.” A sleepy little voice murmured.

Downstairs, I could hear mother had discovered Carol was here.

“Oh my, oh my darling. I must be dreaming. You’re not here. I must be dreaming. But it’s a lovely dream.”

“I am, I am here, Mom.”

“Oh, oh, oh.” I could hear mother staring to cry, pleased just beginning to understand Carol was here.

I sat down on Em’s bed in the girl’s bedroom. Evie had left her nighty out ready.

“You hold her and I’ll undress her.” John said. “This is a lot easier with two of us, isn’t it.” He added.

I had not intended to stay in the bedroom really, but with Em sat firmly in my lap facing me. We soon had her undressed and her nighty on, and tucked up in bed. She was fast asleep as soon as she settled down.

As we went downstairs John asked if she had behaved herself. Perfectly I told him.

“For such a slim little girl. You wouldn’t think she could be so heavy, would you.” John said. “How are your arms.”

“Fine, thanks.” I slipped my heels back on and saw him watching me. “Don’t want to get cramp again.” I said with a smile.

“Well, you can always call on me. If that happens.” He said with a grin.

Good job Carol did not hear that. More questions I would not want to answer.

The kitchen was empty. So we moved to the sitting room, where Evie was showing Carol the video from when we went to the Beach Hut. They were watching me playing Frisbee with the girls on the beach. The only unoccupied seats, were on the sofa. John and I sat down side by side. Carol looked over to me and mouthed ‘Wearing a bikini.’ Then nodded to the tv screen still looking at me, as if to say, ‘what an interesting conversation we are going to have when we get home’.

I needed to talk to Evie about what that little girl has said today. Both to my sister and to me before then, but did not get the chance at the farmhouse. I will have to ring her tomorrow morning before Carol gets up. With luck she will sleep in. Evie had nipped down and put the heating on for me, so the bungalow was nice and warm.

After I had taken a protesting Mother to the loo, she settled down in her chair and was soon fast asleep almost as quickly as Em had been. Carol came into the sitting room already in her pyjamas.

“I have so many questions for you that I can’t think straight. So I’ll just ring Carl to let him know all is ok, if that alright. And then I am going to bed. But in the morning, girl. Lots of questions coming your way.”
She did the cheek to cheek thing. Never done that before with me. I wished her good-night. And went into the kitchen and made a cup of tea.

Carol always asks if she can ring Home in New Hampshire. I have told her she does not need to ask, but she always does. There was a quiet meow beside me and Henry jumped up for a stroke and a fuss and a bedtime snack. I got his favourite dry food out and he was soon crunching away.

I took my tea into the sitting room and saw mother sleeping with a happy smile on her face. In the morning she will tell me she had a lovely dream. She dreamt Carol was here. When I tell her she is, she will be excited all over again. Henry comes and jumps up into my lap and settles down, purring. There is something nice about sitting here drinking my tea with a cat in my lap in just the warm glow of the night light.

To be continued…

Time for Dancing

This is the story of Penny. A closet Transwoman thrust into the outside world 24-7 when she would rather go and hide away. Perhaps the title should be Welcome to Penny’s Paranoid World…

From part fourteen
I took my tea into the sitting room and saw mother sleeping with a happy smile on her face. In the morning she will tell me she had a lovely dream. She dreamt Carol was here. When I tell her she is, she will be excited all over again. Henry comes and jumps up into my lap and settles down, purring. There is something nice about sitting here drinking my tea with a cat in my lap in just the warm glow of the night light.

And now as they say, read on…
I woke up early, although I guess it is about the normal time. It just seems early today. For some reason I think about staying in bed longer this morning. The chance of a lie in does not happen often, and it is almost always when Carol is here. I went to bed at eleven (early for me) and seeing as I only ever get to sleep for around five hours at night at most, even with the usually disruptions. A glance at the clock showed it was already gone five, so I have already had an hours lay-in as it is. It just does not feel like it.

On the other hand my back is aching like crazy and I want a buprenorphine tablet and I forgot to leave a foil of them on my bedside table last night. So if I want, I have to get up. Mother is quiet. A press of the tv button on the monitor showed she was still fast asleep, Fred held close, his face sticking up from under her favourite sky blue blanket.

Over on the other side of my bed Henry was lent against me stretched out to his full length. Front paws ahead of him, back legs stretched out behind him. A pair of half opened eyes watched me. Sure that he had my attention, he rolled onto his back and tried to reach me with his paws stretched as he continued to watch me up-side down for a while. The white fur on his tummy and jaw making me think of an up-side down crocodile for some reason. Then he rolled onto his side and curled up into a loose ball with a purr with his head still up-side down looking at me, and then fell asleep trying to keep his eyes open with the tip of his tongue stuck out the way it did when he was a kitten.

Obviously his tummy had not said breakfast time yet. I gently touched his tongue and it withdraw back inside. There was a quick purr and a further making himself comfortable and he was back asleep.

If only I could go to sleep like that. My aim at night is to try and have at least four hours of sleep and then try to have another hour spent dozing in the chair with a cup of tea after I have taken care of mother’s needs in the morning. Then usually around five in the afternoon I try and sit down and listen to ‘PM’ (an hour long news program before the six o’clock news,) on Radio Four. Except I often fall asleep during it, but the sleep is light enough so that if mother wants to go to the loo or is hungry, I will hear her.

No other sounds so Carol must still be asleep.

I get up and find Carol is already in the kitchen and putting the kettle on as I come in. I must have fallen back asleep. A glance at the kitchen clock shows it is five-forty. Yep, must have done.

“I heard you stirring. Knew you would get up. How is the back this morning?”

I grin, ‘So-so’, making a motion with my hand.

“Carrying Emily last night can’t have helped.”

“Yeah, well. She wouldn’t let John take her from me. She’s got a grip like a vice when she wants to.”

That got a raised eyebrow, but nothing was said.

“Toast.”

“Yes, why not.”

We always have hot butter toast first thing in the morning when Carol is here. I never do when she is not here. I tend to have cold buttered toast as a night time snack. Same goes for cornflakes. Strictly a just before bed-time food for me.

“So,” said Carol when we both had half eaten toast in our hands. “How long have you been living full time as a girl really? Clearly not just from last week, how you said on the phone. Last night your make-up was perfect and that adorable little girl knows who her mommy is. I‘ve had three kids, I know children and I am really, really jealous of you. I get three boys for all my hard work in the baby making department. One week and you have three girls demanding you are their mom.” My sister looked at me with fake disgust. “Look at you. Even now with your hair all tousled from bed and no make-up on you still look all girl.”

She pulled a face of exasperation. “And how the hell do you get to suddenly look that good and like you’re only in your thirties. I mean, you’re only three years younger than me. Damn it.”

Then added with a wry smile after a moment. “You sure you haven’t an aging painting hidden in the loft somewhere.”

I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know. You can always go up and take a look if you want.”

Then more seriously I continued. “I don’t know. I really don’t know. I guess it is something to do with my weirdly not having started puberty for thirty odd years after I should have done. They gave me a couple of rather painful injections in the backside to kick-start it. That’s why they want to open me up and check me out, inside. I guess.”

Carol’s face changed. I watched it drop. “I spoke to my doctor about that, and he spoke to others, specialists, for me. They said your case was really rare. I mean, really, really rare. Especially given your age. They all said they would want you in hospital petty damn quick to check you out. If you had been over there. They had all got back to my doctor to make sure you wasn’t in the US. Too whip you straight in.” She paused. “What did your doctors say?”

“I know it’s daft,” I said stopping to think. “But, I don’t really remember to be honest what Ann told me. I remember more her wanting me to go up to see someone else and finding that it was Alec Williams. I was surprised as I thought he was a bit full of himself at the Trish’s dinner party. He didn’t say what he did. I thought that he was maybe lower down the scale of things, their. It was a surprise to find he was the head of Psychiatry there and had been putting on a show at Trish’s to see how I reacted to them. I found him nice and caring. And then Malcom came in and said they had some more results back and that he wanted me to stay in overnight, but I told them that was just not possible and I would ask you if you could come over and look after mother. And then I could come in.”

I did not say anything about Malcom’s fear about possibly finding something cancerous in the male or female bits, and that was what was worrying him. I just felt if it had happened, it had happened. Either it was treatable, or not.

Or that I did not care which it was so long as Mother and Henry were taken care of. I did not think the being a girl thing however much I wanted it to happen, was going to survive. I was sure it would blow up in my face at some point and I would then lose everything I had gained.

Carol came up and held me. “Why didn’t you say? I would have been over the next day.”

I shrugged. This was getting more than I could emotionally handle at the moment. I was keeping it down by just not thinking about it. “You’re here, now.” I said. Was all I could say.

Carol seemed to realise, and changed the subject.

“So. How long have you had that good-looking widower drooling all over you, and how long have you really been playing mom to his kids?” she said that smiling, teasingly.

I laughed. “I don’t think he’s drooling.”

“Are you kidding me. He only had eyes for you, last night………” She whistled.

I have never heard my sister whistle before. I laughed. That frustrated her.

“Like I said. You can’t get a little girl to act like you’re her mom in just a week, Pa… sis.”

She covered slipping up and nearly calling me Paul. “Well she and her sisters, did. That’s all I can say. And their father didn’t bat an eyelid, either.”

Do I want to say I just happen to look like their dead mother? It sounds rather creepy when I think about explaining it.

She looks at me quizzically. “Are you sure this is all ok. Are You, ok? You only found out you’re a girl after a living a lifetime as a guy. And already you seem to have a family ready and waiting for you. What about the guy, he’s taking you dancing to night. Isn’t he.”
Another thought hit her. “And did he hold your hand when you were sitting on the sofa last night. I thought he did.”

Did he? I don’t remember that. But Carol must have thought she had seen something to make her think that. I realised she was still talking.

“…and what do you know about him. Do you know where he’s taking you? Is it safe for you there? What if he tries something? You did look hot last night. At the airport it completely threw me. Most men might think at your age, looking the way you do, that sex was on the cards afterwards.”

It was tumbling out of her. Her worries, her fears for my safety. It was hard to believe what was happening myself. All I knew was I felt a connection with the girls and especially with Emily. And while I was not sure about my feelings towards men and sex. I did feel something for John. I had from the start, just as I had for the girls. Men wise I found Cary Grant handsome and was Grace Kelly in my head when watching To Catch A Thief. But apart from that, nothing. I did find beautiful women attractive. Sultry blondes would be my weak point. They were very kissable. And I guess they are how I want to emulate in my own way of dressing. Problem is I can’t afford to hire two men to carry a fine mesh screen around in front of me to get the soft focus look of the old movies!

Carol had stopped talking and was looking at my boobs. I still had the fake ones stuck on.

“Have you had a boob Job?”

I shook my head grinning. “No, their fake. Want to see.”

“Please.”

She moved in close as I slipped the straps off my shoulders, baring my fake bosom to her intense gaze.

“Can I touch them?”

“Sure,” I nod. And fascinated, Carol tenderly touches them. Even though I cannot feel them, I know her fingers touch is feather light as she explores them. She cups them gently in her palms. A small smile on her face.

“I know they feel,” she glances up at me. “I mean the surface, I suppose their skin, feels like… I don’t know, soft plasticy?” She looks up again. “No, wrong word, but the weight, how they move, that all feels right.”

“Yeah, I know. But there not real. I can’t wear a top that shows cleavage. Unless I have a dark sheer top over them to hide the join. You can see they are fake, otherwise, if you can clearly see them.”

She nods, looking up at me again. Thinking. “What if they were real. I mean while you are at the hospital on Tuesday. Would they do a boob job at the same time?”

“A bit short notice. I don’t know.”

“Let’s ring that doctor you saw in the village and find out. I’ll pay. I can only stay two weeks. So we need to do it now so I can look after you. The first week is hell afterwards.”

“You’ve not had a boob job, have you?”

Carol laughs shaking her head. “No thanks. Although Carl wouldn’t complain.” Then. “What is it with American men and big boobs? It’s a national obsession.”

She shook her head again. “No, my friend Jill had hers done. She thought they were too big at first and had made a terrible mistake, but after the swelling went down. She wished she had gone for a size bigger.”

Carol bursts out giggling. “I don’t think she doesn’t have a dress that doesn’t show her cleavage off, now. But she claims her sex life has improved no end.”

Carol’s now laughing.

“Is anybody their?”

We both look and head for the sitting room saying the same thing. “Mother.”

I’m embarrassed. With my fake boobs peeled off I feel even more naked than I did at the hospital, though I am only topless. Malcom is examining my chest. Ann did the check-up last time at the hospital. I tell myself I am being stupid, but Malcom being a man makes it feel more embarrassing.

“Ok, you can put your top on, Penny.” He tells me in his soft Scottish burr. “Are you sure you don’t want to wait until you can see what effect the hormones have on your body? You could end up with bigger breasts than you want.”

We talk about it. Carol adds she has to go back to New Hampshire in a fortnight and that I am not going to change my mind on being a woman, and she can look after me and mother for that first painful week, at least. And doing it at the same time as the exploratory op, would make one less operation to have later on.

Malcom after talking to Ann and the hospital on the phone, agrees. But I have to go to the hospital a day early. Monday afternoon just after lunch so Ann can check me over and help me decide on the size of the implants. She will do the breast augmentation while Malcom is doing the exploratory.

I could tell Carol had more questions, but she held them back saying no more about it. She would come back to them later. When she is here she takes over looking after mother. Mind you letting her do that I find incredibly difficult to do. It is hard to just stop doing what you automatically do the rest of the time.

Carol has suggested in the past I take myself off for a few days to rest and relax. I did try doing that, but found just as I was starting to relax, it was time to head back home again. Three or five days do not really work. You need longer, and I do not have that amount of time if I want to see my sister as well. And when she use to ask me what I wanted to go and do, my mind was a blank, anyway.

I know Carol is watching me when she can with a little smile on her lips. Sort of funny really as when I did finally go away. I went up to Lancashire to see Suki, a make-up artist who did make overs for transsexuals and her friend Jasmine pierced my ears for me in her salon. When I got back Carol did her nut when she saw my pierced ears. She says she likes having a big brother. Even if I am really three years younger than her.

In the afternoon Evie calls to tell me Emily is fretting about her dress for tonight and will it match what I am wearing. She wants to bring it down so I wear a dress that matches hers. Evie asks if that is ok, as Em is just getting more and more worked up about it.

We spend the next hour and a half with Em buried deep in my wardrobe thoroughly enjoying herself. From first sight I know the dress I will be wearing. It is the one I planned to wear anyway. Evie must have made it for Em this week as it is a near perfect copy of my 1960s Yellow Biba mini-dress. The one I wore to the beach hut last week. So that is my dress for tonight. Luckily it is not one that ends an inch under my bum. I can wear stocking for that early sixties look with my four inch heel sling-backs. Ok, for early sixties they should be low heels. I do have some yellow two inch high sling-backs as well, but they hurt my ankles. I cannot wear low heels for some reason. They make my ankles ache.

I have asked Carol if she wants to come over this evening, and l’ll pop back to sit with mother, but she is quite happy to let my feet do the dancing, not hers. And to be honest, I did not expect her to want too, but had to ask just in case. Mind you Carol will still hear the music with the Village Hall just about opposite us, as it is just a bit over to the left opposite Clair’s house.

With I guess maybe less than half an hour to go, I have a tummy full of butterflies fluttering around there, I am sitting trying to decide when I should go over. I do not want to go too early and be there before Evie and Em and the boys arrive. It would be awkward if someone asks me to dance. So maybe I should wait. Evie will ring to say they are there and where I am. My thoughts are stopped by the phone ringing.

“Hello.”

“Hello Mummy, we’ll be with you in a minute. We’re in the car now.”

“It’s ok, sweetie. The village hall is just across the lane from me. I’ll meet you there.”

“Nooo, mummy. It’s important. We must be together.”

It is clearly important to Emily that we go in together. So. “Ok, Emily. I’ll wait for you.”

“Were here!” is her triumphant reply.

“Ok, I’ll come on out. See you in a moment.” I say trying not to laugh.

“Nooo, mummy. It’s important. Daddy has to come and get you. You have to wait for him.”

“Well. There is a knock on the door. I wonder who that can be?”

“Yesss.”

Carol has heard all this and is grinning her head off. Trying not to laugh. I give her the phone. She takes it, nodding at the door “I believe that’s for you.”

I laugh, “Yes, I think so too. See you later, sis.” And go and open the door to see a bemused John standing there.

“I believe a young lady has given you your orders, kind sir.”

“Yes, indeed she has.” He says turning and offering me his arm.

Which I slip my arm in and am escorted down to his Tesla. He opens the back door driver’s side for me and I get in. Emily is in the middle with Evie over by the other door. Johnny’s in the front passenger seat and turns round to greet me. Em is fit to explode and giggles excitedly grabbing and hugging my arm as I put my seat belt on. John closes my door for me.

“Hi Evie, Johnny. Hello little miss. You look very nice tonight, young lady. That is a beautiful tiara you have on your hair.” I bend round studying her face closely. “And do I detect you have some make-up on too?”

This causes Em to break into a fit of more giggles while nodding her head.

Evie smiles at me. “Hello Penny, you look especially radiant tonight”.

“Thank-you, Evie. So do you.”

With John back behind the wheel, we pull away going further down the village, away from the village hall. Past the stone arch on the left that is The Hall’s side entrance with its eight foot high solid wooden gates that have not been closed in years. In fact I have never seen them closed. The arch has a stone lioness lying on top of it casually licking her paw with her tail curled round her body. It fascinates me. I have always wanted to go up on a ladder and get a closer look at her. She always makes me smile and want to stroke her. I am sure it was the lady of the house who had her put up there.

We turn left onto Back Lane. The Hall has an eight foot high stone wall around its grounds. It keeps us company on our left until a break of two tall stone pillars mark the main entrance to the Hall’s drive. Last summer when I pushed mother round Back lane the tall iron gates had a chain and padlock on them locking them closed. For as long as I can remember they have always been left open like the side entrance. A quick glance as we past showed they were still padlocked closed. The lane keeps curving round to the left. Past the entrance to Jill and Nigel Brown’s Back Beck Farm on the right. They were at Evie’s dinner party last week.

Even the Hall’s working entrance to its apple orchard had a stone arch, all be it a very plain since it is just for the workers in the past. It has one very battered wooden gate that is normally left closed.

We keep on going round to the left until we reached the village green where Back Lane splits into two to form two sides of the triangle that is the village green. The final side being Village Lane that goes from the junction with the Mid-Steeping/Great Steeping road. All the way down past the village hall and my place, past Back Lane turn-off until it veers hard left to pass the church and vicarage on its right and then it’s the ford across the river Beck to end just around the corner at the locked gate to the farm track in the field beyond.

In the middle of the village green is our medieval church cross, the top of which is long gone. It has a stepped base four worn steps high. We keep left passing it on the right to head back down to the village hall. With the stone cross being just a stone pillar now. Every time I see it. I think of Kim Basinger in Sean Connery’s last Bond film being auctioned off to the Bedouin in her underwear by her baddy husband for getting passionate with old man Bond. Except in my mind she is naked and has her hands chained up above her head, and is being ravished by another beautiful blonde. That being, Me – if I ever end up marrying John, those fantasy’s will have to stay firmly locked away never to happen!

We pass Apple Tree Farm, Evie and Johnny’s farm. Then moments later we are over the hidden little bridge and around the corner and turning in and heading to the carpark behind the village hall. As we walk to the hall, a happy Em makes sure she has a firm grip on one of my hands, with her Father’s hand in her other hand. With Evie and Johnny behind us. This is the first time I have been here outside of coming to vote at general elections or local Parish Council elections. I have never been to a village dance before, or one of the pig roasts.

As we enter, Sonny and Cher’s classic is belting out of the sound system. I see everybody has made an effort to dress sixties style. Well, the girls anyway.

“…Well I don't know if all that's true
'Cause you got me, and baby, I got you

Baby, I got you babe, I got you, babe

They say our love won't pay the rent
Before it's earned our money's always spent…”

Before we are six feet in, one of John’s friends greets us. One hand holding a half full plastic pint glass and his other wrapped around a pretty girl’s waist, several months pregnant with her bump stating to show.

“Hey, John. See you’re treating the old lady, tonight, for once.” He grins at me. “Hi darling. He keep you chained to the kitchen sink, does he. We never see you in the ‘Waggon’. This here is Sherry. She’s got a bun in the oven, too.” Then realising he may have made a gaff. “Not that you have one in the oven at the moment. You’re a slim thing. But you’ve already been practising in that department.” Then adds cheerfully smiling at Emily and looking back up to me. “But you might get lucky with the old devil tonight and have another.”

“No thank-you.” I tell him grinning. “Three is enough.” Hell. Why did I say that.

Sherry shakes her head and mouths ‘Sorry’ to me. I shake my head to say, it’s ok. And she hauls him off slightly staggering to sit down at the back of the hall.

“Sorry, about that.” John tells me, then turns to Johnny. “Shall we get the girls a drink, dad.” And then back to me. “What would you like Penny?”

“Just a Coca-Cola, no alcohol, thanks.” I tell him.

“And what would you like, young lady.” He says bending down to Em.

“Fizzy orange, please, daddy. And can I have some crisps.” She adds hopefully.

With that off they go to the temporary bar set up by the Waggon & Horses Landlord near the kitchen door, where burgers, hot-dogs and sausage rolls will be sold later on. We find three empty chairs along the side and sit down.

Evie tells me, grinning. “Notice how you were asked what you wanted to drink. Johnny just assumes what I want.”

I laugh saying. “That’s marriage for you.”

“Ha, you wait, girl.” Evie says laughing. “Till John does the same to you.”

I just shrug, grinning. I can’t say anything with Emily here.

“…I got you to walk with me, I got you to talk with
I got you to kiss goodnight, I got you to hold me tight
I got you I won't let go, I got you to loves me so…”

The boys arrive back with the drinks on a tray as the DJ mixes seamlessly to the next song.

“…There she was just walkin' down the street
Singin', "Do wah diddy, diddy, dum diddy do"
Snappin' her fingers and shufflin' her feet
Singin', "Do wah diddy diddy, dum diddy do…”

“Come on, Em.”

I take Emily’s hand, and lead her to the edge of the dancing throng a couple of feet from Evie and the boys, and start to do my sixties version of dancing on the spot. Courtesy of watching the dvd of A Hard Days Night far too many times. Em enthusiastically joins in copying me. We even do a little bit of twisting when The Peppermint Twist started playing.

“…Well, you like it like this, the Peppermint Twist
It goes round and round, up and down
Round and round, up and down…”

Which mixes into Sugar Pie Honey Bunch.

"I can't help myself
No I can help myself
Sugar pie honey bunch…”

Then as it ends.

“…Ding-Ding (ships bell), Radio Caroline on 199 your all day music station, Ding-Ding, ”

Every now and again between the records the DJ is playing old Radio Caroline jingles from the Pirate radio station. I smile as I use to have a poster of the MV Mi Amigo, the ship that Radio Caroline use to transmit from off the Essex coast on my wardrobe.

“…Hey! Mr. tambourine man, play a song for me
I'm not sleepy and there ain't no place I'm going to
Hey! Mr. tambourine man, play a song for me
In the jingle jangle morning, I'll come followin' you…”

Three or four songs later I am pooped, and we go back to the others. Except of course we have only three chairs and we are four adults and one junior miss. The drinks are on the middle chair with Evie sitting on Johnny’s lap. Evie grins mischievously at me and calls to Em to come sit beside her on the middle chair as she takes the tray off it. I look daggers at Evie, while she smiles sweetly back at me as Em sits down. I could have sat there and Em sat on my lap.

Now I am left standing like an idiot next to the man the boys are deep in conversation with. He has to be a farmer, because despite not being in his work wear of ancient flat cap, battered jacket with torn top pocket over tatty overalls. Farmers just have a way of looking like farmers somehow, however they are dressed.

There are three farms in the village. Evie and Johnny’s Apple Tree Farm being the biggest with the best boy toys on it, then there is Jill and Nigel Brown’s Back Beck Farm on Back Lane. And at the top of the village is Field Farm. Don’t know who lives there now. The last lot, a pair of former hippies, got hauled off by the fuzz for growing cannabis in its big barn. They are currently guests of Her Majesty’s Prisons. So I guess this is the new guy.

I look frustrated back at Evie who continues to look sweetly back at me as I stand there looking like an idiot. John suddenly realises I am left standing and puts his pint down and smiling at me, closes his legs together and motions me to sit on his lap.

Heart thumping, I smile nervously and sit down as if his pants are on fire. He puts a protective arm around my waist while retrieving his pint from the floor, and carries on talking to the mystery man..

After Em has had a drink from her fizzy orange. I hold onto it while she has her packet of smoky bacon crisps John brought back for her. Only to get a little dig in the ribs from John, I look up to see the man is speaking to me. He is smiling and I just catch just the end of what he is saying.

“…well, I’ll let you enjoy the dance, Mrs Farmer.”

I smile back and nod my head and that seems the right thing to do as he smiles back and leaves us. My mind is still thinking, what is, John thinking about all this. Emily has clearly called me Mum while phoning me from the car. He must have heard her. And now this man thinks I am John’s wife. And I am sitting on his lap as if I was his wife. And he has not said a thing about it. Maybe he is going to wait until Em is in bed and then ask me ‘What the Hell, do I think I am playing at!’

Later on, we are dancing. I mean proper dancing, close-up together holding hands dancing. My right one in his left one, my left hand on his shoulder. His right hand burning a hole through my dress in my back. Doris Day is providing the reason for getting up close together and hanging on to each other.

"…I yearn to be kissed
(Move over darling)
How can I resist
(Move over darling)
You captured my heart and now that I’m no longer free
Make love to me…"

You keep quite Doris. I’m in enough trouble as it is, without giving him ideas. I wish Carol had not said to me what she said earlier. I do hope he is not listening to the words, or my beating heart hammering away.

Evie and I are talking with Zoey MacTavish. Like me, Zoey has a tired child on her lap. In her case her six year old daughter, April. Me, Em. Both are desperately trying to stay awake and failing. Evie signals to Johnny and John over at the bar, the time, and they come over. It is nine-thirty and way past both little girl’s bed-time. We say good-night to Zoey and April and head out of the Village Hall for the Tesla. When we get there. As John un-locks the doors, Johnny takes Em, telling me.

“You get in front, love. I’ll take her.” He takes Em’s arms from around my neck and she sleepily swaps body’s holding her as he quietly says, “Come here, sausage.”

He eases himself into the back seat holding her to sit beside Evie. I close the door and get in the front forgetting I only live across the road. At Apple Tree Farm, Evie leans forward putting a hand on my arm, stopping me from opening my door to get out.

“It’s ok, Penny. We’ll pop her to bed. You two go off and have something to eat. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Before I can do or say anything. They are both out and John has the Tesla turned in a tight circle and back out onto Village Lane and heading up to the main road.

“You hungry?”

“Um, yes.” I say, unsure of what is happening.

“That’s good, I’ve got a table booked for us at the Station Arms.”

To be continued…

A dance, a meal, and a kiss

This is the story of Penny. A closet Transwoman thrust into the outside world 24-7 when she would rather go and hide away. Perhaps the title should be Welcome to Penny’s Paranoid World…

From part fifteen
At Apple Tree Farm, Evie leans forward putting a hand on my arm, stopping me from opening my door to get out.
“Its ok, Penny. We’ll pop her to bed. You two go off and have something to eat. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Before I can do or say anything. They are both out and John has the Tesla turned in a tight circle and back out onto Village Lane and heading up to the main road.
“You hungry?”
“Um, yes.” I say, unsure of what is happening.
“That’s good, I’ve got a table booked for us at The Station Arms.”

And now as they say, read on…

In a car, it takes barely six minutes to go from Lower Steeping to Mid-Steeping. They were the longest and shortest six minutes of my life. I had a quick glance over at John who seemed calm and not cross with me. He even had a small smile on his lips I thought. I only wish my heart would stop thumping like crazy. And I really am not sure if he wants to woo me or accuse me over how the girls are behaving concerning me. Or how I will react to either situation if he brings it up. And it’s daft, I know it is, but I feel a closeness between us when we are next to each other, as if we have been together a long time and not just a few times over the last couple of weeks.

Anyway, we are almost at Mid-Steeping now. Over on our right with a field between us are the lights of the houses on The Sixties Estate where all the roads are named after sixties pop stars. Everly Close, Richard Avenue, Marvin Lane. That sort of thing. Then we are past the village road sign and the roadside hedges give way to the 1930’s semi’s built between the wars. Before we have past them and are up by the Co-op’s little supermarket. John slows and turns left onto Station Lane, and moments later turns left again to go down the back of the 1930s semi’s rear gardens with the River Beck on our right.

At one time this use to be just a dirt track running between the back gardens and the river. But then people started to avoid paying to use the Railway Station car park by coming down the track to park on the grass verge of the riverbank. Then the parish council had to put down a single lane of tarmac to stop the break-up of the dirt track. Then when a few stupid people forgot to put their hand brakes on and got out to watch their cars roll down into the river. They had to put a metal crash barrier along the top of the bank to stop that happening. Before you know it they will tarmac it all over and add a parking ticket machine to pay for it all.

I held onto John’s arm as we walked the hundred feet back to Station Lane. In the quiet of the evening you could hear my high-heels tapping on the tarmac as well as the slap of my heels on my mules as we walked. I had ditched the idea of wearing the high-heel sling-backs in the end, as they were too high for the sixties. I did try my low heel sling-backs again, but they still pinched my toes and having blisters on them at the end of a nights dancing was not my idea of fun. So I got my pair of yellow four inch stiletto heel mules out instead. Did I mention I love my stiletto heel mules? I have about five pairs in different colours at home.

The Station Arms is all old world on the outside, but was extensively refitted inside a few years ago. It still looks old inside with plenty of oak panelling all over the place. But the four or five rooms that use to be on the ground floor are gone, replaced by one big room around a centre core that has inside it the staircase going up stairs and the cellar steps going down to the still cellar. The pub bar runs along the front and curves around to go part of the way down left side with the restaurant being in the long single story part of the building alongside the river.

John spoke to a young woman in a black cocktail dress at a raised lectern on the end of the bar on the left side end. She led us to a small alcove at the far end of the restaurant with a table for two with a little Reserved card on it. It was against an angled corner window that looked out on the fairy lights strung on poles going down the river bank going to the water’s edge. Their lights mixed with the coloured lights on the side of building to magically reflect and dance on the rivers surface.

After giving us menus and asking if we would like any drinks, she left us. The menu gave us a choice of the a-la-carte menu, or a number of set two or three course meals.

While we were perusing the menu a horrible thought struck me. We were sitting at an angle to the rest of the diners and I was wearing a mini-dress and stockings and... I quickly slipped my hand down and cautiously ran it along my thigh to my dress hem to check all was well and I was not flashing my stocking tops at the rest of the diners. Although to be honest if I had, there was not much I could have done about it. But I was relieved to find I was not.

John looked up at me smiling. “I hope you’re having a pleasant evening. I know I sort of sprung this on you.”

“Yes, I am. Thank-you. I haven’t been dancing in ages.” Make that, never, if you exclude dancing around the kitchen in the bungalow to the radio.

John nodded. “Good.”

The girl in the black cocktail dress returned with our drinks and I noticed she had on black velvet super-high heeled court shoes showing toe cleavage which I rather liked. I was tempted to admire them and ask where she got them. Maybe I could get some on-line. We said “Thank-you,” to her for our drinks and gave her our food order. I watched her walk away a little envious of her shoes and wishing I had said something to her.

Food wise we both had decided on the same thing. The two course Roast of the Day: Roast beef, runner beans and brussel sprouts, yorkshire pudding and roast potatoes. Followed by ice cream for dessert and a pot of tea for two. Neither of us felt like having a starter.

Then we both kind of froze wondering what to say to each other. I wanted to ask how things on the farm were going. But, seeing as you could write what I knew about farming on a pin head. I said nothing. Then we both tried to talk at once. Both of us stopped for the other one to continue and then both giggled at ourselves for both doing the same thing. Well I giggled and John did a sort of manly chuckled.

I motioned John to go ahead. He asked if I was sure, and I nodded yes. He nodded back slowly. I guess thinking about what he was going to say, then looked over at me.

“I, ah... I wanted to say sorry for how the girls have been behaving. I know they have been calling you, Mum.”

I shook my head nervously. “It’s ok. I’m not complaining. I’ve spent the last eight years looking after my parents. It’s kind of nice. Something I never thought I would hear. When Carol married and went to live in the States, it left me to care for our parents or put them in a home as they got older. And I couldn’t do that. So I became a sort of modern day Victorian spinster looking after them.” Then I add quickly, “So I don’t mind. I mean, so long as that’s alright with you, that is. Emily’s very sweet. I adore her. The Twins as well.”

I looked down not sure of how he would reply. Thankfully John nodded and smiled. And I smiled back, relieved.

“This last week.” He continued, “Emily has opened up enormously. Something no one else has been able to get her to do. When she climbed up into your lap that first night and snuggled down on you. When we were playing monopoly with the girls. That was amazing. The first time she has responded to anyone apart from her grandparents and me.”

A waitress arrives with our food. It is tastefully laid out with a decent amount of food and a decent pot of gravy each. Conversation stops as we start to eat. Apart from comments to each other on how nice it was.

I popped some roast beef in my mouth, the thick sliced meat seeming to melt in my mouth and was scrumptious. John cut into his Yorkshire pudding, which was not any shape I have seen before. I had forgotten about the Yorkshire pudding and had been trying to figure out what on earth it was. To my delight I found the runner beans were cooked just how I liked them, which is soft, and covered in gravy.

After the main course and while waiting for the desert to arrive. John spoke almost to himself, but too me.

“The girls were too young to know Suzie before she died. The Twins were only five, Emily only three. The Twins had each other. They have always been close the way twins are. But Emily… I think…” he looks at me. “You know you look so like Suzie. You could have been twin sisters. I think the girls see the photo’s I keep of her in the house to try and keep their mother alive for them in some way, so they don’t forget her. And then they see you, and to them you and Suzie are both the same. So in their mind, you must somehow be their mother, too.” he grinned at me and smiled thoughtfully.

“They told me you had amnesia and had forgotten them. And we had to make you remember them again.” He flashed me a little smile.

“Everything has a simple explanation at their age.”

So, he was not cross, just not sure how I was going to react to what he was saying and I think not sure how to tell them the truth without hurting them. Especially Emily I think.

“I don’t mind, honestly.” I said, smiling at him. Then we stopped talking as the waitress returned with our ice cream. As we enjoyed it, he continued.

“Thanks – would you mind letting them run with it for a while. Till they realise in their own time that life is not really like that.”

“No, of course I don’t mind.”

I asked how things were going on the farm. That was a big mistake, sort of. A long detailed explanation followed from him. Of which I understood just about not a single word.

But we had both relaxed and he asked me about flying and the planes I had flown and liked the best. The Mustang Biz-Jet was a thrill to fly, flying airways up to Scotland. And flying the SF260 from Africa was a blast. Like having your own modern day Spitfire to play with. Till I realised I was doing the same thing he had just done to me about farming and while John was looking and smiling at me. His brain had stopped listening to what I was saying.

“Sorry. Once I start talking about flying, I just go on and on without thinking.”

“I guess I’m about the same when it comes to farming. So I think that makes us quits.” He said grinning.

We laughed, I asked if he knew how the Twins were doing at Brownie Camp.

“Well, I spoke briefly to them this evening. Everything seemed to be fine. But they really wanted to talk to Emily. They spent most of their time in deep discussion with her. She made me leave the sitting room so I could not eavesdrop on them.” He said laughing. “I think that was on the instructions of the terrible two.”

“Getting your orders for tonight. Was she.” I said laughing.

“Yes. I think so.”

“And what were they?” I asked jokingly.

“Not to screw-up. And too remember I could marry you. But you were their mother first. But, I could borrow you at night to cuddle up to in bed, they said.” Then he added with a grin. “I don’t think they really know what parents do at night. Well at least I hope they don’t yet at their age.”

“That’s kind of them. I guess, I’ll have to marry you, then.” I said laughing, a bit embarrassed.

He nodded. “I’ll go see the vicar.” He said laughing.

I think we both knew there was something more in that than just the girls plotting. Something was happening between us. What he did not know was his mother was the arch-plotter in all of this and I was a willing, if frightened, co-conspirator as well. We talked about the village and other things. He asked about mother and how her dementia was. And then, before I knew it, we had finished our pot of tea and it was time to leave.

Outside I shivered as we walked back to the car. It was half ten and the evenings warmth had gone. Before I knew it, his jacket was around my shoulders and I was torn about that. I felt guilty at letting him do it. While at the same time it felt nice on my shoulders and bare arms and it really felt nice as we walked with Johns arm around my waist.

That was a nice meal, thank-you.” I told him.

“My pleasure. I enjoyed it as well.”

I grinned. Adding, “and even nicer when you haven’t had to cook it, too.”

He laughed. “Oh, yes. I whole heartedly agree with that. I’m not the greatest of cooks. That’s why the girls like eating at mums.”

Back at the car John quickly had warm air blowing on both my feet and shoulders. I was sorry the night was ending. This was truly my first ever time out as a girl on a date and it had been wonderful.

Instead of pulling up outside my home, John turned back into the village hall car park and parked their again. As we got out he told me grinning.

“The dance doesn’t end until midnight. Shame to waste it.”

Elvis Presley’s It’s Now Or Never was playing as we went back through the double doors into the village hall.

“…When I first saw you
with your smile so tender.
My heart was captured
my soul surrendered…”

We join the older couples on the dance floor, and as I swing round to take hold of Johns left hand, I cringed, hearing Zoey’s husband, Donald calling to us in a loud voice.

“Hiya, John, hello Penny. Where did you two disappear too, then? Been kissing and cuddling out there in the dark behind the bike sheds, have you.” Followed by his laughing.

John carries on, taking hold of my right hand in his left, placing his right hand in the small of my back, “Bye, Donald.”

“Bye.” I add sweetly and not meaning a word of it, as we dance away from him. What Zoey see in him. I’ll never know.

With the young children now in bed the music has slowed down to slow and smoochie numbers. It’s Now or Never slipped into Elvis’s Suspicion. I can feel John relax into me more and I am sure in his mind he is dancing with Suzie maybe, instead of me. I do not mind. I cannot imagine what it would be to lose the one you love when so young. Evie told me Suzie was only twenty-eight when she died. To know you were never going to see your girls grow up and marry, must have been so hard for her.

Italian songs I have found are best heard in Italian, especially if you cannot speak the language. A bit like hearing a sultry French actress say your shopping list in French. Sounds fantastically sexy regardless of the contents. One of my favourite Italian songs is playing. Come Prima sung by Marino Marini.

“Come prima, più di prima t'amerò
Per la vita, la mia vita ti darò
Sembra un sogno rivederti, accarezzarti
Le tue mani fra le mani stringere ancor'”

Then Doris Day is singing for us again and I move closer to John as she sings Move Over Darling, again. But who is complaining. It’s a dreamy song to dance up close with someone. As it ends the DJ starts up for close to the last time after playing anther Radio Caroline Jingle.

“Hey everyone, since we only have time for one more dance before midnight and its time for us all to go home to our beds. Let's end the night with the song Radio Caroline use to end the day with before signing off the airwaves. The Fortunes and Caroline.”

“Caroline, Carol-eye-eye-ine
There is a girl
She really is fine, so fine
I know one day
She's gonna be mine, be mine…”

And then it is all over. We file outside with the others into a starry clear moon-lit night. Most head into the car park, but we head across the road to my home till we are standing outside my front door.

“I won’t ask you in. with luck Mother’s asleep, but I’m sure Carol is waiting up for me to give her a full description of this evening.”

John chuckles. “I’m sure my mother will do the same.”

“Thank-you for a lovely night. It was a lovely meal and I haven’t been out dancing in so long I can’t remember the last time I was. Thank-you.”

John smiles looking down at me. That’s something I never really thought would ever happen. Being six foot in heels. I thought if I changed, I would be looking down at guys. John I have to look up to.

“I’ve had a nice night too, Penny. And I know Emily had a great time tonight, too.”

I nod, and he looks at me with warm eyes and starts to bend forward, but stops. A brief frown crossing his forehead.

“Do you mind, if I kiss you?”

I grinned nervously, “I think that’s the whole idea of being on the doorstep together, don’t you?”

“Yeah.”

He bends down and out heads turn and our lips meet. I could smell his aftershave, the same as my fathers and I remembered back years ago when he was home on leave, he would get ready to go down to his local to meet his friends. I always remembered his newly shaved face and the smell of freshly applied Old Spice on his cheeks as he kissed us good-night on the head before going. I use to dream one day when I grew up as a girl, he would take me down on his arm with him. Something I knew he would never do. He though transsexuals should be put against a brick wall and shot.

Our lips pressed together, my lips opened a little. As did his, and I felt his tongue just touch inside my lips ever so gently. Top and then bottom lip. I think moved my lips a little bit, just a tiny amount. We sort of stayed there, not moving. Till we broke and moved apart, a little embarrassed.

A quiet “Wow!” escaped my lips and he grinned as I did.

“That’s what we like to hear.” He said. “A satisfied customer. Perhaps we could go out some other time when we can both have sitters. I’m sure mum would volunteer for all our charges.”

“Well, we are all going to the beach hut next Sunday, remember.”

“Oh, we’ll meet again before then I’m sure. Knowing my mother.”

I must have pulled a face as he laughed. “Hey, she’s been my mother all my life, I’m not as stupid as she sometimes thinks I am.” He smiles at me. “Now go in or you will get cold.”

I nod grinning and un-lock the door and slip in and turn back to him. He takes my hand and kisses it.

“I’ve just spotted your security camera.” He say grinning, tipping his head towards it. Then let’s go of my hand and with a wave starts down the path. Stopping at the lane to turn back to me.

“I tell the girls when they pull that face. Careful, or your face will get stuck like that.”

Then he starts to move across the lane and then has to hurry as a car pulls out of the village hall car park without checking, nearly running him over.

I close the front door and lean on it. The sitting room door opens to reveal a smiling Carol.

“Come on, I’ve put the kettle on.”

To be continued…

Time for Penny to go under the Knife!

This is the story of Penny. A closet Transwoman thrust into the outside world 24-7 when she would rather go and hide away. Perhaps the title should be Welcome to Penny’s Paranoid World…

From part sixteen
“I’ve just spotted your security camera.” He say grinning, tipping his head towards it. Then let’s go of my hand and with a wave starts down the path. Stopping at the lane to turn back to me.
“I tell the girls when they pull that face. Careful, or your face will get stuck like that.”
Then he starts to move across the lane and then has to hurry as a car pulls out of the village hall car park without checking, nearly running him over.
I close the front door and lean on it. The sitting room door opens to reveal a smiling Carol.
“Come on, I’ve put the kettle on.”

And now as they say, read on…

I closed my eyes and enjoyed the warmth of the sun on my face. We had arrived around eleven-thirty, popped into the Asda supermarket and bought a cooked roast chicken and a portion of roast potatoes. Put in an insulation bag they were still nice and piping hot when we arrived at the beach hut ten minutes later. We had brought some cooked runner beans from home that just needed to be re-heated to eat. They had on sale a small low powered microwave which was perfect for the beach hut, so I got one. It was worth having to hump it from the car park behind the sand dunes round to the Beach Hut for the extra ability it gave to cooking there.

Carol was reheating the beans in it now while waiting for the kettle to boil on the two burner camping stove to make the gravy. When we were children mother would bring a fresh chicken with us and cook it in an old folding tin oven on top of a camping gas stove while we played on the sand and splashed about in the sea.

When Carol is here she insists on doing the cooking. Nothing against my cooking, she just says it is the only chance I get to have a rest and not cook, so I am banished from the kitchen wherever it might be, when she is here. Problem is I find it hard to just relax. Even here on the beach huts little veranda. I open up my eyes and checked on Mother beside me, still fast asleep with Fred in her lap. She had had a cup of coffee when we got here, and fell asleep soon afterwards out on the veranda. Fred’s head poking out from the blanket at her waist. She had put his floppy paw over his eyes to shut out the light and turned him on his side so he could have a nap too. Her hands resting across her lap holding him in so he did not fall out.

There are a few more people about this week-end on the beach and walking along the prom. I smiled thinking about being here last week with Evie and the girls. Even if things go all wrong, at least I will have those memories. Sometimes you can live a lifetime in a day, and sometimes that is all you get.

A steam whistle coming from behind the dunes told us they had the little steam loco out today on the miniature railway. If you listened hard enough as the little train pulls away if it is going to the station by the pier you can hear the cuff-chuff of the pistons working. Too many people on the beach and all you hear is the whistle. I may have wanted to be a girl in my head as child, but I was always fascinated by the two little steam locos they used back then. The miniature railway has a ten and a quarter inch gauge track. The steam loco is still one of those two old steam engines. The other one was sold years ago to help the railway through a bad patch moneywise. They were built in the 1930s based on the Great Western Railways Dukedog class 4-4-0 locos. They only steam her when they are just busy enough to need two engines pulling three carriages each. In the heat of summer they use two trains,’ six carriages long with the class 37 diesel on one and their bigger and latest steam locomotive that is based on a narrow gauge Denver & Rio Grande Western Railway K37 loco on the other. She is far too powerful for this little seaside line, but I guess the owner wanted one.

I am not being morbid, and try not to think about it, but this will probably be Mother’s last year down here with us. David our doctor told me at the beginning of last winter to be pre-pared for the worst as we would be lucky if she made it through the winter. And here we were in the second week of May with nice sunny weather and she had made it so far. But you could see how fragile she was now, and the increase in her dementia. We really would be lucky for her to get through next winter as well.

“All ready. Come and sit down. Is mother still asleep?”

“Yes, fast away in the land of nod. Have you made her soup?”

“No, thought I’d check before doing it.”

I checked again before coming back in. We sit down and enjoy our typical English Sunday roast lunch listening to the odd seagull squawking as it flies over us as the waves roll up the beach as it nears high-tide. Mind you after seeing Finding Nemo on tv last Christmas every time I see or hear a seagull now, all I hear in my head is:

Me, me me me. Me me me, me, me, me me. Me. Me.

Who would think a cartoon film moment would get so stuck in the brain for so long. As we were eating Carol stops and looks out past the open doors to the sea sparkling in the sunshine.

“This takes me back.”

“When we were children.”

“Here? Yeah.” She was smiling. “It does that too. No, I was thinking of looking out of our cabin window on Canberra at the sun glistening on the sea.”

With the tide in the sea was close enough to look past the beach at the sea and think back to being on her.

“Did I tell you about Trish and Malcom have chairs from the Meridian Lounge. They flew over to the ship breakers to get some when she was being scrapped and had to buy a dozen of the club chairs along with half a dozen of the swivel chairs before they would ship them back over. Trish says if they put them all in the same room together, they could open Lower Steeping’s first pop-up night club.”

Carol smiles remembering. “We had some fun on board her, didn’t we? First time we went on her. You were five and a half and I was eight and a half and we slept in father’s day cabin.”

I popped some runner beans in my mouth and thought of the next eleven years when we spent a month every summer holidays on board Canberra so our parents could spend some time together when he was working. Although I did not remember staying in Father’s day cabin, and said so.

“We only stayed there once. He said we were too noisy. After that we always had cabins on C deck. C31 and C29, because they had connecting doors. Mother kept our outside door locked so we could only get out through her cabin.”

“I sort of remember that, but the memory plays tricks on you. I didn’t think about being on Canberra for ages, not until Trish’s dinner party and seeing the chairs… and come to think about it, they were from the Bonito Club, not the Meridian Lounge.”

“You said tricks, what tricks?” I noticed the slight change in Carol’s voice.

“Oh… I think it’s just my going full-time Penny, that did it. But I can only think of myself on Canberra as a girl and not as a boy. Like I said memory playing tricks. Wishful thinking, I guess.”

Carol had gone an embarrassed red and said nothing. Eating some more before replying.

“Not, really.” She paused a while before continuing. “It was all my fault.”

I looked up at her as she sighed. “Mother had taken us up to the Junior Club. I was feeling pretty pleased with myself. I had on my new dress and thought I looked very pretty. You were only five and a half and had on this red shorts and bib thing that I guess could have been for a boy or a girl. Anyway, there must have had a smudge on the paperwork or something as when they were going through our names, they didn’t know your Christian name. You were just P Johnson to them and I was cross as they hadn’t noticed my pretty dress.

So when they asked your name and said you were very pretty when you said nothing. I got jealous. You had just clammed up as you were very shy and would stick to me like glue. So I said my sister’s name was Penny. When mother could not hear us, I use to call you that all the time and pretend you were my twin sister and not brother, so you didn’t complain and I use to dress you up in my old clothes anyway, when we were playing.”

Ok, I could understand that. Carol had always been the more forceful of the two of us. “But, how did you?”

“Get away with it? Well. Mother never found out at first as we had our lunch, and our tea and dinner at the Junior Club. But a couple of days later we had a fancy dress party. What I didn’t know was the Captain and parents were invited to see us parade around the room and the Captain would pick a winner.”

Carol looked across at me ruefully. “And of course he had to pick Princess Penny, didn’t he. You burst out crying at all the attention. Father realising it was you, looked embarrassed. Mother looked at me sternly. So I started crying as well. When everyone realised you were the Chief Engineers daughter, they thought that was why he was embarrassed. The Captain told everyone he would be back to judge another fancy dress party in a couple of days. So there was no trouble about it. He took a shine to you and picked you up and asked if you would like to see the bridge. You shyly said, ‘yes’.”

She looked up at me and grinned. “So. The Captain carried you up to the Bridge. Followed by Mother holding on to me. Father didn’t come.” Carol smiled. “The Bridge officers made a big fuss of the both of us.”

Carol pulled a face at me. “Course the shit hit the fan when we got back to Father’s day cabin. I blamed you and the people looking after us and said you said your name was Penny. I wasn’t about to admit what I had done with father mad as hell.”

Mother stirred and we both went to get up. “It’s alright, I’m closest,” I said getting up.

I bent round Mother and said ‘Hi, sleepily head’ to her. “Would you like some soup?”

“Yes please.”

“Ok. Be just a minute.”

Carol was already up at the microwave putting a Heinz chicken soup in it.
When mother was happily drinking her soup and offering the spoon to Fred as well. I sat back down. Looks like Fred is going to take a spin in the washing machine again!

Carol looked remorseful at me. “So! If father came clean and admitted to everyone the pretty little girl everyone had made such a fuss of on the Bridge was in fact his son and not his daughter. He would be a laughing stock with his engineers and the rest of the ships officers. So mother and father agreed you would be Penny for the rest of the cruise. Mother had to go and get you a load of girl’s clothes at the next port of call.” Carol said grinning.

“And of course, that meant that you had to be a girl the next year, and so it went on. Every year for our time on Canberra, you had to dress and act as a girl.”

“Well, at least I know I was not going crazy when I kept remembering being a girl on Canberra.”

“I’m sorry. I feel responsible for what has happened to you. To how you feel about yourself.”

I looked up at her and realised that she was close to tears. I got up and went round and hugged her as the tears came.

“Silly you. I told you Malcom said if they had gone to the doc’s when I was young and had me checked out properly. They would have done corrective surgery and I would have been brought up as a girl, anyway. If anything you probably helped me keep sane as a kid.”

We talked some more about it. We had come late in life for our parents and father had not been happy that for our holidays on board I was appearing as a more and more a pretty girl as I got older it seems. Carol saying he finally put a stop to it after the Christmas cruise just after I had become sixteen and seemed to be attracting the attention of far too many boys and young men.

Carol laughed. “God, you were a flirt. I mean I knew you got bullied at school as a boy for being a pretty boy. And then on Canberra, the same sort of boys were falling over themselves trying to chat you up as Penny like crazy. I think you saw it as taking revenge on them. But Father blew a gasket when he saw them.” She looked at me. “Don’t you remember any of this?”

I shook my head.

Carol watched me as she got up to take mother’s soup bowl.
Coming back, she continued as she started the washing up. Telling me Father was home for the New Year and it was all a bit fractious.

“You were tense, nervous around father, wound-up tight like a drum. And then in the New Year just before school started again, you had a nervous break-down.”

“I mean, Christ. You were barely seventeen and a nervous wreck. It scared the hell out of us all. Mother drove you down to Aunt Ivy’s in Devon and you stayed there for three months. When you came back you were very withdrawn and had blocked out Penny altogether. You were hooked on being a pilot and Father was pleased to support that.” She paused and looked at me. “Don’t you remember any of this?”

I shook my head. “No. not a thing. I vaguely remember staying at Aunt Ivy’s. That’s all.”

She looked at me ruefully. “When Penny surfaced again I was worried you would have another breakdown.”

We spent the afternoon sitting in the sun. Part of me wanted to go over in my mind the thrill of last night dancing with John. The feeling I had in his arms was so, so fantastic that it could have gone on forever and I would not have complained, and then with Emily asleep on my lap as Evie and I chatted with Zoey with little April on her lap. Never have I more intensely felt a mother than at that moment. At times with mother, I feel like her parent. But this was different.

So many things to think about. I thought I was a lipstick lesbian stuck in the wrong body. And in truth I am only attracted to John, and perhaps that navy officer down in Portsmouth who looked like Cary Grant. But no other male.

See a beautiful woman and like men my eyes home in on her, and it is attraction, not envy of her beauty. And when I fantasize it is with a beautiful woman, two women together. Same goes for porn on the internet. It is two women with not a man in sight that gets my motor running. So why John. Is it just a way to be mother to the girls. No, that is not it either. If I had had a vigina last night, we would have had sex and I would have been a willing virgin pulling my clothes off to stand naked before him. Well, I would have kept my stockings and suspenders on, and my heels. That imagine in my head of standing before him like that in my high-heels virtually naked is soo sexy.

And then. As I look around me seeing Mother and Carol beside me I wonder if this is the last time we will ever do this. I have not told Carol just how much Malcom had urged me to ring Evie to come and fetch Mother so I could be admitted that afternoon. I knew that meant I was going to get bad news the next day if I did. And what if they wanted me to stay in longer, have further operations. Maybe I was going to be joining Father in the Big Sleep before mother did. And if that was the case, what have I done to Emily, Eve and Lizzy. Given them the hope they have their mother back to then go and take her away from them by dying. I wonder if that is why Malcom agreed to put my breasts in. to let me die with some comfort of femininity about me.

God! I had to stop this or I was going to start crying and Carol would want to know why.

Evie took me back round to Mid-Steeping railway station after we had dropped off the girls at school. Carol could not do it as Mother would have wanted to come with me on the train. I glanced at The Station Arms as we past it going down Station Lane, remembering the meal with John two nights ago and smiled to myself. We had covered my overnight case so the girls would not see it and ask any questions. They just thought we were going to town shopping after dropping them off.

Standing on the platform and even when I was on the train I was too preoccupied to realise this is the first time I had been out as Penny all by myself. If anyone noticed, had clocked me. I was too preoccupied to notice them.

Once in London I took a black cab to the QAMC, Malcom’s hospital, and went to the coffee shop on the ground floor and sat down with a cup of tea and a croissant. Since after mid-day, or maybe it was after two in the afternoon. I would be on liquids only diet ready for tomorrow’s op first thing in the morning. I had the paper somewhere, but must have left it at home. Anyway it did not matter as I had to book in at twelve and I am sure the nurses will not let me eat anything after that.

“I Ope, you are being carful? I put on weight, just looking at them.”

I look up to see a smiling Jenni André looking down at me.

I stood up and we hugged and air kissed. “Hello, Jenni. Are you having lunch with Paul?”
“One, moment. I must get un café and a croissant, too. I am français, we do not let our friends eat alone. Food is something to be shared and enjoyed together. It is the French way. Oui.”

With that Jenni smiled and made her way to the self-service counter, looking immaculate and stylish, before coming back with a coffee and three of their big croissants on a plate. She sat down and put one of the croissants on my plate.

“There. You will be staving by tonight. It won’t do much to fill a hole.” She grinned at me. “But Chéri, it will be nice eating them,” and laughed.

I like Jenni. She did not shy away when she found out I was not a girl, or we thought I was not a girl. At Trish’s dinner party.

“You have to be careful, or you’ll have no appetite for lunch.” I said. “It’s not far off. What time are you meeting Paul?”

“Silly, Chéri. I am ere for you, not him. Do you think I would let you come and wait all by youself? Till tomorrow. Non.”

Jenni studied my face for a moment, and said worried. “That, so long as you want me too stay. I do not want to impose, if you want to be alone.”

I shook my head. “No it’s lovely, I thought I would be by myself.”

“Then,” she said poised to take a bite out of a croissant. “Let us eat and be merry, for tomorrow we die. Oui, that is the saying, Yes?”

I was not sure if the ‘for tomorrow we die’ bit was appropriate in a hospital, but happily grinned and nodded.

I lay on the hospital trolley. Yesterday, after I booked in. I found myself in a bed on the women’s surgical ward. Anna came and did a thorough check-up. Made sure I really did want the breast implants. Had them take an armful of blood and said she would see me bright and early tomorrow morning at seven-thirty. Jenni stayed with me until Paul came and collected her.

The anaesthetist came back and gently pushed a syringe into cannula stuck down with a big see-thu plaster in a vein on the top of my hand that the nurse had put in. It was not painful, but not pleasant. He smiled and asked me to count back from ten.

“Ten, nine, eight, seveen,” I began, then it started to get difficult. “… siiiiix… fffii…,” then, before I could finish, the ceiling rushed down at me and surrounded me in darkness.

I was coming out of the supermarket, both hands full of shopping bags. It was the 24hour one I use to go shopping in Thursday nights when I worked as a flying instructor. Except this time as I left the lights went out behind me and when I turned round the building seemed empty and shrouded in darkness. I looked back nervously to see if anyone else was going to their car as well as me, but I was alone in the carpark. For some reason tonight I had parked Baby, half-way across the large empty car park instead of where I normally did outside the supermarket cafés window.

The carpark seemed to have its own dark ominous clouds gathered around it, and they seemed menacing and malevolent and watching me. All I could hear was the tap-tap-tap, of my heels echoing on the tarmac. It was creepy and I could feel the fear rising inside me. I walked faster, almost breaking into a run. As I got closer to Baby I found I had to go around a black BMW that was parked in my way.

I heard him before I saw him.

“Fucking Queer.”

He was just a shape. The fist slammed into me, the sharp pain doubling me over as I collapsed down onto the ground…

I smiled and looked around the cottage garden in the bright sunshine. It was so peaceful. I could hear the birds singing. My sister and I grew up playing in this garden. I walked over the grass feeling it between my toes, past the rose bushes my Mother tended so carefully and looked to see if the people who lived here now had covered over the well. So many people nowadays put a concrete cap on an old well in their garden, covering them over with soil to be forgotten. In our day there was just a big stone slab over it and we had strict instructions from Mother to never stand on it and NEVER jump on it and to stay well away from it all together.

Except our one had been added too. The slab was gone. There was now a round stone wall rising up with a little tiled roof over it together with a wooden pole with rope wrapped around it and a wooden handle waiting to be turned. There was even a metal bucket tied to the rope sitting on the wells stone wall. It was a prefect cholate box cottage garden picture. Mother would have love it. She had always loved this place. I will have to bring her back over sometime. I am sure the people will not mind.

I was looking at the runner beans growing along their cane sticks stuck in the ground next to the peas, when I realised I could faintly hear a piano playing somewhere. They were too far away to make out what they were playing. But it must have been someone in one of the nearby cottages.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jHPJJKVt5-Y

To be continued…

Penny wakes from her coma to find her world has changed

This is the story of Penny. A closet Transwoman thrust into the outside world 24-7 when she would rather go and hide away. Perhaps the title should be Welcome to Penny’s Paranoid World…

From part seventeen
The anaesthetist… asked me to count back from ten.
“Ten, nine, eight, seveen,” I began, then it started to get difficult. “… siiiiix… fffii…,” then, before I could finish, the ceiling rushed down at me and surrounded me in darkness.
“Fucking Queer.”
He was just a shape. The fist slammed into me, the sharp pain doubling me over as I collapsed down onto the ground…
I smiled and looked around the cottage garden in the bright sunshine. It was so peaceful. I could hear the birds singing. My sister and I grew up playing in this garden… I was looking at the runner beans growing along their cane sticks stuck in the ground when I realised I could faintly hear a playing the piano…

And now as they say, read on…

“Foxtrot Mike, on my mark turn left to heading three four six.”

“On your mark, turn to three four six. Foxtrot Mike.”

“Foxtrot Lima, on my mark…”

Gibraltar Radar gives the same instructions to Mike who has dropped back from flying a lose formation over on my left and touch behind me.

I can hearing faint piano music again over the headphones, not loud enough to tell what the tune is, but annoying enough when you are trying to concentrate as things are getting busy. I’m sure I can hear a little girl as well calling someone. Someone’s child in plane playing with the mike and the parents not paying attention to what she is doing.

We are almost at Bravo and then it is just ten miles to touchdown.

When we left Casablanca an hour and a half ago we had plenty of time to land in Gib before the two 737s from the UK were due to land. But a tailwind has changed all that and now the EasyJet from Manchester and the British Airways flight from Heathrow are due in less than ten minutes after us. So unless we wanted to spend the next half hour going around the racetrack at Charlie waiting for both 737s to land and for the wake turbulence caused by them to dissipate. We had better get a move on and land first.

These SF260Ws are ex-Libya Airforce given the faded paint job on them and must have been bumming around various African wars curtsey of Gadhafi for years. Morocco confiscated them in the Western Sahara. Presumably nabbed from the Sahrawi Arab people and sold them to the American who we were now bringing them back to Blighty for. Where they will be prepped for the flight across the pond to the USA after a full service and removal of the rocket launcher pylon from under each wing!

But now, going at 200mph and even with the power pulled right back, she is still a slippery little bird. At this speed you are doing over three miles a minute and the seventeen miles from Charlie to Bravo where military aircraft turn sharp left to head for The Rock and runway 09, soon disappears.

“Foxtrot Mike. Turn to heading three four six.”

Stick over and pull back a bit and we are in a steep left bank. I key the mike while watching the both the speed and vertical speed indicators like a hawk.

“Turning to three four six. Foxtrot Mike.”

Left hand on the power lever ready to add power as needed. You fly military aircraft from the right seat so your left hand is on the power lever. The SF260W loses speed and height if you are not careful when pulling G in a turn, and if you are not paying attention you can lose too much and stall and spin into the Med, getting yourself a pair of heavenly wings in the process.

“Foxtrot Lima. Turn to heading three four six.”

Behind me Mike acknowledges and will be doing the same as me. Doing a steep turn to shed speed and height. I was down to one hundred and twenty four mph, now. I was already feeding the power back in and dropping the wheels.

“Foxtrot Mike, five miles to touchdown.”

“Five miles to touchdown, Foxtrot Mike.”

Time to start adding flap. I put down 20 degrees. More to come. I still have my finger on the flap switch, when Gibraltar Radar came back to me.

“Foxtrot Mike, three miles to touchdown. Visual Decision Point Yankee. Contact Gibraltar Approach. One One, Two, decimal Eight.”

“Passing Yankee. Contact Gibraltar Approach on, One One, Two decimal Eight. Good-day and thank-you Gibraltar Radar.”

“Gibraltar Approach, Golf, Hotel Sierra Foxtrot, Mike. Two miles to touchdown. Runway in sight. Three greens.”

I put another ten degrees of flap down as Gibraltar Approach acknowledges me and tells me I am clear to land. Stick over to the right this time, aiming to be in-line with the runway as I pass over the yellow buoy with the white flashing light on it. Ahead I can see the runway is clear and no cars and buses are still crossing the runway.

Passing over the end of the runway now and aiming for the touchdown point. You need to fly her down. She may be smaller than a Cessna 152 training aircraft, but she is not a light aircraft and you cannot fly her like one. Flare as you would for a 152 or a light fast aircraft and you will drop like a brick those last few feet to the runway. Likewise don’t flare and you will still be waiting to land halfway to Ibiza. So. Like I said she is not a light aircraft. She is a military trainer designed to take a new pilot from his/her first step in an aircraft to leaving it to get into a fast jet trainer. So she flies like a jet and you flare at the last moment to put the main wheels on the deck and keep the nose wheel off the ground so you don’t break it as it is a tender little thing that needs pampering.

As I slow down and approach the road across the runway (Winston Churchill Avenue, but you don’t have to play chicken with the traffic, they are good sports in the Tower and stop the traffic for you), I bring the flaps up. Soon as I am across the road, I take the very short taxiway on the right onto the South Military Dispersal Apron. Calling clear of the runway as I do. A bit pointless, that, but it is procedure, as I am actually opposite the Tower on the other side of the runway when I do it!

With Mike parked beside me I pull back the canopy just as the British Airways 737 beats the EasyJet in and thunders past us down the runway with full reverse thrust going to help slow her down.

“Mummy. Pleasseees.”

What? Emily?

“Emily, what are you doing here?”

The waves passing beneath me are hypnotic. I am leaning on the rail high up on the Sun Deck looking down at the sea.

I am all alone up here in my evening dress. Everyone else must be getting ready or still at dinner. I turned and looked back at those two big lovely mustard coloured funnels, side by side at the aft of Canberra and shiver. I’m home. I smell the air and can smell Canberra. Modern cruise ships are powered by diesel engine power generators. You want to go faster. Switch on another engine. But Canberra. She is a proper Ocean Liner of the old school when ships were ships and not floating hotels stuck on a hull. She has SS in front of her name because she is a Steam Ship, with steam turbines turning her electric generators and you can smell it. Wonderful, I’m so happy to be home.

Faintly, I can hear someone tinkling the ivories. Must be in the Bonito Club. I decide to go down and see who it is. Even though I know who it must be. My favourite Aussie. I smile, he is playing Forgotten Dreams. I make my way down the steps to the swimming pool and past it. They have the net over the pool to stop anyone who has had too much to drink from falling in. The big full wide windows at the back of the Bonito Club have been retracted down into the floor leaving the space wide open between the club and pool. Some of the clubs tables and chairs have been carried out and placed on the pools patio area. It is going to be a hot night.

At the far end of the club I can see Colin Hindmash on the small bandstand playing the up-right piano. In the middle of the dance floor my Mother and Father are dancing. He smart in his uniform, my mother in a long evening dress that flows around her like falling water, looking beautiful, and she is younger than I can ever remember seeing her, apart from in photographs. I know I’m dreaming now, but it’s a lovely dream. Mother was forty when I came along three years after my sister much to everyone’s surprise. Here, dancing with my father she is barely in her thirty’s.

They must have given up hope of having children by the time we came along, but we could not have asked for a better mother, or father for that matter. Even if he was very strict.

Colin is grinning at me from behind his piano.

Every time a Deck Officer walked across the dance floor during evening rounds he would stop playing whatever tune he was playing and play Laurel & Hardy’s Cuckoo Song until they were off his dance floor. We would all watch some new unsuspecting officer come in taking the quickest route to the starboard aft doors by walking across the dance floor. And those in the know would smile and wait for Colin to start playing… Dar-dee-dar, dar-dee-dar, diddle-dar, dee-dar, dee-dar…

I trembled, thinking Father was going to be cross, seeing me in this beautiful evening dress wearing my high-heels. I could feel my breasts rise and fall with every breath. But he will be cross with me.

“Come here and join us sweetheart.” He calls to me, smiling at me, his face full of pride. “How could I have not seen how beautiful you were and what a wonderful mother you will make.”

I opened my mouth, but nothing comes out. Instead I run to them and they enveloped me in a loving embrace. Then mother slips smiling from us and my father put his hand in the small of my back and starts to dance with me. I closed my eyes and let my head rest on his shoulder as I let him lead me around and around the dance floor. At long last I was doing what I had always dreamed of, dancing with my father. Even if it was in a dream. We danced it seemed forever, till he led me over to my mother, sitting, beaming with pleasure as she watched us dance.

I sat down next to her. She took my hands in hers smiling.

“Well now, sweetheart. You took your time getting here. I was all for coming to find you. But your father said you would come here when you were ready and to wait for you here. He was right, wasn’t he. And here you are.”

She wrapped me in her arms and hugged me tight. I felt her warmth flood into me and I felt at peace with the world and satisfied.

“Mummy, I…” She gently shushed me, leaning back to look at me.

“You are going to be a wonderful mother, sweetheart. You have taken such good care of me. You saw to it I lacked for nothing while you let your own life slip by as if it was nothing important to care about. But now my darling it is time for you to live your life to the full for yourself, and to be the person you were always meant to be.”

She leant forward and hugged me again.

“You know you can’t stay here sweetheart.” She told me softly, “it’s not your time yet. You have a big, wonderful, adventurous life ahead of you, your dreams are about to come true. And you know your father and I will be watching over you with all our love. But you must go, now. Before it is too late.”

I shake my head. “No.” I’m home here with you on Canberra. We are together. All my happy memories on board are coming back. Daddy likes me now.”

She smiled and hugged me. “He always loved you sweetheart, he just did not understand, then. But he does, now.”

“Mummy, please.”

There is a sound that takes my attention away for a second, something happening elsewhere on the ship making a racket.

What, that’s not me?

“Mummy? Pleasseees. Wake-up. Pleasseees.”

The light blinds me, so bright it burns into my eyes, I scrunch them up tight. Someone is shouting at me, shaking me.

Emily? I can hear her being told off…

“Gran, but Gran. Mum opened her eyes. She did.”

I hear other noises, now, people rushing. I slowly open my eyes again to see shapes hovering over me.

“Evie?” I say, or I think I do. But the only sound I hear is an un-intelligent almost no-existent mumble.

“John, quickly get the nurse. She’s awake.”

Everything is blurry, I can just make out a face, Evie’s, and she’s smiling, grinning at me. Crying as well, but happy.

“Hi,” I mumble.

“Hello, darling. You gave us such a scare.”

Suddenly there is load of people fussing around me. It’s overwhelming, confusing, and the light still hurts my eyes, it is so bright, far easier to close them and ignore them all and go back to sleep.

It is a number of days before I can make any sense of the world I am in. I am in a hospital. Was I in a car accident? Knocked over in the street? I don’t know. Evie was their most afternoons. Jenni André came most mornings. And then sometimes these three whirlwinds would enter and climb on my bed all excited to see me and sometimes cry and laugh. And with them was John. Who I guessed was my husband, if these girls were mine. He seemed surprised when I called him Honey and asked if the girls were behaving for him. I knew he had to be my husband as the girls called me Mummy. But he seemed confused by everything.

But with three delighted girls bouncing on my bed to be close to me. I was not really paying attention or understanding much myself. I was just basically responding to what was going on around me.

Evie did not say anything until I suddenly asked where Carol was one day. When she hesitated, I started to remember. Carol was my sister. Over here from America so I could have an exploratory op on my lower quarters to find out just what was there sex wise down below. Then I remembered Mother. Carol’s looking after Mother, right?

But I knew that was not right, either. Fred was in bed with me. I was holding him tight. But he and mother were inseparable. If he did not need to be by her side. Then Mother know longer needed him. But he was her rock. And wherever she was, he was. And if he was free to be with me. That meant she was no longer here… so I cried and asked Evie where Carol was.

With a sigh she told me that Carol and her husband and boys had gone home to America a week ago. The boys were due back at school next week and they had to go back to collect their school books etc. Evie added that Henry was quite at home in her kitchen. So he was safe and terrorising young Patch the dog whenever he felt like it.

“Carol stayed as long as she could, Penny. Carl had flown in with the boys as soon as school broke up. Clare had offered her house for them to stay in.”

I did not know it, but it seems I fell asleep soon after that. Later that day she told me about mother.

She had died a week after I slipped into a coma. Jenny, Evie said had told Carol that she loved her dearly, but Penny was in trouble, and she needed to go to her. When she fell asleep later on, Carol went to make a cup of coffee. But half way through making it she realised it had gone very still and quiet. She rushed back to the sitting room and found your mother had slipped away with a smile on her face.

I tried not to cry, but failed and Evie cuddled me.

As I became more compos mentis about things. I began to realise the hole I had dug myself in with John. I had acted like we were married and a normal married couple at that in front of the girls. In the end he had acted that way back with me. Now I knew the truth and I was deeply embarrassed. Evie just laughed and said I had made my bed and now had to lay in it. But she agreed to take the girls to the hospital café. So I could talk to John alone.

That evening, John phoned her when they reached the hospital as she had arranged with him to do. Picking up her handbag, Evie tuned to me as she headed for the door.

“Okay. I’m off to hi-jack the girls. I’ll take them to the café for tea, so you two can talk. Just remember this. As unconventional as your meeting each other was. You both love each other and that is all that matters.”

Five minutes later there was a knock on the door and John popped his head round.

“Hi, can I come in?” he said nervously.

“Sure.” I replied just as nervous.

“Mums taken the kids to the hospital café to get some tea. We came straight here from school.”

He grinned, I nodded, and he sat down beside me.

“I’m sorry.” I started after a while, “I must have embarrassed you when I came round, acting like we were married. I didn’t know what was going on, but the girls acted like I was their mother, so I thought you must be my husband.”

He shook his head. “Don’t worry, it was rather nice. You calling me Honey, to be honest.”

I nodded ok, and we both sat silent for a while longer. Before he took my hand, holding it, looking at me.

“Look, Penny. We’re both grown-ups. Too old to mess about like teenagers. We clearly have feelings for each other. The girls love you. And yes, they think you are there mother, but you know that.

So why don’t you move in with us when they let you out of here. We can take things between us slowly. I promise I won’t make any moves on you. We will take things at your pace.”

Then he added, I think afraid I might not agree to his idea.

“If you like you could stay in the spare room instead. We tell the girls you need to sleep alone for the moment while you recover.”

I did not know what to say. This was it. Everything I had wanted and was afraid to dare to hope for. It would mean sooner or later we would have sex. I was not sure how I felt about that. I think I really am a lipstick lesbian at heart. Well, ninety percent sure of it, because he does make my heart skip-a-beat. So maybe I swing both ways, or maybe it is just him that gets me going man wise. But there was that navy officer, wasn’t there.

Well. I was equipped for it, now. Malcom along with Anna had told me what had happened in my op.

She had done my boobs. He had found the start of cancer in the groin and removed it. All of it. And after a quick telephone call to Carol, he had removed the items that made me look like a man. Along with the piece of skin that covered up the entrance to my girly bits. That needed to be done anyway they said, just in case I surprised everyone by having menstruation start. It was a long shot, a very long shot given my real age. But it could happen. That meant I could parade naked all I wanted in the bedroom and not frighten the horses.

They told me everything had gone to plan. Trouble had stared when I was being wheeled into recovery. All of a sudden my blood pressure dropped and they could not find the reason why and they were losing me. In all honesty, Malcom told me he thought they had lost me, when everything began to stabilise.

Except I did not come round when I should have and stayed just ticking over. Dead to the world around me. My brain was working fine they could tell. But I just stayed in my own inner world refusing to come out. Evie, the girls and Carol made a tape of their voices and music I liked to play to me. It was then a waiting game.

“You woke up when Emily lost it for a moment and shouted in your ear. Her Father and Grandmother were telling her off, when she yelled at them you had opened your eyes. And well, you know the rest.”
Yes I did.

I looked at John, waiting for my answer. A worried look on his face. “Ok.” I said softly. “But if we do this, we might as well start as we mean to go on and be in the same bed from the start. Children have an instinct for when things are not quite right.”

He nodded and I smiled to myself. It was a nice feeling to know this man wanted to sleep in a bed with me. Wanted to make love to me when I was ready.

I smiled back at him, pleased with what was happening.

“I will have to take you down and introduce you to Baby. She has been safely stored in the bungalow garage for a couple of years now. I couldn’t drive her as Mother could not get in her. About time I got her out.”

John kind of twitched, when I said that.

Carol came over for a flying visit a week later after getting the boys back to school. Evie picked her up from Heathrow. They came straight to the hospital and were waiting for me when I was brought back from physio.

We hugged and she told me Mother just slipped away in her sleep with a smile on her face, so she was not in any pain. We could go to the Isle of Wight later on with her ashes and spread them up on Culver Down Hill, as she asked us to do.

Evie had brought in a hand full of letters for me, which had been delivered to me courtesy of Apple Tree Farm. I wondered why my mail was going to Evie’s, but did not say anything. The letter with a cheque from the council was a shock.

“I don’t understand. The council has sent me a cheque for two and a half months rent they say they took by mistake after the keys were handed back?”

I look from my sister to Evie and back. They both look uneasy.
Both to each other, before my sister speaks.

“We did not want to tell you this until you were further recovered. The council would not transfer the bungalows tenancy to you. They said it had been done once already and council rules forbad more than one transfer to a family member. They gave us a fortnight on being told mother had passed away to return the keys.”

Evie took up from there. “John had a dry heated store room at the farm, so we moved everything there. Your sports car is in the garage at White Gate Farm. It was to be a surprise for you find it there. Then we would have told you about the bungalow.”

It was not losing the bungalow that hurt. But this.

“Did John ask me to move into the farm because he knew I was homeless?”

They both came either side of my wheelchair. Both telling me how silly I was.

“John asked you because he loves you, stupid.” Evie said smiling.

I was kept in another two weeks before they decided to let me go. Evie and Jenni André had come in to make sure I was dressed how they thought I should be. The weather was fine they said, and super glamorous was the order of the day according to them. So my white dress with red roses printed on it. Was to be worn. Legs had sheer stockings and high-heel sandals and freshly painted red nails on hand and foot. My hair needed their attention. I will have to visit Rosemary and Melissa at my soonest opportunity when I am home.

Make-up was chiefly Jenni’s province.
Eventually three excited girls and one man appeared mid-afternoon…

To be continued…maybe ?

Penny goes to White Gate Farm with John and the girls

This is the story of Penny. A closet Transwoman thrust into the outside world 24-7 when she would rather go and hide away. Perhaps the title should be Welcome to Penny’s Paranoid World…

From part eighteen
I was kept in another two weeks before they decided to let me go. Evie and Jenni André had come in to make sure I was dressed how they thought I should be. The weather was fine they said, and super glamorous was the order of the day according to them. So my white dress with red roses printed on it. Was to be worn. Legs had sheer stockings and high-heel sandals and freshly painted red nails on hand and foot. My hair needed their attention for far too long. I will have to visit Rosemary and Melissa at my soonest opportunity when home.

Make-up was chiefly Jenni’s province.
Eventually three excited girls and one man appeared mid-afternoon…

And now as they say, read on…

The girls bounced around excited. John came in behind them smiling and hugged and kissed me and told me I was beautiful and looked stunning. Then he said hi to his mum and Jenni. The girls crowded round me for hugs too, with everybody talking.

Then it was time to go. My meds to take home arrived from the hospital pharmacy along with an orderly with a wheelchair. Until they threw me out the front door, I was still officially under the hospitals care and as such travelled by wheelchair. So there I sat with Fred in my lap doing a passable impression of mother in her wheelchair.

The nurses that cared for me the three months I was in a coma had been in to wish me well and say goodbye yesterday and this morning. John slipped away and brought the car to the entrance, so after having said further goodbyes to everyone. We left. Evie was going to travel home with Malcom. Jenni I would see when I came up for my weekly appointment with Adam, so he could check I was coping. Malcom said he would pop in at White Gate Farm later on in the week to check on me.

And then before I knew it. It was just me and John and the girls in the car on the way home. I had a few butterflies in my tummy. I had left home as my mother’s carer, expecting to be home caring for her the next day. Now I was leaving hospital months later, mother had slipped away to join father. Carol had finally had to go home to America, and I was going to a new home as the mother of three children I adored, but in truth hardly knew. And as well as, sort of being John’s wife. Their home, would now be my home. John put on the radio and tired out I fell asleep as Natalie Imbruglia sang ‘Torn’ on Smooth Radio.

I woke up hearing John talking to the girls, “…if mum say ok, then we will stop. Otherwise we go straight home. Ok, girls.” And their reluctant agreement. I twisted in the seat opening my eyes and looked back at the three of them in the back seat and smiled. “What do you want me to agree too?”

“Can we go to the Kentucky, mum? Please.”

I glanced at John who grinned and gave a slight nod of the head.

“O’ kay, then. If you ask daddy nicely, I’m sure he can find one.”

There was a big cheer and the girls promptly asked their father very politely to stop at the next KFC he came too. Then they stared intently out of the windscreen looking for one to appear. When one came (and I am sure John was planning to stop there all along, as it only took ten minutes to get to one), he was already pulling off before they spotted it.

With orange juice for the girls and cups of tea for us, we settled down in a booth with a big cardboard tub of fried chicken and French fries. Every now and again I would catch one of the girls looking at me and they would giggle furiously with pleasure with the other two joining in.

This was the first time I had been out of the hospital in four and a half months and I was aware that I was flagging a little already. But it was nice to see everyone happy. John seemed to grin non-stop. He asked how I was doing. I told him the truth, tired, but ok. I know how everyone has watched me most carefully since waking up six weeks ago, while trying not to be noticed doing it. Due to my memory lapses everyone I think has had orders to not jog my memory, but let it come back naturally by itself.

John had brought me a tablet that let the girls talk to and see me every evening during the week. He would bring them up to the hospital on Sunday. I would talk to and see him during the week when he popped up to see me. Otherwise we dated by skype in the evenings.

The girls had made little videos to put on it of their bedrooms and showed me their favourite dresses and shoes and toys. John let then film what they wanted to, so I had a house tour by Evelin (Eve), a garden tour by Elizabeth (Lizzy), including an enthusiastic trampoline demonstration with the camera held by her bouncing up and down (headache inducing), and shown the outdoor swimming pool with the cover over it at the bottom of the garden. I also got a tractor cab ride around the farm with Emily being chauffeured around in one of the JCB Fourtracks by John. I watched them avidly over and over. I would be able to almost walk around the house and garden and farm blindfold because of them.

I closed my eyes, after the perfectly cooked and heathy hospital food. Sinking my teeth into a piece of Kentucky fried chicken was fantastic.

“Mmmmm.”

The girls laughed and immediately copied me. “MMmmmmmmmmmm.” And giggled.

I do not remember ever being a boy. I hope I never do. My memory has holes in it all over the place. Or shall we say, grey bits, misty bits. Adam is the top shrink at the hospital and a pilot. He tells me not to worry, some or all of it will come back over time. I do not think he wanted me to leave just yet, but decided all things considered, maybe it was best time for me. He had asked me how old I was early on and I could not say. He said to guess. I said, ‘I didn’t know, thirty-three, thirty-five?’ It was another two weeks before he told me the truth and I was shocked how old I was. He told me to forget it and be the thirty-three year old woman I thought I was. It was an easy thing to do. He just said to keep my real birth date at the back of my mind in case I ever needed to use it. I found Evie had told John and he told me my life starts when I leave hospital and just have fond memories of the past and live for today, not yesterday.

Back on the road I dozed again, till John gently nudged me as we past Great Steeping with its few houses. Most burnt to the ground during the Great Plague and never rebuilt as the families were all dead. And who wanted to build on the remains of a plague house. So it was a strange little village with a church too large for it that was never used.

Then we were passing where I would normally have turned off. The turn-off at Lower Steeping at the Waggon and Horses Pub. And then a few minutes later we slowed to turn in between the thick white painted wood posts of the entrance to White Gate Farm. My new home.

Except of course there was no white gate. Susan’s father had bought an old railway Level Crossing Gate back in the sixties to put there when Beeching closed all those country branch lines. Then one morning he got up to find during the night some swine had lifted the gate off its hinges and stolen it! Except today there was a bunch of balloons tied to each of the posts.

“Did you and daddy do that?” I said to the grinning girls who were giggling away while nodding their heads vigorously. When leaving the KFC they had been behind a car with a nodding head Bulldog on the rear parcel shelf, and doing impressions of it had kept the girls amused for the rest of the journey home.

When we reached the end of the farm driveway and turned left into gravel area in front of the garages and house, I was surprised to see two banners hanging from the Twins bedroom window and the upstairs hall window. One, the sort shops sold, said ‘Welcome Home Penny,’ the other one was handmade and said, ‘Welcome Home Mummy’.

I turned to the girls and holding back the tears said “It’s lovely. Thank-you, girls.” And saw them beam with pride. Then out of the porch door I watched my friends come out. Evie, with Johnny. Jenni and Trish. Zoey and her little girl April. They all gathered round me as I got out to welcome me home.

Johnny gave her a bear hug. “Welcome Home lass. But, by god. You gave us one hell of a fright. So don’t you dare do that ever again. Young lady.” He was grinning. I promised not to. Emily had glued herself to my side, so I put an arm against her, and she took hold of my hand.

“How.” I asked Jenni and Evie. “How did you?” How did they get here before me was the question in my mind. Then the penny dropped.
“Oh, Mmm. I get it.” I nodded slowly looking at them. “You zoomed past us while we were at the Kentucky. Yes?”

I turned to John and the twins behind me.

He leaned in grinning, the twins around him. “They went past us as we were getting out the car.”

The Twins adding. “But it was great, wasn’t it.”

I grinned back at the girls. “Yes it was.” Then smiling, added, “Finger lick’in, good, it was.” Making them laugh.

I moved to Trish and hugged her with one arm. “Your husband is an awesome doctor and surgeon. Mrs McDonald.”

“That’s why I married him. Welcome home. Ready to be a momma, kiddo!”

I grinned. “Now or never.” Then turned to Zoey who had made the journey up to London a few time to see me and chat.

“Hi, Zoey.” I said warmly, and then bent down to April. “Hello April.”

“I’m cold.”

“Are you. Let’s go inside, then.” I stood back up and hugged Zoey. “How are you?”

Zoey shrugged. I knew she thought husband Donald was playing away from home with not being at the office. From her first meeting of the Piranha Club. Penny knew the other women thought Zoey was seeing things that were not there. But Penny was pretty sure he would have tried it on with her, if he had got the chance from the few times they had met, so she believed Zoey.

A car pulled up and the driver got out.

“Melissa!”

They hugged.

“Hi ya, trouble.” Melissa grinned looking down at Em. Who giggled back. Then Melissa looked back at me and ran a hand over my hair.

“Mmm, you need a hair appointment Mrs Farmer.”

I said “I know, I do.” To cover what she had said, more than anything. It was something my mind was busily avoiding.

“Good, as you’re booked in straight after you’ve dropped the girls off at school tomorrow.”

We laughed.

Evie clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention. “The girls are getting cold. Let’s move inside.”

We moved as one and I did not notice while we moved as I was talking with Melissa that I gradually went from being at the back of everyone to the front of our little crowd.
So I was the first one through the hall door into the kitchen.

I made a sound, I guess it was a girlish/womanish shrike. And was instantly embarrassed by doing it as John came up behind me and put his arms around my waist. The house may have looked Elizabethan. With a thick oak wood frame and overhanging first floor. The porch had a roof of old clay tiles, as were the tiles on the roof of the house making it look old, but I knew it was built only ten years ago by John and Susan. Even inside they had carefully decorated to make it look cosy and old and not new. But in the kitchen, it had an ultra-modern kitchen with build in units in a modern sleek dark blue.

When talking with Evie while in hospital in casual conversation she had asked me what I thought of the kitchen at White Gate Farm and I had told her the fittings were fantastic. The waist high ovens with disappearing doors and all that stuff were a treat for cooking. But I like the look of her farmhouse kitchen with its wood and glass door wall units. They were much more homely and cosy. And I loved her battered old leather sofa with its cushions that just said to you, ‘Please sit on me’.

My shrike was because all the hi-tec glossy look was gone replaced by the warm wood farmhouse look of Evie’s kitchen. John had changed the fronts form warm wood and the wall cupboards now had glass doors in wood frames. The girls danced around me happy opening doors to show me everything. John bent his head and spoke softly in my ear.

“The old look was the kitchen Susan wanted. It was her kitchen and she loved it. But this is your kitchen, the one you would have wanted. Yes?”

I nodded like an idiot and turned to face him still in his arms. “Yes, but you shouldn’t have. But thank-you.” And without thinking kissed him, and everyone went “Arrr.”

Nelson got up from his bed by the round cowboy saloon table as I thought of it and plodded over to us for a fuss from John and me. Over on the kitchen counter by the garden window Henry had taken one look at me and got up and turned around to put his back to me. I broke free from John and went over and lent down putting my arms around him and bending down close to his head and whispered in his ear.

“I’ve been very ill. Henry. But I missed you and I’m back now. Want a cuddle?”

Henry made a cross snort, then purred as if trying not too, made himself more comfortable ignoring me, then got up and turned around to me purring loudly rubbing his face against mine. I picked him up and held him like a baby. And his little face watched me, then he closed his eyes purring, looked like they cat that got the cream.

Trish and Zoey had made lots of finger food, little sandwiches and small sausages on sticks, sausage rolls, fairy cakes for children of all ages. We all sat and stood and eat and while Henry stayed snuggled up like a baby in my arms looking extremely pleased with himself. In the end I let everything go on around me and just sat tired. Evie saw and I found myself being moved to the sitting room and onto the big comfy four seater sofa. Henry just snuggled up against me and a blanket appeared over me. Moments later I was asleep.

Later I woke to find Em curled up against me under the blanket with Henry curled up in her arms. John was quietly playing monopoly on the floor with Eve and Lizzy in front of the big log fire in semi-darkness with just a couple of floor lamps on.

“Ok.” John asked me. I nodded, yes. The twins grinned at me and said perfectly together. “Hi, mum.”

“Hi, girls. You ok?” they nodded back.

“Want a drink?”

I shook my head and watched them playing and thought of mother. She would have loved this. She loved children. She had missed seeing Carol’s children growing up as they were in America.

“Hey there, time to wake up.” John called to me softly. I opened my eyes to see him gently rubbing my shoulder. “Here’s a cup of tea. Then it’s time to go to bed.”

I nodded. And sat up. The Twins, and Emily and Henry were gone.
John sat on the sofa beside me. “All gone up to bed and fast asleep. Henry as well. He sleeps on the end of Em’s bed. Has done that from the first night.”

This was cosy, sitting here the two of us with the logs on the fire burning in the big old brick fireplace.
When we were finished. John took our mugs back to the kitchen.

“You go on up. I’ll just check we’re all locked up down here and I like to check the farm cameras in the office before I come up.”

“Okay.” I nodded, this was it. This was the first time I had shared a bed with anyone, let alone a man who at some point was going to make love to me.

I got up and carrying my shoes went up the stairs and paused at the top. Just across and to my left was our bedroom. I had agreed to this, John had offered me the spare room over the sitting room. But I…

I turned right and went down to Emily’s door, which was wide open and went in. she was asleep with Henry sprawled out at the end of her bed. He lazily looked up at me and rolled on his back and I gave his tummy a gentle rub, feeling the quiet purr coming from him.

“Night-nite”, I said to Henry and gently put Em’s arm back under the covers.
I carefully opened the Twins door, and went to check on both of them. Both fast asleep in identical beds.

“Good night girls I said softly and headed back to my own bedroom. Correction. Our, bedroom.

I had seen the bedroom in Eve’s video of the house, so it was that strange, you know where you are feeling. On the bed with his head poking out was Fred. On top was a long black satin chemise nightie and little panties. At home I use to sleep in the nude. But that was not happening here!

I took it into the en-suite bathroom and closed the door and undressed. At some point I would do this with John around, but not yet. I took off my make-up and went through my night time regime and put on my new nightie, and then. Listening at the door, went back into the bedroom. John was not up yet and I popped into bed on the left side holding Fred, so I could lay on my left side and not be facing John.

“You ok?”

John was standing in the doorway. I nodded and said I was. John slipped into the en-suite and closed the door. When he came back out he had only the bottoms of his pyjamas on.

“You don’t mind do you?” He asked quietly. “I can’t sleep wearing the jacket.”

“No, it’s ok.” I told him looking over my shoulder to him.

He nodded and got in the bed.

“I didn’t know which side you sleep on, is that side ok.

No. this is fine. I sleep this side.”

“Ok.”

A gentle poking woke me in the small hours. When I opened my eyes I saw Em slowly pulling her hand back. She looked a little frightened. Without thinking I pulled the duvet back and moved across to the centre of the bed, trying not to jump when my back came up against John’s back. My satin chemise nightie had two straps crossing my back leaving it mostly naked and now I could feel his warm naked back against mine. I prayed he did not wake up.

Em needed no other invitation and scrambled in up against me, and I pulled the duvet back over her.

“Here, why don’t you give Fred a cuddle. He’s feeling a bit lonely.”

I reached over and put Fred in her arms and felt her embrace him in a cuddle. My left arm was under her waist. I wrapped my right arm over her my right hand holding my left. I felt Em snuggle back against me. Soon I could feel her breathing settle as she fell asleep while I stayed wide awake hyper sensitive to John’s back against mine.

Sleep seemed to be a long time coming, but after all that time in the hospital and early morning starts with cleaners starting at six. I was awake at that time to find Em still in my arms cuddling Fred. The space behind me was empty and our bathroom door open to show John was not in there. Sometime during the night Henry had joined us too and was curled up against Em. I stroked him getting a purr and sleepy eyed look before he closed his eyes and settled back to sleep.

I slid my arm from under Em, careful not to wake her and got up and put my nighties matching robe on, as well as my black high-heeled mules that I use to live in at home. They were under the chair my robe was on. I had seen the robe last night, but not my mules under the boudoir chair by my side of the bed. But I was tired and nervous at the time.

John was at the round table, dressed and eating toast. He looked up surprised and smiled

“Hello, you’re up early. It’s only six.”

“Well, hospitals, you know… early starts and all that.”

I bent and fussed Nelson who was keeping a close eye on John’s toast. John gave him half an unfinished triangle. Which Nelson wolfed down.

“Yes, of course…Do you want some toast?” He said nodding and started to get up. “

“Sit, I can make toast. Tea or coffee?”

“Tea please.”

We sat down, John with a fresh cup of tea, me with tea and toast. I asked what time the girls got up and what they had for breakfast.

“Well at the week-end I do a fry-up for us. To be honest, mum gets here at seven and I go off to the farm with dad. She gets the girls up and feeds them. Toast and cornflakes, I guess.”

We were talking when Evie pulled up outside.

We hugged.

“I thought I would come and not drop you in at the deep end. Tomorrow you can decide if you want this old lady to come up.”

“I’m glad, as this one is not sure when or what his girls have for breakfast.” I said grinning.

“Men.” Evie said back, “And I know what you are doing, John Farmer.” Knowing her son was pulling a face behind her.

It was one of the pleasures of life, when I went up-stairs and went into the bedroom and gently woke Em up.

“Time to get up sweetheart.”

The look of wonder on her face at seeing me was like the suns rise on a summer’s morning. She shot up and hugged me.

“Mummy.”

We sat for a moment.

“Come on missy. Time to get up and I have to wake up your sisters.”

“Okay.”

I got up and Em bounced out of bed. I kissed her head and she bounced off to her room. The Twins were half wake, or Lizzy was. She got up and gave me a hug, then raced across the bedroom to jump onto her sister’s bed.

“Wake up, lazy. Mum says it’s time to get up.”

“Whha. Mum? Mum!”

Eve struggled out of bed, pushing her sister off and came and hugged me too.

“I could get use to this every morning.”

The girls giggled.

Evie looked at the three girls round the table eating corn flakes with cold milk just the way I had them. Which made me smile as I put a pile of buttered toast on the table for them.

“Normally it is grizzles and grumps and not wanting to get up in the morning.” She turned to me pleased. “Shall I drive us in today. I have a hair appointment as well.”

I grinned and gave her a hug. “Thank-you. Please.”

Evie stayed in the car as the girls dragged me through the school gate to meet their teachers. Who they proudly told I was their mum. I was surprised they did not seem surprised until I found out they were both new to the school that term and only knew I had been seriously ill in hospital.

To be continued

He grinned at me. “I must say, that you look very hot and sexy in that mini-dress”

This is the story of Penny. A closet Transwoman thrust into the outside world 24-7 when she would rather go and hide away. Perhaps the title should be Welcome to Penny’s Paranoid World…

From part Nineteen
Evie looked at the three girls round the table eating corn flakes with cold milk just the way I had them. Which made me smile as I put a pile of buttered toast on the table for them.

“Normally it is grizzles and grumps and not wanting to get up in the morning.” She turned to me pleased. “Shall I drive us in today. I have a hair appointment as well.”

I grinned and gave her a hug. “Thank-you. Please.”
…

And now as they say, read on…

After dropping the girls off, it was a short distance back up the South road to the hair salon. Once out of school lane we only had to go past St Bartholomew Church and the vicarage on the right before crossing over the bridge over the river Beck and straight after it turn right, down the narrow lane beside Rosemary’s Hair Salon. In a former life long ago the hair salon was a small grocers shop and in effect the front room of Rosemary’s house. Evie parked beside the salon.

Melissa took twice as long with my hair as Rosemary did with Evie’s. But I did have to have new extensions added and cut and dyed beach blonde again, and for some reason I think Melissa rather likes playing with my hair. I have spent too little time as a woman in the real world to object and stop her from letting her creative juices flow on my hair. But I do not mind. I like Melissa. Evie really had become even before I went into hospital my surrogate mother, Trish my surrogate Aunt, and Melissa and Zoey my friends. I think Evie came more so today so I did not think about the last time I was here, which was with Mother, than any other reason. She and Rosemary chatted away until her next client arrived.

When we left, Evie touched my arm. “Do you want to drive?”

“Okay.”

I wondered why, and then guessed Evie was trying to attain as subtlety as possible if I was safe enough to be left to take and collect the girls from school. Which made me smile a little. I was not offended. She was only making sure her girls were safe. The lane beside Rosemary’s is quite narrow with the river bank on the other side. Rosemary has allowed for this by setting the gates back to her parking space at the end of her garden, so customers can pull in and reverse back onto the lane facing the right direction. After pulling out of the lane I had to stop by Dickinson Motor Engineers opposite Rosemary’s as we waited at the level crossing for the gates to open. A glance at my watch showed it would be the eleven a clock to Guildford and London that we were waiting for.

The Dickinson garage looks like one of those country garages that went bust years ago. Fading peeling paint on the wood work. They had two long disused petrol pumps against the building, both rusting away. One from the sixties and the other one must have been from either the nineteen twenties or thirties and one of the first ever made. It still had a worn wooden pump handle on it. The front of the wooden building had three pair’s domestic garage doors followed by a big glass showroom window. Except the glass window had such a thick coating of dust on the inside that made it hard to see it was now used as a parts store.

Glancing over at the garage. I told Evie.

“I’ll have to take my car into them and get her M.O.T. done. It was due a couple of months ago.”

Baby would need her m.o.t. too, but not at the Dickinson’s. I would be too embarrassed to take her there. The Dickinson’s business has two sides to it. On one part, they looked after the local cars and vans and farm pick-ups brought into them to have work done on them or have their m.o.t’s done. But they also have a busy trade servicing classic Lamborghinis, up to and including the early Murcielago’s.

And that is my problem. Baby, is an Mk2 Toyota MR2 with adapted bodywork to turn the outsides into a Murcielago. It is not that I wanted to pretend I had a Lambo. Just one second of hearing the engine with tell you it is a fake. But I just love the shape, especially her rear end, which is beautiful.

“They’ve already been done.”

“What!” I turned to look at Evie.

“When the council wanted the bungalow back, your sister had just had the road tax form for your Mercedes come in the post. Her husband found the cars paperwork and found they both needed to have their M.O.T. done. So John thought it would be easier for the time being to just put the cars on the farms insurance and sort out everything later. Your sister was using the Mercedes and John brought your sports car up to the farm and then had the Dickinson’s do whatever was required on both cars, so they would be ready when you woke up.”

“Oh.”
Evie laughed. “John said the Dickinson’s asked if he had won the lottery when he drove up in your sports car.”

Evie giggled to herself. “What a pair you two are. He has an overpriced American electric car, and you have a fake Italian sports car.”

I looked at her and said my favourite movie line. “Well, nobody’s perfect.”

Which made her laugh, or though I bet she didn’t get the reference. Although I wasn’t, was I. I had been a girl all along. Even if I did not feel it. It just took nearly forty-seven years to find out truth, and even that was wrong. My birthday had passed while I was in a coma.
Even if everyone acted as if I was in my mid-thirty’s. My real age worried me. I had never paid much attention to my heath, but now I had three girls I had to be around for. When Em was twenty, I would just be in my sixties. All my grandparents died in their early sixties. So did my father. But mother was in her late eighties. So I would have to look after myself if I wanted to be a grandparent myself.

I pulled up at the farmhouse and turned to Evie.

“I don’t know what time John and Johnny come in for lunch.”

“Let’s ring them. It depends where they all are on the farm. There are three farm workers. Clive, Gerry and Barry. It depend where everyone is on the farms. They have a cabin at Apple Tree Farm where they have a fridge with bacon and milk in and a microwave. So if they are close enough they make themselves bacon sandwiches or heat up soup or pies and we don’t see them.”

We moved inside as she called Johnny. I filled the kettle and switched it on. Apart from knowing where the fridge, kettle and bread bin was, I did not really know where anything was in the kitchen. I fussed Henry who rolled over for me to rub his tummy. Nelson was nowhere to be seen. I wondered if he was with John.

“Ok, love. See you tonight.” She turned to me. “Well, that’s where they are. In the cabin.”

Evie went to one cupboard and took out grinning at me a Christmas biscuit tin, pulling the lid off and put it on the table looking in. “If they haven’t eaten them all ready.”

Nelson plodded in from the sitting room, clearly able to sniff out an open cake tin. Looking at us with sorrowful eyes, with his head laid on our laps in turn, before being given a cup cake by Evie. Which he took and flopped down happy on his bed to eat it.

Later Evie left after I promised to have a rest and checking I would be alright collecting the girls from school. Before I did that I went upstairs and made the bed, then checked the girl’s rooms. They were tidier than I had left the master bedroom in this morning. In Emily’s bed with his head on her pillow and her duvet neatly tucked under his chin was Fred. I rubbed his head.

“I think you have a new friend to look after, Fred. I would have liked to have held onto you for a bit longer. But I think Emily needs you more. I’m not abandoning you, but just look after her, will you?”

I got up and smiled at him and went to the twin’s room. John had his girls well trained. The duvets were neatly pulled up to their pillows on the beds. The girls had a floor standing mirror and seeing myself in it I realised I was wearing the same clothes as yesterday. That made me grin. What kind of woman was I wearing the same clothes two days running. I went back and opened my wardrobe to find all my clothes there. Draws in it had my underwear and tights and stockings. My shoes and boots were neatly lined up on the wardrobe floor.

When I went back down stairs I was wearing my suede faun coloured Cavalier boots with chunky four inch heels, sheer nude tights and a red wool knit mini-dress. Oh! and underwear as well, of course. The mini-dress was quite thick and I only ever wore it when the temperature had started to drop. So I hope it will be ok outside today without a coat. It is still warm for September. But you know it is no longer summer. I set the cow shaped kitchen timer for sixty minutes and lay down on the big sofa. Henry came and jumped up beside me purring and nuzzling me before laying down still purring. Nelson plodded in and after a fuss, flopped down on the floor in front of the sofa.

Except I could not rest and in the end got up with half an hour to go. In the kitchen is a key box with a photo of Me! With the twins and John around my bed at the hospital. Em was on the bed with me. Evie must have taken the photo. I did not notice it this morning, I must get her to take another one. Either here in the house or in the garden. So long as the girls are happy in it. As Evie was driving this morning, I did not pick-up any keys as John has put push button door locks on the house doors so the girls cannot lose their keys and lock themselves out. Inside I found the keys for Baby and E220, my 2003 Mercedes E Class station wagon.

The garage was the kind you see advertised in the back of Motor magazines. Rustic wood framed buildings with a long room above the cars with a couple of dormer windows to let the light in. Below was a log store, two open car spaces, and an enclosed garage for two cars. One of the outdoor spaces was empty, with my ageing E220 station wagon in the other. On the side near the house was an outside staircase up to the room over the cars. Under it was a door with another push button lock into the garage itself. Luckily John had stuck with the same number as the house doors so the girls only had one code number to remember.

Inside was Baby, and John’s Tesla model S hooked up to its charger box. Baby had been driven in nose first while the Tesla had been reversed in. which made me smile. Real or fake! It takes time to have confidence reversing a Murcielago. Sitting on the door sill to reverse is an acquired skill not many ever need to have. Baby shone, her dark blue polished to a super shine. I opened up the door and slide myself inside, catching my heels on the sill. I put the key in and turned it to light up the dash, but resisted turning it all the way to start the engine, I smiled seeing she had a full tank of petrol. I will have to thank John later. Then turned everything off and removed the key.

I went back outside and after making sure I had pulled the door closed and it had locked, went and got in E220 and fired her up. The dash clock showed it was time to go. A glance showed she had a tank full of diesel. That was a dirty word that nowadays, but when I got her the government was still encouraging you to buy diesel cars. The tank was full, as I might have guessed. I drove down to the road and for the first time turned left for Mid-Steeping and the school.

“Mum!”

Emily had not seen me at first. Maybe at first she had looked for her gran who had always picked them up from school, but then she saw me. I was nearly bowled over by the nearly eight year old as she thudded into me and hugged me. Moments later two more arms enveloped me in a group hug. As I hugged them back and felt the warmth in their love I thought of the price of having this new perfect life. Mother had gone and joined Father. My parents’ home of the last twenty years, mine for the past near eight years was one. In my fantasies since meeting John and the girls, mother was part of the picture I created even if I did not believe it would ever happen. I never had the belief Evie always seemed to have.

Evie had insisted we all eat with her tonight. She had told me tomorrow was soon enough to start cooking for my family. So it was going to be just a sandwich when we got home. Em dashed up to her room to get Fred and bring him down. The twins were about to tease her about him when they saw my face slowly turn to say no. They gave me a rueful grin and stated to tell me about their school day, Emily followed on telling me about her day. I could see their delight in telling me.

I plugged my mp3 player into the speaker in the kitchen and had the Shadows playing as I made sandwiches for us. Which lead to a bit of in prompt dancing from the four of us to Dance On. As the girls sat down, Nelson came into the kitchen on the off chance of a bit of discarded sandwich. Which I am sure he got from the girls. After that the girls were off to the sitting room to watch Blue Peter* on the tv.

“We are going to eat with your Mum tonight. You get to suffer my cooking tomorrow.”

That had the girls laughing. John had just come in and they were crowded around him, wanting to tell him about their day.

“So I guess you want me to go and change, then?” He was looking at me with a grin on his face. “Can I have a cup of tea, first?”

“Go on up and change. I’ll bring you one up.”

He nodded, heading for the stairs, still with a little grin on his face. Quipping, “Slave driver,” as he passed me.

“Ha!” I screwed up the tea towel I was holding and threw it at him, but it unravelled in flight and fell to the floor missing him.

Laughing with a twinkle in his eyes, he looked at me and then as I made for the towel, hurried up the stairs before I could retrieve it and try again. Which had the girls laughing some more as they watched us.

When I went upstairs with his cup of tea, the girls had gone back to the sitting room and were watching the children’s tv programs. John was just coming out of our bathroom as I entered. He had had a quick shower and had put on some chinos on, but still had bare feet and was just putting on a shirt. He grinned at me. I must admit he smelled good.

“This do?”

“Yes. But add socks and shoes, or are you going sailing.”

He grinned at me. “I must say Mrs Farmer, that you look very hot and sexy in that mini-dress and those boots.”

Then he paused, not sure if he had gone too far for me. I hesitated too, not because he had, but because I saw him look unsure. So I was unsure. Then I thought for some reason of Bewitched and Samantha jumping into Darren’s arms in the opening credits. Well I was not going to do that. Instead I went up to him and kissed him on the cheek and gave him his cup of tea.

“Here’s your cup of tea, Casanova. Your mother is expecting us.”

I don’t know why, but as I turned to go away. I looked over my shoulder grinning at him and put a hand on hip as I moved away.

“Oh, no you don’t. If you’re going to walk away like that.” John was laughing. He must have put the tea down as he put an arm around my waist and gently pulled me back to him. I turned and was looking up into his eyes. It was strange having to look up at someone. But it was an exciting strange I had not known before.

“You know I love you very much. But if I ever go to fast for you. Say so, won’t you.” He told me gently. Brushing hair away from my eyes.

I nodded, and then he lent down and kissed me. And I let him.

“Coats, girls. Time to go to grannies.”

As I hustled them away from the tv as they attempted to watch to the last possible moment. I looked back to see John scoop up E220’s keys and head outside. I opened my month to say something and stopped. I was not the man now, was I. I had to get use to being the one who sat in the passenger seat. I was the wife. We went out to the car to find the car running.

As we got in he muttered “women” and sighed, while trying not to laugh. I had nipped up to the bedroom and got my suede car coat that almost matched my boots. I punched him lightly and the girls giggled behind us.

“Seat belts all on?” I asked them.

“Yes!” was yelled back by three happy girls. This was something they clearly did with John as well. They had done it with me when I picked them up after school today.

At Evie’s, the girls and John went to find Johnny in the sitting room. While I went to ask Evie if there was anything I could do to help.

“Get the girls to lay the table, they know what to do.”

I popped my head into the sitting room. “Hi, Pops.” I said to Johnny with a grin. Which the girls thought funny. “Okay, girls. Come and lay the table for Gran.”

Evie took a roast pork joint out of the oven.

“You will have to teach me to cook, Evie.”

She turned to me. “You can cook. I know you can.”

I laughed. “Roast a chicken and potatoes. Boil the veg. make the gravy. I can fry, but that’s about it.”

She looked at me, thinking. “Okay. Tomorrow afternoon we check what is in your fridge and go shopping and cook tea together. How’s that.”

I nodded smiling. “Thanks.”

Evie came over to me, giving me a hug, smiling. “Every mother teaches her daughter to cook.” Then looked at me wondering.
I knew why, like John she was thinking had she gone too far. I hugged her back. “Thanks, Mum.” I said softly. And hugged her tightly.

To be continued

*Blue Peter, is a long running children’s BBC tv program.

Once she was in, Evie giggled. “Of course, now you wicked girl. I have to get out again.
Grinning I told her. “You should try it in five inch heels.”
“No thanks, I’ll leave that to you.”

This is the story of Penny. A closet Transwoman thrust into the outside world 24-7 when she would rather go and hide away. Perhaps the title should be Welcome to Penny’s Paranoid World…

From part Twenty
I laughed. “Roast a chicken and potatoes. Boil the veg. make the gravy. I can fry, but that’s about it.”
She looked at me, thinking. “Okay. Tomorrow afternoon we check what is in your fridge and go shopping and cook tea together. How’s that.”
I nodded smiling. “Thanks.”
Evie came over to me, giving me a hug, smiling. “Every mother teaches her daughter to cook.” Then looked at me wondering.
I knew why, like John she was thinking had she gone too far. I hugged her back. “Thanks, Mum.” I said softly. And hugged her tightly.
And now as they say, read on…

Around one thirty, I felt small fingers very gently pushing against my shoulder. I opened my eyes to see Emily standing there clutching Fred to her chest. I smiled at the worried face intently watching me.

“Can’t sleep, sweetie?” I moved back against John, pulling the duvet back. Em nodded her head violently and scrambled into bed with us, snuggling up against me as I wrapped the duvet back around her.

“She ok, Suzz.” Came the sleepy voice behind me as John half twisted my way.

“Yeah, she’s just a little frightened, a bad dream, that’s all. Go back to sleep.” I said softly to the half-awake man against me.

“Kay.”

I think he was asleep the moment his head was back on the pillow. It was near the end of my fourth week out of hospital and Emily had slept with us every night for the first two weeks, but she had gradually begun to sleep through the night in her own bed as she realised I was not going to disappear in the night. She had slept through the last two nights. I think she just woke up panicking I had gone and needed to come and check that I was still here.

Em rested her head on my upper arm, and pulled my hand against Fred’s body and around her. She had both arms wrapped tightly around them. Not the most comfortable position for me to be in to be honest, but it settled her and I listened to Em’s steady breathing as with a sleepy mumbled, “night-night, mummy”. She slipped into a contented sleep.

I thought about John half-awake calling me Suzz. Not the first time he had done this. Unlike me, he seemed most at ease with our sleeping together. I guess I was getting use to sleeping with someone of the opposite sex. And with Susan and myself looking so alike. It must have made the last four years since her death seem like a bad dream. A real Bobby Ewing moment.

Did I mind slipping into being this duel person? Sort of being both Susan and Penny muddled in together. It sort of happened without John realising he was doing it while I was still in the hospital, his calling me Suzy a number of times and that had help me make my decision that seemed to make sense to me at the time. But now in the cold approaching light of day. Had I made the right one? I had been Penny to everyone for such a short length of time. Letting myself slip into becoming Suzy with John and others when I was still so confused about what had happened myself at the time, seemed the easiest thing to do since I looked so much like the girl’s mother.

It would save awkward questions from those who had forgotten or did not know Susan had died and it would make things easier if John kept slipping up name wise the way he had been doing. Perhaps it was one of those things you just let lie and see what happens.

I woke up early again to find the bed empty behind me. Emily was fast asleep still holding my right hand with Fred. After some slow careful moving I managed to retrieve my left arm, pressing it down into the mattress to slide it from under her so I could get out of bed without waking her. It was nice I must admit having an en-suite a few heavily carpeted steps away was nice as I needed the loo. A quick wash of my face and after followed by some make-up and I headed down stairs.

John was not there, but there was no evidence of breakfast having been consumed either. So I got bacon, a pack of Lincolnshire sausages and eggs from the fridge and started cooking. If John did not come back in I was going to be eating a large breakfast. With the bacon happily cooking I laid the table. I had just finished when I heard the outside door opening. I went back and turned the bacon and sausages on the hotplate and cracked four eggs open. I was not sure if it is good for him, but he works outside all day. He must use up a lot of energy. He certainly has a healthy appetite at the evening meal, so I hope three slices of thick back bacon with two eggs and sausages will do for breakfast along with toast. No complaints so far anyway. The toaster helpfully popped up four slices as the kitchen door open and John came in.

“That smells nice.”

“I thought you would like some breakfast to start the day.”

John grinned and came and put his arms around me, pulling me to him, kissing me. “Thank-you. You didn’t need to get up and do this.”

I smiled back at him with a slightly crooked grinned. “Wives are supposed to cook their husband’s breakfast, aren’t they?”

He grinned back still holding me round the waist. “I’m not complaining.”

“Well, go wash your hands then, and come back and sit down. It’s ready.”

He let go and disappeared back through the kitchen door.

John was sat down tucking in. it seemed I had it about right food wise for a healthy farmer. I put some more toast on as it looked like he would get through all that I had done so far. I was about to sit down to have my own when a sleepy little girl descended the stairs with Fred tucked under her arm.

“Morning sweetie.”

“I smelled bacon.” Emily said from the stairs.

I went over and gave her a hug and sat her down in my place opposite her father.

“Hello sweetheart. You’re up early.” John said smiling at her.

“Hello Daddy. I smelled bacon.” Then she held Fred up to her ear, listening. Then told us Fred did not want any breakfast, but she would, thank-you.

I am not sure if you should give a seven year old two fried eggs for breakfast, or even one for that matter. I got another plate and took away one of the eggs along with a slice of bacon and a sausage from my plate leaving her with one of each. Eating them standing as I put more bacon and sausages on the hotplate as I could hear movement from upstairs. Cutting off a piece of sausage and coating it in runny egg yolk, I popped it in my mouth and savoured the taste. Perfect.

Five minutes later the twins thundered down half the stairs like a herd of wildebeest to poke their heads under the beam from the half landing into the kitchen.

“Hi mum, dad. Is that bacon.”

I pointed to the table. “Sit.”

Grinning, they quickly came down the rest of the stairs and into the kitchen, sliding into their chairs beside each other. Smiling happy faces as I put a plate of bacon, sausage and egg in front of each of them.

John finished up and was getting up as I sat down myself to a second sausage and egg after adding more toast to the toast holder on the table. I was going to have to start walking between the farmhouses at this rate. He kissed the girls on the head, and grinned at me. Bending over and kissing me on the lips

“No peace for the wicked!”

He kissed me again on the lips, making the girls giggle. This stopped when Lizzy looked open mouthed at the time on the kitchen clock.

“Is that the time.”

Laughing, John said. “Farmers get up early, farmer’s daughter.” And winking at me left us.

“Is it, slow?” Added Eve.

“Nope, it’s correct. That’s the time.” I said smiling, realising the twins must not have noticed the time when they came down.

“Oh, My, Goodness…” Said Lizzy.

“…That’s Sooo, early.” Eve finished her sister’s sentence, stunned. Then added hopefully. “Can we go back to bed?”

Emily turned in her seat to see the time on the clock, then turned back to concentrate on eating the triangle of toast in her hand. The twins carried on gaping at the clock as if the time would somehow change to something more acceptable to them. I know some people get a bit freaked by twins finishing each other’s sentences, but it seems perfectly normal to me, now.

After dropping the girls off at school, I went to the Medical Centre for my appointment with David Walker my doctor. He seem happy with me so far. It already seems as if I left hospital ages ago. Being with John and the girls just seemed to feel right. This was my natural place in life. Looking after mother seems such a very long time ago now.

Back at the farmhouse I put E220’s keys back in the key box and gave Henry a fuss as he sprawled in the sun on the kitchen worktop. Beside him the buttered piece of toast I had left out had been licked to death into a soggy mess and was soon heading straight for the bin. But Nelson who had already done rather well at bacon titbits during breakfast from John and the girls, was looking hopefully up at me as he sprawled on the kitchen floor in the sun.

“Alright, here you go, then.” Nelson’s head reached up to me as I bent down to him and he snaffled the soggy toast from my fingers and swallowed it with satisfaction, his eyes alert looking at me in case there was more to come.

I washed my hands and went upstairs to get on with the life of being a mother – Tidying the bedrooms, making the beds, cleaning the bathrooms and getting the hoover out.

Later, I was back down stairs having just finished the sitting room carpet and decided that, that was it for the time being. Time to head for the kitchen and make a cup of tea and sit down for a bit. I had to ruefully admit to myself that I still tired out far too quickly. Maria lives in Great Steeping and cleans for Evie every Tuesday and Thursday mornings was now helping me Tuesday and Thursday afternoons. Trish had her all day Monday and Friday, as well as Wednesday mornings. I had met her on that first day as Penny out in the world at Clair’s that first Wednesday afternoon get together. I had even had everyone here last Wednesday. But I still felt guilty that I could not cope doing everything myself.

The doorbell chimed and a quick glance out of the kitchen window showed the postman’s van outside. I wondered what he would say finding me here, but, it was a different postman from the one mother and I had in Lower Steeping.

“Hello.” The short postwoman smiled up at me.

“Package for you.” She offered the electronic thing to me with an old empty ballpoint pen for me to use to sign in the little grey screen.

“If you would sign here, please.”

I just managed in time not to do my old signature, seeing as I could see who it was addressed too and who the envelope was from.

“Ta.”

I took the bundle of letters and three magazines. Said “bye”, and went back into the kitchen and put everything with John’s name on one side for him. Which was most of it. It looked to be a mixture of bills, farming company adverts and two farming magazines. I just had my stiff, signed for envelope and my Mercedes Owners Club magazine. I watched the post van pull away and take the farm road down to AppleTree Farm, rather than head back up our drive to the road.

On impulse I took Baby’s keys from the key box and went out and opened up the garage. After getting her outside I locked up the garage, given Baby shared it with John’s Tesla. It would not do to forget to lock up and come back to find the Tesla missing.

I drove the half hour or so it took to get to the riverside spot I use take mother to. She enjoyed watching the pleasures craft go past. Sometimes she would wave to a woman or child and they would wave back. It did not matter if she was watching a fifty foot Gin Palace or a little day boat. She loved watching them go past and waving to them. She always confused the spot with Marlow on the River Thames, where she had lived as a child.

We would sit there for hours at a time watching them go by. I would listen to BBC’s Radio Four and go and get cups of tea and coffee from the Boatmans Arms pub at the far end of the carpark. After I took mother in to use the loos there. They always gave me china cups from the restaurant instead of the usual throw away styrene cups they normally used for take-away sales.

This time I was more than ever aware of the empty seat beside me. My eyes looking down at the buff envelope in my hands and wondering if I had done the right thing or made a gigantic big mistake that was going to back fire on me and ruin everything. I opened it and checked the contents were as I expected. Then sat brooding, watching the river until the carpark began to fill up with people arriving to have lunch in the pub. My solitude broken, I started up, carefully backed Baby out of my parking spot and headed for home.

I have actually driven a real Lamborghini Murcielago across Europe, and to be honest, I much prefer my fake lambo every time, as strange as that seems. Since my lambo is really a seriously worked over bodywise series two MR2 Toyota with a prefect fake Murcielago body added, leaving you with reliable Toyota maintenance and no super expensive visits to your Lamborghini dealer. It also meant that unlike the real thing I had a *boot behind the engine the same as the Countach did. Not only that, but the noise levels are decent too, so you can hear the radio when you have your foot down. Whereas in the real thing you need ear protectors if driving for any length of time with those admittedly beautiful twelve cylinders of Lamborghini perfection screaming behind your head.

I had shared the driving back to the UK from Italy one summer after flying one of Stelio Frati’s original Falco’s down there along with its new owner who I had taught to fly months earlier. We had flown the Falco down from Manchester’s Barton airfield to Venice’s grass Tourist airfield, the Aeroporto Nicelli on the north end of the Venice-Lido. That’s the long narrow strip of an island below Venice protecting it from the sea. The Falco’s new owner had a holiday villa there that had a mere six guest bedrooms and a live-in staff of five to look after him and his wife and their house guests on their week-ends visits.

He wanted the Falco there for the usual week-end sort of thing. Fly somewhere for lunch, and then fly back again. After all just because you have a fantastic view of Venice from your bedroom and roof terrace, it does not mean you have to actually go there among all those tourists, does it.

Instead of flying back business class in a commercial jet on the Monday. We drove back to the UK, sharing the driving in his Murcielago, taking the car ferry from the Lido to Venice itself, and then over the causeway to the mainland and up to Switzerland and on into Germany and thence to France and the channel tunnel back to London. And thumping great headache I had by the time we got back as well! But I still think it is a beautiful design. The nicest Lamborghini since the original Countach LP400 with its skinny wheels and no stupid dining room table stuck on the back.

On a whim as I was about to past Lower Steeping, I slowed and turned down Village Lane into the village. Something I had done so many times in the past. Driving past AppleTree Farm I glanced over to see if Evie was outside. She was not, so I carried on down to my old home and parked outside. There was three foot high overgrown grass in the front garden. All that rush by the council to get me out of the bungalow while I was in a coma in the hospital after mother died and there was still no one living here months later.

The back gate was un-done, so I carried on back round into my old the back garden where I could just about see the wooden picnic bench Henry use to snooze on in the overgrown grass. Looking in the window of my old empty bedroom, it looked lonely and forlorn, and empty. I hoped someone moved in soon. Perhaps it was a mistake to come down here and look at the old place. Too many memories of mother in the garden. First, when she was gardening and kept it pristine, she loved gardening, and then in later years sitting in her wheelchair with Fred on her lap as she dozed in the summer sun with her floppy hat on.

This was where Penny was spotted by Clair, my next door neighbour and everything changed for me. But even Clair’s home had a For Sale sign up now, as she and husband John were going to stay on in New Zealand to be with their daughter and her family. My friend Clair who plotted with Evie and Trish to bring Penny out of the shadows into the sunlight. Now half a world away.

“Come on back to the farmhouse and we’ll put the kettle on.”

I turned to see Evie standing at the corner of the bungalow.

“Henry’s picnic table. He use to snooze on it in the sun.” I said, patting it.

“We’ll get the boys to come and fetch it, and put it in your new garden.”

“It’s all overgrown, just abandoned.” I said sadly reaching her and looking back around the garden. So many happy memories of being here, and now look at it.

“Come on.” Evie said softly as she put an arm around mine and guided me back down to the gate.

“How did you know I was here?”

Evie chuckled. “You’re the only one I know with one of those.” She said pointing at Baby as we reached the front of the bungalow.

“Have you ever been in one?”

Evie shook her head.

“In that case,” I said with a grin as I opened up the passenger door. “Slide your bum in and swing your legs up and around, in a lady like a way as possible.”

Once she was in, Evie giggled. “Of course, now you wicked girl. I have to get out again.

When I was in I asked if she had been heading for Trish’s, when she saw the car. She nodded. So I drove their instead of heading back to the farmhouse.

I went round and helped pull Evie up out of Baby.

She laughed as I took hold of her hands and pulled her up. “Maybe I should walk back to the farmhouse.”

Grinning I told her. “You should try it in five inch heels.”

“No thanks, I’ll leave that to you.”

Trish unseen had opened her front door and was standing, laughing, watching us.

“You are so lucky Evie Farmer that I didn’t pick up my phone when I came to open the door, or I would have taken a photograph of you like that.”

I closed Baby’s passenger door as Trish came over and hugged a giggling Evie, and then me in greeting. Holding me she smiled, asking.

“So, how’s motherhood.”

I smiled. “Wonderful.”

“Good.”

We went in and Trish had us each carry a bowl out onto the crazy paving terrace that ran the length of the back of the house. The outside wicker table was already laid for three. I had been expected. We had a lunch of boiled potatoes, cold cooked runner beans and thick slices of cold chicken.

As we eat I decide to take the bull by the horns.

“I may have done something incredibly stupid.” I said quietly.

Both women looked up at me, forks half raise to their mouths. They both smiled reassuringly at me, both saying almost in unison. “I’m sure not.”

“Yes, I think so.” I fished the buff envelope out of my handbag and handed it over to Trish who was nearest to me.

She opened it and looked inside and turned it over, tipping out the contents onto her hand. One burgundy red passport, the modern UK/European Union chipped thing, not the dark blue of my father’s old out of date passports that I kept in the deed box. Trish leant towards Evie so they both could see as she opened the cover.

I really was not sure how they would react. Be ok, be angry? But they both looked up at me with warm smiles on their faces.

“Are you sure?” Asked Evie.

“John keeps calling me Suzy when he doesn’t think about it. It’s not done on purpose, it just slips out. He doesn’t realise he’s doing it. I don’t want to confuse the girls. And we had agreed to let them keep thinking I’m somehow their mother come back to them until they realise that is not really possible. So as not to break the illusion they have made-up for themselves.”

“It has a nice ring to it. Don’t you think.” Trish said slowly to Evie, but she was smiling.

Evie moved round to me putting her arm around my shoulders.

“Are you sure? Are you really sure. It’s a lovely gesture.”

“Did I do the right thing? Will John be angry? Do you think he will think I am being disrespectful to Susan?”

Evie shook her head. “No, I think he will be touched that you would do this for him and the girls.”

I dropped Lizzy and Eve off at brownies. Despite their attempts to get Em to join them, she stayed resolutely in the car determined to go to the supermarket, shopping with me. John had trusted me with the Tesla as Betsy was at Dickinson Motor Engineers having her exhaust fixed after John borrowed her the other night and reversed her into a breezeblock in the carpark at The Waggon and Horses. Johnny had lost no time in telling everyone that John had broken the wife’s car in the carpark and got teased about it all evening.

In the past in order to have the odd night at the pub with his dad, John would have to drop the girls off with his mum, Evie, then he and his dad would go up to The Waggon and Horses for the evening. The girls would stay the night which was not a problem as Evie took them to school anyway. Now John went down and picked his dad up and Evie would drive up with Patch and spent the evening with me and the girls. This time John had got mud in the pick-up and so as not to get his clothes dirty, used Betsy, my ageing E220, and promptly reversed into the breezeblock in the pub car park. So was having to let me use the Tesla to take the girls to school and to go shopping.

Thirty minutes saw us parked at Morrisons in Aldershot.

“Would you like some ice cream in the café before we start the shopping?”

A violently nodding head told me that would be a good idea. Minutes later we were in the new country style café with Emily enjoying a bowl of vanilla ice cream and a glass of still orange. While I had a ring donnut with a chocolate covering along with a pot of tea. I had to keep an eye on the time as we only had an hour here before needing to head back to pick up Evelin & Elizabeth from brownies.

I watched Em happily eating her ice cream. I loved all three girls deeply with all my heart and would face down anyone to protect them, but if I am honest, Emily has an extra special place in my heart.

It was the twins who made the connection between me and the photos of their mother when they saw me that first time when Evie and I along with mother arrived back from shopping at the Boundry Mills store. It was they who plotted to get their father and me together. Because as they saw it they were getting their mother back who seemed to have lost her memory.

Emily had that first evening connected with me. At dinner I had cut her meat for her and she had whispered to me how she liked it cut. Then afterwards she had climbed up into my lap as we had all played Monopoly and literally hugged me and snuggled up to me and fallen asleep in my lap. It was that probable that most of all that had kicked in my mothering instincts towards the girls and Emily especially. For her it was having physical contact with her mother for the first time as she thought. So for different reasons we bonded that evening and she will always be mummy's little girl however old she gets to be.

To be continued in… The final chapter
*UK speak for a car’s Trunk.

“Oh, you want to tie me up, make me a damsel in distress. Do you.” I say grinning.

This is the story of Penny. A closet Transwoman thrust into the outside world 24-7 when she would rather go and hide away. Perhaps the title should be Welcome to Penny’s Paranoid World…

Sorry for the delay, a bad back has made sitting and writing difficult. Also I have just realised that this chapter it is getting on a bit and near too two chapter lengths, so this is now the penultimate chapter, hopefully the last will be in a week or so. Sophie.

From part Twenty One
The outside wicker table was already laid for three. I had been expected. We had a lunch of boiled potatoes, cold cooked runner beans and thick slices of cold chicken.
“I may have done something incredibly stupid.” I said quietly.
They both smiled reassuringly at me, both saying almost in unison. “I’m sure not.”
“Yes, I think so.” I fished the buff envelope out of my handbag and handed it over to Trish who was nearest to me.
I dropped Lizzy and Eve off at brownies. Despite their attempts to get Em to join them, she stayed resolutely in the car determined to go to the supermarket, shopping with me.
And now as they say, read on…

We got back just as the Brownies were leaving the church hall. There was a brief argument in the back as Emily refused to give up her door seat. Having locked the door and refusing to open it for Lizzy. I had to tell Lizzy to go back onto the path and get in there. Forcing a reluctantly Eve to move to the centre spot on the rear seat to let her in. I had to suppress a smile. Emily was starting to stand up for herself which was a good thing. I should have told her to let Lizzy in, but Lizzy was not in danger, so I could let some one-upmanship on Em’s part take place between them.

There was an empty space in front of the fish and chip shop, so I pulled in quick taking the prized spot before someone else got in there before me. Taking the key fob with me, I nipped out to get our main meal. It was going to be a bit late today, but we had sandwiches at teatime to keep everyone going. Tonight it was going to be a fish and chip supper out on the patio which I knew everyone would enjoy.

Emily hopped out as well to help me and we went into the chip shop together with me pretending not to notice Em a step behind me turning her head back to her sisters and putting a hand to her nose and wriggling her fingers at them.

Coming back outside Eve had moved over by the door clearly intent on payback and make Em beg to be let back in. To stop the argument that was about to happen I opened the front passenger door and had Emily climb in holding the carrier bag with the nosh in. Leaning in I fastened the seat belt on her to make sure she was secure, amid cries of “Mum, that’s not fair” from the twins who were just realising helping mum with the food got you a ride in the front seat. A prized position not normally allowed. Strictly speaking Em should not be sat there, she is too young to travel in the front seat yet. But we are only going two miles and it saves an argument over who sits where. But I am really just giving myself a headache for the next time we have fish and chips, as all three will want to come inside with me to try and carry our food and be allowed in the front seat.

For this time of year the weather is quite mild. At half term a couple of weeks away, the weather man was saying Europe should be having a minor heatwave. But for now we find John has fired up the two patio heaters he had moved over by my picnic table he and Johnny had brought up for me from my old home to join my café table and chairs already on the patio. So it was quite nice sitting there. John and me on one bench seat with the girls on the other side on the other.

It was nice seeing the girls laughing and having fun at having a late supper outside way past their normal bedtime. The two large battered cod provided enough fish for our meal. John and I shared one, while the girls had the second between them. The large single portion of chips was more than enough for all of us, including the ones John kept feeding to Nelson laid down on the patio the other side of him. Mind you since Henry was on the table tucking into his own little plate of cod minus the batter. I was very kindly eating that for him. I had long found it was better to give him his own plate of cod, or I would be constantly pushing his nose away from him trying to help himself from my plate.

I really am going to have to start walking the mile between Evie’s and my farmhouses at this rate.

When the girls were settled in bed and John and I were sitting together on the big sofa in the sitting room with a late night glass of wine. I broached the subject of the envelope I had received in the post, getting it out of my handbag.

“This came today. I changed my passport.”

I handed him the envelope.

“Oh,” he said putting his wine glass down and taking it from me, tipping the burgundy red passport out of it onto his hand.

He opened it and I thought I saw a slight smile as he read the name and said it quietly. “Suzanne Penny Farmer.”

He turned and faced me. “Are you sure? Really sure?”

“Yes. I still have Penny in my name.” I hesitated, “I, I can’t explain why, but when you call me Suzy when you forget. It somehow feels right. That, this is how it’s meant to be. I can’t explain it any better than that. But that’s how it seems.”

He is smiling that warm smile of his. Me, I know I have a nervous anxious smile on my face. “And…” I add. “I didn’t want to have a different surname to the girls when I went to the school on school nights… and you keep calling me Suzy, anyway.” I added ruefully as I hesitantly touch his face. “I know you’re not doing it on purpose. But the girls hear and I don’t want to confuse them with two names.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault that Susan and I look like twins. It must be very strange for you. Us both so looking alike.”

John looked at me ruefully, “I do try, but it comes out without thinking. Most of the time I only realise I’ve done it when I think about it later on. And I guess that the two of you have sort of merged into one person for me. Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” I lean in and kiss him.

John put down the passport, and reached over and pulled me round to him till my feet are up on the sofa and I have to kick off my heels as I end up laid back in his arms with his left arm round my shoulders.

“Well, that just happens to…” He stops, realising something. “Suzanne or Suzy?”

“Suzanne officially, but Suzy for everyday use. I don’t want to steal Susan’s name from her.”

John shook his head. “No, you couldn’t do that. I think up their wherever she is. Our being together is her doing.” Then he laughed,

“When we are dead and gone we will be like that old Rex Harrison film. I’ll be sitting on a bridge with my two wives either side of me ganging up on me.”

“Hmm, Blithe Spirit. Double trouble, you will have to be careful then, won’t you, or we might push you in.”

He chuckled, “In that case I’ll pull you both in with me.”

Then he bent his head down and kissed me, and I kissed him back. When we came back up for a breather.

“Now, what had I been going to say… oh yes - your passport has come just at the right time.”

He held up my new passport. “I knew you had one somewhere, but just not where it was. It’s half-term in a couple of weeks and I usually take the girls out to the villa with Mum and Trish. They come to help look after the girls and plot whatever new thing they are up to. Dad stays here to keep things running.”

He grinned to himself. “Dad has to be surgically removed from the farm for mum to get him to take a holiday.”

“You have a villa hidden away somewhere? I said half joking. “Tell me more. I knew there was a reason I fell for you.”

“Well, it’s mum and dads, really. It was Gran and Grandad Walker’s, mums parents. They decided to retire to the sun and built a villa in Torralta, near Portimao on the Algarve. A four minute walk from the beach. When I was a kid you could see the sand dunes and sea from the patio, now all you see are high rise hotels.”

He gave me a hug. “Anyway, when Gran and Grandad past, it became mums and we use it for family holidays and rent it out the rest of the time. Maria, a local taxi driver looks after it for us when we are not there.”

British Airways has fallen a great deal in my estimation. Once they use to boast they were the world’s favourite airline. And they were, but now they have gone all no frills budget airline on their short haul flights. The two hour fifty-five minute flight to Faro is short haul as far as BA are concerned, which means no free meals and so on. Food if you want to pay their prices, are sandwiches from Marks & Spencers. Not impressed. Nor am I by the pack em’ in seating in the airbus A320 we have been flying in.

I bought snacks in the airside lounge for us, but god am I ready to get off and have a proper cup of tea. Emily sat beside me is quite happy though. Having spent most of the time looking out of the window and dipping into the sweets in my handbag. The twins are across the aisle on the starboard side. I had a feeling they might want to sit by themselves. They are very independent girls so long as they are together.

So I made up a bag of goodies for them too, despite the high prices in the airside shop. I was sure the on board prices would be more. They have been sat with a girl a year or so older than them and they have been getting on like a house on fire. Swapping the window seat between themselves as they felt like it.

It turns out her parents are in the row behind them and are staying close to us in one of the high rise hotels that block the villas view of the sea. Funny how small a world it can be at times. So I guess Tiffany will be spending some time with us this week. That is not a problem, she is an only child and I think her parents will be glad of the chance of a peaceful half-term holiday for themselves for once. I told them Tiffany is welcome to come and spend time with the twins at any time.

Evie and Trish have disappeared somewhere down the back of the plane, I think they are also relishing the chance of not having to keep an eye on the girls. I know they have brought the girls out to the villa every summer while John and Johnny get on with the farm work. Anyway I have not seen them since boarding.

At last we are arriving at Faro. We started letting down a while ago. The seat belt signs are on. I was tempted to lean past Em to watch the flaps come down, but instead told her what was about to happen and she has sat nose to the window excitedly telling me every stage of their deployment. Now she is watching for the runway to appear under the wings. It will not be long now, we have already left land and had the wing dip down as we curve around to the left as we turn from heading south to come in from the west as we line up for runway ten.

The ailerons are getting a bit of a work out, so it’s windy out there, we might be in for a bumpy landing. Then the black of the runway flashes under us and the main wheels clunk down in a heavy landing that firmly puts us back on terra firma.

Tiffany’s mum and dad, Alice and Guy Paterson seem a nice couple. John has arrange for us to be picked up by a Maria in her mini-bus, and has offered the Paterson’s a lift as well. Since according to him they are going somewhere quite close to us.

Maria of course knows everyone in the Farmer family, including me. Well, Susan really. Having been taking them to and fro from the villa and Faro Airport for years. So it is a bit strange for me being hugged by Maria as a long lost friend, along with much making of the cross by her prising the lord for my safe deliverance from illness.

Seeing Tiffany’s parents watching this. Evie tells them I have been seriously ill in hospital and have only just recovered. Now they are worried about imposing Tiffany on me by letting her come over to spend time with the girls. I reassure them I’m fine now and there is no problem Tiffany coming over. I invite them to lunch on Monday as well and Evie gives them the villas phone number.

Almost at the villa now, I think. We have just past a small airfield. I got a quick glimpse of a long runway and a couple of parked parachute drop planes. A Dornier Do-28D, a strange looking airplane, a boxy high winged twin that has two low stub wings forward with the engines stuck on them. Made for the Germany air force originally. They make great planes for the mentally insane who want to jump out of perfectly good aircraft while still in the air. Behind it was a stone age Antonov biplane, an AN2 sporting a camouflage paint job and a massive big radial engine on the nose in front of the high up bird cage cockpit and its round porthole style windows down the side. I briefly see the long yellow nose of the world’s supreme STOL aircraft, the Pilatus Porter PC6 poking out from behind the Antonov before my view is obstructed by a low roadside building with the dark glass of air traffic control on top.

Six minutes later we are dropping the Paterson’s off at their hotel which turns out to be a five minute walk back up the road to us. That will make the twins happy.

We back track the short distance up the road before turning right up a rising lane, then turn right again along a short road with a couple of villas backing on to it so they can face towards the sea, before driving between white garden walls into a large walled courtyard. There is a double garage on the left. A wall on our right goes from the outside garden wall to the side of the single story flat roofed villa. We pile out and John pays Maria as the girls tow me down a path that curves round to the front door. Like home, it has a keypad to un-lock the door and the girls have it open and are excitedly tugging me inside.

We are in a hallway with a staircase going up on the left.

“That goes up to the roof,” Lizzy tells me seeing me look up at it. I nod smiling to her.

“That goes into the kitchen.” Eve tells me, keen to carry on with my guided tour, waving to the open door beside the stairs revealing a long U-shaped kitchen beyond.

“And that’s the loo.” Adds Em, determined not to be left out, pointing to a door over on the right.

We carry on under a flat arch as the hallway continues with a wide hallway with a large archway on the left showing a dining room and a glimpse of a sofa further down. John has shown me pictures and a plan of the villa, but I am not going to spoil the girl’s fun in showing me around. Ahead of us a wide floor to ceiling window shows a sun drenched patio and pool outside.

We go round the corner to find doors either side.

“That’s Gran and Grandads room.” Eve tells me touching the door on the left.

“And that’s the guest bedroom. Lizzy adds, pointing to the one on the right. “Aunty Trish and Uncle M, stay their when they come with us.”

At the end of the corridor two more doors face us along with another floor to ceiling window on the left that looks out onto the patio and pool. On the right there is another floor to ceiling window, this time with frosted glass that must have the garage courtyard on the other side.

“That’s you and daddy.” Says Eve pointing to the first of the doors.

“And this is Us.” Quickly adds Em, beating Lizzy who is opening their bedroom door.

The girl’s room has three beds in an L shape against two walls. A floor to ceiling window on the third shows grass and two gleaming white garden walls in the late afternoon sun.

“This is our bathroom.” Em tells me opening the door and all three escort me in there to see they each have their own sink, which they each proudly show me, but they have to share the one bath and separate shower cube between them.

“Here.”

Trish holds out a cup to me, which I gratefully accept.

The girls had taken me up on the flat roof terrace, shown me the sun loungers and table with the umbrella in the middle up there. Pointed out everything possible for me to see from there. Before taking me down the outside staircase to the garden and patio where Eve demonstrated an old wooded swing they had hanging from a tree. While Lizzy and Em have me sit with them on a more modern three seat garden metal swing hammock on the edge of the patio. Lizzy tells me Grandma and Auntie Trish bring them here every summer while Daddy and Grandad do stuff on the farm. Em tells me she jumped off the diving board into the kidney shaped swimming pool last summer.

I sink back into the long L shaped sofa. The girls have gone off to their bedroom with glasses of orange and a plate of snacks. Evie and Trish had hustled me out of the kitchen when I tried to help them. They will take care of the tea making themselves they said. I need to go and have a rest they say.

I must admit I am tired, but everyone is after travelling.

“Where’s John?”

Evie smiles as she sits next to me. “Oh, he’ll be in the garage checking out the van.”

I get up. “I’ll take him a cuppa.”

Trish as if reading my mind comes from the kitchen and hands me a tray with two cups and some biscuits on it.

Trish grins. “There for John, not you.”

“Oh that’s cruel. They are my favourites.”

The biscuits are M&S butter biscuits, my absolute favourites. Except I cannot eat them and drink tea at the same time as I like my tea sweetened, and the sugar in the biscuits kills the sweet taste of the tea.

“There’s a cup for you, too.” She takes my half-drunk cup from me.

“I see. Ta.” I say taking the tray.

As I head out into the hall I can hear them tittering behind me as they call out. “If you are not back in an hour, shall we send out a rescue party, or shall we wait another hour or two longer?

Their like a pair of school girls. “Don’t bother.” I call back to more giggles and merriment.

The double garage door is up. The short bonnet of a minivan is up, although the top half of John’s body is stuck in the front passenger compartment of the minivan.

“Something wrong?”

John stands up.

“Nope. Arr lovely, a cuppa.” He says spotting the tea cups. “No. just checking the oil.”

“Under the driving seat? Have you lost the engine?” I say a little sarcastically.

“Yep.” He says grinning at me. “Butter biscuits. Love them.” He adds taking three.

Hmm. I thought the girls were sneaking the odd one or two out of the biscuit barrel in the kitchen. Seems they are innocent. I’m glad now I did not ask them if one of them was the guilty party, although I thought it was one or all of them. I am going to have to find a hiding place for a spare packet.

“So that’s where the engine is, is it?” I say pointing to the front seats, “under the driver’s seat.”

“Yep, it’s a Toyota Previa. Has eight seats. So can fit everyone in when we have a full house.”

I nod. He continues. “Because we keep it here and only we use it. We don’t let anyone renting the villa use it, apart from Trish and Malcom that is. So it’s hardly done any miles at all. It is really still like new even though it’s from the nineties. Dad bought it when I was fifteen from a local dealer, here.”

John patted it affectionately. “Twenty-two years old and she is only just short of six thousand miles on the clock.”

I get shown the little engine flap under the driver’s seat, which I am not really bothered about seeing. But having a husband who loves all things mechanical. One must show willing and be the good wife. Positively a husband wife thing, I think. Except, I remember feeling a little uncomfortable because we are not, as yet, married. I am still just an imposter. But that is my fault. I have not let him make love too me yet, or rather he has not tried to yet.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

“Mmm, sorry.”

He is looking at me, kindly. Waiting.

“Sorry. I was just thinking we haven’t done it yet, have we.”

Aarrr. My hand flies to my mouth. Sugar. What did I just say.
John smiles and pulls a dastardly smug Victorian face while twiddling an imaginary moustache.

“Well my dear, I was thinking. Yes, I was thinking... with all this Sun, Sea, and Wine flowing. I might tie you to the bed tonight and have my wicked way with you.”

“Oh, you want to tie me up, make me a damsel in distress. Do you.” I say grinning.

“And have my wicked way with you. Don’t forget that. That’s the best part.”

“Could be arranged,” I say. “Just remember which room I’m in. Malcom will be very cross with you if you tie up and ravage Trish.” Then I add pouting. “Besides, she’s too old for you, anyway.”

John laughs. “And I think my mother would have something to say about it, as well.” He puts his cup back on the tray I am still holding.

“Anyway,” he says getting in and powering down the window. “I’ve got to go out to give the old girl a test drive to check everything is still working before I let you all lose in her. Want to come.”

“Oh, ok. Let me just tak…”

“Can we come too?”

To be continued in… The final chapter

Ok, so this is now the penultimate chapter, but it’s got dancing in it!

This is the story of Penny. A closet Transwoman thrust into the outside world 24-7 when she would rather go and hide away. Perhaps the title should be Welcome to Penny’s Paranoid World…

Ok, so this is now the penultimate chapter and not the last. Basically the last chapter has stretched into not two, but three chapters. Sorry about that. But the next one will be the last chapter. Sophie

From part Twenty Two
“Oh, you want to tie me up, make me a damsel in distress. Do you.” I say grinning.
“And have my wicked way with you. Don’t forget that. That’s the best part.”
“Could be arranged,” I say. “Just remember which room I’m in. Malcom will be very cross with you if you tie up and ravage Trish.” Then I add pouting. “She’s too old for you, anyway.”
John laughs.
“Anyway,” he says getting in and powering down the window. “I’ve got to go out to give the old girl a test drive to check everything is still working. Want to come.”
“Ok. Let just tak…”
“Can we come too?”
And now as they say, read on…

Three girls we had not noticed join us are standing just outside the garage watching us, grinning their heads off. How long have they been there listening to us, I do not want to think about.

I look over to John, I am sure my face is red. He pulls a face grinning and nods. I turn back to them.

“Ok girls, get in while I take these back and tell gran where we have gone.”

“Mum, that’s the supermarket.” “Well the back of it.” Adds Lizzy. All three girls managing to tap me on the shoulder to point out the passenger window at the large building as we pass it. It looks more like it should be a cinema. Maybe it was once. It is a small supermarket by UK standards, but nice to know where the food is kept. We carry on through the small town of Alvor onto the dual carriageway out of town we had come down to get here, which gives me an idea where John intends to turn round. Sure enough when we get there, John pulls into the dirt carpark opposite the airfield.

He turns back to the girls grinning. “Shall we go over and watch the skydivers.”

They tell us excitedly ‘Yes Please’ and I get the idea this is not the first time they have done this. After we have crossed the road to the airfields small carpark. We let them loose and they run ahead to climb on the low breeze block wall separating the car park from the airfield, holding themselves up grabbing the chain-link fence on top of it. As John and I reach them the Pilatus Porter I saw on the way in taxis past us on the short taxiway going to the runway. Its paint job making it look like New York taxi cabs have moved into the air taxi business.

I support Emily while John had a hold of Eve and Lizzy as they watched the Pilatus line up on the runway and with the brakes on, does a power check. Then the pilot released the brakes and the Pilatus surges forward. Nine seconds later it is climbing up away long before the end of the runway. The Pilatus PC6 is the ultimate STOL aircraft. That stands for Short Take-Off and Landing, Once past the airfield boundary she moves a bit off the centreline and begins a slow climbing turn to the left to gain height. The girls watched as the Pilatus circles around then swapping to climbing circles to the right getting smaller and smaller to the eye…

“Can we have an ice cream, now?” The twins are looking back at the ice cream sign outside the airfield cafe. Bored with watching a very small plane in the sky.

“In a minute. When we’ve watched the parachutists come down.”

“They’ll be ages, we could have an ice cream and come back and watch?” They inform us hopefully.

“In a minute, girls.”

High up the Pilatus straightens out above the airfield flying into wind as it fly’s away from the airfield. When they have gone far enough for the breeze to bring them back once the shoots are open, the pilot will chuck them out.

“Ok girls, watch. They will be dropping out any moment now, and then as soon as they have, the plane will drop like a stone so it can get back to the airfield before they start coming in to land.”

The girls watched with renewed interest as two blobs exit the plane. Well Em does as high up another two blobs fall out to head after the first two. The Twins are watching, but I think their tummy’s are metaphorically across the carpark in the café staring at the ice cream refrigerator. Up in the sky one blob is bigger than the other. The smaller one will be a parachutist with a video camera strapped to his helmet to record the bigger blobs fall to earth for posterity, and then to be endlessly shown to friends and relatives.

Because this is a tandem drop. There will be some unsuspecting adventure seeker who paid a load of cash to be fastened in an oversized baby harness to the front of parachute instructor. Who will then throw them both out of a plane, trusting a bit of material to stop them impersonating a tomato with a death wish falling off a kitchen counter. Mind you, if for some reason both the instructors’ parachutes fail to open. The instructor will have something soft to land on.

You can fit three tandem drops along with their accompanying videographer in the back of the Pilatus, you can get more in, but its extreme sardine’s time with each other if you do. With two lots gone, that leaves one more to go. So I told the girls to keep a look-out for the last pair of jumpers.

What the novice parachutists will have forgotten by now in this extreme moment of excitement/fear/blind panic and screaming their head off. Is that having exited a perfectly good working aircraft they will drop downwards gaining speed until they are dropping to earth at around 120 miles an hour, and when their parachute is deployed. They will in a second or so, slow down to 17 miles an hour! That’s pulling about 3½g.

The third pair dropped from the Pilatus. “Ok, watch the…”

…The pilot is quicker than I can talk. With the last of the parachutists having departed, having one last quick check the airspace below was clear. Has pushed the stick forward and the Pilatus has dived down looking almost as if it is going down vertically. It is not, it just looks that way. There is a flash of sunlight from the windows of big cabin door as gravity slides it shut. The Pilatus is now also doing a ninety degree turn as it drops taking it further away from the parachutist’s flight path back to the airfield.

“Is he going to crash?” Em asked.

“No. he just wants to get back down to the airfield before the parachutes do.”

The pilot dropped the parachutists ahead of the airfield into the wind so when the chutes open it will bring them back as they float down aiming to land in the airfields drop zone. On the Pilatus, the altimeter will be unwinding like a backwards clock having a nervous breakdown. The pilot keeping a looking out for the descending parachutists as he drops past them.
“He’s going to crash.”
“No he won’t, you watch and see.”

He is still coming down like an express elevator. The parachutes are now way above him as still descending, but not quite as steep as before he is curves around us to come back round to face along the runway. Almost there, he straightens out. Eases back on the stick to stop that express elevator desent, the flaps coming down as she crosses over the road and past the displaced threshold because of the roadway to drop down gently just beyond the piano keys. The main wheels kissing the runway, followed by the tailwheel soon after.

“Can we go and have an ice cream now.”

Only Em is still transfixed by the taxing plane. Maybe we have a budding pilot in her. The twins have already jumped down from the breeze blocks and are leaning back trying to pull John towards the café. They are laughing, each has a hold of a hand and are trying to pull him over to it and ice creams.

I help Em down and holding hands we follow them. As John gives up and he and the girls walk side by side heading over to the café.

“Weeeeeeeeee…”

The girls are running about on the beach, excited. Spinning and falling in the sand laughing and giggling. Em as well. They have taken me down to the beach with its golden sand to show me, before we go the short distance back to the villa. Must be all that sugar in the ice cream they had. John puts an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close.

“I love seeing them like this.”

I lean into him, my arm going round his waist. I am about to agree with him when my mobile goes.

“Hi… Yes, not far. We are down on the beach… Ok, be back in five minutes.”

I look up at John. “Evie.” and turn to the girls laughing at spinning around and getting dizzy and falling laughing on the sand. “Time to go, girls. Teas ready.”

There is just John and me still up. Everyone else has gone to bed. It is well past eleven. We are on the long white ‘L’ shaped sofa with a glass of wine. Well, I have a glass of wine, john has a glass of ice cold larger. We are snuggled up together listening to the sizzle of the log fire. Yes I know we are in the middle of a mini heatwave, but there is no heat from these logs as they are on the big television. I got the log fire off the internet on You-tube. Even in a heatwave there is something nice about listening to a log fire in the dark.

The girls loved tea. It seems there is a take-a-way fried chicken place on the roadside front of the hotel we dropped the Paterson’s off at earlier and Trish and Evie went over while we were out and got fried chicken and chips for tea. They were good old British chips shop chips. So tonight has been a help yourself Kentucky fried chicken-ish style fried chicken buffet. With fizzy pop for the girls, and wine and larger for the adults. Em told Evie and Trish about the skydivers and Eve and Lizzy asked what time Tiffany could come over in the morning. But were disappointed when we said they had to wait till Monday for Tiffany coming over.

After that we sat down together on the sofa and watched a dvd. Les Visiteurs, a French film which caused groins of complaint from the girls. At first they were confused until Godefroy Amaury de Malfête (played by Jean Reno), a knight from 1123 is sent with his manservant by mistake to 1993, where they promptly attack a French postman’s yellow post van as the devil's chariot. That got the girls laughing as the two attacked and destroyed the post van and then cause chaos throughout the film until they managed to get back to their own time.

But that was then, and now we are all alone on the sofa and feeling a little amorous and kissing.

“It’s late, maybe I should take you to bed and do wicked things to you.” John whispered to me.

“Promises, promises.”

John chuckled. “Well in that case, a dares a dare.”

“Give me five minutes… Hmm, make that ten minutes.” I say, grinning as I get up all set to hurry to our bedroom and do a quick change and tart myself up, but instead as I head for the archway I see a frightened little girls face standing their clutching Fred. I hurried over to her. “Hello sweetie, can’t you sleep. Did you have a bad dream?” I say as I bend down and hold her.

Emily nodded worried.

“Would you like some of mummy and daddy’s favourite biscuits and some milk?”

Em said nothing, but slowly nodded her head again.

“Ok, come and sit with daddy while I get it. And maybe he will put My Neighbor Totoro on the tv. Would you like that?”

Em slowly nods her head as I pass her over to John who takes her in his arms and gives her a cuddle.

When I come back the film is on. I have a tray with butter biscuits and three glasses of cold milk on it. John stands up as I get there and whispers to me. “She said when she sleeps the witch from the film tonight says she is going to turn her into a chicken and eat her.”

At the start of the film Jean Reno’s knight comes across villagers saying a witch has turned their men into chickens and piglets.

I nod and sit beside Em and cuddle her while we both nibble butter biscuits together. Em watches cuddled up against me, my arm around her. It is not long before having eaten up her biscuits, she has moved up onto my lap and as she gets more tired her head gets heavier on me. until she is laid on me only half watching Satsuke and her little sister Mei in the forest, as she tries to stay awake watching the film until she is fast asleep snuggled up against me, her head on my growing boobs. When the film ends John tries to gently lift her from me, but she grissles in her sleep, tightening her arms around me. In the end John helps me up, moving her up a bit till her head rests on my shoulder as we try not to giggle. She may be a slim little thing, but she is getting really heavy now.

“Ssshh, you’ll wake her up,” we whisper to each other.

This is not the first time we have gone through this. It has happened a number of times back in England with Em glued to me like a limpet after having had a nightmare. David our doctor said she should get over it eventually once she has decided in herself I am not going to disappear and leave her. When she is like this she reminds me of a baby laying against its mother’s chest and I have to stop a big silly grin breaking out all over my face.

After several attempts to put her in her own bed we give up and take her to bed with us. We were going to sleep on top of the bed in this heat anyway. John undresses me as best he can and whispers that this was not quite what he had in mind tonight when he was thinking of undressing me earlier in the evening. Making me giggle. I sleep in my slip with Emily snuggled up to me in the middle of the bed between us. Yes. Positively not the way John had planned the evening to end!

During the night Em shifts to her usual position when in bed with us. John must have put a cover over us during the night as well as when I wake up we have a light cover over the both of us. When I wake I can no longer feel John in bed with us. I have become use to him being their beside me. Something that seemed so strange when we first began sleeping together when I left hospital.

I slowly open my eyes to the morning sun to see John standing dressed on his side of the bed looking down at us. The trace of a smile on his face.

“You all right.” I ask.

John nods his head smiling. “Yeah, I just get a kick out of seeing you both laying their together.”

Monday morning Tiffany’s parents drop her off. They will pick her up when they come to dinner tonight. After Evie, Trish and me prepare a picnic lunch for everyone, we all hit the beach using the Toyota Previa to ferry the cool boxes and camping chairs for the adults down to the beach. Although John went back to check the pipes and anything else he could think of, rather than lay on the beach.

Evie nudged me. “You will have to get use to that. He is just like his father. Not happy unless he is taking something apart. All farmers you will find have a secret tractor fetish. They all keep their first tractor hidden away in a barn, even if it is a complete rust bucket and then spend a small fortune restoring it.”

Evie and Trish talk about the calendars the men have in the workshops with tractors and combines and other self-propelled farm equipment with young ladies draped all over them wearing high-heels and a total lack of other clothing apart from a pair of stockings. Often with their legs further apart than they should be.

“Every wife should always have a pair of sheer black stockings, a suspender belt and a pair of easy to kick off high-heels in her holiday seduction emergency box,” adds Trish.

“And especially at home for when he’s thinking about the farm and not you.” Says Evie grinning at Trish.

Then turning to me with a sly grin and twinkle in her eyes. “Hhmmm, and just why are you smirking like that young lady, that’s not a, ‘what you just said is funny,’ smirk. That’s a sneaky you know something we don’t know, smirk.”

They both lean over to me. I smile and tell them. “I might have just happened to have pair of sheer stockings and high-heels in my luggage.”

“Not hold-ups are they, they bunch around your knees after a bit of prolonged action.”

Evie looks at her friend with a raised eye-brow. Trish holds her hands out smiling. “Hey, after a hard week of playing Dr Kildare, Malcom needs something to take his mind off work.” And adds nonchalantly. “And I don’t mind if I help out with that.”

At that Evie and Trish burst out laughing until they both look at me waiting.

“I might just happen to have a suspender belt with me as well.”

At this they snigger. Trish telling Evie. “The girls come prepared.” And they start giggling all over again.

When they had calmed down, Trish looks at me and Evie seriously.

“When we moved into our first flat, it was up in the attics of an old building in Edinburgh.” She groans. “On the sixth floor and no lift. Can you imagine what it was like carrying the shopping up.” Then grinning licking her lips. “We did it like that in every room and outside on the flat bit in the middle of the roofs as well in the first week. It was in the middle of long hot summer.”

Then adds chortling, “thank god they didn’t have those drone camera things in those days. Medical students can be quite inventive when it comes to sex.”

At which point they both broke up laughing and giggling again.

Trying not to laugh I looked back down the beach to the girls chatting and playing in the sea water with other girls they had met.

The Twins are already asking if Tiffany can stay for a sleepover tonight. The three of them really get on well together and even Emily is enjoying playing with them. Although the twins tend to boss her about and she has to do what they want if she plays with them. They really do want her to join in with them and are very protective of her. But I still half expect to find her asleep in our bed again tonight.

“Suzy. Have a bit of shut-eye. Its ok, we will watch the girls.” That was Evie. I did. And I was out like a light as soon as my eyelids closed.

I wake to gentle nudging from Trish holding a 99 for me. The ice cream staple of any seaside wherever the British descend in mass hordes. Be it at home in the UK or abroad in Europe. A 99 is a cornet wafer of soft ice cream with a short chocolate flake stuck in it. That along with fish and chips and a Sunday roast regardless of whatever the outside temperature is. The Brits are here in large numbers regardless of how many Belgium or German towels hit the pool sunbeds at five a clock in the morning.

John and I are slow dancing on the patio to Michael Buble’s Save the last dance for me. I have on my cream dress with big red poppies all over it. It is strapless with a slightly curved top that delicately shows off my boobs to anyone standing in front of me and indecently so to anyone if they should happen to be standing up against me. And I do just happen to be lightly pressing up against John as we dance - I’m making sure of that.

My boobs have been roaring along with a life of their own ever since my world changed after Malcom gave me those injections when I first went to the Q.A.M.C. It is as if they have been trying to make up for lost time ever since. Which also means they have been a bit tender a lot of the time since I woke up in hospital. They had a head start due to the boob job my sister paid for me to have when they were doing the exploratory look-see down below. I messed that up by dropping into a coma afterwards. But the girls never stopped growing from that moment on. By their joint effort of boob job and growing spurt I am closing in fast on a C-cup which Malcom says is about right for me. The boob job took me to an instant B, and my own growth should take me to maybe a little bit past a C-cup by the time they stop growing. I do hope they go no further than that. C is ok, D is to much.

Evie and Trish are dancing with their hands laid back on sun beds by the pool chatting. I do not think I will ever be able to chat to someone the way those two do with each other. They were best friends at school in London. Then Evie ended up in the village when her parents decided to move to the country and bought the bungalow that Zoe and Donald now live in almost opposite Apple Tree Farm. That was how she met and was wooed by Johnny, the Farmer’s son over the road. Trish had stayed with Evie and her parents at times while the girls were still at boarding school. Years later when Malcom become head of surgery at the Q.A.M.C, they bought Canberra House which was up for sale.

The girls were huddled over giggling and eating crisps by the hi-fi, whispering to each other watching us dance.

I chuckle. “I’ll show them.”

“What Suzz?”

“The girls are watching us dancing and giggling.”

John stiffened. “You don’t think they could hear us last night, do you.”

We never did anything last night. We were still too tired, but the conversation was rather fruity. Anyone who heard it would think John kept me chained naked to the bed back home.

I grinned. “No, I’m sure Evie would have had a word with us by now, if anyone did, don’t you think.”

“Well, yes, I guess.”

“Still.” He bent close to my ear. “It gave me lots of naughty ideas of things I might do to you if mum had the girls one week-end.”

I opened my mouth in mock shock. Then grinned. I was already holding the hi-fi remote in one hand to stop a squabble among the girls, i.e. between Em and the Twins from starting up again, over who had control of the music.

“I’ll show them.”

John laughed. “What.”

“I put the discs in, so I know what disc is where and what track to play.”

“Mmm?”

“Just follow my lead and do what I do.” I said trying not to laugh and keyed in the disc and track and waited for Booker T Ford’s Time Is Tight to start playing.

I waited until the guitar and drums start and the organ kicks in, then winking at John and as the second part of the organ broke in, I half turned from John letting go of him, my arm moving as if walking and made one step away and froze, counted to three and made another step towards the girls and froze again. And did the same again. Carrying on my frozen walk towards them as the music played.

The girls had stopped giggling and stood watching me open mouthed trying to figure what I was doing. Em who had been home with a dicky tummy a couple of weeks ago, grinned. I had done this to amuse her and she started towards me doing the same. Out the corner of my eye I saw John start towards the girls doing it as well. Finally Lizzy and Eve giggling and laughing started towards their father. Only Tiffany stood still unsure what to do.

I broke my frozen look and smiled at her. “Come on, Tiffany, join us.” And beckoned her to join in. That was all it took and she started after Em who was copying my moves. I could hear Evie and Trish giggling to themselves watching us.

As Em and I past, I snapped my head to face her, she copying me a moment later. Next move as I moved I opened my mouth in shock and flipped my arms up at the elbows in surprise. Then faced forward snapping my arms down as I was past Em, and then did it all again as Tiffany and I past. Then started to turn and head for the twins and John.

The frozen walk dance thing was based on what The Shadows had done in their concerts when playing Time Is Tight. The girls giggling and laughing as they look at each other. When it finishes, Abba’s Dancing Queen starts playing and they keep dancing with John messing about with them. Evie and Trish waved me over and then delighted in telling me they had both videoed us and intended to put it on You-tube for everyone to see.

“Really!” I said exasperated.

I was not going to fall in the trap of saying you can’t do that. I could see the gleam in their eyes that they were up to something.

“You look really nice this evening, Suzy.” Evie said to me looking up at me smiling.

“Thank-you.” I said, smiling back. “You don’t look bad yourself, you as well, too Aunt Trish.”

On the ladies side we had all made an effort. Nice summer dresses, heels as well for the grown-ups. As a treat as we were by ourselves with no one else present. I let the girls have some made-up on as well. Eye shadow, lipstick and face powder put on by me and Trish. So they could surprise their grandma. They were all too young to wear made-up out in public as far as I am concerned.

“And are you wearing stockings tonight, Suzy. In this heat?” Trish asked me with a face of total innocence.
Time to be wary here I think. I’m sure I know where this is going. “I might be.”

More giggles from the two adult children in front of me.

“Hey, John.” Trish called to my other half, now over by the drinks trolley getting us both a drink. A non- alcoholic one in my case, I hope.

“Are you on a promise tonight? I think your wife is feeling frisky.”

“Aunty Trish! Really.” God. They are worse than the twins. And I know I have just gone red faced.

To be continued in… The final chapter – ok, I’m pretty sure about it this time!

“Patricia Jenkins said you weren’t my mummy, an’ she said you were just daddy’s bit of hot stuff.”

This is the story of Penny. A closet Transwoman thrust into the outside world 24-7 when she would rather go and hide away. Perhaps the title should be Welcome to Penny’s Paranoid World…

From part Twenty Three
“And are you wearing stockings tonight, Suzy. In this heat?” Trish asked me with a face of total innocence.
Time to be wary here I think. I’m sure I know where this is going. “I might be.”
More giggles from the two adult children in front of me.
“Hey, John.” Trish called to my other half, now over by the drinks trolley getting us both a drink. A non- alcoholic one in my case, I hope. “Are you on a promise tonight? I think your wife is feeling frisky.”
“Aunty Trish! Really.” God. They are worse than the twins. And I know I have just gone red faced.

And now as they say, read on…
Today a slightly unwilling Tiffany is back with her parents. She and the Twins and Em have been inseparable these past three days. I have promised the twins she can come over Friday if her parents agree. Alice and Guy have not seen much of their daughter this holiday. I think she would come home with us if she could, she is enjoying herself so much. They live about twenty miles from us, so I think she will be over for the occasional week-end stay at the farm. I do not think she has many friends back home from what her mother said.

Monday morning Tiffany came over and Alice and Guy joined us for dinner in the evening. At some point the girls took themselves off to their bedroom to play while we adults were being boring by talking. Later when I went to tell Tiffany it was time to go, I came back and beckoned Alice to come and follow me. Putting my finger to my lips to her to not to say anything, I carefully opened the girl’s bedroom door to show her all four girls had apparently put themselves to bed and were fast asleep. I closed the door and we retreated out of their hearing, grinning. The girl’s beds all have pull-out beds under them to double the number of children the villa can sleep when it is rented out. So they had just pulled one out for Tiffany.

“The girls were asking me earlier, if Tiffany could stay for a sleepover.” I told her. “I told them that Tiffany would have to ask you.”

I chuckled. “They had to pull one of the beds out and get the bed sheets from the linen cupboard very quietly so we did not hear them. I’m quite impressed.”

“I’m so sorry, I’ll go and get Tiffany.”

I put a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry. This smacks of the Twins planning through and through to me. They were all pretending to be asleep when we looked in. Look, its fine if she stays.”

So an unwilling Tiffany is back with her parents today. They have just picked her up. Guy has arranged for them to go somewhere today as a family. The mini heat-wave has not started to ease yet, so I am wearing a red mini-dress and foot wise, high-heel mules with a sort of fat chisel heel. I have never liked flip-flops, would never wear them as a child. John has arranged a sight-seeing flight along the coast. Evie and Trish have declined the opportunity to take to the air and instead have told me they intend to lounge by the pool and will wave to us as we fly past.

John arranged this little trip yesterday while the rest of us were at the beach. When I got up this morning, Evie and Trish were in the kitchen leaning against the cabinets nursing cups of tea.

“Where’s John.” I asked. But all they could do was grin at me.

“So?”

“So… what?” I said confused.

Evie put her cup down and moved to me smiling. “He’s out in the garage, darling. He’s decided to check over the lawnmower.”

“Oh. Something wrong with it?”

“No. He just seems very pleased with himself today.” Evie added.

Trish joined in grinning, “Lovely big smile he had this morning. Any idea why?”

“Um.” I say. My face is going red. Suddenly my chest is burning.

Then they both gather round me, hugging me.

“Everything fine last night. Nothing more to be afraid of?” continued Evie softly. We talked sometimes when we were alone together about my fear about physical having sex.

I shake my head not wanting to speak.

“Did you enjoy it?” Trish gently asks. I think they are both afraid I will say I did not like it.

I make a little nod of my head.

Evie grins, touching noses with me. “Welcome to the world of womanhood, Suzy. You’ve had a rough ride getting there, but you are now a fully paid-up member of the female race.”

“Mother, lover, friend, the lot.” Trish added, and then they hugged me again.

The kitchen door opens and John steps in and looks up at us. “Arrr, ok - You want me to go out and come back in later.”

“Don’t be silly,” the three of us say. I go and grab his hand, pulling him back in.

“Come on in silly, it’s just a witch’s coven. Nothing to worry about. What do you want for breakfast?”

So here we are again in the airfields little café, this time waiting for our pilot to come and collect us for our fifteen or so minute dash along the Algarve coast and back. I shall not say anything about having been a flying instructor to our pilot. It is ten, twelve years now since I last flew a plane and most likely I will be older than our pilot, he will feel like he is in flight school again thinking I am judging him. Which would not be true, but there you are. Plus there is the age thing. I tend to forget my real age is forty-seven and my flying hours relate to that, but everyone thinks I’m near fifteen years younger and in my early to mid-thirties. So my hours will seem rather a lot for a thirty something woman with three children.

My past seems to get more and more distant. I mentally think thirty-two nowadays, not forty-seven. Especially since waking up from the coma and being an instant mum before I remembered things. And having long hair that is not a wig, wearing dresses and make-up to go to the shops. Keeping house for a family, my girls, my man. So sometimes it is hard to remember how old I really am. It is as if Susan and I have become intertwined together and merged in one shared being. Ok, I know that sounds daft, but their it is.

“Ell-low. You are the Farmers, Oui.”

Yves Montand is standing, smiling, looking down at us. Looking as he did when he played Jean-Pierre Sarti in Grand Prix. When I kind of fell in love with him. Well, it’s a look-a-like Yves Montand, since the real one went to that great film set in the sky a quite a while back now. We may be in Portugal, but our pilot is definitely French and thank-god, older than me.

John gets up and handshakes and man greetings take place before the females in the family are acknowledged. John turns and introduces us.

“My wife Suzy, my daughters Eve, Elizabeth, and Emily.”

“Ello Suzy,” he says with a friendly smile and gentle nod of the head, before turning to the girls and bows to them with a twinkle in his eye. “Good afternoon, Mademoiselles.”

The girls giggle and he instantly becomes their favourite Frenchman.

Walking out across the apron to the aircraft. We cannot see it yet because it is blocked from view by the big Antonov biplane. I find myself walking in front talking aeroplanes with Yves, real name Antoine, with Em holding my hand. Not sure why he is walking with me and Em and not John, but then he does have nice eyes and the thought makes me smile and think. You hussy Suzy Farmer.

“Your husband, he say, before bebes, you were a flying instructor, bizz-jets. Oui?”

So much then, for me keeping quiet about my flying past. Husband of mine has been doing a bit of husband bragging. Or is that wife bragging?

“Yes, but not on biz jets. That was just flying P2. Instructing was on props; single and twins. And then I had other baby’s to care for.” I say grinning, glancing down between us at Em. Hoping he does not ask any more questions.

I do not like lying, I have a thing about it, but I could not be too truthful with big ears down beside me holding my hand listening to everything said.

“Arr, I understand.” he said nodding sagely, and we talked about the twins and singles we had flown over the years. I think he was impressed by my having flown one of Gadhafi’s old SF260Ws back from Africa to the UK.

“I would ave liked to ave flown one of those, never ad the chance.” He said nodding, then added. “Ave you flown the P68?”

I shook my head smiling. “No, always wanted too though. My brother in law in the States has one as well.” I laughed a little. “Can you imagine how frustrating that is?” I added grinning with a quick look at Yves, err, Antoine.

He nodded, grinning himself. “Yes, yes. I can imagine.”

We went round the back of the Antonov and the Dornier next to it. Both quietly sleeping in the sun, to find a Partenavia P68 waiting behind them. With the Pilatus with the New York taxi paint job on the other side of it. Antoine ducked under the left wing to open the passenger door. That done, he looked down to Em, smiling.

“Let me help you in, Mademoiselle.” And helped her up to go through the doorway before looking to me. “Suzy, why don’t you go and settle in the pilot’s seat, and I will join you when I ave your family settled.”

“Ok.” I said surprised and glanced back at John and the twins. John look pleased as punch with himself and the girls had big smiles on their faces as if they were in on a big secret. Hmmm, as Sherlock Homes would say. Things are afoot. Or something like that.

I went round to the starboard side knowing this was not one of Partenavia’s P68’s, but a later model when the company had been taken over by Vulcunair. They brought out a new version with a reviewed cockpit panel and a pilot’s door on the co-pilots side a bit like the doors you have on an Otter or the Pilatus Porter next to us. The door was smaller, but made getting into the pilots seats easier than it had been in the past where you had to squeeze between the club seats in the passenger section to get into the cockpit.

I had expected to be sitting in the back of a Stationair, Cessna’s six seat single engine plane. That along with Cessna’s 172 four seater were the scenic flight operator’s aircraft of choice. And, since we are in a heatwave and I expected to be sitting in the back with the girls while John sat up front with the pilot. I was wearing a mini-dress and high heel mules. Not the sort of things to wear in a cockpit, or getting into one. I am going to have my knees stuck together while trying not to flash my knickers at the pilot as I keep my feet away from the rudder pedals. Let alone getting into the thing.

Going under the wing I saw Eve turfing Em out of the rear bench seat so she and Lizzy could sit beside each other. Naughty, but the twins always sit together and put up a fuss if they can’t. God knows what they will do when they are older if they do not discover that species called ‘boy’ at the same time.

I slipped my mules off and hiked myself up into the cockpit and was glad Yves was not behind me to see.
Except a distant wolf whistle told me I may have been wrong about not being seen by somebody. I know I look good. After all this time of having people look a bit odd at me as a male I now understand why. I was a boy who looked like a girl. People could not understand if I was male or female. That I was female was a relief, but I found it difficult to accept I looked enough like the model in the supermarket magazine that Em thought it was me. But I do sort of accept it in a weird way also and it leaves me feeling profoundly uncomfortable for some reason. Part of me thinks I should be jumping for joy at that, but me, I just want to hide. I do not like people looking at me, even if it is because they think I look good.

Anyway I climbed over into the left hand seat and looked back at Em as I pulled my seat belt on. She was watching me. I smiled.

“You ok, Em?”

Emily smiled and nodded happily to me.
I turned back and scanned the panel. Times have changed. When I was a student pilot I looked longingly in the cockpit of one of these and the basic ‘T’ panel and a jumble of dials all over the place thereafter. Welcome to the wonderful world of 1950s/60s Italy cockpits.

This one is a model P68C and has two flat screens, a PFD and a MFD. Well to be correct the screens are identical, but one is used as the PFD and one the MFD. I flew mostly airplanes with dials, but I had flown ones with MFDs as well. This one has a Garmin 950 set-up with two displays, a PFD (Primary Function Display) and MFD (Multi-Function display), and a much tidier cockpit panel design altogether. The fuel selectors and start buttons are still up in the roof panel. It looks more like the little Biz-jet cockpit I flew in than a twin prop.

With the power off the screens are blank. The small emergency artificial horizon shows the horizon at a crazy angle.

Yves climbed in shutting the Pilot door. I must stop thinking of him with that name or I am going to drop myself in it by say it without thinking. He took a couple of plastic cards on metal rings from the door pocket, giving it to me. Pointing to the cockpit pre-flight check list. I nodded and started. When I got to seats, he motioned me to do mine. Motioning me to bring my feet to the pedals.

Arr-ha, so I will be doing some flying. That is why John and the Twins were grinning their heads-off. Time to be cool and not have a silly grin on my face at the thought of flying again.

I had moved the seat back to give me some leg room and not have my knees up round my chin. When I got to check the parking brake was on, Antoine leant over to glance at my naked painted toes pushing on the rudder pedals and grinned, chuckling to himself. I am not quite use to men doing the ‘Aint’she cute’ doing that’ thing yet. John has pissed me off once or twice clearly thinking it about me, but I am too busy trying to think, what did I do? to retaliate.

Once we had the battery on he pointed over my shoulder to the hanging headphones.

“Ed-phones,” and took his own down, I nodded and put them on.

He turned some switches and his voice came through mine. Which was a good job as the Pilatus Porter had just started up beside us drowning everything else out. He pointed between us.

“Just you, me. Oui. They,” he motioned behind us, “on different link. You see.”

He spoke to John and the girls and got happy grins back.

With the electrics and the screens lit up, the emergency artificial horizon found where level was and settled down. I have always liked watching that happen. It is like the plane finding life within itself.

Antoine went through the engine start procedure for the right engine, nothing unusual there. Without thinking I realised he intends me to do number two, because he is pretty much doing the flying instructor bit on me. I must have grinned or something as he grinned back chuckling and pointing at the starter button, held his hand up to me to hold ready. He made one last check to make sure no one was near or about to walk close by and yelled “CLEAR PROP!” and gave me the thumbs-up to start the right engine for him.

Once the Lycoming is happily running, Antoine motions me to start the left engine.

Oh well, here we go. Move the Mixture control lever to idle cut-off. That’s the one with the red top on it on the right.
Next, over to the left side of the pedestal, move the throttle lever from cut-off to half an inch open. In the middle of them, the blue topped levers set the angle of the propeller blades. All the way forward for now to the fine setting which has the propeller blade flat so it generates no thrust when the engine starts.
Hand up to the roof to switch left magneto on only, and then switch the auxiliary fuel pump on.
Down to the mixture lever and forward to rich until we have the avegas flowing and then back to idle cut-off.

Look out the window to make sure no idiot is standing their ready to get chopped up by the moving prop. Open the flap and yell
“CLEAR PROP”, even if the Pilatus is drowning us out.

Glance back to my finger resting on the red starter button and back to a quick final look out the window and press.

Once the Lycoming starts, move the mixture lever forward to keep the fuel coming. Switch the right magneto on and watch the oil pressure ribbon rise on the MFD.

The Pilatus pulls out past us with a wave to us from the pilot.

“We follow, I ave control.”

As we taxi after the Pilatus keeping an eye on the engine revs and that the T’s & P’s are in the green and that the fuel flow is stabilised. We talk about her take-off speed and how she handles. Antoine talks to the tower in Portuguese. While English is the international language of flying and used to somewhat comical ability to English speaking ears at some international airports. At little local places like this one, they will talk in their own language.

We follow the Pilatus out onto the runway and stop back from her. Antoine touches my bare shoulder.

“Okay, as soon as she lifts-off. We go. You ave control, baby doll.” I turn to him to see him grinning ruefully at me. I nod ok, grinning back. Good job John cannot hear him. I rest my right hand on the throttles. The Pilatus Porter lets his brakes off and five seconds later the tail is up and another two seconds and she has lifted off and climbing away from us at a rate the P68 can only dream of. And that is why the Pilatus Porter is king of STOL aircraft. Beside me Antoine motions forward like he is at the head of the America Cavalry in the wild-west. I think he is enjoying himself.

Brakes-off. Ease the throttles forward. Pass where the Pilatus took off. No chance of us taking-off yet as we gather speed down the runway. At 62 knots gently pull back on the yoke to get an angle of five degrees on the artificial horizon and hold it there. You do not haul the P68 into the air the way you do some aircraft. When we hit 90 knots she flies herself off the ground.

“Ready for trim?” Antoine asks me glancing my way. I nod yes and he moves the chunky flap switch up to bring them in. There is quite a bit of pitch movement on the P68 when retracting the flaps. The same goes when extending them as well. The good thing is both flaps and the elevator trim are worked by the same type of electric motor. So if you operate the electric elevator trim at the same time as you raise or lower the flaps they mostly cancel the pitch change out.

Antoine motions to Port and I bank left and we head south for the coast two miles away levelling off at eight hundred feet, following the Alvor river estuary to the sea in a right-hand boot shape before doing a wide U turn to run back along the coastline. I keep an eye along the beach as if we had both engines fail that’s where I’m putting her down. No way are we going in the water with a high wing aircraft. We would all be joining my mother and Susan before we got out and the girls would never stand a chance. I hear John on his phone. You are not supposed to use them in the air, but I bet he is ringing Evie and Trish. Sure enough when we circle the villa, their they are, on the roof terrace waving to us.

Carrying along the coast we climb to a more comfortable height to give me a chance to glide somewhere safe to land if both engines were to fail. I should say we are not expecting them to do so, but we pilots have an unaccountable desire to stay alive when the engines go kaput. So we plan ahead for the unlikely event ever happening. We continue down the coast till we do a 180 degree turn at Albufoira and start back. This time with Emily and Eve’s window to the coastline.

Yves has been talking to the airfield and tells me we are cleared for a straight in approach. That will keep us away from the landing tandem jumpers. So at Armacao de Pera instead of following the coast as it dips south, we head inland with twelve miles and seven and a half minutes to go to landing. At the moment we are straight and level with 15 degrees of flap, Engine and Mixture set for a hundred and ten knots, nothing like her normal cruise speed. But we have been plodding along so the girls can look at the sea and beaches and folk looking like ants.

Having basically two tv screens instead of a multitude of dials in the cockpit makes for a much tidier and cleaner cockpit panel. The PFD has the flight instrument displays on it. The artificial horizon displays right across the screen, light brown below the horizon and light blue above for the sky. Just like the old mechanical AH, it has moving horizontal lines to show the pitch (angle) of the aircraft. On the left a vertical ribbon shows the airspeed, on the right of the AH the ribbon their shows your height with a further smaller ribbon showing your vertical speed going up and down. Below the AH is the Heading Indicator, a circle with compass degrees marked on it.

Suddenly the noise goes up several decibels as the girls discover a water park over on our right along with demands to go there tomorrow. Three minutes to touch down, now. The Avor airfield has no navigational aids, so flying in is pure mark one eyeball flying.

With the fuel pumps back on for landing, the mixture levers set to full rich, I set the prop levers fully forward to full fine pitch, which adds a bit more drag and the airspeed drops further. As we drop pass 100 knots I lean over and push the flap toggle down to the last position that will put them down to 35 degrees. Ahead of us on the runway there are two planes lined up for take-off. The Dornier Do-28D is in the lead with the Pilatus behind it. As I tell Yves that if I have to abort the landing I will go hard to starboard (right) to clear the runway, the Dornier begins it take-off run. Then the Pilatus starts its run too and is off and climbing away to the right before the Dornier has left the ground, then just before we reach decision height and I have to call Go-around, the Dornier lifts-off and climbs away from the airfield leaving us a clear runway 29 for landing.

We float across the road way at 76 knots indicated air speed and moments later the main wheels are down. Keep the yoke back to keep the nose wheel in the air as the speed drops off till it too gently makes contact with the ground. I lean over and flick the flaps toggle up to bring them in and cannot keep a satisfied grin off my face. I may not have flown for a while, but, girl, you still have it.

Back in the airfield cafe I take Yves hands and kiss him on the cheek. Ok, Antoine on the cheek. But he will always be Yves Montand to me.

“Thank-you. You can’t guess how much I’ve missed doing that.”

He smiles down at me. “Su-zy. It was a pleasure. Anytime you want to come back to work, give me a ring, I give you a job.”

“Thanks, but I have other priorities now.”

As I turn to John. Antoine is laughing, he is being ribbed about the kiss in a multitude of languages. I take John’s his hand in mine, ready to go. “Girls, ready.”

“Well. I guess I know what to get you for your birthday.”

I smile mischievously at him. “What, a dead French actor? I’m not into necrophilia, thank-you very much.”

John sighed with a crooked smile at me as if to say, you just wait till later, lady.

“No, but one might be cheaper than one of those aircraft.”

“Good luck with that,” I laughed, “after Brexit you will have to smuggle him in.”

We are outside now. I turned to face him. “Seriously, that was lovely. Thank-you for doing it. I thoroughly enjoyed myself, but you and the girls are more important to me than flying.”

At the Previa. John un-locks and let the girls in before turning back to me. “Well, in that case we better get married.”

“You asking.”

John nodded. “Just did.”

“What, no bended knee stuff.”

“I’m wearing shorts, were standing on gravel.”

“Pussy,” I say grinning and then shrug my shoulders and move round to my side of the Previa and look at him watching me. “Ok.” I say and get in.

Inside I turn to the girls. “Hey girls, dad just asked me to marry him again. Want to be bridesmaids?”

Zoey MacTavish and I are sitting in my E220 with the engine running, the air-con keeping it nice and cosy inside waiting for the girls to come out from school. We are not leaning against my car bonnet as we have been doing as it is too cold outside to do than now. The mini heatwave we had in Europe when we went to Portugal has been replaced by winter cold.

“So, have you set a date?”

“We are checking with Portmeirion in Wales to see when the Town Hall is available. We want some accommodation as well which makes it even more difficult. It’s so popular.”

“Oh, I like it there. Donald and I went there before April was born.”

The school bell sounded and we waited for the kids to charge out to waiting mums and dads. We got out and joined them.

The twins were first. Seeing Zoey, they yelled Hi Aunty Zoey and made for their favourite spot in E220. The rear facing jump seat in the boot area. April bounced up to us and a hug from her mum. Emily slowly brought up the rear, clearly down in the dumps.

“Ok, sweetie.”

Normally I got a hug from her, but she just nodded and got in the back of the car with April. Zoey and I exchanged glances. Back home she took herself off and sat in the sitting room by herself with a favourite book. But I could tell she was not reading. Just sitting there.

“Do you know what has upset Em,” I asked the twins, in the kitchen, they had settled themselves down at the kitchen table with their current obsession at the moment. Colouring in a book of line drawings of the countryside.

“No, mum.”

Ok. I should start tea, but what is upsetting Em comes first. Except the phone rings.

“Oh, hi Zoey… oh… oh dear. Thanks for telling me… yep, I knew something was up, see you tomorrow... yeah, cheers.” I put the phone down.

Oh fuck. I knew this would happen one day, but hoped they would be a lot older when it came. I gave the twins a little smile.

“Come in with me a minute, will you girls.”

I went into the sitting room and went and sat down next to Em and put my arm around her. That was enough, she just lent into me and burst into tears.

“April told aunty Zoey that one of the girls was being nasty to you today.” I said softly as I cuddled her while the twins stood quietly in front of us, worried at seeing Emily so upset.

“Patricia Jenkins said you weren’t my mummy, an’ she said you were just daddy’s bit of hot stuff.”

I turned her and pulled her up onto my lap and she clung to me as she cried, I held her tight. Oh god, how do I explain this too a little girl who is barely eight years old and has only just found her mum. I looked up at the twins and gave them a little smile and whispered “It’s all right.” To them. And put my arm out and pulled them close in to me. I could see the uncertainty building in their faces now, as well.

“Patricia is young and she does not know what happened. You see, when you were very, very young, mummy got very ill. And she had to go up and be with Jesus for a while. But he could see how unhappy I was and how much I missed my three girls, and took pity on me. You see, in the village granny and granddad live in was a very old lady who was about to join him. She was looked after by her daughter, who was wore out and very tired. So Jesus said she could go too and if I wanted, I could have her body. So I could come back down to you. That was why mummy was a bit muddled up when we first met. Because there was both the lady and me in this body. And we were both confused. But Jesus had told granny what was going to happen. That’s why I had to go to hospital and rest and sleep while lady’s daughter left to go to heaven and I stayed to be with you. That’s why I knew you when I woke-up.”

We all had tears running down our faces now.

“I knew you was, I knew you was.” Em kept repeating sobbing her heart out, but sounding happy. We all had tears running down our faces. I just hugged my girls to me as they hugged me back.

I put the cool flannel on my face for a moment and enjoyed the cool feeling, then headed back for the stairs and forced a smile on my face to check the girls were ready for school.

It was my own fault. They always say to wash them before eating, but a couple of days ago when I was at the supermarket I bought a small pack of grapes to eat on the drive home. Never going to do that again I can tell you. When I got back to the kitchen, Evie was in there and had the girls ready to leave with their coats on. She took one look at me, felt my head and suggested I sit down and she take the girls to school. I should have said, no it’s its fine, I’m ok. But instead I just nodded and sat down.

“So. How long have you been getting sick in the morning?” Was the first thing Evie said to me when she got back from the school run.

“I haven’t been…”

Evie cut me off before I could finish. “The girl’s phoned and told me.” she ginned knowingly at me. “You only have to sneeze and they check it with me. They are very cautious when it comes to your health. They don’t want to lose you again.”

I sighed. I do not want them to worry. “Oh, just a day or two. It’s my own fault, I had some un-washed grapes on the drive back from the supermarket the other day.”

Evie sat down facing me. “You went shopping on Monday, its Friday now… You’ve been sick every morning, haven’t you?”

I pulled a face again. “Just a tummy bug. All I’ve got to do is work my way through it. I’ll be ok in a day or so.”

“Have you seen David?”

I shook my head.

“Don’t tell Trish, please.” I said looking up. “She will tell Malcom as soon as he gets back from the Hospital in the evening and he will be straight up here for what is just a bug.

Evie shook her head and got up and made us both a cup of tea.

“Had anything to eat yet? The girls said you’ve been missing having breakfast with them. ”

I shrugged my shoulders. She went to the fridge and got the butter out and made me a bacon and egg sandwich with the food I had not had for breakfast. Putting it in front of me. “Eat it, believe me. You will feel better.”

“Yes, mother. I said cheekily making her smile. I made an effort, eating it, not wanting to admit feeling sick. But at the same time enjoying it.

“How long have we been back from Portugal?”

Evie asked me sitting down again, and deciding I was not going to answer did it for me.

“What is it? Six, seven weeks, and what momentous thing did you and John start doing there? Mmm… Now let me see, what was it?” Evie was smiling conspiratorly at me.

Ok, yes. I do know what we started doing, but… “Don’t be silly, you know my real age. I’m well past my sell by date where babies are concerned. I haven’t even started having proper periods yet. Probable never will according to the doc’s.”

Evie chuckled. “Yes, I remember, and I’ve got news for you darling, if you think age makes you immune. Your female systems have only just started up. They are full of life. They are teenagers compared to the rest of you, and they are raring to go make Whoopee, baby.”

I groaned and put my head in my hands. “But Malcom said…”

Evie waved a dismissive hand. “Oh piffle, they can be experts on the bodies of women. But we are women, we know our bodies better that anyone else. When it comes to this.”

“But I’ve never even had a period. Well a proper one, anyway.”

Evie could not help herself and said mischievously. “You don’t have half a period. And by all accounts you are not going to get one for a while now.”

I looked up at Evie. “Oh, God. What do I tell John?” I whispered.

Evie laughed and reached over taking my hands in hers. “You do what all women do at this time. You tell him, and like all men he will grin and think how clever he has been, go and tell his father and they will rush-off to the pub first chance they get to tell their mates...”

This brings us to the end of Penny’s World…
However, hopefully Suzy’s life will continue sometime next year in Suzy’s Summer.