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A Christmas Tale By Becky Simpson It was cold in there. It was dark cold damp and I was very very miserable. I was shivering, just wearing flimsy underpants, with nothing else to keep me warm but a damp and smelly blanket. I had been locked in the shed at the bottom of the garden and I had not eaten since the day before. It was raining outside and I was able to drink from the small muddy pool of water that had leaked in through the rickety shed roof. I kept running through what had happened the day before and the shame that I felt at being caught. I am 11 years old and I live on the outskirts of the town in an old rambling house with my father, Jack Roberts. It was the tenth place we had lived in since I was born. We never stayed in one place long. I don't think my Dad really liked to put down roots and he never kept a job for long. Luckily, he had inherited some money from his mother when she died, so it was not absolutely necessary for him to work, but I had a feeling that money was running out. Our last 3 houses had been dumps compared with the ones that we lived in before. My mother had died just 2 days after I was born, so I never knew her. Dad had never shown me any pictures of her, so I never even knew what she looked like. I loved my Dad even though I knew that he did not love me. I just kind of realised at an early age that he just saw my mother in me and resented the fact that she was gone forever and he was stuck with a little brat like me. I just wished that he didn't drink so much. I went to the local school. It was an okay school on a scale of 1 to 10, about 7. I am very shy and find it difficult to make friends. What was the point, when as soon as I find someone to hang around with, I am moved on to somewhere else. Since I was about 8, I have always kept a secret diary of what I was doing and how I felt. A bit strange for a young kid you might say, but with so many changes and upheavals in my life, it helped me to remember where I had been, what I had done and how I felt at a particular time. It also helped me to rationalise why I was mixed up and what I was unhappy about. Now this is the difficult bit. Don't be shocked and please, please do not think harshly of me, but I had a secret that I kept from everyone since I was a very young kid. It was about 3 years ago that it first happened. It was in one of the houses we lived in. I was bored and I went up to the attic, whilst Dad was out drinking with his 'buddies'. I was left alone quite often as Dad trusted his 'little man' to be grown up and look after himself whist Daddy was out on ummm business. I had a look in the many boxes that we never managed to unpack. I don't know why we kept all this stuff, it was just junk to me but I never could understand the mentality of grown ups and I probably never will. Old crockery, toys clothes ornaments and other stuff had been kept in these boxes. Even I could see that it was mostly rubbish. I was getting bored, a very easy thing for an 8 year old to do when I caught sight of a case in the corner, under a pile of boxes. My curiosity was aroused and I went over to look at the case. I moved the boxes aside and tried to open the case but it was locked. I found an old screwdriver and broke open the 2 latches. I then lifted the lid and there before me, neatly folded was a whole pile of women's clothing! I quickly closed the lid and looked on the label attached to the handle of the old case. It said Gemma Roberts. It was Mum's case! I don't know why, but somehow all this spooked me. I ran downstairs and went to my room. I shut the door and locked it. I went over to my bed and sat down, I was trembling all over. It was as though I had seen a ghost or something. I buried my head in the pillow and cried. I don't know why I cried, I had never seen my Mum, but I suppose I was just shocked at seeing her things and wishing that I had a Mum to love and be with me. I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I knew was the room was dark and I heard the front door being slammed shut. I got up, unlocked the door and went downstairs. I found my father in the kitchen with a beer can in his hand and a lopsided grin on his face. Oh no, he was drunk again. 'Hello Peter, how's my big boy then?' 'All right Dad.' I mumbled. 'What's thatsh I can't hear you, shpeak up will you?' 'I'm alright Dad.' 'Thatsh better, now be a good boy an go get me a nice pizza from the restaurant down the road. If you are a good boy, I'll let you have some.' He thrust some money in my hand and I ran out of the house. You may think it strange letting a boy of 8 go out in the dark with money in his hand, but that was my Dad he didn't seem to worry about anything except food and especially drink. The next day, I got home from school. There was a note on the kitchen table with some money. Peter, I have to see a man about some business and I wont be back until late. Get some food from the restaurant and I will see you tomorrow. Do your homework and go to bed on time. Dad The only business my Dad was doing was through a glass, so I knew that I would not see him until the next day. I switched on the television, did my homework. Question: Where do you hope to go on your holidays? Write 200 words. Easy enough Answer: I would love to go on holiday but as I have never had one I wouldn't know. I crossed that one out and started again. I can't remember what I put in the end but I finished the essay, wrote a bit in my diary and went and got some food from the restaurant. I then sat down to watch the television again. There was a Doris Day film on. All blond hair and happy families. The sun always seemed to shine in these films and the kids were happy. Mum and Dad go arm in arm and all is sweetness and light. The film finished and it was getting dark. I locked up the house turned everything off and went to bed. I found it very difficult to sleep. Right above me in the attic was my Mum's things. I had an overwhelming desire to look at them again, in spite of everything. I put dressing gown over my pj's and went upstairs to have another peek in the case. I switched on the light, went over to the case and opened it. On top was a dress. It was a flowery dress that looked shiny, satin I suppose. I picked it up and held it up. It was a very pretty dress and I fantasised what my Mother would look like in it. I carefully put it down and had another look in the case. I started pulling stuff out and looking with amazement and the pretty things that my mother used to wear. There were other dresses in silk, satin, cotton and other material. There were women's underwear bras, panties other things that looked flimsy and mysterious. There were blouses, skirts and stocking all balled up. At the bottom of the case were some nightdresses. All sorts of nighties, from long cotton ones to very short flimsy ones that I now know to be baby dolls. All this was a bit too much for me, and had made me tired. Remember I was only 8 and I needed my sleep. I shoved all the stuff back in the case and went back downstairs. For some reason, I still don't know why, before I left, I opened the case again and lying on the top was a pink baby doll nightie. I picked it up and ran downstairs to my bedroom. I laid the nightie out flat on my bed and looked at it. Now I need to tell you that ever since I could remember, I had had a secret wish. Nobody else knew this. I went to bed every night and prayed for my wish to come true. Okay here goes. I have always thought that I was a girl. Ever since I was knee high to a grasshopper, I have always believed that God got it wrong. I was in a boy's body but I knew that inside I was a girl. Don't ask me why I considered myself as a girl. I don't know why. All I know is that somehow, somewhere something had gone wrong. Any friends that I ever made were girls. I hated the rough and tumble of boys' games. You could tell a girl from the way she looked. They wore dresses and had longer hair than boys. I always wore boys' clothes and my Dad made sure that my hair was cut short. He didn't understand why, if I brought a friend home (very rarely did I do this!) it was always a girl. Boys were okay but I just did not seem to be on the same wavelength as them. I suppose even then I was shy and sensitive not really normal for boy. Okay boys can be shy and sensitive but I would much rather play girls' games like pretend mothers and daughters or doctors and nurses, rather than fight imaginary wars in the playground. I had asked my Dad once, why I was a boy, but he just went off on one and started shouting at me. I think that he didn't like women, I don't know why; after all he married my mother. He always tried to make me look and be as boyish as possible. He bought me a toy gun one birthday, I never played with it. Anyway I sat on the bed looking at the nightie. I don't know why but I got up, locked the door, took my clothes off and put on the nightie. I was small and the nightie touched the floor, but that did not matter, it felt great. Soft and kind of slippery. It floated on my body and it felt the most natural thing for me to wear. It was the first girls' clothes that I had ever tried on and to be honest I never wanted to take it off. I went to bed and fell asleep to the lovely feeling of my mothers' nightie. When I woke up the next morning I knew immediately that I was wearing something different from my normal pj's, then I remembered I was in my mother's nightie and it felt great. All soft silky and very girly. Then I remembered my Dad. He would go ape if he saw me like this. I jumped out of bed. Reluctantly took the nightie off, folded it carefully and hid it under the mattress with my diary. When I went downstairs, I looked in the sitting room and there was Dad snoring softly, fully clothed and reeking of drink and stale tobacco. I didn't wake him but just ate my weetabix and went to school. After that, at night, with my bedroom door firmly locked, I often wore Mum's nightie and other ones that I found in that wonderful case. I was young but I was quite intelligent for my age. I remembered not to leave the clothes where my Dad could see them. When we moved, I fixed the locks on the case by jamming the ends in the holes so that they did not come out easily and hoped against hope that my Dad would take the case with us. Luckily, he always put it with the rest of the rubbish that we normally took whenever we moved and I was able to continue my dressing. Over the next 3 years we moved several times. I got to know plenty of schools but always felt a fish out of water. Sometimes I cried myself to sleep as I saw the disintegration of my father. He was getting to the stage when he was rarely sober. The only good thing was he never hit me. I was good at hiding things and I can honestly say that the kids and the teachers at school never knew how bad my home life was. Perhaps I should have said something, but I had no Mum and I did not want to loose the only Dad I had, and was exactly what would happen if I was taken into care. As I grew, I carried on delving into the treasure chest that was my Mum's case. When I knew my Dad was not going to be back from his 'business' meetings, I wore some of my Mum's clothes. They were far to big for me, but it just helped to feel a bit more girlish. Don't let me give you the impression that I was always unhappy and that life had given me a totally raw deal. I had a roof over my head; I was still being fed (mainly pizzas and Big Macs but that's not too bad is it?) When my father wasn't drunk he made sure that I didn't go without clothes and he somehow managed to pay the bills so that we were not homeless. Christmas was hard. Other kids got presents, I got nothing. Dad did not believe in God he did not believe in anything spiritual. He hated Christmas. I think that it reminded him of the time when my Mother was alive. When things were happier for him and life had some sort of meaning. It hurt me a lot to see all the kids at school get excited over Christmas. Christmas decorations hung from the windows. Carol singing, Christmas trees decorated with bright lights and tinsel. All the happy families getting excited over the coming festivities. It all seemed like another world to me, a world that I had no part in. I would walk through the streets on my way home from school and see the brightly lit shops with all the decorations, gifts, festive food, toys and other things that make Christmas so special. I would see parents with happy children go into those shops and come out with armfuls of packages. It was the last day at school before the Christmas holidays. At lunch the school provided a Christmas dinner. I had to pay for it, but I had saved up some 'pizza' money so that at least I could have a nice meal before Christmas. We had turkey, stuffing, bacon sausages, baked potatoes and all the trimmings. It was great! As I left school, it started snowing. The paths were so slippery that I had to be careful not to fall over. It didn't help that one of my shoes had a hole in it and was making my foot cold and wet. I passed the church, brightly lit in the pale light of wintry day. I could hear singing coming from the open doors of the church. On an impulse I went into the church. It was packed full of people and it was lovely and warm. They were singing Christmas Carols. The First Noel, Silent Night and many other favourites were sung with gusto. I must admit seeing all those happy faces of the men, women and children brought tears to my eyes. Oh how I wished to be part of a happy family. Even more I wanted to be a girl in a family that would love me and cherish me. I saw one family that looked so happy. Mother and Father kept looking at each other and smiling. The love they had for each other was obvious even to me, a boy who had received very little love in my lifetime. There was a boy who couldn't be more than 9, grinning and holding his fathers hand as he enjoyed the carols. There was a girl about my age in a Christmassy bright red dress holding her mothers hand singing at the top of her voice. It was such a happy scene and somehow so far away from the life that I was leading that I could stand it no longer. With a sob, I ran out and did not stop until I reached home. It was starting to get dark now and the snow was falling heavier the house was in darkness. Dad must have been out. I let myself in and went into the kitchen. On the table was yet another note. Peter, I have to go out of town to do some business and I wont be back until late. Get some food from the restaurant and I will see you tomorrow. Do your homework and go to bed on time. Dad It was 2 weeks before Christmas and it was shaping up to be another one like all the others. I wasn't hungry after the big meal earlier in the day at school so I locked up and went upstairs. I knew that my father was not going to be home tonight, he never was when he had these so called business meetings out of town I would be lucky to see him by this time tomorrow. I had a small TV in my room so I decided that I would make myself comfortable, and go to bed early. I went upstairs to my bedroom, took of my wet things and rubbed myself dry with a towel. The only real luxury I had in the room was an open fire. I had learned how to light it with a few coals and it helped cheer up what was, to be honest, a drab room. So I lit the fire, took out one of my Mums' nighties that was hidden under the mattress and put it on. I already had on a pair of my mums pink lacy panties. I had taken to wearing them to school when I thought that I would get away with it. There was an Alice band in with my Mum's things from the case and I put it in my hair. Although my hair was short, the Alice band felt nice and girly. The nightie was a cream silky colour and although short for an adult it nearly touched the floor on me. I grabbed my diary from under the bed and wrote quite a bit about what had happened to me recently. I always put my innermost secrets in my diary and made sure that Dad would never find it. I left the diary on the side to put away later and then watched the cartoon network, I loved Tom and Jerry and Road Runner and I was soon laughing and forgetting my troubles. I was nice and warm snuggled down in my bed with the fire crackling and wearing the lovely silky nightie and panties. Pretty soon I must have fallen asleep because a bang woke me up with a start. It was the door of my bedroom banging open, and there was my Dad looking at me with horror and loathing. He was very drunk. I had forgotten to lock my door! And there was my Dad seeing me dressed in the flimsiest of nighties with an Alice band in my hair. He lurched across the room and I cowered down in the bed. 'What the hell do you think you look like!' he slurred as he roughly pulled my duvet off my bed and exposed me to the humiliation of seeing me dressed as girl. He pulled me up roughly, grabbed the Alice band and I screamed with pain as he wrenched it off, together with some of my hair. All the time he was shouting at me calling me names like queer, fag, sissy and other things not so nice. He tore off the nightie and then saw what I was wearing underneath. His eyes went wide as he must have then realised that what I was wearing was my Mums things... 'Those are Gemma's clothes, why are you wearing them?' he shouted. 'Because I'm a girl'. I whispered, trembling with fear at his anger. 'A GIRL! YOU ARE A BOY NOT A STUPID GIRL!' He saw my diary, opened it and read a few pages. 'What filthy rubbish is this?' With that threw my diary into the fire and then he came over and hit me again and again. I crouched down on the bed with my arms over my head and tried to get him to stop. 'Dad, Dad, please don't hurt me, please, please'. Then I felt a smacking blow on the head and the lights went out. That's how I found myself in the shed. Only wearing some panties and a blanket. I had tried to get out of the shed but there was only a small window and the door was locked tight. My throat was still raw at me yelling for help. Nobody came. I thought that my Dad might come when he woke up from his drunken stupor. He was always sorry when he woke up. Sorry for leaving me alone, sorry for keep moving house, for not having enough money, sorry for everything. But for some reason, this time he did not come. I was getting so cold. It must have been freezing outside and although I was at least out of the snow and wind, I knew that I was getting dangerously cold. I had read a book once where there was an expedition to the artic. One of the men got frostbite and they only just got him out in time. The strange thing was that after he got really cold, he started to feel warm, even though the temperature had not risen. I was beginning to feel warm and very very drowsy. I could not stay awake, even though I knew that if I went to sleep I might not wake up. I yawned and turned over in bed. In bed! My eyes snapped open. I was in a bed. I wasn't in that horrible shed I was in a hospital bedroom. The mattress was soft and I was warm and so relaxed. 'Hello Peter, how do you feel?' said a lovely melodious voice. My eyes went over to the corner of the room. A lovely lady was sitting there with a book in her hands. She got up and walked over to me and repeated, 'How do you feel. Are you hurting anywhere?' I recognised her immediately, it was the lady that I saw in the church with her happy family. Suddenly, I remembered my ordeal and my shame at being caught by my father and locked in the shed. I don't know why, but I burst into tears. She held me close. I could smell her perfume and feel the warmth of her as she cuddled me. This was the first time anyone had held me like this and it was so wonderful. I soon stopped snivelling as she gave me a tissue to blow my nose and wipe my eyes. 'Feeling better, honey?' 'Yes thank you. What happened to me? How did I get here?' I sniffed. 'You're okay Peter. We got to you in time. You just had a touch of hypothermia and exposure. Mind you, any longer and it would have been a different story.' She stopped for a moment and looked at me with sorrow in her eyes. 'I've been asked to tell you what has happened Peter. I am a part time welfare officer here and one of my jobs is to help sort out any problems that children might have. I am also a foster parent and have looked after many, many children.' She stopped a minute to get me another tissue, as my eyes were still watering a bit and then continued. 'Your teacher Mrs Thompson was worried about you. It seems that you had been very quiet and withdrawn since you joined the school and she decided that she would come and see you and your father just in case there was anything that the school could do to help you. She also noticed that your clothes were getting worn and she was worried that your family were finding it hard to manage. We are a small community here and we help each other out. There are funds for those of us who need help and Mrs Thompson, as well as being a teacher also is on the committee that sorts these things out.' She stopped talking, looked at me and stroked my cheek. 'Now,' she continued, 'I want you to try to be brave while I tell you the rest of what happened. Mrs Thompson knocked on your front door but there was no answer. The door was open and because she was worried about you, she went in and had a look around. She looked in the kitchen and this is where I have some sad news for you.' She held my hand. I knew, I just knew what she was going to say. 'I am very sorry, but she found your father unconscious on the floor. She phoned for an ambulance and did what she could for him. Whilst she waited she hunted up and down your house to see if she could find you, but without luck.' 'How is my Dad? Where is he? I want to see him. Please let me see him.' I started crying again. 'Your father regained consciousness in hospital and managed to say to a nurse that you were in the shed at the bottom of your garden. He then went into a coma and I am very sorry to say, he died in his sleep 3 hours ago.' I buried my head in my hands and sobbed. 'It's my fault, I made him angry. I killed him!' She gathered me in her arms and held me tight as I cried my heart out. 'It wasn't you Peter. We found out that he had a drinking problem. His doctor warned him earlier this year that if he did not stop, it would kill him. It had nothing to do with you. He was living on borrowed time. Don't blame yourself. It just happened.' All this was too much for me. I felt desolate, lost and confused. Just then the doctor came in, saw what I was like and before I knew it, I felt a little stab of pain in my arm and I fell asleep, still crying for my lost father. When I woke up, it took me a while to realise where I was and then it all came flooding back. My father was dead and I would never see him again. We had not had a really loving relationship. He found it difficult to show affection. But I still loved him. I was so very sorry that the last time I saw him was a time when I had made him so very angry with me. Just then a nurse came into the room. 'Hello Peter, feeling a bit better?' 'Yes thank you.' I sniffed 'When can I go home?' 'I think that Mrs Lambert will be picking you up this morning if the doctor says it's okay for you to be discharged. Are you hungry?' 'A bit. Who is Mrs Lambert?' 'She was the lady who was with you yesterday.' That cheered me up a bit, she was so nice to me. I ate my weetabix and wondered what was to become of me. I realised that that I would not be allowed to go home and live by myself. I shuddered at the thought of being put in a home. It suddenly came to me. I was an orphan. I didn't have any close relatives. With us moving so many times, I didn't even have any real friends. There was a TV in the room and I watched cartoons all morning. It helped me to stop thinking about my future. Midway through the morning the doctor came in and said that it was okay to leave that day. I was given a T-shirt, jeans and other stuff to put on and I waited impatiently for Mrs Lambert to come for me. At about 11.30, Mrs Lambert came in. 'Hello Peter, how are you today?' 'I'm okay but worried about what's going to happen to me. Can I go home?' I said this, knowing in my heart that it was a forlorn hope. She sat on the bed and held my hand. 'Well honey, I'm sorry; you can't go home you as are far too young to look after yourself. I have an idea though, would you like to come and stay with my family over Christmas until things are sorted out? It's okay with the Department, as I do fostering anyway and I know that the family would love to have you.' As we drove to my new temporary home Mrs Lambert ('call me Susan') told me that my fathers funeral was on the following day and that the doctor had said that it would upset me too much to go. 'Would you like to send some flowers though and a message perhaps?' 'Yes please.' I said getting upset again. We stopped at a flower shop and Susan helped to choose some flowers. The lady in the shop gave me a card to put with the flowers and I wrote on it: To my Dear Dad, I miss you and love you. I hope you find Mum in Heaven and are happy together again. Love Your Peter As I handed the note over to the lady again, I sort of felt, writing to my Dad like that was a way of saying goodbye and letting the past go. I was only 11 but in some ways I was old for my age. I had had a strange childhood to say the least but I hoped that perhaps something positive might come out of all the pain and suffering. And so it was that I found myself in a lovely house on a hill on the outskirts of town. We went up the path through the lovely immaculate garden and I could see how well looked after everything was. There was some snow on the ground at it looked like a picture on a Christmas card. Someone obviously loved gardening. As we went up to the door, I saw the holly wreath with its bright berries on the door. There were Christmas lights around the door and most of the windows and it looked to me to be an almost magical place to live. The door opened and there was the man I saw in the church. He had a big smile on his face as he said, 'Hello Peter, welcome home, please call me Mark. Come and see the rest of the mad bunch.' That sounded so nice 'welcome home', it was only temporary, I knew but at least for a little while I could pretend to be part of a family. Mark took my hand, went over to a door and opened it. All of a sudden I was surrounded by what seemed to be a school full of kids and a kennel full of dogs! 'Hi!' 'Hello Peter!' 'Woof, woof!' I was dragged into the room and sat down in a big leather armchair. 'Leave him alone kids, let him breathe!' Two Labrador puppies started to lick me like mad and I had to make a fuss of them, before I could get my breath back and take a look around me. Though there seemed to be loads of kids in the room, there were only two. It was the girl and boy that I had seen in the church a few days before. They were looking at me and smiling as I stroked and petted the puppies. Mark said, 'Peter this is Simon and Joanne.' 'Hello.' I said rather shyly. 'Would you like a coke, Peter?' said Simon. 'Yes please.' Both the kids rushed out of the room and Mark said laughingly, 'They do everything together. Now Peter, after you've had your drink, we'll show you your room. Now what are those kids up to!' He left as I heard shouting from presumably the kitchen. I looked around me at the large comfortable sitting room, with deep armchairs, a lovely roaring fire and a huge bay window overlooking the garden. Over in the corner was a huge Christmas tree with lights and balls and lots of tinsel. On top was a beautiful white fairy princess in a little cream satin gown. 'I would love to wear a satin gown.' I thought sadly. Then I remembered my mother's case and the things under the bed at home. I wondered what had become of them. I supposed that they would be thrown out with the rubbish when they cleared the house. Just then Susan walked in. 'I hope that the kids and the dogs haven't been pests, Peter?' 'No, there're great.' She must have seen some concern on my face and said, 'Is something the matter? You look a bit upset.' I went very red but just then the kids came back in with my drink and some chocolate biscuits. Judging by the brown smudges around their mouths, I could see that they could not resist having a few. 'Thanks.' I said as I drank my coke and nibbled at a biscuit. 'Now you two run along and take those flaming dogs with you. I want to talk to Peter for a moment.' With that Joanne, Simon and the dogs ran out and shut the door behind them. 'Now Peter, can you tell me what's wrong. I can see that you're worried about something.' 'Erm, I... I am a bit worried about what will happen to stuff left at my house.' 'What sort of stuff?' 'Well. There was my schoolwork and clothes and a case.' 'Don't worry about clothes. To be honest, when I went over there to sort your stuff out, I could see that the clothes were not really worth keeping so I got rid of them. I hope you don't mind. Your schoolbooks are in your room. I went up to the attic and had a look round. Was that okay?' I nodded. 'There was quite a lot of junk there, but I did find a case with a label that said Gemma Roberts on it. Was that your mother?' I nodded. `I didn't look inside it, but I thought that you might want to keep that, so it's up in your room.' I sighed with relief. I didn't want to be thrown out of the house because she thought that I wore my Mum's things! ` Susan took my hand and we went up a wide staircase and along a corridor to a room at the end. She opened the door and let me walk in. It was a lovely bedroom with cream walls, a large single bed, a deep red pile carpet and a window that looked over the garden. There was a bookcase in the corner and next to it a computer. There was also a sofa, TV and video and a sound system. It was a great bedroom and one that I could normally only dream of having for myself. 'It's great. Thank you so much.' 'I'll leave you to get acquainted with your room. We put some clothes in the drawers and wardrobe. They should fit you. If there is anything else you need. Let me know.' With a smile and a warm kiss on the forehead she left me to have a look at my room. I touched everything from the bed to the computer and marvelled at the fact that I was in MY room. It may not be for long, but I did consider it to be mine and I loved it! I opened the drawers and saw that I had plenty of underpants, socks. Shirts and stuff. I then went over to the wardrobe and opened the door. There were coats, more shirts, jumpers and jeans in there and then I noticed on a shelf, my mum's case! I went over to the door and locked it and then took the case over to the bed and opened it. Nothing had been touched as far as I could see. The clothes were still neatly folded the way that I left them before. I breathed a sigh of relief as I closed the case and put it back in the wardrobe. Just then I heard a shout from downstairs. 'Teatime Peter.' I went down to my new temporary family and had some tea. Over the following days I got to know everyone rally well. They were all so nice and normal. They were just like I had wistfully dreamed my family to be. There was Susan, beautiful, capable and kind. Always there when the kids needed her and always happy to give people hug when they needed it. I needed it a lot because I still felt insecure and terribly sad about my Dad. Mark was a strong yet gentle man. I found out soon that he was a doctor and well liked in the community. He was always making time for Susan and the children, when home from his busy surgery. Then there were the children. Simon was a boy about 2 years younger than me. He loved animals and he had what seemed to be a small zoo in the garden, where all the strays in the animal world seemed to be housed. There were owls and other birds with damaged wings, rabbits, gerbils, hedgehogs and other animals were all looked after by Simon under the watchful eyes of Susan, Mark and a very protective Joanne. Simon was always singing around the house and never stopped smiling. Joanne was about my age and as pretty as a picture. She was a bookworm and always had her head in a book. She loved going shopping with her mother and every time she came home with clothes. She loved dresses, skirts and blouses and she liked to give everyone a fashion show after these trips. I looked longingly at the pretty things that she wore and wished so much that I could wear such wonderful feminine clothes. One dress she bought particularly caught my eye, as it was similar to the Christmas tree fairies princess's satin dress. I secretly sighed as she did a twirl and showed off her gorgeous dress. With ribbons in her hair and shiny black shoes, she looked a lovely. I was careful not to show too much excitement over the dress, as I did not want anyone to know my secret. I still yearned to be a girl. But I knew I couldn't be one. I was tempted to lock the bedroom door at night and put on one of my mothers nighties but I was haunted by what happened the last time I did this. All the time it was getting closer to Christmas. I went on a secret shopping expedition with Susan to buy everyone a small gift. One of the nice things about living with the family was that all the kids had pocket money and I was given some too! This helped pay for the presents. I bought a pair of slippers for Mark. A book on animal care for Simon, a pretty broach for Joanne and without her looking, some nice smelling (but cheap) perfume for Susan. The time came at last. It was Christmas Eve. All the presents were wrapped and put around the tree. All of us kids were getting excited about Christmas Day. Not least me, as I had never properly celebrated Christmas before. It was time for bed and for once, Simon, Joanne and I were eager to go upstairs get ready for bed and turn in as quickly as possible. I said goodnight to the other children, who couldn't stop giggling and whispering for some reason, got into my pj's and read a book for a few minutes. There was a tap on the door and Susan and Mark came in. They always did this at bedtime and I loved it. They came over to me and Susan said, 'Goodnight Peter, sweet dreams.' She then kissed me on the cheek. Then Mark did the same and ruffled my hair. 'Night, night Peter, its been great having you with us.' As they left the room and shut the door quietly, I felt a lump in my throat and a tear came to my eyes. These people were so nice to me and had shown me the love that I had never had before. It was sad that I would be leaving them soon. We hadn't talked about the future. All I knew was that I was only staying with them on a short-term basis and that things would be sorted out after Christmas. I supposed that I would be given to other foster parents or put into a home. Anyway, I had no right to expect more. I believed that I was instrumental in killing my father, no matter what anyone else said and I felt a guilt that made me think that I had no right to be happy. How many kids do you know that made their father so angry that he had a seizure and died? Anyway, I finally stopped snivelling and put the light out. I couldn't sleep. My mind kept going on a roller coaster of emotions, one minute thinking of my father, then of all things the fairy on the Christmas tree, my mother's case and the lovely family, shortly to be parted from me. I looked out of the window. There were no curtains up and the night was cold and clear. There were thousands of stars out there all twinkling in black night sky. Suddenly I saw a shooting star whoosh across the sky. Perhaps it was my father on his way to finding Mum. Then I realised that I was stupid to blame myself for everything. It wasn't my fault that Mum died and Dad had been drinking heavily for years. Okay I wanted to be a girl and had been caught wearing my mum's things. But I could not help being the way I was. Any more than my Dad's inability to cope with life after Mum died. I got out of bed and knelt down. I prayed that my Dad would now be at peace and that my Mum would be there welcoming him into heaven. I felt much better after that and it was as if a great weight had lifted from my shoulders. I was still worried about the future, but was sure that it must be better than the past. I finally went back to bed and slept better than I had for many days. It was morning and I woke up with a start. I sat up in bed and rubbed my eyes. At the bottom of my bed were a large number of packages all wrapped in bright shiny paper. This was funny; all the presents were downstairs under the tree! I pulled a large flat package that was laying on top, over to me. On top was a label with a holly leaf on it. It read: Peter. Open this one first. I opened it carefully. What could it be? I pulled the lid off. There was lots of tissue paper and when I placed it aside, there, underneath was a dress! The similar one to the satin dress that Joanne had. I lifted it out of the box, got out of bed and on shaky legs held it up against me. It was exactly the right size. What was happening here? I couldn't understand it. Then I realised that the labels must have been mixed up. This was Joanne's' present. I gave the dress one more wistful look and put it back on the bed. I was just about to open another present when there was a soft knock on the door. 'Come in.' It was Susan. 'Hello Peter, Merry Christmas.' 'Merry Christmas, Susan. Oh, there's been a mistake. I opened this present and saw this dress in it. Can you give it to Joanne for me please?' Susan sat on the bed. 'Why give it to Joanne, don't you like it?' 'Erm er yes it's lovely but sorry, what do you mean?' 'It's for you, silly.' 'But er boys don't wear dresses. Is it for a fancy dress party or something?' Susan laughed and said, 'Look I hope our little surprise hasn't upset you. I was going to speak to you before this but the time never seemed right. When I went back to your old house to pick up your things, I noticed a partly burned book in the fireplace. It was only singed on the outside and I must admit to having a peak at what was inside it.' I went very red at these words and I stared to get upset. 'Oh no,' I thought. 'She is going to laugh at me and then throw me out. She thinks that this is a joke and I'm weird!' She took one look at me and held my hand. She must have read my thoughts as she said, 'I am not laughing at you, Peter, I think that you are very brave. You have gone through a lot in your short life and we want to help you. I hope that you don't mind, but I read through the whole of your diary. I saw the pain and suffering that you was going through, being trapped in a boy's body. Most people would have cracked under the strain, but you didn't. I also know what you was wearing in the shed, they were your Mum's panties, weren't they?' I nodded, afraid to speak. 'It must have been so hard for you, honey. Now before I say anything else, please open all your presents.' With shaking hands and numb brain, I unwrapped the presents. There were dresses of all shapes and colours. Blouses, skirts, panties, nighties and all sorts of girls' things. There was a makeup bag, a purse, lots of different shoes and finally a brand new diary. I was so wrapped up in what I was doing I hadn't noticed that Mark had come in the room. 'Do you like them Peter?' I looked up with a start and said, 'I can't wear these, I'm a boy, everyone will laugh at me.' Mark smiled and said. 'No they won't. Joanne and Simon have been in on the secret from the start. They want to see you as you should be... a girl.' 'We want you to be happy, Peter and if that means that you need to be a girl then that is what you will be.' Said Susan. 'Now if Mark can go and see what those other two kids are up to, Peter and I are going to get her ready to look pretty!' Mark went out and shut the door. She said 'her'. I was in a dream. I took my pj's off and ran into the shower room. I had a quick shower and when I came back into the bedroom, the pretty cream satin dress was ready for me. I put on some silky panties with a lovely pink ribbon around the hem. They slid up my legs and were so smooth and soft. I then slipped on some silvery satin tights. The tights hugged my legs and made me feel very feminine. Then I put a petticoat that sort of puffed out at the bottom with several layers of net. Next I put on a full cream slip and finally, the dress was slipped over my head and buttoned up behind by Susan. How can I describe the dress? It was cream satin edged with pale silk ribbons. It went to my mid calf and fluffed out at the bottom because of the petticoat underneath. It was a dream dress for a girl in a dream! The shoes fitted me perfectly. They were silver and had a lovely pink silky buckle on the top. 'You look lovely, Peter. Now sit down and I will do your hair.' 'My hair is very short.' 'We've thought of that. Open that last present on the floor over there in the corner.' I ran over to the present and eagerly opened it. Inside was a lovely long straight wig, the same blond colour of my hair. 'Ooh' I cried. 'It's lovely.' Susan helped me on with the wig and brushed it until it was silky smooth. She then pinned it in so that it wouldn't get dislodged and then tied my hair in a wide pink ribbon so that the hair would not fall into my eyes. 'Before you look at yourself, and as its Christmas, you can wear a bit of makeup. After all it is party time.' She put some powder on my face, pink blusher for my cheeks, mascara and pink eye shadow for my eyes and finally she lightly brushed my lips with lipstick. 'Okay honey, stand up and let's have a look at you.' I stood up and could feel the soft satin swish on my legs and body. I felt so pretty and I was dying to see what I looked like. 'Now, before you look at yourself, you need to change your name. There is no way that we can call you Peter, looking like that. Is there any name you would like?' 'Rebecca, I said promptly. 'I always dreamed of being Rebecca.' 'Okay Rebecca, turn around and look in the mirror.' I swiftly turned and had the shock of my life. I was so pretty. It couldn't be me. There was no way anyone could be mistaken. I was a girl, a pretty girl in a lovely satin dress that went down below my knees. I had lovely silky blond hair; my face looked a picture of loveliness with a hint of makeup and my eyes, they looked all the bigger with what Susan had done to them. Susan came over and said. 'Now can you see why you can't be Peter looking as pretty as you do?' I nodded. I was speechless, happy but speechless. 'Now it's time to show the others our pretty new member of the family.' I stopped at that and looked at her. 'Member of the family? I don't know what you mean. I thought I was going after Christmas.' She smiled. 'Do you want to go or do you like us enough to stay and be in our family. Let me explain. I couldn't have any children of my own and Simon and Joanne are both adopted. We haven't known you for long but as far as the family are concerned it was love at first sight. We had a family meeting and we decided two things. Firstly, that if you wanted to be in the family, then we would make sure that you are, and secondly that if you want to be a girl, then a girl you shall be, there are ways to get things changed and we can afford to do it. Mark's a doctor and he knows where to go for advice about this. We will do everything we can to help you to be happy, if you want us. Well do you want to think about it and give us your answer later?' I fell into her arms and hugged her tightly and said, 'Can I stay, please?' With that we went downstairs. The sitting room was full of noise, with dogs barking and running about. Simon and Joanne were feverishly opening presents and going ooh and ahh but everything stopped as I walked into the room. 'Ahem...' said Susan, 'Can I present Miss Rebecca Lambert, the newest member of our family.' Everyone shouted with joy and clapped loudly. The next minute I was on the floor opening presents with the rest of the family, looking and feeling like the prettiest girl in the world. I looked up at the tree and to the fairy on top and do you know, I swear that she winked at me! THE END?