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Georgina By Samantha Jay © January 2010 Chapter 1 "MOMMYEEEEEEE" I awoke with a start, my breathing was fast and shallow, and my heart rate was elevated. I couldn't remember who or where I was. A bedside lamp was switched on and its light illuminated the room. "You okay, love?" a gentle, but concerned voice asked. I closed my eyes and forced my heart to slow down. I willed myself to take slow, regular breaths. I had to get out of this panic attack. I re-opened my eyes and looked at the reflection in the mirror doors of a walk in wardrobe and saw two good looking women, sitting up in bed, one wearing a concerned look on her face, the other, mine, fear. I could see my breasts rising and falling far too fast. I had to get myself under control. I also saw the mouth moving on the other woman, but I couldn't hear what she was saying for the rushing sound in my ears. I felt the mattress move and notice the other woman get out of bed and rush towards the door. She was back in a couple of moments and handed me a brown paper bag. From somewhere deep in my brain, I knew this was a cure for hyper-ventilation and started to breathe into the bag. My breathing slowly returned to normal and the rushing sound in my ears began to fade. "Calm down Sam, take regular breaths, think calm, peaceful thoughts," the other woman was saying. Well, at least I know I am called Samantha, but who is this other woman, why am I sharing a bed with her? My heart rate was slowing and I was regaining proper use of my senses. My nose trapped a passing smell, transmitted its code to my brain, which decoded it and released a memory. "This is my home isn't it?" "Yes," she replied, the concern growing on her face. "I'm sorry, but I can't quite place..." Another smell, another memory. "We belong to each other, don't we?" I asked. "Sam, we are married and have been for years," she was on the verge of tears. "But how can two women be married?" I was confused. "We are husband and wife, I am a woman, and you are a man who just happens to look like a woman." Another memory crept in. "Chris?" She smiled a little. "Yes." The memories started to trickle in. The trickle became a stream, then a river and finally a flood. "Oh Chris. How could I have forgotten the single, most important person in my life?" I started to cry, we both started to cry. "What happened, what startled you?" Chris asked after we had calmed down. "I had a nightmare." "Peter?" "Yes." "But you haven't had one of those for years," the look of concern was back on Chris's face, "what's triggered it?" "I'm not sure, but tomorrow will be the fifth anniversary of his death," I replied. "Oh hell! And we've got a social do on as well. I shouldn't have forced you to accept." "I couldn't have not accepted. I need to be there, we need to be there. It's important for the future of the project. It's taken two years, but we are almost there. Tomorrow," I glanced at my bedside clock, "tonight, even, should see the final piece being put in the jigsaw. We've got the house, we've got the qualifications, and tonight we should get the initial funding." I know it was my pet project, but Chris was also touched by Peter. It was she that suggested that we get qualified as foster parents and register as 'special' needs fosters. Special needs in the sense of transgendered kids. Kids like I was. Unloved kids, disowned kids, kids thrown out on the streets. "Well, let's try and get back to sleep," I said and Chris reached out, switched off the light and then snuggled up to me, determined not to let my demons get me. Chapter 2 I think you are entitled to an explanation. I was once disowned by my parents because of my transvestitism and lived in my car. After about nine months of begging and just getting by I finally had enough and was about to commit suicide. I phoned the Samaritans and met Chris, who saved my life, got me to work as a volunteer and then married me. We live as two women, but I have never had the final operation. It was while we were working that I took the call from Peter, about five and a half years ago. He also had been disowned, but whereas I just liked to dress as a woman, Peter had some serious psychological problems, but he didn't deserve to be let down by me or by the system. I will never forgive myself for letting him down. NEVER. Peter was placed in a temporary home, but somehow nobody saw the warning signs and he killed himself. And even though I said I would protect him, I failed. I FAILED him. After Peter killed himself I just lost it. I went into a deep depression and Chris started to keep a close eye on me in case I did something stupid. I started having nightmares and wouldn't sleep, eventually Chris dragged me off to Sally, a psychiatrist Chris knew, who diagnosed Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome and spent nine months dragging me out of the hole I was digging for myself. Those sessions were raw and included my cross-dressing. Let's say I learnt a lot about myself during those nine months and I still have a session every six months, but these are now mostly a coffee and gossip get together. She's almost as good a talker as she is a listener and I regard her as a close friend. For the first month I was having daily sessions, then it was every other day for the next five months and then twice a week for the last three months. The next two years it was a monthly "check up" and finally our six monthly gossip sessions. Sally uncovered a lot of stuff, stuff that my subconscious just wouldn't let me near. It appears that I had taken my mother as a role model, rather than my father. Also, my brain sex was slanted more towards female than male, but wasn't enough for me to believe that I was a woman in a man's body. If a normal male's brain sex was 90-10 slanted towards male then mine was about 35-65 towards female. Not enough to make me believe, but enough to confuse me and coupled with my lack of testosterone production and not going through puberty. Well, what can I say, except 'Thank God for Christine' (uh oh, she hates being called Christine). The first month I just talked and talked, oh and cried. I could have filled a swimming pool with the amount of tears I produced. Chris never took part in these sessions, but she was always there, outside, waiting, worrying and probably crying herself, if I know Chris. My fears were peeled away in layers, just like peeling an onion, and each layer got more emotional than the last. The core of the problem was that I felt that I had let Peter down, but resting on that was the feeling that I had let down Chris, the group, transgendered people, people in need and finally myself. The burden I was carrying, no, make that the self inflicted burden I was carrying, just got too much and I was close to mentally retreating into myself. Sally was good. She didn't tackle the problem as a whole, but in pieces, layers if you like. The first burden to go was 'the letting myself down' and we progressed to the nub which was 'the letting down of Peter'. By the end of the first month both Chris and I were wrecks. Me from the therapy, Chris from 'suicide' watch. She didn't sleep much and if she did one of our friends was there, but Chris slept on a hair trigger, if I moved she awoke, if I coughed she was there. God, I love her for that. Once we were at the nub of the problem, Sally showed me how to deal with it. The tricks, techniques even, of deflecting the self guilt. How to live with myself and the self loathing. How to cope on a day to day basis. It was hard at first, but it got better and as I learnt how to deal then the nightmares started to go away. Oh yes, the nightmares. In my dreams, I became Peter, I took the abuse, I was disowned and I killed myself. And it didn't happen just once a night, it was every time I closed my eyes. It got so that I couldn't, no, wouldn't sleep. I'd go forty eight, even seventy two, hours without sleeping, only to collapse and have really bad dreams. One I remember, after a marathon session of wakefulness, was a real, full blown episode. In it I wasn't Peter, but myself and everyone hated me, especially Chris, I think she even hit me. I have never told Chris about that one, but it was the closest I came to ending it all since I called the Samaritans the first time. The sessions with Sally after that nightmare were horrific; I think I even scared her. Thinking back, Chris never left me alone for days and there were always two or more of our friends and colleagues around. You know, I don't deserve her; she is much too good for me. Anyway, after just under five years of therapy I no longer have nightmares and can cope with the self loathing, even if I will never forgive myself. It was two years before I could go anywhere near a Samaritans centre and I still can't take calls. My role is now mainly as a specialist councillor, the sessions with Sally being a great help in recognising the signs and pointing people in the right directions. Don't get me wrong, I don't diagnose or even try and cure people, I am not qualified for that, but I am more of a 'paramedic' to use an analogy. I just 'stabilise the patient', deal with any immediate life threatening problems, so that they can get the proper help they need. Just like a paramedic called out to an emergency. I have had some basic training, enough so that I don't make the person worse and I have access to half a dozen psychiatrists, who trust me and who I can send the worst cases to. Sally is one of those, in fact it was her that suggested that I follow this path after it emerged that I was going to be useless on the phone. Ah, I can see what you are thinking. If I can't handle taking 'suicide' calls how can I handle being a 'paramedic', to use my analogy? Well, basically what stops me taking the calls is my fear of answering another 'Peter'. It's the fear of the unknown. I can still function as a Samaritan, befriend, talk to, but mainly listen to potential suicides. It's the picking up of the phone that I can't do. So I make the tea, wait for the difficult cases to roll in and help out where I can. You know the sort of thing. Filing paper, writing reports, tabulating figures, well secretarial work. Anyway, I think that just about brings us up to date. Ah, I forgot. The project. Chapter 3 As I've said Chris and Sally knew each other, went to the same school or something. Come to think of it, Chris knew Tracey as well. I wonder if they all went to school together, but I digress. During part of the layer peeling that I was going though, it emerged that I had a need to help people. A deep need. Now whether I had always had this need or whether it was something that was inspired by Chris's unstinting help of me in the beginning, we don't know. But it was this deep need and my failure with Peter that brought about my 'episode'. It may have been due to the fact that I identified strongly with Peter's condition that I reacted so badly to his death, I mean I had lost people before and it hadn't affected me in that way. I mean it hurts, badly, but I, or any of my colleagues, hadn't had that type of reaction before. I mean, Chris was just as involved with Peter as I was, but she didn't flip. Anyway, Chris and Sally knew each other and I suppose were talking about how I was doing and what I was saying behind my back. Let's face it, if it was the other way round and Chris was having the problems, I would have bugged the surgery so that I could make sure I could help her. Yes, I would gladly have taken on her demons and slain them without any thought of myself, just like she did for me. She really is a remarkable woman. Sorry about going on about how good she is, but I just can't help myself. True love I suppose. Well, when Sally discovered this need to help and realised that using that need could form part of the cure, she told Chris and between them hatched a plan about us being foster parents to transgendered kids, well difficult kids really, but mainly transgendered or cross-dressers. Sally told her what training we would need and suggested that she may also get me to do a basic psychology course. She thought about this and the more she thought and the more she spoke to Sally, she decided that it would be a good idea. We are not bad off for money as her parents were quite wealthy and she inherited their house when they died, quite close to each other, a couple of years ago. A couple of people she knew in Social Services said that having a stable couple who had experience of transgender issues acting as temporary guardians could have beneficial effects on the kids. So we got trained and I got my basics in psychology and along the way we got to know the head of Social Services, one Jennifer Whitfield, and got ourselves on the foster parent register. Jennifer is a bright woman and nothing like her predecessor, you remember that he resigned over the 'Peter' affair, although I never held him to blame. After I had recovered and whilst we were doing our specialist training, Jennifer invited us to meet her. I suppose it was down to the notoriety surrounding Peter and his death and the fact that I was the one doing most of the shouting (it was the least I could do for Peter). Anyway, we met and got on very well, she gave us her private mobile number, and we impressed each other. Her over what we were attempting to set up to fill a hole, down which too many kids had disappeared, and us over her attempt to get her department to recognise transgender issues and a few other issues that plague modern society. Over the last two years Jenny has helped us when we have hit problems and, although we can't take acceptance as granted, she has promised that her department will look favourably upon the placement of problem children with us. Which brings us to tonight's social do. It's a get to know you type of thing, where people with spare money meet people with an empty begging bowl. Sorry, couldn't help it. Jenny has invited us to a function where a few good spirited people are prepared to back noble, for want of a better word, causes and are prepared to put a little of their unwanted spare cash into these causes where they will receive nothing in return but the grateful thanks of the people the cash helps. Yes there are a few people like that out there. Helping good causes and not wanting anything in return for their cash injection. Anyway, we are looking for about a hundred thousand to pay the initial running costs as we should be eligible for a grant when it's all up and running and has proved itself. So, we are now up to date and I see that my alarm is about to go off. Chapter 4 I must have hit the snooze button at least ten times before I actually dragged myself out of bed. Chris was already up, as her side of the bed was empty, so I headed for the shower. I relaxed under the warm spray and rubbed shower gel over my body. I felt my breasts checking for lumps, can't be too careful with breast cancer. Chris and I check each other thoroughly once a month and I do a quick check every other day. Chris also checks my testies for lumps at the same time; I mean I don't want to be the first person to have both breast and testicular cancer. I didn't bother with my hair as we have salon appointments this afternoon so I turned off the shower, grabbed a towel and dried myself. I wear a gaffe all the time now; it's one of those that you glue on and gives you the appearance of having female sex organs. It just makes things easier when I'm out and about, basically it completes the illusion I am a woman and prevents awkward questions. I throw on undies, t-shirt and jeans, slip my feet into mules and plod off downstairs. Chris is in the kitchen and when she hears me enter comes to me and hugs the life out of me. "You okay this morning?" she asks. "Yes, I'm fine, thanks." "I was worried about you last night. You've never forgot things before." "But it wasn't for long," I said. "I know, but you did forget. You don't think you're heading for a relapse?" "I don't think so. This scheme you and Sally cooked up has helped. I'm sorry I put you through so much," I answered. "I'd do anything for you," she said. "As would I," I replied, softly. "Anyway, brekkie." Chris went back to preparing breakfast; I took my 'contraceptive' pill (I don't want to get pregnant) and did some introspection. We didn't do much that morning, just read the papers, watched TV. Our appointments were for mid-afternoon, so after lunch we drove into town. Now I can go into detail what we had done, but I am a woman of few words (don't snigger at the back). Suffice to say that we had manicures, pedicures hair washes, hair styling and body waxing. And we both felt gorgeous. We trundled home as it would take a little time getting ready and it was already four-thirty. Once home we began to get ready. We both stripped naked, washed and started by putting on thongs, mine was red and Chris's were blue. On went the suspender belt, matching colours, and a pair of seamed tan stockings. We had a whale of a time getting the seams straight. Next came the three inch stiletto strappy sandals, yep, red and blue. Now the fun really began. The next item was the corsets. Chris helped me with mine and then I helped her with hers. But the piece de resistance were the beautiful silk cheongsams that we put on next. Colours, can't you guess, okay...mine was red and Chris's was blue. The cheongsams finished midway between thigh and knee and had splits up both sides. One of the joys of cheongsams is the way it empathises your bosom without making you look like a hooker. Once we had completed our make-up we both grabbed shawls and our bags and waited for our lift to arrive. Ah, the one thing I forgot to mention was hair. Well, mine was honey blonde, straight and reached half way down my back. Chris has black hair, but hers was done in a pageboy style. Our entrance at the reception was amazing. We drew looks from virtually everyone as we walked slowly towards our sponsor. "You both look fantastic," Jenny enthused. "Thank you," we both chorused. A waiter appeared as only top class waiters do and offered us some wine. With glass in hand Jenny took us around the groups and introduced us. At one she made her excuses and left us. "Christine and Samantha, how lovely to meet you," the tall handsome man said. "It's Chris and Sam and thank you for your welcome, Clive," Chris answered. "I apologise for my error." "No error," I said, "Samantha is such a mouthful and Christine hates being called Christine. Something about its use when she was being told off by her mother." Clive laughed and said, "That I can understand. I had a brother called Jon, but was always called Jonathon when being told off. I got away with it since there isn't any other form of Clive." I had avoided the elbow in the side and now all three of us were laughing. "So what is your project and how much do you want?" Clive asked. "My, you are direct, what no foreplay," Chris said with a smile. "Well I have to admit that I have been told about both of you by Jenny and she said that your project would appeal to me. That really got my curiosity up, but if you want foreplay, how about you tell me something about yourselves." "Certainly, but do you mind if we go somewhere private?" I asked. "And if we are going to be candid with you, can I ask you to be candid with us?" Chris added. "No problems on either front," Clive replied and pointed to a small anteroom. Once inside we sat on the comfy chairs whilst Clive closed the door, and then sat opposite us. "I'll go first since I know something about you two," Clive said. He took a breath and continued. "This has not got to leave this room, but if what I have heard is correct then there will be no problem about that," he paused and we both nodded. "I mentioned Jon and you've probably guessed by my accent that I'm from across the pond. There is a tradition in the States to go trick or treating on Halloween. It is also a tradition to wear fancy dress. To a certain group of people it is a Heaven sent opportunity. When we were kids I used to dress up as a cowboy, Batman, Superman, that kind of thing and Jon. Well Jon liked to dress up as Batgirl or Supergirl, or any kind of girl. You get my meaning?" Again we both nodded. "As you've probably guessed Jon was a transvestite, we never found out if he was transgendered as although the States is more liberal than you in certain things, we are more backward in others and it was on one of his outings dressed as a woman that he was stabbed and killed." "We are both sorry for your loss," Chris said very softly. "Thank you, Chris. Now as I've mentioned earlier, being curious I did some checking and found that Sam here is short for Samuel, that he's married to you Chris and that he was involved with the suicide of a fourteen year old boy." I tensed and Clive noticed. "Sorry Sam, I should have put that better. You tried to save him and when you failed you made a lot of noise even when that brought ridicule upon yourself. I know that you nearly suffered a breakdown and that a lot of people have nothing but the highest respect for you. As you have noticed, I am a blunt type of person; I get straight to the point. As some of my rivals say, I go for the jugular. The fact is I rarely come to these functions. I made an exception for you two." Clive leaned forward in his chair and continued, "Jenny has told me about what you want to do, and she has also told me that, in the current climate, you are unlikely to get funding from the authorities. They don't like being reminded about people like Jon." "Or Peter," I added. "Peter?" Clive asked. "The fourteen year old boy that the state, and myself, failed to help." "Ah. I take it that still rankles. Before you say anything, here is my proposal. I think it is very unlikely that any child that is 'outside of the norm' is going to be able to be placed in a good home. I know that they exist, but they are few and far between, if what I have read is anything to go by. That means that they are likely to end up in state orphanages or with people who may not be able to cope. Every time I read or hear of a kid like that I remember Jon. I want to set up a home where these kids can live and grow, where they will be safe. Where they can learn how to cope in society, how to blend in until they can blossom into what they want to be. We all know that kids can be merciless. I am offering you the chance to run that home, staff it with suitable people. I know you have the contacts to help in emergencies. So what do you say?" "Wow." "Let me get this straight," Chris jumped in, "You are offering to fund a home and staff, you don't know how much it will cost and you are placing your trust in two strangers." "Not strangers. I have done a lot of research. Money opens lots of doors and can get results in a very short time. I know you are the right people for the job," Clive replied. Have you any place in mind?" I asked. "Yes I do. I have just bought Branksome Hall. It's a bit of a wreck, but I am going to use one wing as the home. I want to call it the Jon Wilkinson home." I looked at Chris and she just stared back at me. We were both shell shocked. This was beyond our wildest dreams. Then a thought sprang to mind. "I hope you are not going to take this the wrong way, but this isn't a wind up is it? It's not a practical joke?" I asked. Clive rose from the chair, opened the door and motioned to someone. A few moments later Jenny entered the room. "Sam wants to know if it's a wind up," Clive said. "It's not a wind up. I've known Clive Wilkinson for years. I met him in America when I was doing an exchange visit," she said. "I apologise, Clive," I said. "No need, I understand why you asked. So what is your answer?" "When do we start?" Chris said. Just then my mobile went off and judging by calling number I saw on the display, it wasn't a good sign. "Sam," I said and listened to voice at the other end. "We are on our way, take good care of him." Chris looked at me. "We have another Peter," was all I said. "I'll order a taxi," Chris said. "No need, I have my car here," Clive said. "I'll take you." It sounded like an order, but one we could live with. Chapter 5 We hugged Jenny, said our goodbyes and waited at the front door for Clive's car to arrive. It was a Maybach. Clive asked where we had to go and passed on the address we gave him to the chauffeur. On the way all I could think about was Peter and how I was going to do this differently. I would not let this poor child down. They would have to kill me to get to him. Clive had gotten in the front leaving us girls alone in the rear. I knew that the journey would normally take thirty minutes; Clive's driver did it in twenty two. Once there Clive held my door open whilst his driver held the door on Chris's side. As we walked towards the building I said to Clive, "Anything you see or hear in that building never leaves the building. You shouldn't really be allowed into phone room, but there is a rest room where you can hang out after Chris has given you a brief look around." I swiped my card and the door unlocked. I pushed it and held it for both of them. Chris led the way towards the phone room. "Hey, it's the Suzi Wong girls," Fred quipped. "Boy, do I feel underdressed," this from Jane, who was always beautifully turned out. "Do two Wongs make a Wright?" Fred added. "How much do you charge?" I went over to Jake, kissed him on the cheek and said, "More than you can afford. I have to keep Chris in the shopping mode she enjoys," and everyone laughed; we were a close knit family here and would help anyone out. "Guys, this is Clive, he gave us a lift here. He's promised to stay out of the way and, if you ask him nicely, might even make the tea," Chris said through the smile. "And I won't even charge my normal fee," Clive replied. "Thanks Clive. It will also stop you getting bored, but what about your driver?" Chris asked. "Don't worry about him; he's used to waiting. That's why I pay him so much," Clive answered. "Fred, where's the child?" I asked. "With Tracey. I called as soon as we got him back here. I didn't like the look of a couple of bruises," Fred said. "Shit!" "Christine!" I remarked, "Very unladylike. We have a guest." "You are only saying that, Samuel, because I beat you to it," she said, smiling. "You know," Fred said in a stage whisper to Jane, "until they speak you would never guess they were both men would you?" "They must spend hours shaving their beards," Jake chipped in. "Those fake breasts just don't look right," Jane added. "And that wig Christopher." "Shall we strip off now and give them a thrill?" I asked Chris. "Don't want to put them to shame, love. None of them have the quality of equipment we have," and everyone burst into laughter again. Just then Tracey came out of one of the side rooms. "So what's with the hilarity?" she asked. "We were just discussing Samuel and Christopher's ability to appear female," Jane said. "Samuel and Christopher?" and then she noticed us. "Oh wow." "You like?" Chris asked. "Like? Like doesn't come close," she replied. "How's the child?" I butted in. "I'd like to take him to hospital." "Suspicions?" I ask. "Yes, I have suspicions. I think he's been abused." "Oh Trace," Chris's voice took on a sad quality. Clive, who had overheard the exchange between Chris and Tracey, chipped in, "My car is outside and we will take you to any hospital you want." Tracey looked at Chris, who nodded and I said, "Chris you take Tracey and the boy with Clive to hospital. I'll stay here and talk to Fred. Let me know what they find. And Clive, I appreciate what you are doing." Tracey went to fetch the patient and when they came into the room I was shocked to see that he was only about ten. The fact that he was wearing a skirt didn't worry me. What worried me were the bruises on his arm. After they had left I turned to Jake and said, "You're the computer expert, see what you can find out about Clive Wilkinson. Jane, you know a journalist or two see what you can find?" I told them both what I knew of Clive Wilkinson. "Problems, Sam?" Fred asked. "I don't think so, but he's offered Chris and me the chance to run the type of home we were going to setup. He knows a lot about us, but we know very little about him and I'd like to even that up." "Sounds like your dream come true," Fred replied. "Too good to be true," was all I said. Jake and Jane went about their allotted tasks and I said to Fred, "What's the kid's history?" "His name is George, I haven't pushed for his last name, and he's run away from home. Like you, I noticed the bruises on his arm and called Tracey and then you. She beat you here by ten minutes. Although he says he wants to kill himself, I don't think he means it. I think it's a cry for help, but I'm not taking chances." I was nodding as he was talking and agreed with him that we would be taking any chances. "There's another thing. Did you notice he stayed close to Tracey when in company?" "Yes, but I put it down to him being shy," I answered. "I think it's something deeper, but I can't put my finger on it," Fred replied. "I've found several Clive Wilkinsons, but only one is American and had a brother called Jon," I turned to look at Jake and he continued. "He is a multi-billionaire whose brother was killed in a knife attack; he inherited his money from his parents and went on to increase it on the stock market. Looks like he's upset a few people with his curt way of dealing with them." "That I can understand. He said he was a blunt type of person." "Blunt, from what I have read, that is an understatement. But he is fiercely loyal and he instils loyalty in the people who know or work for him. " "Sam, I've managed to talk to one of my mates and she says that Clive could be your best friend or your worst enemy and that if he took a liking to you then he would do anything in his power to help you." "Thanks Jane," I said. "Samaritans, how can I help you? Oh hi Chris. Yes I'll put her on," and Jake handed the phone to me. "We're in the Alexandria," Chris said as I recognised a top class name. "Tracey and a doctor are conferring, but it looks like child abuse and it's going to be referred to both the police and social services." "I'll call Jenny," I said, "and offer to look after the child; I'll also warn Sally that we'll probably need her services." "Good idea, Clive is arranging for the boy to stay at his place along with us and a nurse. He's already got a solicitor out of bed and he's dealing with the police as we speak. We should be leaving in a few minutes to pick you up and to let Tracey get her car. We will then all head off to Clive's for a council of war." "Okay, see you soon," I answered, gave the phone back to Jake and got my mobile out of my bag. "Whitfield." "Jenny, its Sam." "Hi Sam, what can I do for you?" "We've taken a ten year old boy for a check up because our doctor suspected abuse. This has been confirmed and Clive is arranging for the boy to be interviewed by the police tomorrow and I'd like you to assign one of your best people to the case. I would also like George..." "George?" Jenny interrupted. "That's the boy's name. Anyway, I, sorry we, would like you to temporarily place George in our care pending proper placement, which we would also like to be considered for." "Yeeesss," Jenny said. "You obviously know what Clive has offered us and I think you had a hand in it and both Chris and myself would like to thank you for that. I also know that George will need the kind of help that I can give him." "Yeeesss," Jenny said again. "He was wearing a skirt, Jenny and I think that may be part of the reason he was abused." "Okay. I can't promise anything, but you can look after George for the time being. I will await my people's report before making up my mind." "That's fair," I said. "And Clive is taking George, us, Tracey and a nurse back to his place so that we can look after the child." "Okay, I'll get someone out there tomorrow as I am going to assume that George will be under medical care tonight." "Thanks Jenny. We'll talk to you tomorrow." "So he was abused," Jane said as I ended the call. "Looks like it," I replied. "I hate it when that happens to a kid." "Same here, Fred," Jake responded. "Samaritans, how can I help you?" Jane took a call and the noise level in the room immediately reduced. I went to the rest room and called Sally. "Sally, Sam." "Sam, you okay, it's almost midnight." "Yes, I'm fine and no, I'm not having a relapse. Listen, we may have another Peter, but this one has complications, he's been abused." "You sure?" "Tracey took him to hospital for confirmation. Look I'd like you to be involved, you're the best I know and George deserves the best," I said. "Thanks for the compliment. When and where?" Sally asked. "You know Branksome Hall?" "I've heard of it." "We'll be there all day." "I'll check my diary when I get in and give you a call." "Thanks Sally. Talk to you tomorrow." I sat down and waited to be picked up. Chapter 6 Tracey entered the rest room and said, "Ready when you are." "Where's Chris?" "She's gone on with George, Clive and the nurse." "I'll just say bye to the guys and I'll be ready," I said, rising. Once in Trace's car the conversation turned serious. "What did they find, Trace?" "Besides the bruising on his arm, there is bruising on his upper body consistent with being beaten. He has a couple of broken ribs, scarring on his arms and body which leads us to believe he was used as an ashtray." "An ashtray?" "Sorry, someone stubbed out lit cigarettes on his skin." "Shit!" I cried. Tracey continued, "One arm has been broken sometime ago and may have to be broken again so that it can be set properly. There's some scarring on his back and legs, but I've left the worse for last." "What could be worse that that list?" "He's got some anal bruising." "Anal bruising? What's anal bruising? Trace, you don't mean..." "Yes, he's been sexually abused and, from the look of it, very roughly and repeatedly." "Oh Trace. What can we do?" "Take care of him. Find the bastard or bastards that did this and lock them up." Tracey went quiet and I just wanted to find who did this and remove parts of them without an anaesthetic and with a very blunt knife. We arrived at Clive's place to find Chris waiting on the doorstep. We hugged and I saw the tear marks. We followed her into a large room and I heard Clive on the phone. "I don't care about the cost; I want you to hire the best and liaise with the police and find who did this. I also want you to get the best medics and start putting this poor kid's injuries to right." "I've got the best psychiatrist in the business," I interrupted, "and she'll be here tomorrow." "That's great news," he turned his attention back to the phone. "We already have a trick cyclist on board. I want you here first thing tomorrow and I want you to brief us on your progress. Bye Steve." Clive ended the call and turned to face me. "I've heard of child abuse, but I've never, ever seen anything like this. Have you?" "No. We had a few cases at work and I've spoken to social workers who have. He may never recover properly. What do you think Trace?" I asked. "It will take work, a lot of time and a good shrink. I take it you've spoken to Sally?" "Too right I have, she's going to ring me tomorrow, but I'm sure she will be here. You know what she's like." "Yes, I know. Now where do we go from here?" Clive jumped in. "Sam, Chris, you still serious about my offer?" "You serious about the offer?" Chris questioned. "Yes," Clive answered. "Yes," I answered. "Right, Steve will be here tomorrow and we'll formalise the arrangement then. Tracey, are you prepared to be our Head of Medical Services?" "For what?" Tracey asked. "Sorry, Trace," Chris said, "Clive is setting up a foster home and has asked us to run it. I presume he wants you to work alongside us." "I believe in personal recommendation and as you get on with Sam and Chris and seem, not only to know what you are doing, but to actually care. I would like you to oversee the medical side of things." "I am flattered, but you don't know anything about me." "I know all I need to know. Sam, is Tracey good?" "Yes," I replied. "Chris?" Clive asked. "Oh definitely." "Good enough for me. Are you in?" "I'm in," Tracey answered. "Then check on your patient and give us an update," Clive said. After Tracey had left I asked, "Who's Steve?" "My lawyer and from tomorrow, he'll be working with you. He's a good man and much more that a lawyer. He'll take care of the day to day running," Clive said as he poured himself a drink. There was a knock on the door, a butler entered and said, "There's a Miss Stone at the door, sir." Clive looked blank so I said, "She's the trick cyclist." "Bring her in, James," Clive responded. "Yes sir." Moments later, Sally was escorted into the room and, looking at my watch, I said, "You're late." "Who's late?" Tracey said as she came back into the room. "Sally, good to see you." "Tracey, how's our patient?" Sally answered and turning to me said, "You, of all people, know how long it takes to get ready." "I'm very glad you are here," I said, with a smile. "Tracey, can you brief me on what we have?" Sally became all business and they both went off to a corner and spoke softly. "James, can you rustle up coffee and something to eat?" Clive asked. "Certainly sir. I have already taken Nurse Edwards refreshments." "Thank you, James. I don't know what I'd do without you." "Damn!" This came from Sally They finished their conflab and came towards us. "Clive, I'd like you to meet Sally Stone, the trick cyclist. As you have seen she cares more about her patients than her friends," Chris said. "Not fair," Sally said. "But true," I got in. Clive held out his hand and Sally shook it. Clive then asked, "Early prognosis?" "Obviously, until I have met and spoken to George I can't be sure, but from what Tracey has told me, we have to repair the physical damage as a priority. I can work alongside and around the specialists. Mentally, we have to tackle the damage the abuse has done, deal with any parental rejection and find out why he cross dresses. It may have been forced onto him." She had seen the look on my face at the last comment and had clarified it. "There have been cases where the abuser gets the abusee to dress as a female. It is a sign of his power and has the effect of demoralising and subjugates the abusee. I will have to undo everything that has been inflicted upon George. It's going to be a long and slow process and there isn't any guarantee of success." "But you are going to try?" I asked. "Of course I'm going to try. You know I wouldn't let a ten year old down." "I know, Sal, but I had to ask." "I know you did, anyway, I'll talk to George tomorrow." James came back with the refreshments and we all took a break from talking. "After we've had these I suggest that we all grab some sleep. Tracey, I take it George is okay?" This was from Clive. "Yes, the nurse is looking after him and she will call me when he wakes up." "Then it's more important that we all get some sleep. I'll get James to show you your rooms." Chapter 7 "Miss, miss. It's time to get up." I opened my eyes and saw a maid standing by the bed. "I've brought you and your partner drinks. Do you need any help dressing?" "Thanks, but we can manage." I gently awoke Chris and went to get a shower. "I suppose we will have to wear the stuff we were wearing yesterday until we can get a change of clothing," Chris said. "Yes, I suppose we will have to wear the corsets. Can you take Tracey and get some clothes, I have the feeling that we will be here a while." "No problem." We both dressed and sauntered downstairs and were shown into the dining room. "Morning girls," Sally said. "Sleep well?" "Yes, thanks Sally. You?" Chris responded. "Yes. Clive will be back in a minute, he's just taking a call." The door opened and Tracey walked in. "Glad to see you finally woke up." "How's George?" I asked. "Still asleep, the night nurse has been relieved and he's being cared for by a fresh nurse." Clive walked in and said, "Morning ladies." "Morning Clive, everything alright?" I responded. "Clive, we will need a change of clothing, so I suggest that Tracey and I do it whilst George is still asleep," Chris added. "Good idea. How is George, by the way?" Clive asked. "Sleeping soundly. There is a fresh nurse with him," Tracey said. "We should be back in about thirty minutes," Chris said, grabbed some toast and propelled Tracey out of the door. I also grabbed some toast, poured a cup of coffee and sat at the table. "Not eating much?" Clive asked. "I have to watch my weight." "Just like a woman. Sally, will you supervise George's interview with the Police later. I want to make sure he doesn't come to any more harm." "Of course Clive. I won't let the Police talk to him until Tracey and I are happy." "And Steve will be there to make sure it's all done right," Clive said. Right on cue, James entered and announced, "Mr. Broadfield is here." "Show him in please, James." Steve Broadfield was a good looking man just under six feet tall in his stocking feet. He was wearing a traditional lawyer's suit and carrying a briefcase. "Grab some breakfast and then you can tell us what you have got," Clive said. "By the way, this is Sam," he pointed at me, "and that is Sally. She's George's psychiatrist." Steve nodded to us and then followed Clive's advice and sat at the table. "I've engaged the services of the Two Jays Agency and everything has been setup at the hospital. The Police will be here this afternoon along with Social Services." "I've spoken with Jenny and asked for temporary custody," I said. "Jenny?" Steve asked. "The boss of Social Services." "Okay. I take it, Clive, that you would like George to be your home's first patient?" "Not my home, Steve. Chris, Sam and your home. I want you to run it along with Chris and Sam. They will look after the patients and you will make sure that nothing happens to them. Any of them. You know how I have set this up. You will manage the funds and the legal side of things. You three will be the management team." "So it's a goer then." "Yes, Steve, Chris and Sam have agreed. So it's all systems go. You liaise with them and get the home up and running," Clive said. "Steve, it will be nice working with you," I said. "And I look forward to working with you. Have you seen the wing yet?" "No, we've been preoccupied with George." "I'll make sure you get the grand tour later," Clive added. "Sir, the boy's awake and I've made sure that he has refreshments available," James said softly, we hadn't seen him enter. "Thank you, James. Sally can you..." "Clive, I'm going up," I interrupted. "Not dressed like that," Sally said. "What's wrong with the way I'm dressed?" I asked. "Until I've assessed him, I'd like to keep everything low key and that dress is not low key. It's a nice dress, but screams femininity," Sally said. "Point taken." Sally left the room and I banged the table. "That's not ladylike," Steve said. "It's a good job that I'm not a lady then," I fumed. "Don't worry, Sam, there'll be plenty time to get to know George. Let Sally do her assessment and then we can progress from there. Remember that he's a very lonely, frightened and hurt ten year old," Clive said. "Sorry, Clive. I just want..." "You want to help him. I know, but let's not frighten him any more than he is." I fetched another coffee and sulked. Clive and Steve talked amongst themselves and I just sulked and waited. "We're back," Chris said as she bounded into the room. She had changed into jeans, baggy top and her favourite flats. "Your gear is in our room," Chris said as I raced out of the room to get changed. Ten minutes later I was changed and back in the breakfast room, Sally was back and I asked, "Better?" "Much," she replied. "How is he?" "Well, as I was telling everyone, initial thoughts are that he wasn't forced to cross dress and he was abused by one individual, but he won't say who. That's usual with abuse. I'd say that you will have to take it slow at first. Don't smoke around him, it will trigger a fear response in him, I wouldn't use raised voices or threatening behaviour, but I know you wouldn't anyway." "Tracey is going to take him to the Alexandria for a full examination and I think that Chris and Sally should accompany him," Clive held his hand up as I started to interrupt, "I want you and Steve to get the home started and I know you know more about what we need than Chris does." "Sorry Clive. Of course I'll do that," and turning to Steve I asked, "Once we get the list do you have any idea how long it would take?" "If we pay over the odds it won't take long at all," Steve said. "And I'm prepared to pay over the odds," Clive added. "My idea is to have ten or fifteen rooms each with two beds, although that can change. A communal dining, sitting and play room. An on site nurse, specialists on call and a small staff. I don't know how you feel, but I'd like you to live in. As for schooling, well I suppose we'll get some advice from Jenny." "Sounds like a plan. I like the idea of sharing, but I think that there should be a few single rooms. Will we be using the Hall's kitchen or will we have our own?" "You can have your own if you like, but it might be safer to use the main one. I can arrange for it to be manned out of hours." "No problem. Off the top of my head, and you have already probably thought of this, single beds, maybe some bunk beds, wardrobes, bedside tables and mirrors." "Bunk beds?" Steve asked. "Some of the younger kids may like the security the lower bunk can provide; others treat it like a cave. My idea would be to be able to swap the beds as the need arise." "Good idea," Clive said. "Would you like to have a look at the wing?" "Since I can't see George you try and stop me," I replied. We all left the room and Clive led the way to the wing. It had three stories. Clive said that the top floor would be the staff accommodation, the middle floor was to be the kid's dorms and the ground floor would be the communal area. Working with Steve, we got together a list of what we would need for the rooms and he went away to get the gear ordered and the work done. "Clive, I still can't get over the fact that you are doing all of this and are willing to spend a hell of a lot of money." "Well, Sam. The money is inconsequential. I am not married and have no kids. In fact, I have no family. Jon meant a lot to me," Clive paused, thought for a while and then continued. "You aren't aware of this, but I give a lot to charities and fund a programme that helps transgendered people. All of it done anonymously. This home would give me great pleasure and I hope to use the home as a base for the transgender programme. I have been looking for a person to run that programme; I think that you are that person." "Bloody hell, Clive. You don't half know how to drop bombshells," I exclaimed. "But why me?" "You are aware of the problems of being transgendered, you fight for what you believe in, you fiercely protect those in your care and you are loyal to your friends. I know that you are the right person and I know that you will do a really good job. I want to leave something behind when I die. I want Jon's death to mean something. This home will be the start of that." "You miss him a lot, don't you?" "Yes, a hell of a lot." "Okay, Clive. I'll do it. I'll do it for you, for transgendered kids and for Jon." "Thank you Sam. Now let's get back and see how George is." We headed back and were met by James. "There are refreshments in the lounge, Sir." "Thank you, James. Are the others back yet?" "Not yet Sir." "Okay," and before James could leave Clive continued. "James, the Wrights have agreed to run the home, so I want you to oversee the domestic arrangements for both the hall and the home. Find a replacement for your current position and engage catering and cleaning staff for the home." "Yes Sir, anything else Sir?" "Yes. Make sure the people you engage are suitable." "Certainly Sir," and James left. Clive and I walked to the lounge and found Steve there, on his mobile. "Thanks, Juliet. I shall expect to see you and Jane in about an hour and you will receive a full briefing." Steve ended the call and looked at us, but before he could speak Clive was called away. "Sam, can I ask a personal question?" "Of course." I replied. "You're a guy, but you prefer to dress as a woman. Why?" I thought for awhile and answered, "It feels comfortable." "Comfortable?" "These clothes are softer and I am free of masculine stereotypes." "But that is not the complete answer is it?" "No, Steve, it isn't. I haven't, and don't want a sex change, but I feel happier as a woman than a man. I did some tests on the web and they said I was a female. As far back as I can remember, I have always wanted to wear girl clothes. I got a thrill out of it. I suppose part of that thrill was wearing stuff that I wasn't supposed to wear." "So do you still get that thrill since you have decided to live as a woman?" "Not as much now, as looking like a woman legitimises wearing their clothes and there was always the fear of being found out. Part time cross dressers, that's guys who have a day job or live with people who are ignorant of their dressing, have to wear breast forms, false nails and wigs since they have to revert back to being a male. I have made the decision to live as a female so I take hormones which means that my breasts are real; I can grow my hair and my nails. I also wear a special gaffe so that I look female even when naked." I paused to gather my thoughts and continued, "Part time cross dressers often dress to relieve stress. It can be a great feeling becoming some one else. You can forget your male problems for a few brief hours. Some people are transgendered, which means they feel they are trapped in the wrong body. That ride is a humdinger of a rollercoaster. Not only do they have to battle with their own feelings there is the little matter of legal and social problems. No, transgendered people have their own special problems and they normally get little or no help from the community." "That isn't always the case is it?" Steve asked. "Again no, but it is mostly the case. First they have to be 'diagnosed', then they have to follow a strict course laid out by doctors and if they pass they may have to find the money for the treatment. Some of the rules are there to protect the person, since it's no picnic after gender reassignment and the doctors need to know if the patient can survive. It's called a real life test." "Real life test?" "That's where the patient lives for a year in the opposite gender. They dress and live as a woman, or man, full time. I have lived as a woman for over ten years with no problems, so I can say that I have passed my real life test." "But you have no intension of changing sex?" "No, I just like dressing as a woman. I am, to use what I think is a crude term, a she-male. A man with breasts and a penis. As I have said, I wear a special gaffe that not only hides my genitalia, but also makes it look like I have a vagina. And before you ask, yes I can have 'vaginal' sex." "I wasn't going to ask, but" "Steve!" "What does Chris think about your dressing?" Steve asked. "She enjoys it. She has the best of both worlds. A husband who is sensitive to her needs and a girlfriend she can talk to and shop with. Anyway, I take it you have never dressed up?" "No." "Ever been curious about it?" "No," he answered. "You sure?" I pressed. "Yes I'm sure." "You know you ought to try it. You might even like it." I walked over to the table and helped myself to a sandwich and a coffee. "You want a coffee, Steve?" "Thanks, I will have a coffee." I looked at Steve and said, "You know, you'd make a good looking woman, a little tall, but there are plenty of tall women and you have a natural grace about you." "Thank you for the compliment, I think." "No I mean it. I would love to dress you up and I think you would benefit from the experience." "I'll think about it," Steve answered unenthusiastically. Clive entered the room and grabbed a coffee. "Problems?" I asked. "No, just earning some money," Clive answered. The door opened and the girls walked in with a subdued George. I noticed he was staying very close to Chris. Tracey and Sally went over to Clive and spoke quietly whilst Chris knelt down and asked, "George would you like a drink and a sandwich?" George nodded his head and Chris led him to the table. Once he was munching his sarnie, Chris pointed to me and said, "That is Sam, that's Steve and that's Clive." Chris pointed out the others as she spoke and then whispered conspiratorially, "Sam is my partner and she's like you. You'll like her." George looked at me with a surprised look on his face and then he looked back at Chris. "If you ask her, I'm sure that she will help you. She is really a nice person." George walked over to me and looked up. I immediately knelt down to his level and waited for him to say something. "Will you..." he paused, unsure of what to say. "The other woman says you are her partner." "I am her husband," I said. "She also says you are like me." "If you mean am I a boy, then yes I am." "She said you will help me." "Of course I will help you, everyone here will help you." George looked around at everyone in the room, then back at me and started to cry. I opened my arms and he hugged the life out of me. I looked at Chris who was also crying, Sally and Tracey were both smiling. I'll get that Sally; I bet she had set this up. I was the start of George's rehabilitation. I said she was the best. James entered the room and spoke to Clive who nodded, but I was too far away to hear the exchange. Clive went over to Chris and told her something. She looked at us and then walked over to us. Kneeling she said, "George, there are some people here who we would like you to see and later you, Steve and Sally will have to talk to the police. Don't worry, Steve and Sally will protect you. Shall we go and see the first group?" George looked at me and I nodded. He let go and I got up. He held out his hand, which I took and we followed Steve and Chris to meet Juliet and Jane. Juliet was a blonde, like me, and Jane was a brunette. All they wanted to know was George's name and his address. Chris, George and I then left them alone with Steve and Clive. I had returned to the lounge whilst Chris and George had gone upstairs to his room to get a toy. I had been there for a couple of minutes when Juliet entered. "I believe that you are the Sam that shook up the local Social Services a few years ago," she says. "And what if I am?" I reply. "I have wanted to meet you ever since, but I didn't want to bother you." "Why?" I asked. "Why I wanted to meet you or why I didn't want to bother you?" "Both, either," I say. "Well I wanted to meet you because I wanted to tell you how brave I think you were." "Brave?" "You told, no shouted to the world that you were different. You were ridiculed and yet you survived." "Only just. If it hadn't been for my wife and friends I wouldn't be here," I say. "I'm not that brave," Juliet said, quietly. I looked closely at Juliet and thought 'what if?' "Juliet, I'm sorry if I'm wrong, but what's..." "Jules," she said interrupting. "Jules?" "You were going to ask my real name or maybe my real gender. You were going to ask my real gender, weren't you?" "Ah," I said. Yes, Juliet was right. I was going to ask her real gender. "It's okay, I knew about you and I wanted to let you know about me. That way I hoped that you would know that you could really trust me." "How far have you gone?" I asked and thought that it was a really stupid question. "Not very far. Facial hair removal and testosterone blocking only. I'm considering hormone treatment, but I'm not sure." "What is your relationship with Jane?" Another silly question. "Same as yours is with Chris," Juliet replies. "I have consulted with Chris on every decision I made. I grew my hair and started hormone treatment, although with me it was more a replacement therapy as I don't produce testosterone." "Lucky thing." "Neither of us want me to fully transition. You should have a talk with Jane and see what she feels. If you like you both can talk with Chris and me." "Thanks, I'll talk with Jane and see what progresses," Juliet said. "And Juliet, I won't tell anyone, not even Chris," I added. Chapter 8 I felt like a fraud. Clive had said that I knew about the problems transgender people experienced, but the truth is that Juliet was the only other adult I'd met who I knew was like me. I hope I wouldn't let Clive down. Chris and George entered the room and I fixed a smile on my face. George came running over. "Chris says she'll buy me a dress, socks and some shoes." "Did she?" "Yes." "Well I think I'll buy you some undies. Would you like that?" I asked. "Oh yes I would. Thank you," and he hugged me again. George was excited and I looked at Chris and noticed James, the butler, talking with Clive. Clive motioned to the others and went into a group conference with them looking at George from time to time. Chris came over and said, "George, it's time for you to talk with the Police. Sam you have also got a visitor." "Chris, go with George and act as the responsible adult will you. I know that Steve and Sally will look after his interests." I looked at George, "You okay with that?" "Yes, I know that you are all trying to help me." "And after we'll get you those clothes," Chris added. "I can't wait," he replied. The group left and Clive said, "The guy from Social Services is here." "Will you come with me?" I asked. "Sure." To say that I was worried was an understatement. I remembered the exchange with Social Services over Peter and, although Jenny was the new boss and had said she would help, I wasn't looking forward to it. We entered the room, held out my hand and I said, "Hi, I'm Sam Wright and this is Clive Wilkinson." "Seth Braithwaite," he answered and shook first mine and then Clive's hand. "You are here about George?" I asked. "Yes, I believe he is homeless and has been abused. He has now been put on the 'at risk' register and I have been tasked with his welfare. I intend to place him in one of our homes pending placement with foster parents." This was not going well. "You have spoken with Jennifer Whitfield?" I asked. "Yes and I have noted her recommendations, but with your background and sexual preferences, I have no option but..." He got no further; I banged the table and said, "Now you listen to me. First I lost one child due to your department's incompetency and I have no intension of losing another one, second I have the necessary qualifications not only as a foster carer, but also in how to help George deal with his problems. Third I am part of the management team that runs a home that specialises in the care of transgendered children. A home that has the resources to ensure that our patients are looked after. Fourth I suggest that you leave your prejudices and your department's quest for revenge at home. Now I am going to make a phone call and I think that you should reflect upon your future with the department." I got up and left Clive with the idiot. I took out my mobile and dialled Jenny's number. It rang for a few minutes and then was answered. "Whitfield." "Jenny, its Sam. You have a problem." "Hi Sam, how so?" "That idiot who's passing himself off as a member of your department." "You mean Seth and I don't take kindly to my staff being called idiots." "Have you any idea what he wants to do?" "Yes, make sure that George is cared for." "He wants to put him in one of your homes and is basing his decision on the fact that I am not normal and that I caused your department problems five years ago," I said. "I don't think he would base any decision on those grounds," she replied. "You sure?" "Yes...well I think I'm sure. All my staff are professional enough not to let their personal feelings influence their decisions." "Well I believe that he isn't and I'm letting you know that I will not release George into his care and I will have a restraining order against him if he isn't removed from George's case and you know that I will do that. I will not allow anyone or anything to harm George any more than he has been." "Oh I know you will. Okay, I'll come over and check it out. See you later," and with that she ended the call. I went back into the room and said, "Mr. Braithwaite, I have just spoken with your boss and have informed her that I will not release George into your care and I will get a restraining order against you if you are not removed from the case." I looked at Clive and he nodded, I continued, "Your boss is on her way and you are to remain here until this crap is sorted out." "Just because it didn't go your way, you are trying to corrupt the system so that you can force your perversion onto an innocent child," he said. "Mr. Braithwaite, I think that you have said enough. Sam here isn't trying to force her perversions, on the contrary, she is trying to help him," Clive said. "How can you call him she," Seth Braithwaite said, pointing at me. "Clive, I've got to leave before I do something unladylike," I said and left. I found Tracey and recounted what had happened, she was seething. "How could Jenny do this?" Tracey asked. "I don't think its Jenny's fault. I don't think she has found all the bigots in her department. Anyway, she's on her way." "Just wait until I see her, I'll let her have a piece of my mind." "You will do no such thing. We have to remain calm and professional about this." "Like you did, if I believe what you said went on." "It went on and I shouldn't have let him get me angry. By the way, I've noticed George is subdued around men and that he seems to cling to the nearest female in mixed company." "You noticed it too, I've asked Sally and she thinks that it's due to the fact that it was a man who's abusing him. I think he doesn't trust men." "But he trusts me." "He doesn't see you as a man and he believes that you are like him." "Like him...ah as in wanting to dress as a female." "Yes, Sam. I think that he will pick you as a role model," Tracey said. "We will have to warn Steve and Clive so that they don't frighten him too much," I added. It took Jenny twenty minutes to arrive and she spoke with Clive and then with Seth. Whilst this was going on the Police had finished with George and had left. Chris, Sally, Steve and George came into the lounge and I asked Tracey to take George upstairs. "The guy from Social Services has turned up and we had a difference of opinion. Jenny's here now trying to sort it out." I recounted what had transpired and Steve asked, "And Clive was in with you and Mr. Braithwaite?" "Yes," I answered. "Good, I will confer with Clive and then speak with Ms. Whitfield," and he left to find Clive. "You okay love?" Chris