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ACTING RESPONSIBLY by GENEVA In 1900's England a young Italian man is changed and inserted into rival business family to spy on their trade secrets. Things do not go according to plan but a great actress is born. The character of Grandmother Angela Santini is a minor character in my earlier story "REQUITAL". START Throughout the meeting my attention had been wandering with the whole tedious business. I began to daydream, mainly on how I would become a famous actor. I would receive the adulation of all of my audiences and the press would be filled with articles on my talents and performances. I would meet princes and kings. Then a nudge from my Aunt Vittoria brought me out of my reverie and I forced myself to pay a bit more attention, just as my grandmother Angela rose to her feet. The occasion was the Santini family's annual social/business gathering and everybody in the family was there, as was the tradition, and moreover, expected. It was supposed to be entirely voluntary, but with tradition and my grandmother's personality, a full attendance of the family was advised, except for illness. I looked round. Apart from my grandmother, there were her two sons, my uncle Emilio with his wife Anna, and Uncle Sergio and his wife Fiorella. Then there were the two girls, Aunt Vittoria, with her husband Mauro, and Aunt Maria with her husband Henry. My mother had been Constanza, the youngest sister, but she and my dad Alberto had drowned in a bizarre accident on the Mersey some years before. So, along with my two younger sisters Graciela and Maria, I lived with my grandmother. My grandmother cleared her throat, took a sip of water and began to speak. She looked fairly severe in her widow's black. Previously she had loved colourful clothes and had only reluctantly taken to black after grandfather Julio died last winter. These annual spring gatherings reviewed the family fortunes, something like an annual business report of some big company to all the shareholders, except that we were all one family. Since my grandfather and grandmother had come to England from Italy and started in the caf? business, their hard work and drive had expanded the family business from the original caf? in Bristol to others in Swansea, Liverpool, Birmingham, Liverpool and Manchester. My grandmother ran the shop in Liverpool. My uncles and aunts looked at grandmother expectantly, but the grandchildren were not so intimidated, and their parents had to hold onto them to shush them despite their grandmother's indulgent looks. Young children were indulged, but after a few years the family's work ethic was driven home and all were expected to work hard. My grandmother had now been in England for over forty years. A year or so back she had told me she was only eighteen when she left Italy. She was originally from Genoa and Grandfather Julio had been from Naples. When he died she had mourned him, but then set about running the caf? chain with renewed vigour. All of the family were expected to play their parts, but there was no doubt who was in charge. Almost all of the aunts and uncles who had married into the family were of Italian stock but had been born in England except for Mauro, a distant relative of my father's from Turin. Uncle Henry Thompson was an Englishman, but when he had married my aunt Maria he had been put in charge of one of the shops. He now spoke quite good Italian, if a bit colloquial. He joked that he had needed to learn it to survive in our large family. My own dad, Alberto, had not been as involved with the caf? business. He had shown an early flair for art and had started to make his name as a portrait painter, or so he said, before he died. I wished that he had been concerned with the business more so that I might move into a good job in the chain of shops, something like a supervisor until I got my acting career underway. I really had no taste for actually serving in the caf?s. I looked round the room at all of the women. All were formally dressed and all over fifteen or so years old were obviously corsetted, judging by their distinctly indented waists and rigid posture. The men too looked very stiff and formal with their high starched collars and starched cuffs protruding from jacket sleeves. Maybe too it was their attempt to appear proper Victorians. Despite being Italian and proud of it, my grandparents had not attended the Roman Catholic Church, but had joined the Church of England. I never did find out the exact reason but I understood it was something to do with past events in Italy before they emigrated. I began to sense some concern among the family members with what my grandmother was saying. Then Uncle Emilio rose too, and began unrolling a number of charts and graphs. I groaned internally. He was the most serious of the family and I swear he lived just for studying accounts and ledger books. It seemed that the chain was doing well. Yet, not well enough. A rival chain, run by a Vecchio family right here in Liverpool, was taking more business than my grandmother thought they should. This was Victorian England, at the height of its powers and the English had discovered a taste for cafes, teashops and ice cream, which my family, among others, was only too happy to supply them. So, while our profits were rising quite nicely, it was not enough. The Vecchio family just seemed to have taken the initiative and their two caf?s were becoming the place to go to for sweet toothed Liverpudlians who wanted fancy confections. We took pride in the quality of our ice cream and it was a big favourite with customers, but Uncle Emilio said we obviously needed to improve in some areas of our operations. My grandmother paused for a drink of water and held up her hand to slow the questions. The first and most obvious was from Uncle Sergio, suggesting we increase our business hours. There was a groan from some. They already worked long hours at the shops. Maria suggested more advertising and Mauro suggested bringing out a larger variety of ice cream and confections. All ideas were discussed but my grandmother eventually held up her hand. "Yes, all of these are good suggestions and we will look at them and try out the most promising ones. Some are obvious, but I have another solution in mind." The audience waited expectantly, but my grandmother shook her head. "It's a secret at the moment. But I have some plans. I will report on them next year." There were a few half-hearted protests, but the earnest mood of the meeting had changed and people only wanted to relax and settle into the anticipated large family meal. I could swear my grandmother was looking at me when she said that she had some plans. It was little of my concern. I hoped to get a good and easy job. Maybe supervising some pretty and nicely figured young girls as they served the customers, that is, until I was able to take up what I really wanted, to be an actor. The business meeting broke up and the family drifted into the enormous dining room and settled at the long table to the large meal with Italian wine, of course. Again, this was traditional. Grandmother had once prepared all of it herself, but over her half-hearted protest my aunts all pitched in as grandma was getting on in years. After the meal, the men went to the large sitting room and over coffee and cigars talked about the business, current events and the progress of the various football teams that they supported, while the women tided up. Being almost a man, I sat with my uncles and I listened to their talk. I was glad I was not involved in the tedious washing up, yet the women seemed to enjoy their time away from the men. Among the clatter from the kitchen I heard laughter. After dinner it was getting late and it was time to get the younger ones off to bed. Soon it was the turn of the adults and I was about to get ready too when my Uncle Emilio took my arm. "Jacopo, Your grandmother has something she wants to say to you." His face looked drawn and my Aunt Vittoria was with him, biting her lip. I wondered what was wrong. My grandmother had just come down the stairs, no doubt after checking on her youngest grandchildren and smothering them with kisses. She beckoned to us and led us into a small study off the living room. It was the main office for the chain and filled with books and records of the business. She pointed to some leather chairs and we dutifully sat down. I was puzzled that my aunt took my hand, squeezing it nervously. My grandmother sat down right in front of me. "Jacopo, you heard our business discussion? You were paying attention?" I nodded. "Yes, grandmother." "Then you know that I have plans to find out about our competitor's business?" I wondered if she was going to have me spy on them. That would be exciting. It would be better than having to serve in a shop and pretend to smile at the throng of customers. " Jacopo, I have discussed this with some others in the family." At this my Uncle Emilio took my hand as well. I felt it shake nervously. "I have thought of a way to get information. It will be a great task for you. You are what? Sixteen now? I want you to spy on them." "I am ready," I cried. "Just tell me how." I was pleased that even just on the verge of manhood she would entrust me with a task. "We are coming to that." " But why me?" I wanted to hear her say it was because she had recognized my own talents. She looked at me sternly. "Two reasons, Jacopo." Now an intense glare flashed through her eyes. "I think that you are lazy, and that you do not seem very keen on working hard in our shops." I tried to protest but her glare silenced me. " I know I have spoken to you about your laziness in the past, myself. You should remember that your grandfather Julio and I came here forty years ago and with hard work and thrift we have made something of ourselves. You, on the other hand, seem to think that the world owes you a living. So, if you are not willing to work hard in the shops, we must find a way to get you to help in our family businesses. And one that may get you used to hard work. You must learn to act responsibly." I shook my head. "I am not lazy," I cried. "It is just that the work...... is so boring! Besides I intend to be an actor. I am too intelligent to work in a cafe." "I grant that you may be intelligent, and for what I have in mind for you, it will be to your advantage if you are a good actor. You will need that ahead of you. The other thing is that you owe this family something. For your life." I looked at her in puzzlement. "You remember about two years ago you were run down by a dray horse?" I winced at the memory. I had been badly injured and yet I had made a very speedy recovery. "You were badly hurt. In fact you were about to die, but do you remember what I did?" I tried to think back but I only remembered vaguely her attentions. I did not know I had been so seriously injured as that. "Yes, you were about to die, but, I might as well tell you, I read a magic spell to you that healed you. I saved your life. Now you owe me. You owe the whole Santini family a great favour." I shook my head and laughed at her. " Magic spell? There is no such thing as magic!" She raised her eyebrows. "Tell me. Last year there was a bad epidemic of diphtheria. Dozens in the city died. Did any of our family die?" I thought back. I had lost a friend, a neighbour on the street, but our own family had not been affected. Or had it? Two of my younger cousins had come down with the disease, but after a hurried visit from my grandmother they had recovered rapidly. I still shook my head. This was nonsense! Or was it? "Well what do you want me to do? Even supposing there is a magic book. What would it be used for anyway?" "We are going to read a spell to you, one that will make you into a girl of your age." I sat bolt upright in shock. I jerked my hand away from my Aunt Vittoria who began to weep softly. "What?" I screamed. "What? A girl? This can't be! There is no such thing as magic and anyway, I utterly refuse! I am a man! I don't want to be a girl!" "I tell you. If you do this, and I assure you it will only be temporary, if you are still set on being an actor, the family will support you fully for while you are learning the skills of an actor and use its influence afterwards to help your career in acting." I thought about it, probably for only a few seconds and then shook my head, vigorously. "No, this is just ridiculous. Even if it did work, I cannot even consider living as a woman. And what would be the purpose anyway? What good would that do?" "It is the Vecchio family, who own the other chain. We have heard that a relative of Alberto Vecchio died in Italy. The relative's wife was already dead some years and their daughter, a girl of sixteen, is going to come to live with then in England. We want you to take her place. " "But she will only speak Italian!" "Ah, but you speak Italian well. I have noticed that you have a good ear for it and with just a little bit coaching you could take her place." "What about her? What would happen to her? What is the girl's name?" "Don't worry. She will come to no harm. Her name is Maria Corrieri. She does not know any of the Vecchio family here, and they have only seen some photographs of her. I had a family connection speak to her in Italy and she says that Maria has no particular wish to come to England and I can have that person offer her work and accommodation. So you could easily take her place. You are also the same age as her." I still shook my head. "No, what you ask is too much, even if it were true. I do not want any spell cast on me. What if it is permanent?" My grandmother leaned until her face was close to mine. "Lazy, self- centered boy, if you do not, I will cast you out from the family and you will have make your own way in the world. I assure you that the spell can be reversed. We ask you to do this for only about six months. All you need to do is report to me regularly about the Vecchio family and then you can have your male body back and you can get on with your acting career. Remember, we will support you in your training as an actor if you do this." That was a good inducement. I wanted to be an actor, but I knew that even with my talent that the first years could be financially difficult until I made my name. "Please, can I think about this?" "Yes, but you must tell me tomorrow." That night I discussed it with my Uncle Emilio and Aunt Vittoria. After my parents were drowned they had taken an interest in my sisters and me. At first I accused them of using me, but both denied it. Emilio took my hands in his. "No, Jacopo, you must do this. You are the best person for it. If you want to make your own way in the world, then go ahead and refuse, but if you want the family's support you must do this. You have a duty to help the family." I cried at him. "My father was an artist, a painter. He made his own way without magic being forced on him!" "Yes," he said. "Your father did indeed make a separate life from the caf? and ice cream business as an artist but he did not use the family's support." "I want to be an actor," I said petulantly. "The family should help me be one!" "If that is what you want I will make sure the family helps you as much as it can. The whole family would support you, but, if you want them to help, you must do this." I barely slept that night, wrestling with the idea but I came to the realization that I had no choice unless I wanted to be utterly on my own. The next morning I spoke to my grandmother and told her I would do as she wanted. "Jacopo. I may have threatened you but I am your grandmother. I would not do anything to hurt you if I could see another way or if it could be avoided. I do not ask this only to punish you but to show you your responsibilities in helping the family and to show you that you are capable of hard work. As an actor too you will need to work hard. I see that you already have shown a flair for the dramatic! Now I will show you what I propose and how we will go about it." She fumbled in her bag and lifted out a small silk bag, opened it and revealed a small book. "This is a book of magic spells. I assure you that they all work. The book has a skin cover, human skin I have been told. And see, look at the writing in it. I know it is written in German and in a Gothic script, but these are instructions. They tell what the spells can do, such as curing illnesses, healing broken bones, fixing and straightening limbs. I used the spell for broken bones that time you were run down by the dray horse. But here at the end," She opened the book close to the end. "This is the spell that I will use to make you into a girl. And just to reassure you, after that, there is a spell that will undo the effects of the first. The words of the actual spell make no sense. They are not in a language that I recognize, but if the words are sounded out there is an effect." She seemed deadly serious and I began to get worried. What if the spell did work? I thought of my future and plans. Well, it would be only for a few months. It might be good practice of my acting skills. "How does this work?" I asked. "I read the spell to you and in a few minutes you will start to shiver. Then you will become unconscious while your body undergoes its changes. When you wake up in a day or two you will have the body of a young woman the same age as you are." Almost automatically I clutched at my groin. That would disappear. I would be a girl? My grandmother must have read my thought and gave a fleeting smile. "But Grandma," I asked. " Won't you be changed too? Does it have an effect on women? "Yes, it does. It makes women more beautiful, but of course, that effect is not nearly as severe as that on men. You will become a beautiful girl and remain so as long as you do not use the reverse spell." "The girl I am to replace. How will she meet the Vecchios?" "There was just enough money left for her family to pay for a passage on a boat from Naples to London. One of the Vecchios is to meet her at the London Docks. We will sneak you into the disembarking area when the boat docks. You will mix with the passengers and then you will be picked up. You will have her identification. I have seen a photograph of the girl and I think you will look very like her when you are changed. The Vecchios have only seen a poor quality photograph anyway. "What about my hair? It is short compared to my sisters." "Yes, we cannot help that. It will eventually grow, of course, but if anyone asks you will just have to say you cut it short for convenience in traveling. They will then take you from London to Liverpool, by train, I expect. Once you are there, you can spy on the Vecchios, and send me information on their profits and any future plans, anything that may help us. You can write me letters. Send them maybe from the main railway station, but make sure no one sees you do that." "Are you sure this is a good idea? After all, I would not know how to behave as a girl." "Well, I think your aunt and I can do a good job of teaching you a woman's role. The rest of your relatives will not be told about this. Your sisters will be told that you are away for some months. Oh, there is one more thing. You may have heard about it. I am not sure how to phrase it, but all women bleed from their private parts for a few days each month. I don't suppose you know about that?" I was too embarrassed and shook my head. I actually had heard of women bleeding, but more as idle snickering of schoolboys. The subject had never been brought up in my own family, as I suppose I would have been to young anyway for them to tell me. I had never been sure whether it was true or not. I felt faint and staggered slightly. I did not like blood, and to be faced with that each month? "No," I said hoarsely, my mother never told me." "Well, you are now sixteen and you are barely a man. But a girl that age will have matured faster and will have the body of a mature woman. So be prepared. At times like that women use pads to absorb the blood. I felt like being sick. " We will show you how later as we have delayed too much. It is time to start! We will use an upstairs bedroom. Follow me! Vittoria! You should come with us as well. Emilio, you will say here! Well out of earshot." With a pounding heart I followed her upstairs, my aunt behind, sniffling slightly. "I will make sure were are not disturbed. Jacopo, you should undress. If you are shy about being naked you can put on this dressing gown.' I went behind the screen, hesitatingly, still filled with doubts, removed my clothes and put on the dressing gown. She had given me a woman's one. I was now feeling numb, in apprehension of what was before me and its unknowns. I thought of running out, but then the thought of being forced to be out on my own and in a precarious existence kept me in the room. "Lie on the bed here, Jacopo. Now I will read the spell to you. Are you ready?" "Yes" I croaked. My mouth was dry with terror. Then I wondered if this was all some joke to frighten me. Surely there was no such thing as magic? My grandmother had the book in her hand. "Here, this is the spell I will use. Oh, just to show you we are serious, see this dirty faded cover on the book? I have been told it is human skin. Apparently it is needed for the spells." "Human skin? That's horrible! Where did the book come from? How did you get it?" A brief look of pain passed over her face. "I got it from a criminal who had used its powers to make money. I suppose some things he did were good, but others were pure evil and many people suffered. Before him? I do not know where the book came from. The spells are not in any language that I know. Now, we are delaying. Are you ready?" I nodded, but I was too frightened to say anything. My grandmother opened the book, put a marker at a page near the end and began to read carefully. I thought her Italian accent seemed stronger. The sounds made no sense. They were unlike anything I had ever heard. It only took a few minutes then she closed the book and looked at me. I almost felt disappointment, but more relief. I felt absolutely nothing. I looked at my body. It was the same as before. "It's not working, " I cried. "What is this charade? Were you trying to frighten me?" " No, have patience. It will take a minute or two." "What about you? What about my Aunt Vittoria? Will it affect her?" "It's good you should think of other people, Jacopo. It will not affect me. I experienced the spell more than forty years ago, in Italy, and it has made me, if you permit an old woman's vanity, fairly beautiful. Your aunt has not experienced the spell, so she will have some changes too." I saw that Vittoria was white -faced with apprehension. " What was happening, that you underwent the spell?" "Ah Jacopo, I think that such a matter is old history. It would not help to revisit it." A brief wistful look passed over her face. I peered at her. My grandmother certainly did not look her age. Her hair was mostly grey, and her face had a few lines, but her skin was still fairly smooth, her figure was still slim and I had noticed how upright and graceful her carriage was as she moved. She wore a tight corset, of course, like all the women did, but it was not just that. Some of my more obviously corsetted aunts did not have her gracefulness. It was then that I felt a small shiver and I drew the gown around me closer. "I see you are starting to shiver. That is good. It shows the spell is working. Have courage, you will start to shiver more, quite violently even, and you will fall unconscious and the real changes will start." She looked at my aunt. "Vittoria? How do you feel? Any effect yet?" Vittoria drew her arms closer to her, as if to hug herself. "Yes, I feel cold too." My grandmother took my hand. "When the changes have finished you will be still unconscious but you will waken in a day or so. Most of your uncles, aunts and cousins will have gone home. You must prepare yourself, as you will be almost overwhelmed by the changes in your body. You will want to resist them or deny them but you must not. Accept them. Work with them. You must always try to act as a woman to avoid any suspicion. Your mind will resist at first, but after a few months you will start to think as a woman does. It will become natural to you. You will feel a woman's emotions and begin to like and enjoy your new body. Men will be attracted to you. You will start to feel an attraction to men." She must have seen my horrified face. " But don't worry. We will have you changed back before that." I felt a sudden chill again and shivered. She nodded. "Yes it is beginning to work. Lie back. The worst part is very soon." I began to shiver again, but this time it only paused briefly before I began shaking violently. I began to panic but then my eyes dimmed and I remember no more. Some time later, two days actually, they told me later, I felt a warm washcloth wipe my face and someone shake my shoulder. My whole body was filled with aching and I managed only to utter a low moan. I remembered no more again until I began to be aware of sounds and a voice speaking in my ear, as if from a distance. Again I tried to speak, grunting through a dried mouth. I forced myself to concentrate, but it was too much effort and I lapsed into a deep sleep yet again. It was easier the next time. Someone was washing my face with scented soap and then down my body, my arms and my legs. I realized I was naked. The feel of the warm water was welcome, but my body felt different somehow, more sensitive in places. My eyes were itchy and I blinked them open, to see my Aunt Vittoria looking down at me tenderly. I tried to smile at her and she smiled back, but a tear dropped from her eye. She stroked my face and I managed to speak, "What has happened?" My grandmother came into view. "Come on, you must try to get moving," and she and my aunt lifted my back and slid a pillow behind my shoulders. My mind was still hazy and I tried to get my thoughts together. At first I supposed must have been ill. I was thirsty. I sipped at the water they held at my lips. Then memories came flooding back, something about a spell and a woman......! I cried out and looked at my hands and arms. The arms were smooth and round, the wrists narrow and the hands small. They were not my own. I clutched at my chest, feeling for the first time female breasts on it, on me! I was now wearing a woman's nightdress. At some point they must have dressed me in it. I began to whimper, not daring to examine further, but my aunt kissed me, stroked my brow, and embraced me. "Come on, you had better get up and look at yourself. You might as well get it over with. Let me help you up." My bones creaked and my muscles ached but I allowed myself to be eased out of bed and the nightdress lifted from my shoulders so that I was naked. In my life there has been nothing to compare with that moment, when I first looked down on a body, so enormously changed. Two breasts filled my view, prominent, their shape somewhere between half globes and cones, each tipped with a dark pink areola and a prominent nipple. "Feel them, test them," said my grandmother. " Get used to them. They are a woman's birthright." "But not mine," I thought. I was afraid to touch them, but when they insisted I put my hands on them and tested their heavy ripeness, a strange combination of firmness and yielding. I was aware that I would now be vulnerable, as these breasts could attract attention that I did not want. "Test the nipples! Pinch them." I did so, almost wincing at the pleasurable sensitivity, then shuddering. "Now the rest of your body." She took my unwilling hands and ran them down my body. I marvelled at the strongly indented waist, then the broad hips and the slightly rounded belly between! How could I ever describe the feeling of being thrown into a strange unfamiliar body? I had known it would happen, but still I felt the shock of seeing, nestled in the springy hair at the base of my belly, a prominent groove instead of my familiar dangling penis and scrotum. Some curly pubic hair lay on the bedsheets. "Open your legs and feel in there," ordered my grandmother. "Here is a small mirror." I did so, exploring the complex ridges and folds, flinching at the sensitive little nub below its hood and the moist opening further down. This was too much. I sat down, overwhelmed. In some ways I had been thinking this was all a fairy tale, or something unreal or a bad dream. Now the evidence of the change was right in my eyes. It was too much. I began to cry. Even worse, I knew I was weeping in female tones. "I can't believe this," I said brokenly. My voice was hoarse, yet unmistakably female. I was not left alone to work through my misery. "Come on," said my grandmother. "A bath for you first to get rid of the sweat, and then we must get you into women's clothing." They ran a bath and led me to it. It was slightly perfumed, a delicate feminine scent. The soap too had a jasmine odour. I looked at Aunt Vittoria. I had no difficulty recognizing her. She was still the same person, but there was something different. She was now very pretty. It was as if her face and body were subtly rearranged, her features more balanced, her hair more lustrous. Her carriage was straighter, her bust higher and her waist slimmer. So the spell had affected her too. It was then that I realized that sometime in the past my grandmother must have used the spell as there was no visible effect on her. They helped me into the bath with my unsteady feet, but suggested that I wash my own body, the better to feel and get used to it. It was a relief to wash, but I had to force myself to touch the unfamiliar textures, valleys and contours. I was dried with a large pink towel and put in front of a dressing table. " Now," said my grandmother, "your clothes. This girl relative of the Vecchios, Maria Corrieri, is from a middle class family, so we will give you suitable clothes. Her father was of peasant stock, but managed to establish a small but moderately successful winery. I have been able to get some clothes that were made in Italy. Some others, the underwear, were made in France. We will have to use some British made clothes, but I have cut off the labels. Very little is brand new. After all, she does not have much money. Her father's money was tied up in the vineyard. "But I imagine a girl such as Maria would travel in the best clothes she has. Other than that there would not be much. Now first, your knickers. Put these on." I looked at the garment in trepidation. They were in a pale pink material, with simple ruffles at the legs. Grandmother snapped at me, "Come on. Put them on! What are you hesitating for? They are what women wear. I am sure you know about them." I was blushing furiously but she ignored me. My aunt held them for me and tied the drawstring at the waist. I shivered at the feel of the fine satin material against my skin. "Now, a chemise over the top." That reached to just above my knees. It was a crisper material, either a fine cotton or linen, I supposed, with little lace border at the neck. I took a deep breath as she slid it over my shoulders. The fine material settled over my shoulders and tickled my nipples. It was cool and crisp on my belly, hips and thighs. "Here, see there is a drawstring at the neck. This is for drawing it tighter or looser, depending on the neckline of the gown or blouse you are wearing. "Now your corset. You have a nice slim waist but women and girls of your social class wear corsets." I looked at it in exasperation. This was a boned garment in a heavy pink flower patterned material, with four dangling suspenders. " Do I have to?" "Yes, you do! You need the corset for your outer clothes to fit properly. It will also give you a neat waist and give you the proper posture for the clothes such as Maria would be traveling in. Hold up your arms." My aunt wrapped the garment round me and clipped it at the front busk. She began to pull the laces at my back and I felt my waist constricting as she worked up and down. The tension increased until I grunted. I was having more and more doubts about the whole business. Finally I was almost gasping for breath. The garment held me uncompromisingly. I would never be able to forget that I was wearing it. Slouching or bending was impossible. I had to sit upright and I could not breathe deeply. The top of the corset pulled my chemise in more round my breasts, compressing them, but also supporting them. "Take short breaths," said my aunt. "You will get used to it." Grandmother looked at me critically. "I think that's tight enough for the moment. Now, next, a camisole. This goes over the top of your corset." Yet another layer was added to my clothing. My grandmother opened a bag. "We have some nice stockings for you. They are fine cotton. Hold out your leg." She bunched up a cotton stocking, slid it over my foot, drew it up my leg and tightly fastened it to the two suspenders. "Now, you do the other stocking. You will have to learn to do it yourself." The front suspender was fairly easy, but the back one was difficult, as I could not see it and I could barely bend with the rigidity of the corset. At last I got it fastened and I straightened upright, feeling the corset creak slightly. The stockings felt smooth on my legs but I was aware of the tight pull of the suspenders on them. "Here are some petticoats," said my aunt and I was handed yet another layer of clothing. I stepped into them, aware of the constraint of the corset on my movements. "Last, your gown. This is what a girl of your social class would wear. I am not sure what work the Vecchio family will have in mind for you. I suspect that you will be expected to work in one of their shops. Indeed I hope so, as we want to find their secrets. So you will be in work clothes much of the time. They will be less restricting but a much rougher quality. You may not even need your corset except for dressing up. The gown goes over the top. This is what is called an afternoon gown. "We have some other stuff and working clothes for you, just enough to fill a small trunk. I think that would be the amount of clothes a middle class girl would have. If the Vecchios put you to work you will probably need more working clothes." I began to feel very tired. "Am I done?" I asked. I had barely awakened to a new body when I had been bathed, perfumed, then dressed in outlandish and impractical clothing. ""No, this is just a start. We have to train you in your manners and your deportment, even simple things like walking, sitting properly and getting up, but I see that you are getting tired. Sometimes the effects of the spell linger a few days? Why don't you go and lie down on top of the bed for an hour or two?" It seemed I had barely lain down on the bed when I was being roused again. Training in walking and sitting 'gracefully', as she called it, took another two days. I felt smothered in layes of clothing. I had to walk with short steps and hold myself upright. I had to lower myself gently into chairs, not that the corset allowed any slouching. It meant I could only sit on the edge of chairs and had to rise carefully. I was supposed to do it gracefully as well. Good manners had been instilled in me from an early age, but more seemed to be expected of women. For instance, they suggested I defer more to men when talking with them so smile a lot and always try to be demure. They gave me a fast training in cooking Italian dishes, laundering and house cleaning. At the end of the week my grandmother still shook her head. "You are not great, you are still clumsy, but we do not have enough time. Your boat is supposed to get into London in two days." My grandmother and aunt took me to London by train the following day. We stayed in a small hotel and the next day took a carriage to the dock area. While I waited with my aunt in a small caf? my grandmother went to off, leaving my aunt and I sitting nervously at a table. I felt suffocated inside my tight clothing. Both the corset and my stockings felt itchy. I wondered if my aunt had tied the corset extra tightly that morning. I still was not used to women's clothing, and half expected people to be pointing at me and laughing. My grandmother returned a bit later with a heavyset man in rough and patched clothes, obviously a dock labourer. She beckoned, "Follow me!" The labourer pulled the steamer trunk onto a small cart and led us into the side door of a warehouse, I suppose, as it was filled with sacks of sugar. From there we went through another series of warehouses until when I looked out a dirty window I saw that we were right on the dockside. Some passengers were already disembarking from a small steamship. Aunt Vittoria kissed me and embraced me. "Jacopo, thank you for this. Or perhaps I should now call you Maria. Have courage. It will only be a few months and you will have your life back." My grandmother embraced me as well. "Now remember my instructions," she ordered. "Make sure you contact me. I expect a report from you every week at least. Oh yes!" She pushed some papers in my hand. "These are something to identify you." She stuck a shipping label on the case with the name of the ship, embraced me again and she almost pushed me out the door, followed by the trunk, into the midst of the disembarking passengers milling about and collecting their luggage, most calling for porters. I was not noticed in the confusion. I watched nervously as the passengers collected their belongings and passed through Customs. Bewildered by the procedure I wanted to stand right at the dock but a steamship official pointed to Customs shed and I had no choice but to drag the trunk over there myself. I had no English money to pay a porter. My grandmother had given me some Italian money to help my masquerade. I could barely move the trunk and I cursed at the weak female body. At last a porter took pity on me and moved it there. I offered him some Italian money but he just grinned, and shook his head. "Anyfink to help a pretty lady," he said in his cockney accent. He touched his cap and left me. I had no trouble at Customs. The officer opened my case and trunk and briefly looked inside them but was satisfied with my story and I was free to go. I had no idea which of the Vecchios was to pick me up so, as instructed, I stood by my trunk, clutching a small handbag and a valise. I felt forlorn, just standing there outside the Customs office and away from the docks. I was in a strange body, abandoned by my family, in a strange place, masquerading as another, and about to be involved in spying. At last I saw a cab approach and a man jumped down from it. He looked at me and then at a photograph and moved over to me. He was a rough looking man, maybe around forty years old, wearing workman's clothes and a cap. "Signorina Corrieri, Maria ?" he asked. His Italian was hesitant and strongly English accented. He looked as if he was slightly in awe of my appearance. I replied in English. I had a good ear for sounds and I was able to eliminate the Liverpudlian in my accent and replace it with an Italian inflexion. "Yes," I said, slightly curtseying to him. "I can speak English well. Yes, I am Maria Corrieri. You have come to meet me, Signor?" "Yes, I am Pietro Vecchio. I am sorry I am late but the train from Liverpool was delayed and then I had to get a cab to come here. I am pleased to meet you. You know, your mother was a cousin of mine. My sympathy on your father's death. I have come to collect you and take you to our house in Liverpool. We will take the train there." He looked over my possessions. "These are all your belongings, Maria?" "Yes," I said. "I am afraid it is everything I own." He looked me up and down. "You are well dressed, Maria, too well dressed. You will have to get something more fitting for you to work in our shops. Now, we must get North. I do not want to have to pay for a hotel in London. I think with your trunk there, a cab will be best to get to the railway station." With some trepidation I allowed him to shepherd me to a cab and then to Euston station where he bought a single ticket for me. His manner was polite, but I could not decide whether he resented me or wanted to become my friend. The train journey was uncomfortable. Pietro occasionally tried to make conversation but usually after I had answered he lapsed into long looks at the countryside as it passed by. It was as if he was uncomfortable looking at me. We were seated in a crowded third-class compartment. At least my own family had paid for a first class journey for me on he way down. Pietro asked me a number of questions about Italy but as I had been well primed I am sure he detected nothing wrong about my replies. I asked him about his life and the Vecchio family but his replies were also short. Finally after some hours we arrived at Liverpool. I was familiar with the station but even so I checked out the position of the mailbox. I saw my Aunt Vittoria, standing by a newsagent's shop, checking my arrival no doubt, but I could not acknowledge her. Another brief cab ride took us to the Vecchio house, situated right above their caf? and I was introduced to all of the family, who lined up formally to welcome me. I use 'welcome' hesitatingly. It was as if taking me in was an onerous duty. There was the patriarch Alberto, an old man with a stoop. He spoke only in Italian. His wife, Paola, was a small, but wiry looking woman. Her hair was snow white. There were two sons, the elder Pietro and a younger son Aloisio. Pietro was married to Lorna and had two sons, Dario and Flavio and twin fifteen year old daughters Luisa and Lucia. The younger son Aloisio, was married to Fiorenza and had one son Arturo. They lived in a separate household nearby. Eventually I was shown to a room. I was annoyed that I would share it with the twins. I would have little privacy. They set me to work the very next day. Of course they expected that I would have no experience of serving in a caf?. Despite my boredom with it, I actually had worked quite a bit in my grandmother's restaurant, especially after my parents were killed. The Vecchios gave me only menial jobs, washing dishes, scrubbing tables and the floor, and preparing food and brewing drinks and stuff rather than actually serving customers. Not that I had any great love, with my abilities, of any of the restaurant work. Invariably the Vecchios ate their meals at the restaurant, except for Sunday dinner. At the end of each day I was exhausted. When I got home I would wash, skim half heartedly over the local newspaper and crawl into bed. Then the next morning I would be up at six to start again. The Vecchios were Roman Catholic and on Sunday mornings the whole family trooped to the early mass at the nearest Catholic church. That was almost the only rest I had in the whole week as they then hurried home and changed into work clothes for another noon start at the restaurant. Although I had been raised an Episcopalian, I went along with them as Maria Corrieri was known to have been Catholic. I was unfamiliar with the Latin and the services at first and had to watch the Vecchio girls for clues to the parts of the mass and the ritual, when to kneel and so on. I was supposed to wear my best to church, like all of the family, and this included the dreaded corset. The Vecchio girls were also expected to wear their best clothes for church, which also included corsets and we began to help each other lace up, and fix the tricky back suspenders. On these days I was actually glad to get out of my own corset after church and into work clothes for the rest of the day. The girls may have complained about theirs, but at the same time they were proud of their tiny waists. Both giggled about the possibility of attracting the attention of men. I could see too that many of the congregation were scrutinizing me. Stares, winks, grins and attempts at conversation by many of the young men made me blush. I did not encourage these, and the Vecchios seemed to approve of my coldness, as these aspiring suitors were mainly from Irish families. However, any attention from the young men of the few Italian families was accepted, and even encouraged. I had some sharp comments from Pietro that I should smile to them much more. I was so hard worked and exhausted that I had great difficulty getting time to write reports to my grandmother. In fact, with sharing a room with the two girls I barely had enough privacy. I took to writing reports in the toilet with a stub of a pencil, hiding them in my underwear and mailing them anytime I could be out on my own. The Vecchios did not appear to be as well off as my family, or possibly they were thrifty. They worked even harder than my own family but I suspect their locations were better than ours and they got more business that way. After a month I was used to the work, but my hands were dry, worn and rough, and my fingernails were broken. At least I had gradually built up my stamina. When I was almost overcome with boredom I would think about this as prelude to an acting career. I kept hoping I would be given the easier serving work, but there was no hint of that until one day Pietro summoned me to follow him into the cubbyhole he used as an office. I was wary of this, as I had often caught Pietro looking at me in a strange way when his wife was not around. "How are you getting on, Maria? Come and sit here beside me." His friendliness seemed to be forced. "How do you find the work?" "In truth Pietro, I found it hard and exhausting at first but I am used to it now." "Perhaps we can soon try you serving customers. Your English is very good. Tell me, Maria, I have seen you writing some things. Who are you writing to?" Better a good lie than a bad one. "To my grandmother in Italy." "Really? I did not know you still had a grandmother?" "She is on my father's side. We were very close, but she was too poor to take me in after my parents died. That is the only reason she allowed me to be sent here. I would have preferred to remain in sunny Italy. It is too cold and damp here." He had been leaning closer and closer to me, making me uncomfortable, but at my words he drew back. "You complain too much! Would you prefer to live in poverty in Italy? Here you have work and a family who look after you!" If this was what was called looking after, I wonder what true servitude would have been like to them, but I bit my tongue, and apologized. " So Maria, what do you write about to your grandmother? Do you complain to her?" "No, Pietro, I tell her of myself, how I find the English, how I am now part of your family and how the work is. Many things." That did not seem to arouse suspicion but, "when you write again, Maria, let me see your letter before you send it?" "Of course, Pietro." But I never did have to do this. Two days later I was scrubbing a floor when I realized that there was someone behind me. It was Pietro. "Maria, that part needs done better." I sighed, but dutifully bent to the scrubbing again, then straightened up and looked to him. He barely suppressed a smirk and I realized he had been staring at my swaying rear as I bent over with the scrubbing brush. I knew what he was thinking. I barely suppressed a blush, but I was angry too. "Is that to your satisfaction now, Pietro? I said sarcastically. "Yes, much better." He gave another smirk. " Maria, the family is opening another caf?, this time in Sheffield. It is a manufacturing centre and a good place to expand to. My brother Aloisio is already there and has chosen a location. We think you should go there. I will take you there in two days. Be ready. You must pack up all of your belongings." I was furious. I was to be sent as a servant, almost a slave, to another part of the country, without even being asked about it. Just like that I was to pick up and leave! Even worse, it became obvious that no one in the family seemed to be too concerned or sorry to see me go, other than the two girls who shared the room with me. My times with the girls in our bedroom had been more pleasant than with the rest of the family. They were about my age and did not seem to resent me as much. However, some of my times with them could only be described as excruciating. Although I never saw any of the twins actually naked, I frequently got glimpses of tender female flesh, curves of breasts, nipples, rounded buttocks and even glimpses of shiny dark curly pubic hair. It was inevitable, with being crowded into a small room together, and as the girls frequently helped each other dress or change clothes. They eventually roped me in to help them dress. The first week I was too nervous with them in case they noticed anything strange about me. Then later, it was excruciating torture. Their beautiful voluptuous bodies called to me, yet I dared not do anything and when I looked down at my own female anatomy I knew I was just like the girls. One day I pushed into the room unexpectedly, to a short squeal from one of the girls. I saw flushed cheeks and shining eyes as she hurriedly pulled down her chemise. I pretended that I had seen nothing but I had to grit my teeth, look away and go for a long walk. It took me about three months before I was able to force temptation to the back of my mind. That last night with them I packed my case with my better clothes and the trunk with my work clothes. I was in my nightdress. I had been able to get a letter off to my grandmother to tell her what was happening. I wondered what altered arrangements she would have to make to get me away from the Vecchios. I hoped that once she knew my new address she would be able to get in contact with me. I could leave at virtually a moment's notice. Once I was a man again the female clothes would be useless to me. Perhaps the twins might inherit them. "We'll miss you," said Luisa and she hugged me. Lucia hugged me too. "Maria?" Luisa asked. "Don't you like boys?" I had no proper answer. "Why?" I asked. "Well, you haven't shown any interest in them at all. Some good looking boys have come into the caf?. And many at church have tried to speak to you but you ignored them all." I had been kept busy in the caf? with work and I had barely thought of any of the customers. Besides, I certainly was not interested in the attentions of any men. My time in disguise was only half way through. Six months, my grandmother had said. I had three months to endure. " I mean, wouldn't you like a boy to hold you and kiss you?" Luisa had come in front of me, Lucia behind me. I suddenly felt apprehensive. "Yes, a boy to hold you and run his hands over you and caress you." Luisa seized my hands and held them while Lucia clasped her hands over my breasts and pinched the nipples. I flinched more than I wanted to then Luisa kissed me right on the mouth and before I could react the other pulled up my nightgown tightly around me baring my breasts and belly but trapping my hands. They kissed my breasts. I tried to wriggle free but my arms were trapped. I wriggled under their hands but dared not cry out for fear of what their mother would say if she came in. They pushed me onto the bed and Lucia forced her hands between my thighs, ignoring my squirming as she found the nub and stroked it. She was merciless. I could not dare cry out. What would their mother say if she found us like that? I felt a tension building until with rushes of indrawn breaths I convulsed. With muffled giggles, they released me gasping on my bed. "See! That's what it will be like with boys. Maybe even more!" " How would you know?" I hissed, but that just brought more giggles. Obviously they had been able to elude their parents' supervision. I must have been purple with embarrassment and I pulled down my nightgown and belted a dressing gown tightly around my waist. I wanted to hide and cry but I would have shown my weakness. I barely managed to concentrate on folding the clothes neatly. I was embarrassed, but not only by what the girls had done, but with my own feelings. The orgasm had come as a shock but I knew I had actually liked the sensations. My female body, maybe even my mind, was now reacting appropriately to my female anatomy. The girls had said what it would be like if I was with a man. I shivered, but was it dread or curiosity? The sooner I got away from all of this the better. My packing done, I climbed into the narrow bed and tried to fall asleep, but churning thoughts filled my mind. I knew I actually had begun to look at men, almost evaluating them. My grandmother had warned me about this. It was time to get away from my female body, but now I was being sent away, further from my grandmother, the book and the rcverse spell that would end this torture. Pietro and his son Flavio carried my trunk to the railway station the next afternoon, grumbling as they carried it through the pouring rain. I was carrying my bag, a small suitcase and a large umbrella which I tried to hold over Pietro. I was wearing my best clothes for traveling. It was going to be a journey of some hours to Sheffield. They had originally intended to go in the morning, but a piece of equipment had broken down in the caf? and the urgent repairs needed delayed our leaving. As I expected, Pietro had bought seats in a third class compartment, and we had to squeeze between an elderly couple and a young mother with a brood of children. At Manchester these got off and I was left alone with Pietro. The sun was low in the west and the compartment was getting dark with only the low illumination from the single electric light. Uneasily I realized I was alone with Pietro, confined in the compartment, and that he was now looking at me. "Come and sit by me, Maria," he said. "No, I am comfortable here," I replied. I pretended I was only interested in looking out the window. Not that there was little to see, other than some distant lights. Instead, he moved beside me, trapping me between himself and the compartment window. He put his hand on my thigh. I flinched. "Please don't, Pietro. Remember your family." "Come on, Maria, you must have noticed me. You know I want you. You are very beautiful, you know. You must know that from the first time I saw you in London, I have thought you were beautiful. It was not convenient that time but now is our chance. I won't see as much of you in the future." He leaned over to try to kiss me. I tried to push him away. "Please, leave me alone. You are married. And I feel nothing for you." That seemed to anger him. "You snooty ungrateful little slut. We took you in. You are an orphan. We have sheltered you and now you act like you are above us. Have you no gratitude?" He put an arm round my shoulder and again leaned over to try to kiss me. His left hand had pushed into my blouse, found my breast and begun squeezing it. His right hand had pushed under my skirt probing up my thighs. I struggled to push him away but he was much stronger. I scratched his face with my right hand and when he flinched I was able to slide underneath his arms to the floor. I scrambled up to face him but there was no place to escape. He was about to lunge at me again when I seized my umbrella and pushed it into his stomach as hard as I could. As he gasped and bent over I reversed the umbrella and hit him on the nose with the handle. He cried and clutched his nose, now streaming blood, and I hit him again as hard as I could on the back of the head. He cried and fell down. I hit him yet again. I sat down breathing hard, suddenly terrified. What if I had killed him? But when I checked I felt a pulse and he even gave a small groan. When he woke up my life would be in danger. I had to get out. Yet the train was chugging through the country, now almost dark. Shuddering with just touching him, or perhaps it was my own nerves, I put my hand into his jacket and pulled out his wallet, I opened it and removed some money, then pulled the emergency chain above the door. The train began to brake almost immediately and I lost my balance and fell over him. I struggled to my feet and grabbed my small case and bag. The trunk was too cumbersome and I would have to leave it. The train was rapidly slowing down and when it had almost stopped I opened the door of the compartment and holding my case I leaped out into the dark. I had hoped for level grass but the train track was on an embankment and I fell over and rolled or slid the whole way down the wet grass to the bottom, finishing against a stone wall, my skirt and petticoats around my thighs. I was winded but I had to keep going. I lurched to my knees, and then to my feet. I was dirty and scratched but nothing seemed to be broken or strained. A faint moonlight through the clouds allowed me to find my bag and case, even my hat. The train was now stopped, and two guards with lanterns were checking from compartment to compartment. They would soon discover Pietro. I took a small road leading away from the train track, keeping into the shade of a hedge, carrying the case and walking as fast as I could to get away from the train. I tried to run but I was soon out of breath and had a stitch because of the constriction of my corset. I would have stopped and removed it but I did not have time and I would have been too undressed. At least it had stopped raining. I finally had to stop to rest at a small ruined hut beside the road and huddled under the remnants of its roof to get my breath back and to decide on my action. I was in a predicament. I was alone, a single young woman, on an isolated country road and thus suspicious. The police would be informed that a train had made an emergency stop. Partly it depended on what Pietro did. If he reported that I had attacked and robbed him they would start to search for me. If the police caught me I could be sent to prison. Worse, they might find out my whole story. I shivered with cold and worry until the eastern sky began to grow pale and I set off again. I washed my dirty hands in a small stream and combed my hair, checking my face in my small mirror. It was slightly smudged and I rubbed the dirt off with my handkerchief. I checked my clothes. I had some dirt on my coat and skirt, but when it dried I was able to rub it off and look a bit more respectable. I managed to get another two miles before it was fully daytime. At one point I had to hide by the side of the road when a small trap came along. I was afraid that if I met anyone on the road I could be noticed and possibly reported. The further away I was the better. I got careless and found myself in an open area as I was overtaken by a small cart, driven by a farm worker. I would have to bluff it out. " Fine morning, Miss!" It was a sharp faced farm worker, about fifty, I would guess. His skin was so weatherbeaten that it looked brown. "Yes, it is." "Tha needs a lift, lass?" he asked. "Tha's not dressed for walking much." Riding on the cart would be better than walking. The seat was even fairly clean looking, but I would need to think up an excuse and a plausible story. At least we were now about five miles from where I had jumped from the train. "Where's tha going, lass? What brings a pretty lass out here. Lucky it's not raining." "Oh, eventually to Manchester, to get some work in a mill." "I'll be going a bit or so further down the road?" If he was curious about me he did not show it. My brief answers seemed to satisfy him and he probed no further. Some miles further down the road he pointed to a hill. "So I'll have to leave here. That's my farm just over there, but just over that next rise, lass, starts to get more houses and such. There's a pub where tha could have bite t' eat. Stop for the night, maybe. Tha looks worn out." He helped me down from the cart and I thanked him. Pulling his cap over his head he turned the cart to the farm and did not give me another look. As I breasted the hill I could see that the village was actually on the outskirts of a larger town. I was getting hungry but when I was about to approach the pub I saw a policeman going in and I hid behind a wall for about ten minutes until I saw him leave. As the policeman could have been asking about me and even have a description, I set off down the road again. It became more built up and there were more carriages and people walking about their business, but apart from a few casual glances I was left alone. A horse drawn omnibus was waiting outside an inn, and as I found it was going in the direction I wanted I paid for a ride with some of Pietro's money. I was glad to get off my feet, and the further away from the train the better. The omnibus came to its terminus about five in the afternoon, and as I was getting very tired and hungry I needed a suitable place for the night. Just around the corner from the terminus I saw a building with a sign for a 'Working Women's Hostel'. That would be ideal. I would be off the streets and it would probably be clean and reasonably cheap. I expected I would have to sleep in a dormitory, but I had endured six months of sharing a small room with two girls and it would not be much worse. The dormitory already held several other girls, mostly in their teens or twenties, many of them working at local cotton mills. Most of them just ignored me and kept to their own groups. I supposed they had seen many women coming and going. The hostel supplied meals but in two or three days I began to venture outside. Two days later in a local newspaper I saw a small article about the train being stopped and a businessman being assaulted and robbed. My heart began to pound until I read further and it said the police were looking for a man. A brief description was even given. I began to breathe easier. Pietro had obviously been unwilling or ashamed to tell the truth. I wondered what he would tell his family. So I was safe but I would soon have to move or make other arrangements. The money I had stolen would only last a few weeks. I started to write a letter to my grandmother, to explain where I was, to come and rescue me. I had been ordered to remain with the Vecchios for six months, but I was barely half way through that time. I wondered if she would be angry. I was in a dilemma about what to do. I was angry with my family for having forced me into my role, and the predicament it had brought me to. Also, I had nearly been raped. What would have happened if Pietro had been successful and I had become pregnant? Still, the only way back to my male body was to contact myfamily. Unfortunately I had not lasted six months with the Vecchios and now further contact with the Vecchio family was impossible. Would they decide that I had not done my part? I was so undecided that I did not finish the letter and after a week I tore it up. The following Sunday morning most of the factories appeared to be closed. I was tired of lounging around in the hostel and as it was a nice day I dressed as well as I could and walked down the street, enjoying the sunshine. I passed by the local Episcopalian church. The members of the congregation were just going in to the service and on a whim I went in too. I had a few curious looks from some of the congregation but I asked a parishioner at the door to suggest a pew I could sit in to take part. I actually enjoyed the service and hymns. It was comforting and reassuring to have something familiar back in my life. The service over, I began to make my way out. The vicar had noticed me and politely shook hands with me. Some members of the congregation looked at me and smiled, I gave a brief smile back, but I did not try to start any conversation. By the next day I had made up my mind that I would wait another few wee