The Heroine of Havisham Hall - Part 8

It soon became apparent to all the Havisham Hall staff, and particularly to Miss Craftey, that the new junior maid Betsy had become Madam's latest special favourite.   Miss Craftey was not at all pleased.  It was only a matter of months since she had managed to make the life of Madam's previous favourite - an effeminate young boy who had tried to pretend he was a girl - so miserable that he had decided to run away, never to be seen since.   Now, no sooner had this Betsy arrived than she was being singled out for special services to Madam, even to the extent of being invited to serve her nightly cocoa in Madam's private boudoir.


Of course Miss Craftey realised that, unlike that previous favourite, Betsy could not possibly be a boy.  She was so girlish in every way, that there was no possibility that she too could turn out to be one of those effeminate young transvestites.   Ever since Madam's mother and father, Sir Henry and Lady Havisham, had been tragically killed in that dreadful car crash - leaving the young Gloria as the sole heir to their Estate and the vast wealth which came with it - Miss Craftey had managed to impose her will upon all the inhabitants of Havisham Hall, including Gloria, and, as she could not stand the male of the species, had ensured that the household remained entirely "drone-free".   That is, until that young thing called "Alice" turned out to be "Alec".   So she had to resort to imposing the harshest of disciplinary regimes upon the young lad and soon succeeded in driving him away.  No-one quite knew what had happened to the boy but, Miss Craftey now reflected with pride, at least she could safely say that he had been the only male intruder ever to venture into her all-female domain.


But, even though Betsy so obviously satisfied her female-only rule, Miss Craftey really could not tolerate the way Madam had so blatantly now adopted this new girl as her personal favourite.  Up to now she had always managed to bend Madam's will to her own - in much the same way as she did when Madam, as "Miss Gloria", was a teenager - but Miss Craftey soon began to realise that it was now going to be very difficult to prevent this special relationship between the lady of the house and the new scullery maid from blossoming.   She thought long and hard as to how she could put a stop to the friendship before it got out of hand.  But with the additional burden of receiving some extremely important guests of Madam's in the very near future, this was hardly the time to confront such a threat to her own authority.


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The first few days after his arrival at Havisham Hall had proved to be a traumatic period for Jack as he adjusted to life as the junior housemaid, or "scullery maid" as Miss Craftey insisted on calling him.   Every move he made seemed to be monitored closely by the fearsome housekeeper and, with the stunning new hairstyle which Linda had created for him, he was - to his embarrassment - rapidly becoming the envy of all the other staff.   Young Annabelle, the very pretty parlourmaid with whom Jack was now sharing a bedroom, had previously been nicknamed "the Belle of the Hall" but it seemed that Jack was now rapidly taking over this mantle, for better or worse.


It didn't exactly help the situation when, after a few days as scullery maid, Miss Havisham insisted that Jack (or "Betsy" as he had become known to all at Havisham Hall) should be promoted to parlourmaid, with the requirement to wear the shortest of the household's extensive collection of parlourmaid uniforms, together with seamed silk stockings and four-inch heels, so that guests could "appreciate the full splendour of this lovely child in all her splendour".   Moreover, when Miss Craftey had  eventually opened the suitcase which had been packed for Jack and inadvertently left in the car when he arrived several days earlier, she had discovered a huge collection of lipsticks, eye-liner, mascara and other beauty products which she took great delight in showing to Miss Havisham.   Needless to say, Madam then encouraged her "Betsy" to make maximum use of the make-up, both during the day and in the evening, so there was no respite for Jack from the "pretty doll" role that he had now acquired.  As he spent his days constantly hearing references to "Miss World" and other taunts, Jack privately cursed Rose, his mother's maid who had packed his case for him, no doubt with the firm intention of further embarrassing him with its contents when they were revealed.  It had also contained, Jack discovered, a range of beautiful and expensive lingerie, silky flowing nighties and peignoirs, several pairs of silk stockings and two pairs of black, high-heeled court shoes.


Seeing all his possessions had only served to heighten Miss Havisham's growing admiration for Jack's youthful beauty and femininity.   So Jack's life had now become one of being permanently "on show" to Madam's guests, or to Madam herself.  As parlourmaid he was constantly summoned by various bells which Madam rejoiced in ringing at all times of the day, whether from the morning-room, or the dining-room or the drawing-room, and whether or not she was expecting guests or just simply wanted to spend a little more time admiring her "lovely girlish boy".   She periodically reminded Jack, when they were alone together, that he was of course still a boy, and that she intended to keep him that way, but that no-one else in the household was ever to discover his secret...


With such a treasure to display, Miss Havisham now enjoyed nothing more than to invite her friends round for morning coffee, or a light lunch or afternoon tea, and to have her "prettiest of parlourmaids" greet them at the front door, take their coats, show them through to wherever Madam was sitting, and of course serve their drinks.   Madam would then require Jack to stand silently in the corner of the room, in his beautiful uniform, while she entertained her guests.  On these occasions Jack heard his mistress tell each and every one of these guests all about the party she was throwing for the imminent visit of the world-famous actress Dame Olivia Laurence and her friend Lady Lavinia Lovelace.


One morning, when Jack was looking especially pretty in his latest figure-hugging parlourmaid's uniform, complete with a beautiful "broderie anglaise" lacy bib apron and the ever-present little lace cap, he answered the door to a well-dressed middle-aged lady and a rather less smart,and rather awkward, teenage girl who was looking decidedly uncomfortable in a blouse and skirt.  To his horror Jack immediately recognised them both but, being the very calm and discreet maid that he now was, he quietly enquired their names, took their coats and showed the two ladies through to the drawing-room.


"Mrs Franklin and Miss Melissa Franklin to see you, Madam" he announced as they entered the room.   Only then did a glint of recognition start to become apparent on the faces of the two visitors. Was this not the same shy voice that they had heard in the street a few days earlier, when they encountered Miss Strang from the Stuyvesant Academy and her beautiful niece in the pretty peach blouse?   What was Miss Strang's niece now doing working as one of Gloria Havisham's maids?


(to be continued)

The Heroine of Havisham Hall - Part 7

Relieved that Miss Havisham had eventually recognized him despite his housemaid's uniform, Jack hurried back to the kitchen to prepare Madam's cocoa and biscuits.   Although he now realized that she was pleased to see him again, he was nevertheless concerned that Madam now saw him simply as someone who performed well as a female maidservant and that she might expect him to remain in that role.   Perhaps this wasn't very surprising, Jack thought, given that he was himself now increasingly accepting this very submissive and feminine role with every moment that passed.


By the time he reached the kitchen, it seemed that most of the other staff had retired to bed.   Only Annabelle and Linda were still there to chat to as he set about boiling the milk for Madam's cocoa and arranging a tray with a plate of biscuits.  As they helped Jack to find what was needed, Annabelle asked him whether he'd been given anywhere to sleep the night?   It was only now that Jack  realized he had neither a bed to sleep in, nor any night clothes.   There had also been no mention yet of where his suitcase now was, and he made a mental note to ask Madam about this when he took her the cocoa.


"You'd better share my room for tonight" offered Annabelle as Jack was contemplating the situation. "We can't have you sleeping down here" she added, to which Jack responded "Oh that's very kind of you Annabelle and I'm afraid I haven't got any nightwear either" only to receive from Annabelle a further kind offer to lend him one of her nighties until his suitcase could be found.


Jack wondered for a moment what it would be like to wear one of Annabelle's nighties, then saw her grinning at him out of the corner of his eye.  They both had a little giggle and Jack immediately felt at ease again.   Annabelle was the one person who had really made him feel welcome at Havisham Hall.   He wondered how she would feel if she discovered his "little secret" and realized he would need to take great care not to give away his true gender, even to her.


As he prepared to take Madam's tray to the drawing-room Jack glanced in the kitchen mirror and Annabelle noticed him trying to tidy his hair.   Turning to Linda, she said "Poor Betsy hasn't had a chance to get her hair styled recently and I've told her that you're the expert stylist here, could you possibly help her?"


Linda seemed delighted.  "Sure, that's no problem -  Betsy I'm always happy to help you, or any of the girls with their hair, nothing I enjoy more.   As soon as you've finished serving Madam her cocoa, I'll put some rollers in for tonight, and then if you can be down here by 6 o'clock tomorrow we can brush it all out, perhaps give you a little bit of a trim and you'll be all ready to serve breakfast.  I'm thinking, from a quick look at you, that something similar to Annabelle's style would suit you - just keeping it about shoulder length with some nice curls once we've brushed it out, maybe a little colouring to bring out the natural blonde in you..."


Jack was quite taken aback by Linda's enthusiasm.   She certainly seemed to know what she was talking about and, judging by the look of Annabelle's own hair, she was obviously quite an expert stylist.  He'd been admiring Annabelle's hairstyle ever since he arrived, but how would he feel to look like that himself?  The thought roused his little secret once more.   But there was no time to linger - he had the tray in his hands and it was high time he took it through to Madam...


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Jack knocked on the drawing-room door, while carefully carrying Madam's cocoa tray in his other hand.   There was no sound from inside.   He waited for about thirty seconds, wondering when it would be correct to knock again.   If he was to continue in this role, perhaps he should enquire as to the correct etiquette in these matters.   He didn't want to get on the wrong side of Madam by sounding rude and impatient, but nor did he want to be criticized for not knocking again if she hadn't heard him first time.   Just as he was about to try another gentle knock, he heard a rather sleepy voice calling "Oh, yes, enter!"    As Jack carried the tray in to the room he was greeted with "Oh Elizabeth, I'm so tired, this is just what I was wanting.   Please pour the cocoa for me, there's a good girl.   Thank you dear."


Jack leaned over, placed the tray on Miss Havisham's little coffee table, and carefully poured the cocoa for her.   He placed the plate of biscuits beside the cocoa, stepped back and curtseyed to his mistress.


"Oh you are so good to me Elizabeth" exclaimed Miss Havisham, looking up at him.  "Now then, I think you could do with a tidier uniform from tomorrow, and perhaps something doing to your hair, but yes, I think you'll do very nicely.   Tell me dear, do you like it here?"


Poor Jack could not think how to respond.  Everything had all happened so suddenly, what was he to say?   On the one hand he was completely lost in this strange house and felt utterly humiliated by Miss Craftey and the way he was being made to work as the junior housemaid.   On the other hand he was clearly now being appreciated by Miss Havisham who seemed to be wanting him to serve her personally.  As the lady of the house, surely she would make sure he was well treated.


"Yes Madam" he eventually replied.  "It's very good of you to have me here while my mother is away, thank you Madam."


"Yes dear, your mother did seem very grateful when I offered to have you.   She would have sent you to her friend Emily Quinn's but I understand she's gone to the Paris Fashions with her daughter.   They're going to be back just in time for our big weekend so you'll see them then - no doubt wearing the latest Spring fashions if I'm not much mistaken.   And it's so good that you're happy working as a maid, you're so good at it and, my goodness, we're going to need you here - especially over these next few weeks and for that weekend."


Jack's heart sank.   Did this mean he would be expected to remain here, as a maid?  And not just for the next few weeks?  Acting as a maid at the garden party and dinner party which he'd heard were planned for the special weekend?   And if Mrs Quinn and Pamela would be coming, all dolled up in the latest fashions, would he be serving them as a humble maid - expected to keep running hither and thither, and curtseying to everybody, even to Pamela!!   He couldn't bear the thought of Pamela seeing him so set in this role and knowing he couldn't do anything about it.   As for the "dress rehearsal for a one-act play", would this be her "Mistress and Maid" play, or whatever she was calling it now?   Was he supposed to be one of the "two promising young drama students" he'd heard referred to earlier?   He would be so envious if someone else was given the chance to perform "his" role...


These thoughts were all racing through Jack's head as he stood back and thought about what Madam had just said.   Miss Havisham paused for a moment longer, sipped her cocoa, and then changed the subject.   "Oh, and by the way, Maria my driver found a suitcase in the car which I believe belongs to you.   She's given it to Miss Craftey and I expect she'll let you have it in the morning.   Do you have any overnight clothes?   I expect you'll be needing a nightie won't you, and some clean underwear for tomorrow."


"Thank you Madam, but I believe Annabelle is going to lend me things for now.  And she's kindly letting me share her room Madam."


"Aha!  Annabelle, eh?!   Oh, won't that be fun for you Elizabeth... or should I say Jack?   You and Annabelle sharing a room eh?    Well, all I ask is that you take care, my dear - if Nora Craftey gets wind of anything remotely male under this roof, well, I wouldn't care to think what might happen..." 


Gloria Havisham paused again and then made Jack an offer.  "I don't know whether it would help, but just to be on the safe side, I do have what we call a little gaff upstairs, it would just help to hide anything which shouldn't be there - you know what I mean?   I got it for someone else who worked here a little while ago and was going to wear it...   A nice young boy who thought he wanted to train as my ladies maid and then changed his mind.   Oh dear, I do hope you won't do that to me...   He left all of a sudden, which was such a nuisance...    Anyhow she, I mean he, never wore it, so you could borrow it - what do you think Elizabeth?   It would be so embarrassing for us all if anyone saw anything they shouldn't, don't you think?"


Poor Jack, still standing to attention while Madam enjoyed her cocoa, blushed to hear his mistress speaking so directly to him on such a delicate matter.  It was true that he could not risk revealing his true gender but he was taken completely by surprise at Miss Havisham's suggestion of him wearing a gaff.   However he sensed that it would be rude to refuse Madam's offer.


"Thank you Madam" he replied, bobbing a little curtsey, "I'm not sure that I'll need that but thank you Madam.  And thank you for what you said about a tidier uniform and about my hair Madam.  I'll ask Annabelle and Linda about that right away Madam."   Jack paused for a moment like the dutiful maid he had become, then added, with a further curtsey, "Will that be all now, Madam?"


"Yes of course dear" responded Miss Havisham, eyeing him keenly over her spectacles.  "I mustn't keep you here all night... well certainly not tonight...  You go and sort yourself out and we'll continue our little chat tomorrow shall we?   In fact, Elizabeth - sorry, I must start calling you Betsy, Miss Craftey told me to call you that now - I'd like you to serve my bedtime cocoa every night from now on.  Would you do that for me please, Betsy?   At ten o'clock every evening, without fail?   I usually have it in my bedroom, of course...."


(to be continued)


  

The Heroine of Havisham Hall - Part 6

Standing behind the locked door in his housemaid's uniform, Jack strained to hear what he could of what Miss Havisham was saying to her staff.   He had managed to complete the washing-up and tidy the kitchen in time to make his way up the corridor, only to find that the oak door to the front hall was firmly closed and locked.  Jack had difficulty hearing what was being said, but it was definitely Miss Havisham speaking and, although she seemed to be suffering from a sore throat, he was pleased to hear the same unmistakeably aristocratic English voice that had made him feel so loved and appreciated during his recent visit to Mrs Quinn's little soiree.


Between Miss Havisham's coughing, and other interruptions, Jack now learned that somebody called Lady Lavinia Lovelace and, if he heard right, a Dame Olivia Laurence - who were both "very very important in the theatre world" - would soon be spending a weekend at Havisham Hall to offer their support and advice on the proposed new drama school at Stuyvesant Academy and, of course, to thank the benefactors whose generosity was making it possible.


Miss Havisham seemed to be making it clear that she was herself the principal benefactor, whose support was enabling this exciting project to proceed, and Jack now heard Miss Havisham explain to her staff that these important ladies had been invited to meet "two extremely promising" young drama students who would be attending the school when it opened.   ("Two?" Jack thought to himself, "and who might they be?).   Despite Miss Havisham's low, soft voice, Jack then thought he heard reference to a garden party as well as a dinner party and also a "dress rehearsal for a newly-written one-act play"...


Listening intently, Jack next heard Miss Havisham warn her staff about all the extra work the visit of these important ladies would mean for them.  She went on to promise that they would all be especially well compensated for their extra efforts - provided, she said after a slight pause, service standards were of the highest order throughout.  (Jack imagined that Miss Havisham must have caught sight of a frowning Miss Craftey before adding this condition.)


There followed a few more words which Jack was unable to hear from where he was, crouching with his ear pressed to the outside of the oak door.  Then, all of a sudden, the door opened and out spilled all the staff, chattering to one another as they made their way back to the kitchen.   "Well, well, who would have thought it?   Dame Olivia coming to Havisham?"   And from the older maids, "It's just like the old days, Ethel, we'll all have to put our best foot forward.  Won't it be wonderful to see the house full of guests once again?"   Not all the servants seemed quite so thrilled, Jack noticed, as they clearly realised how hard they would all have to work.  But there was a sense of real excitement as they all started to anticipate what it would be like to serve such a great icon of stage and screen as Dame Olivia Laurence, and of course all her fellow guests.


As Jack stood stock still in the corridor, the next to emerge from the front hall was none other than Miss Craftey and for a moment Jack feared he was going to be interrogated as to exactly why he was not attending to his duties in the kitchen.   He envisaged having to explain what he was doing eaves-dropping on the conversation which had taken place.  But instead, Miss Craftey simply looked Jack straight in the eye and said "Madam would like to see you now Betsy - I suggest you wait here for two or three minutes and then go and knock on the drawing-room door.  There's no need for you to change your uniform, but you might like to know that Madam greatly appreciates your offer to help out as our new scullery maid, especially as these next few weeks are going to be so especially busy."   Miss Craftey looked Jack full in the face, as though challenging him to respond - which the poor boy then duly did, in the form of a mumbled "Yes Miss" and a low, ultra-submissive curtsey.


Jack cursed himself as he realised how easily he had once again succumbed to Miss Craftey's domineering manner and passively accepted that he had chosen to serve as a humble maid.  As he waited for what he judged to be two to three minutes, he wondered exactly what Miss Craftey and Miss Havisham had said to one another.   He had never offered to "help out as a scullery maid", or as any kind of maid for that matter, but what kind of story had Miss Craftey presented to Madam?   Jack checked his appearance in the mirror, noting once again how well Annabelle's uniform fitted him as he straightened the little frilly cap while trying to tidy his long, straggly hair.  He realised for a moment how girlishly he was behaving, and cursed himself once more.  Then, realising that at least three minutes must now have elapsed, he made his way, nervously but with a sense of considerable excitement and anticipation, across the hall and knocked on the drawing-room door.


"Enter" came the immediate response, which Jack promptly obeyed, executing another perfect curtsey as he entered the enormous lounge, known of course to all at Havisham Hall as the drawing-room.  Jack's first impression, as he looked across this room with its heavily-framed oil paintings, luxurious armchairs and sofas at its owner, was one of shock - for it was obvious that Miss Havisham, far from looking delighted to see him once again, wore an expression of deep disappointment.  As she peered over her pince-nez spectacles, she frowned at Jack and said: "Good evening, girl, are you bringing me my cocoa?  I'd like biscuits with it tonight and I'll take it down here.  And would you mind asking the new maid Elizabeth, or Betsy as I believe you're all calling her, to serve it for me please."


Jack was horror-struck.  Not only was Miss Havisham disappointed, she hadn't even recognized him!  But then, realising how different his appearance now was, compared with the previous occasion on which they had met, he quickly adjusted his demeanour and replied, as calmly as he could:
"Madam, I am your Elizabeth.  I arrived earlier this evening, with your driver Miss Rodriguez as you had kindly arranged, and then I found I was put to work as a junior maid.  Please Madam, I'm very happy to bring you your cocoa and biscuits, but I thought I was being brought here to be your personal companion and it's all so demeaning Madam and....."     Jack had surprised even himself with this outburst, which Miss Havisham gently but firmly interrupted.


"Oh I see, Elizabeth, now I think I do recognize you.  But you do look very different dressed in that working uniform.  Ah yes, I can see now, you're still the lovely beautiful young lady - sorry, I know, young boy, I know about that...  but we'll keep that little secret between you and I now, won't we Elizabeth?"


"Yes of course Madam" replied Jack, instinctively bobbing another little curtsey before realizing too late that this gesture had simply reinforced his total lack of masculinity, or indeed claim to any status other than that of a maid.


"You see, Elizabeth" continued Miss Havisham.  "You are a wonderful natural actor, and you are demonstrating perfectly that the role you play best is that of a female maidservant.  Is that not right?"


"Er, yes Madam, I suppose it is Madam" stuttered Jack.   "Well then" added Miss Havisham, "Go and prepare my cocoa and biscuits and serve it to me here, and then we'll have a little chat, shall we?"


"Yes Madam. of course Madam".   Jack realised he now had no option other than to curtsey low, and he added a humble "Very well, Madam" as he turned to leave the room. 


(to be continued)

The Heroine of Havisham Hall - Part 5

After serving all the other maids with their meal, Jack was eventually able to sit down and starting eating himself.   Apart from Annabelle, Karen and Linda, and of course himself, he noticed that the other maids all seemed much older.   There was Margaret, Shirley, Edna and two or three others whose names he hadn't yet learned.  He was later to discover that all these older women, and also "Cook" (who seemed always to be known simply as "Cook") had been working at Havisham Hall since before Miss Havisham's parents died many years ago.  Jack found himself wondering what they all did, and how Miss Havisham could possibly need all these servants - however active her social life might be.

Jack was lost in these thoughts when the stern housekeeper Miss Craftey suddenly addressed him from the head of the table.   "Betsy, have you not noticed that we have all now finished our first course?   Please clear the plates and bring us the dessert.   I believe Cook has prepared one of her fruit salads to follow, isn't that correct Cook?"   A murmur of "just my usual offering" could be heard from Cook at the other end of the table.

Jack, now a bundle of nerves, was already on his feet, hurriedly curtseying and uttering an apology to Miss Craftey.   He was delighted to hear Annabelle say "I'll help her" and to see his friend rise from the table.  But alas, Miss Craftey responded very firmly "No, Annabelle, that won't be necessary - Betsy can manage on her own."    So Jack continued to serve the remainder of the meal on his own, feeling humiliated beyond words.

And still there was no sign of Madam returning to rescue him from his nightmare.   He walked solemnly  - and now rather painfully in Annabelle's tight-fitting shoes - around the table, removing the empty plates and then bringing all the staff their fruit salads.

Suddenly a shrill ringing sound came from high on the kitchen wall and Jack noticed for the first time a row of lights, one of which was now flashing to signal that somebody had rung from the front door.  "Madam has returned" announced Miss Craftey and then, as she got up from the table to go and attend to Miss Havisham, murmured what Jack took to be a routine instruction: "Please take charge, Cook, until I return."

Jack's face lit up at the news of Miss Havisham's return.   This was the moment he had been waiting for, ever since he arrived at the Hall earlier in the evening.  Miss Havisham would no doubt ask to see him shortly - after all, she had been so keen to see him again after their afternoon together at Mrs Quinn's.  He glanced down at the grey uniform and plain white apron he was wearing and hoped there would be an opportunity for him to change before he went to meet her, even if it would have to be the peach-coloued transparent silk blouse and the taffeta skirt in which he had arrived.   How he wished he hadn't left his suitcase in the car when Miss Havisham's driver had dropped him off - he thought to himself that there must be something less outrageously feminine amongst the contents which Rose had packed for him while he was saying good-bye to his mother.

Cheered by the thought that he would now at least get a chance to present himself to Miss Havisham, Jack enjoyed his fruit salad and, carefully waiting until everybody else round the table had finished theirs, tactfully addressed Cook:  " Cook, would you like me to clear the table now?"   Cook, who by now had dropped off into a light snooze at the end of the table, awoke from her slumber, saying "Who was that?   Who spoke to me?"    Jack, shaken out of his good humour, responded "It was me Cook, I was asking if I should clear the table."

"Clear the table?  Clear the table?   No, we shouldn't do that until Miss Craftey has finished.  And she hasn't even returned yet.  And who are you anyway?   Yes, you - who are you?" barked the aged Cook, now well and truly awake.

"I'm Jack..ie, er, I mean Elizabeth, but I think I'm Betsy now" stuttered poor Jack.  Now reduced to a total nervous wreck and, struggling to explain himself,  he then added "I used to be known as Jackie when I was younger but my friends all call me Elizabeth these days.  But I'm Betsy now because that's what Crafty, I mean Miss Craftey, said to call me.  I'm sorry Miss, I didn't mean to be rude."  There was silence around the table, as the servants all tried to make sense of this new recruit who didn't even seem to know her own name.

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It was to be some little while before Miss Craftey was to return to the kitchen.  As soon as she greeted Miss Havisham, she sensed that this had been no ordinary evening's bridge for her employer.  In fact it didn't sound as though much bridge had been played, if any at all.   The four ladies who had met up for their regular game had something much more exciting to discuss on this occasion.

"Nora" announced the excited Miss Havisham, using Miss Craftey's first name for once, "Nora, you'll never guess who's going to come and stay here.   Cecily Burgess has invited her friend Lavinia Lovelace, who's now President of the National Association of Drama Academies, and she's going to bring with her the great actress Dame Olivia Laurence.   They want to come and stay a weekend with me here, in three weeks time.   Three weeks, Nora!!   Cecily's been telling them all about the new drama school at Stuyvesant and how Gail Swanson's child is such a brilliant star, and how I've made it all possible through my generosity.   Well, it isn't only me, but I suppose...   Nora, it's going to be such fun.   Of course, you're going to have to get the house spick and span, so the maids will all have to work flat out between now and then to have it all ready..."   

Miss Havisham paused to cough and clear her throat.  "I'm sorry Nora, I've nearly lost my voice in the excitement!"

"Yes, Miss Gloria" responded Miss Craftey, reverting to addressing her mistress as she had done many years ago, when she no doubt often used to get over-excited.  "Take a deep breath Madam. I'm sure there will be a great deal to do.  But don't you worry, I'll make sure we all pull our weight and get everything ready.   How many visitors did you say there will be Madam?"

"Well" replied Miss Havisham, recovering her voice.  "Lady Lavinia and Dame Olivia for a start, and of course they'll both bring their ladies maids with them.   And then there's Cecily herself, and Jennifer Hughes who was also at our meeting at Emily Quinn's, and of course Emily herself and her daughter Pamela - they should be back from their trip to Paris by then.  Oh, and we must include Janet Strang from the Stuyvesant Academy and that nice lady Mrs Franklin who she seems to be very friendly with, and I believe there's a Miss Franklin too, who's going to be entering the Stuyvesant Academy shortly.  How many's that?   Of course I expect quite a few of them will bring their maids with them, I'm sure they'll all be wanting to make a weekend of it if Lady Lavinia and Dame Olivia are doing so...   It's all so exciting - and all because I've agreed to put all this money up...    By the way Nora, that reminds me -  has young Elizabeth arrived safely?"

"Oh yes Madam" replied Miss Craftey " and what a charming young girl she is, Madam.  She arrived beautifully dressed, she was obviously very keen to impress.  But she insisted that she should work with the other maids and make herself useful, and she's fitted in very happily with us all.  She's even asked everyone to call her Betsy and she doesn't mind what she's asked to do.  She says she wants to start at the bottom like new maids all do.  She'll be a great help Madam, especially with all the extra work we're all going to have these next few weeks."

"Oh, I see..." said Miss Havisham.  "Well, I'm so pleased to hear that Nora, I knew he'd be an...  I mean she'd be an asset to us."   Miss Havisham hesitated for a moment, realising her gaff.   Nora Craftey was the last person she wanted to discover her new young friend Elizabeth's little secret - what with her obsession with keeping Havisham Hall entirely female.  I really must be more careful, she thought to herself.  "Well now Nora, I think I should share the good news with the staff now, don't you.  Ask them to come through to the front hall and I'll explain what's happening to them there.   Oh it's so exciting isn't it Nora?"

                                                *            *           *           *

Twenty minutes had elapsed by the time Miss Craftey was back in the kitchen, looking somewhat flushed and also rather bemused.   The staff were all still seated, having long since finished their fruit salad dessert but obediently following the time-honoured etiquette of not rising until everyone, including Miss Craftey herself, had also consumed theirs.   On taking her seat, Miss Craftey began by saying that she didn't feel like any fruit this evening, then ordered Jack - or "Betsy"- to clear the table, while she spoke:  "Staff, Madam has something very, very important to say to us all.  We are all to report to her in the front hall at 9.30 this evening, which gives us twenty minutes - no, eighteen minutes now - to tidy ourselves up and assemble there.   Betsy, you will be all right dressed as you are, Madam knows that you're getting acquainted with your duties as the new scullery maid so she won't expect to see you in the front hall.  Or in any of the front rooms for that matter.  We'll leave you to clear the table and wash  up, and then you can sweep the kitchen floor and get everything ready for us to serve breakfast promptly for Madam in the morning."

With that, Miss Craftey departed swiftly to prepare herself for the staff meeting while the rest of the staff went to their rooms to change into suitable uniforms for presenting themselves in front of Madam.  Poor Jack was left on his own in the kitchen.   He wondered whether, if he worked fast, he could complete the tidying up in the kitchen in time to go and listen to Miss Havisham through the door to the front hall.   He had noticed this door at the top end of the corridor when he and Annabelle were making their way down to the kitchen from cleaning the bedrooms.   He so wanted to hear what Madam was actually saying, not just hear what Miss Craftey chose to tell him and the other maids...   

(to be continued)

And a Merry Christmas to All!

Methinks that a helluva lot of you don't know me from Adam - or Eve - whatever.  I'm Bea - the one that started this blog.  I'm extremely happy to see it carrying on after I proved incapable of doing much - Can't name them all of course. but Carrie, Rocketdave, Belinda, Tammi, Monica, and Rosie?  Best wishes you guys. Jim Scarlett and Suzette? - you still alive?

Anyhoo?  I'm well aware that many of you don't know me or what I wrote.  The attached story is probably as old fashioned as hell but as I haven't written in quite a few years now, and felt like making a contribution, you'll just have to put up with one of my old ones.

I'm not a church-going Christian, but have enjoyed a helluva lot of Christmasses now - and try at this time of year to revel in the good wishes that emit from all of us to everyone - so to all of you?  Have the Happiest - and Merriest - of Christmas.  As I probably won't be writing to this blog any more this year?  I'll also wish all of you the Best Possible Year you can have in 2014!

Enjoy - you lot!

Bea

CHANGING OF THE GUARD

By Bea

I walked around the apartment, nervously surveying everything.  Denise wasn't due for about another five hours or so, but this was the first time I'd ever cooked for her.  I had dusted and vacuumed.  Polished the brass figurines. Washed the windows and the kitchen floor.  Had five nice CD discs (romantic) on the player - just waiting to be switched "on".  But I continued to feel a strange sense of unease.  Had the feeling that I should be doing something.

My preference when cooking is to have dinner made up of a number of special courses, preceded by hors d'oeuvres and, naturally, ended with a magnificent dessert.  I was trying as hard as I could to overcome this proclivity - but I felt that to do so just didn't seem right.  I also felt another spasm of discomfort - put it down to not having lots of flowers artistically placed around the flat.

I meandered into the kitchen. The sirloin steaks were still marinating in the dish - my own special marinade.   The salad was in the crisper.  The designer ice cream was in the freezer. I wandered back into the dining area.  Rearranged one of the flowers in the single bowl I was going to use as the centerpiece.  Checked the crystal glassware for spots. Hoped the room and table settings would reflect the young American bachelor - you know? Some attention to the more feminine aspects of life - but not that much, okay?

I remembered occasionally to practice my walk as I moved around, spreading my feet so that they moved parallel to each other, about six inches apart.  My normal tendency is to take small steps, placing each foot almost directly ahead of the other - a rather effeminate way of walking, - one that had been drummed into me through childhood - and, accordingly a habit very difficult to get out of.  I'd noticed the differences between men and women's foot placement when walking on a beach some years before.

Until then, I had never understood why Mummy was so adamant about the way I walked. Then I saw that women's tracks in the sand were almost one straight line, whereas a man's tracks showed two parallel tracks. At that point I'd finally understood what she was up to.  But conscious of this as I was, it was still a difficult characteristic to change - almost impossible when I lived with her, though recently I had been trying to practice at least a few times a week.

I checked my hands.  I have small, well shaped fingers and clearly defined oval nails.  The only problem I had was the fact that my nails were manicured, and longer than that worn by most males.  I had been swithering about filing them down for a couple of days now - even removing the clear polish I was using, but though I had the feeling that mother wouldn't be visiting me within the next week or so, I had been wrong before - and didn't fancy the hell that she would raise if my nails weren't being kept to her standards.  On top of that, it was one of the conditions she had demanded when she agreed to me getting six months of freedom.

Finally, I sighed.  Decided to make something to eat for myself.  I really had no appetite - was too nervous about my date later on - but thought that the preparation and eating of lunch would pass some time, if nothing else.  But my thoughts were interrupted.  The doorbell rang, scaring me for a second.  Probably a neighbor looking to borrow a cup of sugar, or something like that I thought. I went to the door and looked through the peep-hole.  Oh Jesus!

Two women stood there.  Both dressed fashionably in similar matching tailored suits under open fur coats, small straw hats, high heels.  One of them was my mother.  The other was someone I'd never met before.  Mother had an assortment of wrapped parcels.  One under her arm, and carrying others in one of these plastic carry bags that department stores provide.

Hurriedly, I looked around for an apron - couldn't find one.  Then I remembered that I'd hidden them in my bedroom, not wanting Denise to see them.  I knew that I didn't have enough time to go and get one.  Even through the distorted peep-hole viewer, I could see that my mother was getting impatient.  Quickly, I opened the door.

Mummy swept in, her companion trailing behind her.  When she saw that I wasn't wearing an apron a quick glance immediately shot some disapproval my way.  I got out of it though. Opening my arms, I moved towards her.  Gave her a peck on the cheek.

"Mummy!  How nice to see you!  You just caught me in time - was heading out for a little shopping and lunch.  Another few minutes and I would have been gone!"

I made a quiet inward whistle of relief, she was so obviously placated by my lie.  She returned my kiss, careful of her makeup.  Then stood back and surveyed me for a second.  She turned to her friend.  "Marjorie?  This is Paul, my son.  Paul?  This is Mrs.. Denton, a new friend of mine .. Now say hello, and take our coats - there's a lamb.  I'd KILL for a nice cup of tea."

I shook hands with Mrs.. Denton.  She was of an age with Mummy, in fairly good shape.  A cautious look to her eyes, but pleasantly featured.  Nicely made up.  Something about her reminded me of someone, but I just couldn't figure out who.  As I took their coats through to the bedroom they moved to the hall mirror and stood together unpinning their hats, examining their makeup and fluffing up their hair lightly with their fingers.

While I was in the bedroom, I took the opportunity to put on one of the aprons I'd hidden there.  For a second I thought of a fairly masculine one I'd made just the week before - but decided against it.  I didn't want to get too 'frilly' though, so discarded the thought of wearing any of full ones I owned.  I settled for a half apron, a nice light floral material with pretty lace ties and matching trim on the pocket that went nicely with my shirt.  Quickly, I tied it around my waist, checked my back to see that the bow was big enough and even, then went to rejoin my company.

Mummy gave a slight nod of approval, but made no comment.  Mrs.. Denton on the other hand showed a little amazement.  "My!   What a pretty apron." She said, coming forward to touch it. "I haven't seen one like that in years.  Didn't know they made them any more."

"Oh, I don't think they do."  Mummy said.  "Paul makes all of his own aprons.  You should see some of the others he has made - I mean gorgeous!  Full, you know?  All ruffles and tiers.  Made an absolutely impossible one - a sort of pleated chiffon... But that's for special occasions, right Paul?"

"Oh Mummy!"  I remonstrated, blushing.  "Mrs. Denton doesn't want to hear all that stuff!"

But Mrs. Denton didn't mind at all.  "Oh my goodness!  I think it's just wonderful to see a young man who's not afraid to put something pretty on.  I mean, they're all so frightened nowadays that someone won't think they're macho!  So stupid!"

"Well.  Paul's not stupid, at least not that way.  Right little lamb?"  Mummy asked.  "But be a dear and get that tea on .. ?"

I almost curtseyed!  After nearly five months on my own, hardly seeing Mummy more than once or twice a month in that period, I had just nearly performed what was second nature to me while I lived in her house - and we were alone together.  It had to be the bloody apron, I thought, really grateful that Mrs.. Denton had missed it.

But Mummy hadn't.  I think she saw the motion I made, and was pleased that the old training was still in effect.  She smiled, but made a pretended meow of disappointment at my success in stopping the motion.  Wagged her finger at me playfully.  "See?  You can't deny what's natural to you, can you?" she said lightly.

I didn't answer, just sighed inwardly in frustration.  Went and put a kettle of water on for tea.  Put a lace doily on a china serving plate. Put a selection of cookies up.  Looked out some of my best china.  Dusted the cups and saucers with a tea towel.  Put them on a tray.  Put the sugar bowl and creamer on the tray.  The water was just coming to a boil so I made the tea. Put a cozy around the pot, put it on the tray and returned to the living room where my guests were sitting.

I sensed that Mummy wasn't overly happy, but didn't know how to placate her.  I tried though, being as feminine as I could in my actions and demeanor.  It didn't help much.  She was looking at me, a mean expression starting to show.

She finally had to get it off her chest.  "I know our visit was unexpected - I wasn't totally surprised at how you're dressed - but you could be a little more hospitable - yes?  I mean, you had enough time while the water was coming to the boil.  Don't you CARE how you appear around me any more? Do you want Marjorie to think I taught you nothing?"

I was stupid enough to open my mouth, soundlessly, in an indication of my despair - I knew perfectly well what she was telling me to do.  She arched her eyebrows at me imperiously.  "I think I've been very patient and understanding with you.. don't you agree?   Isn't it time you reciprocated?"

'Oh God!'  I thought despairingly to myself, but didn't allow any of my inner turmoil to show.

"Yes.  I'm sorry, Mummy."  I said.  "I really am. Would you mind taking over as hostess?  I'll only be a moment."

She nodded approvingly, her expression softening.  "Yes.  That's a nice pot of tea.  I'm sure we can manage - cream and sugar Marjorie? - Until you return - acting properly?"

I went into my bedroom.  Knew that I had to get rid of my guests before Denise arrived.  There was still plenty of time, but the sooner I went along with Mummy, the sooner that she and her new friend would leave - maybe I could then get back to the way I wanted Denise to meet me.  I opened the right hand side of the closet.  Examined what was there.  Made my selection.

Less than ten minutes later, I rejoined the two women.  A tight gray woolen skirt that fell modestly below my knees.  Tan stockings. White pumps with a two inch heel.  A crisp white, long sleeved blouse - shirt front with a large 'V' collar, opened to show just a touch of my lace edged slip.  Ruffled at the cuffs.  A single strand of black pearls.  Earrings to match.  My 'feathered' hair moved over to a different part - held in place by a black barrette.  Just a touch of cosmetics - lipstick, blusher, eyeliner and mascara - the absolute bare minimum of perfume.  Some tissues in my bra.  Not enough, mind you, to 'over - present' my bust - just a device to fill what otherwise would have been empty cups.  A frilly 'hostess' apron to replace the previous one.

Mummy nodded approvingly, and turned to her friend. Marjorie looked at me, the question obvious on her face.

"You do look much prettier now! I would never have guessed."  she said.

Mummy gave a tight smile, pride beaming from her.

"When he's dressed properly, he answers to 'Priscilla' - it's far more suitable. Don't you think?"

Marjorie coughed politely into her fist.  Fluttered her eyelashes at me provokingly.  "That is a pretty name,"  she agreed.  "You don't mind?"  She asked me.

I smiled, and nodded my head.  "Of course not Marjorie.  May I call you Marjorie?"

She simpered at me.  "Oh!  Absolutely!  I hope we will be good friends.. Priscilla."

How can I put it?  To the best of my memory, Mummy never taught me how to act like a girl.  But I defy any male. Be made to put on a skirt and blouse over lacy silk underthings.  Put a pair of 'heels' on over nylons.  Make it a tight skirt.  Wear these, and other feminine clothes over a period of time - see what happens to your 'manly' way of walking then.

I'm telling you.  Your stride will get shorter.  The high heeled shoes will have two effects.  Your leg muscles will tighten up as your feet come down on the floor more firmly.  You will develop a little 'sway' to your backside.  This may sound ridiculous, but it's true.  Then, add a filmy blouse with long sleeves.  Make it transparent enough that the lace of your lingerie is almost visible.   Take note of your arms.  Do they now swing back and forward as you walk, or do they take the more feminine attributes - not swinging so aggressively - hanging passive and docile as you move along?  Now?  Sit down.  See if you don't pull the hem of your skirt down when it rides up above your knees.

But that is all beside the point.  Now walking, talking, dressed like a woman.  Smelling, acting, like a woman, I had joined Mummy and Marjorie in more than just the physical sense. I was now 'accepted'.  By shucking my male clothes and persona, I was now just another woman - their 'hostess' - and they seemed to relax now that I had become one of their own.

But where time had dragged before their arrival, it was now flying.  I poured myself a cup of tea and joined in their conversation - primarily the level of service one got in department stores nowadays - and the cost of clothes and cosmetics.  Nothing of much import.  But every time I caught a glimpse of the clock, it seemed like another fifteen minutes had gone by.

Marjorie started pressing until I had to show her around the flat.  She was very complimentary about my color schemes and the fabrics I had chosen.  "It's so nice,"  she gushed "to meet a young .. eh.. man with such nice taste.  Are these the drapes your mother said you'd sewn?"  Blushing, I admitted it.

In my bedroom, I blushed even more.  Like an idiot I had left the aprons I had made my choice from, lying on top of the bed.  She pursed her mouth in silent approval, picked up one of the filmier ones and put it against her body.  Checked her reflection in the mirror.  "This is really gorgeous!  Would you.. I mean, would you mind..  Could you make me one like this?  I'd pay you of course...?"

And I blushed at her compliments.  Said that I'd be glad to make her one. Even left the possibility open that I'd make some for a friend or two.

When we got back to the dining room, I was given a terrible shock.   Mummy was busy in the kitchen making lunch!  It was close to two-thirty.  I tried to console myself with the fact that I still had about three hours before Denise arrived - plenty of time, but I still had to get rid of them, get the place cleaned up, get showered and changed.  I started to perspire slightly.

Settling into a relationship now, the three of us worked together and prepared lunch, then sat down in the nook - Mummy didn't want to be a 'pest' - so the nook was preferable to the dining room  "and it's much cozier. We can have a nice chat, just the three of us.  And are we having a guest for dinner?"  She added coyly, though turning away so that an answer wasn't required..

And, after eating, I started to clean off the table.  Marjorie offered to help, but I smiled and said I'd manage.  As I came back to the table, she beamed at me.  "I must say, "  she said.  "I've never met a young man like you before.  So well behaved.  So good in things that matter!"  She turned to Mummy.  "You really are to be complimented.  How did you..?"

Mummy thought for a second or two, her face softening with pleasurable memory.  It wasn't too long before she told Marjorie what she wanted to know.

"He was always kind of delicate.  I had such a time keeping him from hurting himself.  Wasn't one of these horrible little noisy boys.."

"And they are awful! Aren't they?"  Marjorie chimed in.  But how could you stop him from..?"

"Well, with his delicate health, I was given permission to educate him at home.  I had a series of lady tutors for him.  Told them that I wanted his education to be well rounded - not just these horrible masculine subjects like math and engineering - but sewing and home economics, cooking.  Practical things.  How to do my hair.  How to do his own.."

"Do his own?  But wouldn't it be too short for..?"

"Oh!  I hated those boy's haircuts.  Didn't cut his hair much at all. Then one of the ladies complained that it was too long to keep neat.  I don't know where she got the idea from to do what she did.  I just may have told her that I hired his tutors based on their intelligence - and, if she couldn't figure out some way to make it presentable...?"

She paused.  Smiled reflectively.  "He looked so pretty after she set his hair for him... I knew it wasn't quite.. proper, of course... but he raised such a fuss that I couldn't very well let him think that he could tell me what was what. After that was clear, she showed him how to do it.  I'd tease him about being a little boy with  girl's hair, but if he reacted too much.  Why, I'd make him wear panties - or a ribbon in his hair - perfume."

She looked away from Marjorie.  Turned to me. "I was just thinking about your tenth birthday party,"  she said to me.  "A big turning point! Wasn't that fun?"

She ignored my pleading look, and turned back to Marjorie.

"Oh.  There definitely were other times when he was naughty - arguing with me, not doing as he was told, wanting to have his own way .. You know?"

Marjorie nodded in agreement.  "Yes - and kids get worse as they get older, don't they?"

Mummy reflected for a moment.  "Truthfully?  I never found that to be the case.  Of course, the party I threw for him that year might have had something to do with that - let him see that I was a reasonable parent, but that I wouldn't tolerate him being naughty."

"What was he doing?"  Marjorie asked.

"Oh.  I don't remember all of his escapades.  It was fifteen years ago. We were on vacation and he was like most children - very good at annoying their mummies.  I may have been upset that the school authorities were demanding that he start going to an accredited school when we returned home, but the one thing that really upset me was his choosing playmates that I didn't care for - a gang of three noisy, rowdy, little boys.  I mean he had lots of little girls that he could - and did - play with but, against all my wishes - against all my warnings,  he continued to sneak off once or twice a week to be with these little hoodlums."

My mind flashed pictures of the three little boys - ex friends.  Hoodlums indeed!  Just three little kids - wanting to play cowboys and Indians, or spacemen, practicing swear words and spitting - but I was jolted back to the present with mother's continuing anecdote.

"Then, when I was making up the list of friends for his party, he insisted on having these boys attend."  She pursed her lips.  "I did try and tell him that these were not suitable playmates for him - and that if he persisted in asking them, he would be hurting my feelings terribly."

She gave me a sidelong glance.  "But he didn't care.  Wanted these boys. Demanded that they come to his party!  Had little tantrums!  Stamped his feet!  Cried like a little girl!  In fact it was then that I got the idea.

Marjorie gave a sympathetic snort.  "You didn't give in to him, I hope?"

Mummy smiled.  "Of course I did!  What's a woman to do when her little man gets all macho - making demands - saying what he is and isn't going to do?  Of course I invited his little boy friends."

Marjorie shot a look of unadulterated sympathy towards Mummy, then a glance of admonition at me.  I ignored it - for I knew how the story turned out.

Mummy continued.  "It was just a little party.  Four little girls, the three boys - and him."  She tittered.  "But I called one of the girl's .. What was her name again.. Toni?  Yes, that's right. Toni was her name.  Asked her if she'd mind coming to the party in jeans and a shirt.."

"But didn't she mind?"  Marjorie asked.

"Oh no!  She was a real tomboy.  Just loved wearing 'rough' clothes.  I really liked her.  She was so much fun!  Just like a real boy!""

Marjorie looked puzzled.  "But wouldn't that cause an imbalance?  I mean, four little boys - and a tomboy in jeans.  Just three little girls?"

Mummy laid a hand softly on Marjorie's arm.  Smiled at her.

"Well.  It may sound very naughty.  But I really had to, you know?"

"Had to what?" Marjorie asked, eyes suddenly gleaming.

Mummy smiled.  "Balance it up, one way or the other."  Turned to me.  "Remember how you fought?  How you argued?  How you cried?"

I smiled an adult smile, in embarrassed acknowledgement of my childish immaturity in having argued with Mummy.  Looked down at the table.  She turned to Marjorie again.

"I went and bought him the prettiest little party dress.  Pale yellow. White lace shawl at the collar and hem.  Little puffy sleeves. A pink satin sash tied with a big bow at the back. A cute little petticoat.  Panties.  Even a little training bra.  White cotton socks.  Pink patent leather shoes.  Permed his hair in the cutest style, and put a pink ribbon in it to match his sash.  He was so pretty!  Then I made him stand in the hall in his dress.  Greet all of his little friends as they came in.  Made him wear it for the whole party."

Marjorie flashed me a 'serve you right' look.  But was smiling now.  "How did his little friends - the boys?  React?"

"At first, I think they were kind of .. frightened? .. Sorry for him?  I don't know.  But you know?  Feed boys cake, lemonade, party games?  I think they got caught up in the demands from their stomachs. Then, when I put the music on for dancing.."

I remembered the total humiliation.  Actually being led onto the dance floor by Toni - and having to dance the girl's part - the only part she would let me do.  Watching my friends nervously ask the other girls to dance - then gradually forget about me as they started jumping around to the music.  Then there I was, dancing with the other girls while Toni and the boys played some rough game.

"And.." Mother continued.  "You know how children love to give each other 'birthday spanks'?"

Marjorie nodded.

"Toni - would you believe this?  Only eleven, if she was that much?  Made him go over her knees, lifted his dress - and spanked him on his panties!  In front of everyone!  Then held him there for everyone else to take their turn.  It was so funny!  He even cried - such a sissy!  I mean they didn't spank him that hard - and he didn't seem to care that the three other girls were all jealous of his satin panties!  So then Toni suggested that I put makeup on him to cover up his tear marks!  Pancake, lipstick, blush!  Even a little mascara! Honestly!  It was a riot! - I even got a little evening bag and made him carry it for the rest of the afternoon - to hold his makeup, you know?"

Marjorie glanced at me again.  But no rancor in her glance this time - justice had obviously been done.  "What happened to the little boys?"  She asked Mummy.

Mummy shrugged.  "I don't know.  They seemed to have a good time.  Toni sort of joined them - like one of the boys.  That's when she changed his name from Paul to 'Priscilla', because about then, he seemed to have, you know, 'joined' the girls.  Fitted right in, giggling and laughing, letting them use his makeup, freshening up his own lipstick in his compact mirror.  I never saw these boys again after they left."

She turned and looked at me again.  Smiled.  "But he knew how to get back into my good books.  Really pleased me.  Came and asked if he could wear dresses and pretty underthings for the rest of the vacation.  Naturally, I knew that he was toadying up to me - he didn't really want to dress prettily, but I let him - on the condition that he play with Toni every day.  It was so cute seeing the two of them together.  Her all boyish - him such a 'cute' little girl.."

"He didn't give you any trouble after that?"  Marjorie said.

Mummy looked reflective.  "Oh.  Can't say that over the years he didn't give me any trouble.  He'd argue about a color in a blouse I liked for him, or a skirt.  He developed a taste for the brightest red lipstick for a while .. "

My mind started to wander, remembering Toni, and what happened after that party.  Mother had always thought, I knew, that she was the one who had taught me all of my feminine ways. She was responsible in some things - but the real teachers had been Toni's mother and her elder sisters.

A couple of days after the party, she'd taken me around to her house to meet her family.  Made no bones about the fact that I was a boy underneath my feminine clothes - but explained that I liked to dress like a girl.  Her mother and sisters, twins - older than her by about four years, were scandalized at the fact that a 'boy child' should be such a sissy.  I found that Italian families like hers had very definite masculine and feminine roles assigned to each sex.  Accordingly, I was treated with a great deal of open scorn for going against their stereotype.

At the same time though, I think that they had been upset with Toni for her abandonment of her sex.  Now that they had me, this was at least some indication that other families had similar problems.  Toni's mother started to delight in having me in the kitchen with her.  Both of the sisters got  similar enjoyment in having me try on some of their clothes that they'd grown out of - making me up, doing my hair.  In the meantime, Toni became the 'man' of the house (their father was dead), and was treated with all the respect normally accorded to that person. It soon became obvious that any sign of masculinity from me 'reminded' the mother and sisters of my true sex, and more humiliation would be heaped on.  When I was nice and feminine though, I was accepted as one of them, and was treated just fine.  I learned quickly to hide any evidence of maleness, becoming simply accepted as Toni's girl.

She demanded like behavior from me, especially around other girls.  I found that she especially enjoyed it if I made some comment about her to them - something along the lines - "Oh that Toni!  Just like a boy!"  Then I'd roll my eyes and sigh dramatically.

She even took me to the movies for one early show. Had me sit in the back row with her where she kissed me and put her hand up my dress a lot.  Leaving, we met one of the boys I'd been friends with coming in with his mom and dad.  He looked kinda embarrassed. Later on, when I saw the mess that Toni had made of my makeup, I understood why.

My musings were snapped back to what was going on around me.

"But?  I don't understand?"  Marjorie was saying.

Mummy looked puzzled.  "Understand?  Understand what?"

"When you got back from vacation?  You made him go to school as a girl?"

"Oh no!  I wouldn't do that!  Just at home, you know?  There, I liked him to dress properly.  Know how to cook.  Make a dress from a simple pattern.  Even learn how the other half live.."

"Eh?  How the...?"  Marjorie butted in.

"One time, we had this cute little maid.  Irish, she was.  So nice.  He was mean to her one day - really bossy you know?  I want him to respect all women, so, just for a lesson, when he was on summer holidays I bought him some pretty uniforms.  Made him the junior maid, under her.  She ended up teaching him a lot of manners, I'll say that.  A lot of people would say that I was mean to him but, you know, young people nowadays - you have to.."

"Oh yes!"  Marjorie responded.  "I don't think that we mothers get the credit we're due."  She smiled sympathetically - patted Mummy on the arm.  "What do they call it now on the T.V?  Tough love?"

Mummy sighed.  "Yes.  Sometimes we have to be cruel to be kind.  Don't we?"

Marjorie thought some more.  Turned to me.

"But.. I don't understand.  Why are you living here.  I mean.. By yourself.  I mean.. Like a man..?"

I started to answer her, but Mummy waved an imperious hand at me to be quiet.

"Well, I'll tell you Marjorie.  When he turned twenty-one he came into some money that my mother had left to him. Against my wishes again, he went to college.  Started getting ideas about being  .. you know... masculine?... Again.  I had such a difficult time getting him to admit that all his education there was worthless - he was a better housewife  before  he went there than when he came back.."

"But Mummy!"  I interrupted.

Her face hardened.  "What color of panties are you wearing?"  She snapped.

"Oyster."  I replied, gulping.

"Nice satiny, lacy ones?"

I nodded.

"Well Priscilla!  Interrupt me again, and Marjorie will see them when I put you over my knee.  You're not such a big girl that I can't, you know."

I shrunk in apology.  She continued the story to Marjorie.

"He'd been my .. companion, I guess you'd call it for the last few years before going to college, but started getting all moody and grouchy when he finished his schooling.  Crying that he wanted to be on his own.  Make his own mistakes.  We finally came to an agreement.  I'd give him an apartment for six months.  Give him enough money to get by - more than just to get by, wouldn't you say Priscilla?"

Still dominated by her, I nodded in full agreement.  "Yes Mummy.  You've been very generous."

"And.. He could do anything he wanted.  Get a job.  Support himself.  But if he didn't.. Well then, he comes back to Mummy.  Becomes Mummy's little girl again.  Gives up all this macho nonsense for good!"  She turned back to me.  "How long has it been now?  Over five months, eh?  You haven't got a job yet, do you?  How's about it?  Would you like to give up now?  Come home with me tonight?"

I wondered where the time had gone.  Mummy was right.  I'd had more than enough money, so that I hadn't really been under any great pressure to get work.  Somehow a great deal of time had gone by in shopping for the furniture, making my drapes - cleaning, painting.  I'd only applied for about two jobs - and neither had even answered my application.  Then I'd met Denise Jackson.  Been totally infatuated with this attractive, confident, bright young intern at one of the best hospitals in town - was actually hoping to propose to her that very evening.  I didn't know how I was going to contribute towards the marriage (if she'd have me), but felt that I'd manage 'something', given enough time.  Maybe, if I could get away from Mummy for a while - not be so financially dependent on her?

I looked at the clock.  Almost three thirty.  Had to get rid of my guests, but mother was still looking at me expectantly, waiting for her answer.

"Thank you Mummy.  Honest.  But can't I have the rest of my time?  You did say six months.  Please?"

She shook her head, somewhat aggravated.  "Very well.  You're bound and determined to get your own way, but I guess a promise is a promise.."

I smiled.  "Thanks Mummy."

She brightened.  "Well.  I'll show you there's no hard feelings.  When Marjorie and I were in Saks today, I saw the nicest outfit.  Then I saw some really pretty lingerie.  'Why'  I thought  'that'll make the prettiest homecoming dress for Priscilla.  I was going to wait for a week or two before give it to you, but I don't think I can wait.  It's in the hall.  Think I'll go get it.  Ended up, I got you a whole outfit - everything!"

While talking, she'd gone and picked up the parcels she'd left there.  Brought them to me.  "Here"  she said.  "Hope you'll like them."

"Aw.  Thank you Mummy.  You shouldn't have."  I said weakly, taking them from her.  We then froze for a second.  She broke the ice.

"Well?  Why don't you just open them up? Maybe see how you like them?"

I did as I was told.  Carefully opened the parcels so as not to tear the pretty wrapping paper.  Gave a little squeal of pretended delight, not altogether phony, at seeing the confection of light blue frothy lingerie in one parcel. A shiny heavy evening skirt, in a light beige - a lengthy slit in it.  A draped teal chiffon blouse with a silk lining, Teal shoes to match in the last box.

"So why don't you try them on?"  She looked at her watch.  "C'mon.  Please?  Let me see them on.  But hurry?  I'd really like to beat the traffic."

I breathed a sigh of relief.  I was tight for time now, but if I hurried, I could make it.

"Oh yes Mummy.  I'd love to!"  I said.

But it was well after four o'clock when I presented myself for inspection.  I'd had a problem in finding the shade of hose I wanted.  Knew they were in my drawer, but had to practically empty the whole thing before I found them.  Then noticed how untidy everything was in the drawer.  Completely emptied it, and repacked it in a far neater manner.  Also felt that my makeup wasn't right - was too 'daytime'.  So creamed it off, then put on a heavier base - wetter lipstick, sparkled eyeshadow.  My hair wasn't the way I wanted it either, so I did a quick curl job, and that took a few minutes. (Something at the back of my mind was trying to remind me that I was running out of time.  Like the four wasted years of college - it was if I couldn't bestir myself to do anything that would free me from Mummy - like the six months period I'd just wasted - like the hours that were sliding away this afternoon - but some more time went by as I re-did my lipstick liner, opting for a darker shade.)

But I looked, and felt, smashing when I was finished.  Everything fitted perfectly.  The skirt was rather limiting in that it was slim line, but the slit allowed my nylon shod legs to glide through.  The shoes were a little higher than I had become accustomed to, but presented no real problem after I practiced walking the length of the room a few times. The blouse was sleeveless, but I do have rather nice arms - though I say it myself.  Quite happily I joined the other two.  Smiling, I walked across the room and pirouetted gracefully in front of them.

"Lovely!"  Marjorie said with a little gasp.  "How pretty you look!"

Mother nodded appreciatively.  "Yes.  Suits you to a 't'  but what kept you?  You were well over a half hour.  Looks like we'll get caught in traffic if we leave now.  May as well stay for dinner - we can send out for something.  What do you say?"

I was stunned. What had I done?  I'd had time.  All I'd had to do..."

My thinking was interrupted by the phone ringing.  I picked it up.  It was Denise.  My heart lurched.  Maybe she was going to call off our date?

"Are you decent?"  Was how she opened the conversation.

I looked at my evening ensemble.  "I'd say so."  Was my reply.  "Why d'you ask?"

"Great!"  She enthused.  "Just checking that I didn't catch you getting ready for me.  I was going to change at the hospital, but I got off early and a friend was coming out this way.  I'm down in the lobby. You won't mind if I change up there, will you?" 

She was going to see me in women's clothes!

"But - Mummy's here."  I faltered.

"Say that again."  She laughed.

"Why?"

"You sounded so cute when you said 'Mummy' - just like a little girl!  C'mon, say it again."

"Mummy's here."

I heard her giggle. "Great!  I've been wanting to meet her.  Be right up."

With that, she hung up the phone.

Dumbstruck, I put the phone down.

"Who was that?"  Mummy asked.

"Denise.  A friend of mine."

Both women glanced at each other, something peculiar in their expressions.

"Better go and let her in."  Mother suggested.  Don't want to keep your visitor waiting, do you?"

"She's not 'exactly' a visitor, Mummy."  I said.  "She's really.."  I plucked up my courage..."My girlfriend - and she's here for dinner."

Mother didn't react the way I'd expected.  "You look awfully worried Priscilla.  Do you think I'll object?  But why should you think that?  I've never objected to you having girl friends..."

Marjorie butted in.  "Audrey?  I think he means - a 'romantic' type girl friend.  Is that so Priscilla?"

I blushed crimson and nodded agreeably.  Marjorie pressed the point, a strange tone in her voice.  "You're attracted to this girl sexually?"

I blushed a deeper shade and nodded again.

"Very good!"  She said happily - just as the doorbell rang.

What could I do?  I opened the door. Denise stood there, smiling directly at me.  She was in jeans and a sweatshirt.   Carried a holdall in her hand.  I'd expected that she wouldn't recognize me, then be shocked when she did.  But it was me that got the shock.

"Priscilla?  My god!  It must be!  You're beautiful!"  She said, coming forward and kissing me with a nice firm kiss on the lips.  I stood stock still for a second, then snaked my arms around her neck and curved my body against hers.  Closed my eyes in delight.  I'd never been kissed like this before.  Her hands slid down my back, gently probing the lines of my bra and slip under the blouse, then downwards to cup my buttocks possessively. I felt as if my body was melting.

"Don't you think that's enough Denny"  I heard Marjorie say.  "Priscilla's been showing how well mannered she is - now don't be a bad mannered lout in front of Audrey.  Say hello!"

Denise let go of me.  Turned towards the two women who had come alongside us. "Yes Marjorie.  I hear you."  She stuck her hand out towards Mummy.  "Hi Audrey.  We get to meet face to face, finally!"

I was in a total daze.  But everything was made clear a little while later.  Sitting on the couch beside Denny (I'd discovered that she preferred it to Denise) her arm around my shoulders, my head resting on her shoulder, she explained.

"It really was the most fantastic coincidence Prissy." (She'd bestowed my new nickname on me almost immediately).  But Marjorie (her mother)  finally gave up on me getting interested in a man .. Well, a real man .. See, I kinda like the girlish ones.  One day, she met Audrey..  Bridge club?  Something like that?"

The two women nodded.  Denny continued.  "And they got to chatting about the difficulties in bringing up children with.. say, gender confusion.  All of a sudden 'hey?'  Maybe we could make a match?"

"Is that the coincidence you mentioned Denny?"  I asked.

She leaned over.  Kissed me.  "Oh no sweets.  There's this real butch lab technician at the hospital.  Months ago, was telling me about this little boy she knew when she was a kid on vacation.  His mother dressed him like a little girl - guess he was her girlfriend for quite a while."

"Her name wasn't Toni?"  I gasped.

"A big prize to the lucky lady!"  She said cheerfully.  "Right first time!"

"But how did you find me?"  I asked.

"Would have been easier if I'd been able to go down there in person, but I had to write letters, make phone calls - find out who rented that house that year.  Believe it or not, Marjorie told me about meeting this woman .. who had a son..  And I found your name the other way.. Within a week of each other."

"And that was the time you were whining to get away from me"  Mummy said.

"Couldn't have worked out better!"  Denny said.  "Being on your own, gave me a chance to met you 'accidentally'.  See if I liked you, you liked me."

"But you thought I was a man.  Didn't you Denny?"  I asked pleadingly.

She smiled sympathetically but shook her head.  "Not really, Prissy."  She turned to the other two.  "Honestly!  He really did try.  But it was like a girl in boys clothing.  When he forgot to concentrate, he'd make these dainty little hand motions.  Then he'd really examine what other women were wearing.  Show all sorts of interest in commercials for  cosmetics on TV...Really look at dresses in display windows of department stores"  she kissed me again.  "Honest.  You were so sweet.  You didn't know where you were half the time."

I was stung a little.  "I thought I did o.k."  I said huffily.

"Oh you did.  You did."  She answered.  But remember the night we went to the hospital dance?"

"Yes.  I didn't make any mistakes there.  I'm sure of that!"  I said positively.

She grinned and shook her head at the other two.  "I pulled his chair out for him.  He sat down.  I opened doors for him - all night - and he walked through.  I ordered the drinks, paid the tab.."

"Well.." I said.  "These things.. anybody could do them.  Wouldn't notice.."

"And the dancing?"  She teased.  "The three waltzes in a row that you enjoyed so much?  Remember how you wondered why a couple of the girls at another table were looking at you kinda funny?"

"They were drinking too much. That's what that was.."

"No Prissy.  Not that at all.  These three waltzes.   You took the girl's part.  If you'd had a dress on, it would have been flowing.."

She paused.  "And? I'd left my evening bag beside you.  Remember?"

"Vaguely."  I answered.

"You weren't that vague when you went into it and freshened your lipstick."  she chortled.  "No wonder these girls were giggling!"

"So you knew all along?"  I said sadly.

"Yes. Priscilla.  I did.  But I loved you for it.  You really did try.  But now you're dressed the way you should be, acting the way you should be.  You're my girl now ..Right?"

Before I could answer, Mummy interrupted.  "But he's my son too, you know.."

Denny spoke firmly. "Priscilla's a she!  She's my girl now.  Does what I tell her.  And I don't want to be rude, or mean - but I don't want you calling her a 'he' any more.  We're going to get married...."

I jumped with excitement, and she kissed me again.  But I couldn't restrain myself.

"Honest?"  I squealed.  "You really mean it?  I was going to ask you!"

But then I had to voice my fears.  "I don't rally know what I can bring to the marriage"  I said.  "I'm not really trained for a job you know.."

She kissed me again to silence me.  When she pulled back, she allayed my fears immediately.

"No job skill?  What are you talking about?  You're exactly what I need.  You can cook, sew, keep house.  You'll be nice and obedient - and you're pretty!"

"I don't know if I can afford a big wedding Denny"  Marjorie said, as Denny finished.

"But Audrey can.  Can she not?  And I thought it was the mother of the bride that paid for the wedding?"  Denny replied.

Mummy caught on immediately.  "Of course it is.. And I still have my mother's wedding dress.  Was always too small for me - should fit him.. I'm sorry Denny.. her.. with no problems."

It dawned on me finally what Denny was actually proposing.  I quivered with a mixture of fear and anticipation but felt starry eyed with pleasure.

"And I know a couple of girls I could ask to be my bridesmaids"  I said excitedly.

THE END