Dreamer: Part 5

By Tanya Allan
Original Version Copyright © 1972
Revised version Copyright © 2012

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Philip Coates is seventeen and convinced that he is not only trapped in a boarding school for boys, but also trapped in the wrong body. He spends most of his time lost in a world of his imagination. In this world he is the girl he always wanted to be. The girl who screams at him to set her free in every minute of every waking hour, and most of the sleeping ones as well.

Trapped in a social square hole, he becomes simply what everyone - parents, friends, teachers - want and expect him to be. He knows that he wants to be a round peg, but will, in reality, never make it.

Well, he wakes up one morning convinced that his dream might just be coming true.. or is it?

The signs are there, but then again, are there other explanations for what he is going through?

After a rough few days, the girl is set free.

The future is now gloriously uncertain and fresh, as she sets out on a journey, turning her back on her school, her friends and her old home.....

........or is it?

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My thanks again to PEGLEG for assistance with proofing

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This is a shorter part, the reason why will be obvious when one reaches the end.

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Dreamer: Part 5

By Tanya Allan

Lizzie was late for work, again!

I’d been working here for a month. I found that I liked Lizzie immensely, but she was as vague as they come. Fortunately her father wasn’t, which was a great relief.

John Barry was a Welshman, married to a Scot, who had settled in Edinburgh some thirty years ago. Lizzie was their youngest child, of three. She was also their only daughter. Her father was a Chartered Accountant, working in his own firm of Barry, Briggs and MacPherson. The boutique was Lizzie’s mother’s idea. It was supposed to stir Lizzie into some activity that would give her a degree of independence and try to ignite some spark in her. She was so laid back about everything that I think they had been despairing. Into the whole hippy, flower-power scene, she lived for her music and vacant life-style; something with which both her parents and brothers could not identify.

Her phone call about employment regulations and tax had startled her father. He had no idea that Mandy had left. He was therefore unaware that Lizzie was several thousand pounds overdrawn after buying out her friend and ex-business partner.

When I returned to the shop, I was met with a crying Lizzie and somewhat cross father.

My first thought was that I would have to find a new job, so said as much.

“Not a bit of it. Pippa, is it?” John asked.

“Yes.”

“Well, now you’re here, I think you’re the best thing to come along for Lizzie for a while. I’ll deal with the tax and employment stuff. Have you got your National Insurance details?”

I handed them over. He made a note in a very precise hand in a small black notebook, handing me the documents back.

“Great. I hope you two get along okay. I’ll see you at supper,” he said to his daughter, kissing her on the forehead.

“Sorted?” I asked, after he left.

“Sorted,” she said, smiling weakly. “I’m not very good at this sort of thing.”

“Never mind, we can’t all be good at everything. So, how about you show me what you want me to do?”

Not a lot was the answer.

There was a small room at the back, with a tiny stockroom and a loo. Then there was a backdoor that led out to an alley where the bins lived.

She showed me how everything was priced. The cash register was an antique and was very simple to use. There were a stack of credit card vouchers to go with the embossing machine. She showed me a template with all the necessary numbers and codes already printed on. I got the gist of what was required quite quickly.

“We have limited stock, so when it’s one, it’s gone. If you get a chance, take a look in the stock-room and replace any of the tee shirts if there are any spares. There won’t be any of the dresses, as I get them on a week by week basis. There might be a skirt or a pair of trousers, but if there isn’t, tough.”

It seemed a rather lackadaisical way of running a business, so I said as much.

“Well, it’s worked up to now,” she said. “Occasionally we get someone who wants something that we’re out of. Just make a note of it in the book and I’ll get one the next time I go over.”

“Yes, that’s fine, but wouldn’t it be better to keep some stock of those things we often run short of, and then keep the most popular sizes?”

“I suppose. But, as I said, it’s worked fine so far.”

Who was I to argue?

Over the next couple of weeks, we did initiate a new stock control and ordering system. We kept a record of what sold and what didn’t and ordered the stuff three days before Lizzie was due to go and pick the stock up. That way we could keep better track of what was being sold and have the more popular items in stock.

I knew that girls wanted what they wanted now. Often if there was a delay, they’d go and buy something else from a competitor.

Business wasn’t exactly booming, but we did a good trade amongst the younger age group, from fourteen to thirty. I revamped the window display, adding some colour and a splash of the jewellery. I persuaded Lizzie to buy a large job lot of posters, which sold very well. We had all the latest heart-throbs, like Donnie Osmond, David Cassidy and Marc Bolan.

Life settled down, with Thor working all hours in the pub and me in the shop. We managed to sneak an hour every afternoon after two, and then I’d pop into the pub after work. We became strangely domesticated, adding our weekly wages into a kitty after we were paid. I had every other weekend off, and in between, I had the Sunday and Monday off. That suited us fine, as Thor was off every Sunday and Monday, with Saturday being his busiest time.

On Wednesday of the third week, I received a rather shocking little visitor. Any doubts I had over my current gender were dispelled. Not that I had any, but flooding one’s knickers with gungy, bloody mucus rather confirmed what I thought I knew. If you get my drift?

I can’t admit that I enjoyed the experience, but at least I knew two things. One, I wasn’t pregnant, and two, I could be if I wasn’t careful.

Valarie returned from her meetings in London full of enthusiasm. With other meetings and auditions to arrange, she stayed only a couple of days and then set off back down to London. We negotiated a rent, after which she let us stay on at the flat. To be honest, apart from sleeping, we were hardly there. I spent every Sunday morning tidying up, doing the washing and house work.

It was in about the fourth week at the flat, on a Sunday evening that we were together in the flat watching TV. After the national news they ran the local news show. I was in the kitchen fixing us some supper when I heard it.

“The search widens for the schoolboy Philip Coates, who has been missing from his school for over a month.”

I ran into the sitting room and stared at a photograph of my male self on the TV. The reporter continued.

“The boy was reported missing when he failed to show for classes and a search of the college failed to locate him. His parents were informed in case he had gone home without telling the school. However, his parents have not seen Philip for over eight weeks and are concerned for his safety.

“The Headmaster of the school stated that there was no apparent reason for the boy’s disappearance.”

The scene changed to outside the front of the college. There was the head, looking rather more dishevelled than I recalled. Somehow he looked smaller and less imposing than I remembered him.

“Young Philip is a popular boy, a keen sportsman and an intelligent lad. There are no reasons that we can think of for him just to up sticks and disappear. Certainly, had there been any, we would have known. We’re a close community here, and all the boys know that they can come to us with their problems. Philip has always been attentive and participates in every aspect of school life. It is highly out of character for him to disappear.”

The reporter took over once more.

“Police are baffled, as there have been no sightings of the boy at all.”

A uniformed Tayside Police Inspector looked nervously into the camera. Unused to undertaking such interviews, his voice sounded somewhat forced and stilted as he gave a rehearsed statement.

“Ah, we urgently require anyone who might have , er, seen, um, young Philip on of after the fifteenth of, er, October. He was last seen in his house on the previous evening. A friend of his stated that, eh, he was not in his room when he went to, um, wake him on the morning in question.

“We would urge anyone who, um, might have seen the boy heading away from the college, either on foot or in a vehicle to come forward. There is reason to believe he was in Perth during the day, as his bank card was used at a cash machine. It has not been used since. You might have, um, seen him using the Bank of Scotland ATM during that morning. If you did, then please come forward. We are not certain what clothing he was wearing, but suspect that he was wearing jeans and a leather bomber jacket.

“He is a slim young man, not far off six foot tall, with fair hair that is over the collar. As far as we know, this photograph is the most recent and is a good likeness.”

They then showed a photograph that had been taken about three months previously. I smiled, as I knew that I looked nothing like that boy.

Thor said, “Do you know him?”

“No,” I lied.

“Why the interest?”

“I know the area, and we met in Perth on that day.”

“Oh.”

He changed the channel while I returned to the kitchen. It made me think. In all the excitement I hadn’t really given a lot of thought to those I’d left behind. I was thankful that Andy hadn’t said anything. I smiled. Who would have believed him, anyway?

I’d like to be able to ring Andy, but knew that there was no way I could. There was one phone in the house for urgent calls only. It was always answered by the housemaster. That ruled out calls even by friends and relatives, unless they were urgent.

There was another public phone box just down the road from the school, but the chances were that no one would be there. The only thing I could do was to write him a letter and get him to call me either at the flat or at the shop.

I had neither the time, nor the writing paper at the flat. However, when I was at work, I managed to write a quick letter to Andy. I was careful to use a very different handwriting style, just in case anyone intercepted it. I doubted that they’d do such a thing, but it was possible if a full investigation took place. I was also careful over what I wrote.

Dear Andy

I’m sorry I haven’t written sooner, but I’ve been busy with my new job. It was great to see you that last time. I’m sorry that we didn’t get more time together, but, hey, that’s life!
How are you enjoying school? I’m ever so pleased that I left and am in the real world. Mind you, I’d quite like to be stuck in a school like yours with all those gorgeous boys!
I heard on the news that a boy was missing from your school, a Philip something. Do you know him? What’s the story there? Did he get fed up or has he got a girlfriend somewhere?
I have to go, as I’m working in a shop. Sometime people can be a real pain and come in to buy stuff.
This is just a note that I haven’t forgotten you. You’re a great kisser, by the way. If you get a chance then ring me. My numbers are up top of this letter. The lower one is my work and the other one is my flat. I’m not in very much, as when not at work I am round with my boyfriend.

Lots of love

Pippa.

I posted it on my way home from work later that day. I wondered whether he’d get a chance to reply. Hopefully he’d call me, but then I wondered what the hell I could tell him.

Work got hectic, for some reason our clothes were popular with teenaged girls. I think someone famous wore a skirt and top similar to the ones we sold. In any event, the next few days were very busy, so I forgot about the letter and would get back to the flat too tired to pop round to the pub.

It was on such an evening, a little after nine, when the phone rang.

Thinking that it was either Valarie or for Valarie, I answered it without hesitation.

“Hi, Pippa?” said a familiar voice.

“Shit, Andy?”

“Yup.”

“Wow, you got my letter?”

“Yup.”

“Fab. Um, how are you?”

“Okay.”

“How are things at the old place?”

“Weird. The police have been around a lot.”

“Really? Is that because of the boy that went missing?”

“Um, yes.”

“Have they any idea what happened to him?”

“No. Even his parents have been over to go through his room. Just in case there was a note or anything.”

“Oh.”

“So, how are you doing?”

“Okay. I’ve got a job, but I told you that.”

“Yeah, and you mentioned a boyfriend.”

“Oh, I did, didn’t I?”

“Yes. Who is he, anyone I might know?”

“I doubt it. He’s Norwegian.”

“Norwegian?”

“Yeah, Norway is full of them, apparently.”

He laughed.

“How did you meet?”

“Um, in Perth. Just after, oh, well, just after I arrived there a few weeks ago.”

“Okay?”

“We met in a café, and well, we hooked up to come to Edinburgh. One thing sort of led to another.”

“Another?”

“Don’t go there, Andy, okay?”

“Okay, I won’t. So, what’s the job?”

“It’s just temporary, until my contract starts after Christmas.”

“What is, the job?”

“The job is just working in a small clothes shop. The contract is for a part in a TV series. I’m going to be an actress.”

He was silent.

“Andy?”

“You’re pulling my plonker, aren’t you?”

“No, I promise. Look, I went for a job as a model, and didn’t get it. My tits are too big. Anyway, I met this woman and she liked me, so I did a screen test and it looks like I’m playing a part in a TV series being filmed after Christmas.”

“Wow, great. How big a part? Do you get any lines to speak?”

“Um, I suppose so. It’s the leading role.”

He was silent again.

“Anyway, enough about me. Did the police speak to you about the boy?” I asked.

“Yes. I was the last person to see him,” he said.

“Really; what did you tell them?”

“The truth. I last saw Philip Coates before I went to bed. I never saw him in the morning. He wasn’t in his room when I went to wake him up.”

“Gosh. Did they believe you?”

“I think so. They’ve no reason not to.”

I had a thought.

“Are you in the phone box up the road?”

“Yes, and it’s pissing down.”

“Is it safe for me to speak openly?”

He laughed.

“Yes. No other sod would come out in weather like this.”

I still wondered if the police would tap the phone. I’d just seen a movie in which the CIA tapped everyone’s phone.

“How’s the Head taking it?”

“Not well. He thinks that it’s all his fault, or something. He’s had the housemaster in to give him a real roasting for not seeing any warning signs.”

“That’s not entirely fair, is it?”

“I think the board of governors are causing a stink. This kind of publicity is bad for the school. People may not send their sons here if they think there’s bullying or something going on.”

“That’s bollocks,” I said, getting cross.

“That’s how they see it.”

“Okay. Do you think a letter from the boy would make things easier?”

“I don’t know, possibly. What kind of letter?”

“I don’t know. I think if he writes and says that he had a crisis which is no one’s fault but his own, it might make things easier. He could say that he’s fine and well and doesn’t want anyone to find him, just yet.”

“It might help. Look, Pippa?”

“What?”

“The boy’s mum, she was really cut up.”

It was my time to be quiet.

“Pip?”

“I’m still here.”

“Look, I’m…….”

The pips went, signifying his money had run out. I just had time to tell him that I’d call him back.

Moments later, I called him back.

“Sorry, I only had twenty pee,” he said.

“It’s okay, this is my boss’s phone.”

“I thought you were at your flat?”

“I am. It’s her flat. She’s the woman who wants me to play in this TV series.”

“Bloody hell, so it’s true?”

“Yup.”

“Wow. That’s great for you,” he said.

“I hope so.”

“Are you happy?”

“You have no idea.”

“Can I say one thing?”

“What?”

“Philip’s mum. She needs to know he’s okay.”

“Okay. I think I agree. But not yet.”

“Don’t leave it too long.”

“Okay. Thanks, Andy. Thanks for being a friend.”

“Shit, what else could I do?”

I laughed.

“Not a lot.”

“I’ll call you again, if I get a chance.”

“Thanks,” I said. “Bye for now.”

After he hung up, I sat and cried. I don’t know why. Perhaps what I’d left behind did matter after all.

I was asleep on the sofa when Thor got home. He was cross that I hadn’t gone round to see him. I explained that I was tired, to which he said he was tired, and now we were just going to bed and the whole thing would happen again tomorrow.

We had our first argument. Both of us were tired and I was stressed out having been reminded about my parents. I couldn’t explain it to Thor, so we went to bed hardly speaking.

He was snoring in no time, with his back to me. We hadn’t had sex for three days, and I suppose that was stressing him out as well.

I must have gone to sleep, because I dreamed again.

It was very real.

I was back in that room. The one with the flouncy bed and the whiteness everywhere. The place where she had lived until I set her free.

There was a boy in the room.

I knew him.

“Hello,” he said, standing up. He was wearing the clothes that I’d last seen him wearing.

“Why am I here?” I asked.

“I don’t like it here. I want to go home.”

“You can’t. It’s my life now.”

“That’s not fair. My parents will be worried, and they don’t know you.”

“It’s perfectly fair. I was in here for years. You’ve only just got here.”

“You shouldn’t exist at all. You’re unnatural.”

“I’m what?” I asked, getting angry.

“Normal people are either a boy or a girl, not both.”

“I’m not both. I’m a girl.”

“We’re both.”

“That makes you as unnatural as me.”

“It’s still my life. I was the one they wanted.”

“No, you were the one they got lumbered with. I’m the one that we know we always wanted to be.”

He was silent.

“I want to see my parents. I miss them,” he said.

He was crying.

The mist came in and swirled about us.

“Phil! Come on you dozy bastard, wake up!”

Reluctantly I opened an eye. I shut it again rapidly, as Andy Cairn was leering into my face. I wanted to be back in Edinburgh, not here. If I was here, then that meant….

Still with my eyes cloded, my hands sought my crotch.

“NOOOOOO!” I yelled, making Andy fall backwards in surprise.
I sat up, scrabbling my T shirt off.

“NOOOOOO!” I repeated, as I stared at my flat, masculine chest.

“This can’t be happening!” I said, hearing a baritone voice in my ear.

“Oh God, no. Please God no. This just can’t be happening!”

Andy stared at me.

“Fuck me, Phil, I only just woke you up,” her said.

“What?” I asked, staring blankly at him.

I was back at school, in my old bed. Nothing seemed to have changed.

“Look, I know you said you were feeling odd last evening, but hey, don’t take it out on me,” he said, looking worried.

“What day is it?” I asked.

“What?”

“The day, what day is it?”

Andy told me.

It was the day that I’d woken up as a girl and left the school.

I sank back on my bed with my hands over my eyes. This just couldn’t be happening.

“Come on, Phil, get a grip, we have to get going. We’ve History straight after chapel, and I bet you haven’t done that essay we talked about.”

“This can’t be happening,” I said.

“What can’t?”

“This. All this. I left all this behind. I’m not this any more!”

I was babbling.

“Phil?” Andy said, his expression showing me that he was more than worried now.

“Look, Andy, this isn’t real. None of it. I have to get back. Just leave me alone for a bit. I need to wake up. This is just a bad dream, so if I go to sleep in this dream, I’ll wake up in the real world.”

“Phil, have you lost the plot, old mate?”

I looked at him. He was my friend. He looked concerned, but I couldn’t deal with this.

“Andy, just go. I’m not well. Just go and leave me alone for a bit, okay?”

“Do you want me to get someone; matron, the doctor?”

“No. Just leave me and tell anyone who asks that I’m not well.”

“That’s no lie.”

He left.

I sat on the bed hugging my knees.

My brain was in a whirl.

I remembered leaving this bloody place. I remembered Thor, and Edinburgh, the shop, the TV job, and the sex. Oh boy, I remembered the sex!

I looked around me. The room was exactly the same.

Was this a dream, or was the other a dream?

I lay down and pulled the covers over my head, shutting my eyes and feeling the tears of frustration and anguish leak from my closed eyes.

This was no way reality!

“ALL RIGHT!” I shouted. “All right. I’ll see mum and dad. Just let be go back, please!”

I started sobbing then, and I suppose I must have passed out.

When I woke up, it was dark.

I lay still, not daring to move.

Was I a girl in Edinburgh, or was I a boy in school.

Perhaps they moved me to hospital.

Was I having a breakdown?

Was this a secure, mental hospital?

Was I strapped down?

I was reluctant to move to find out, because I knew that if I discovered that I was a boy once more, I would just want to die.

I moved my hand down……

...............................to be continued.