Where there’s a will ….

You can never be sure how changes will happen …. but where there's a will, there may be a way.

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After the turmoil of the divorce, Jack and myself, John Johnson, had moved far away from our old haunts and lived on the edge of an old forest near the village of Eldwood in Somerset. Apart from a single neighbour about quarter of a mile away there was no one nearer than at least a mile.

The floods and storms of that February and March isolated us for many weeks. My house still needed some work doing on it so I really relied quite often on Nancy and her two daughters Diana and Cathie. It meant that I could do more on the house while Jack was looked after. Although sometimes the urge to help got to him and some of the work was done with the two of us. The girls were fantastic. Kind, helpful, full of ideas of how to entertain a twelve year old boy a couple of months older than Diana and a year older than Cathie.

Nancy and I had a series of late night conversations. Some more serious than others. One evening, I learnt that she too was all alone against the world. She never went into the details but she said her parents were dead and the wider family was, to all intents, non-existent. I said much the same. My father was dead too, my mother was ill and had, in effect, decided that my wife was a victim of my behaviour rather than the other way round. I never said my wife wasn’t clever and manipulative.

The next night we got serious again. I had had a phone call from a remaining friend that my mother was very ill. What was I expected to do? I wasn’t flavour of the month or even decade but I did feel some responsibility. Then I heard that the once-loved Rayna had stepped in. I wasn’t going back there. If she stole my inheritance, I’d be quite angry but there wasn’t much there apart from what the bank would leave of the house.

In passing, Nancy mentioned the troubles her three cousins had had with there not being a will when her father, Nancy’s uncle died. He had had a power of attorney and had made some notes but ‘no will’. The cousins had little in common what with there being ten and twelve years between them. They argued, they fought, they squabbled, they called in lawyers (one each) and almost all the money went on fees.

Nancy felt almost embarrassed to tell this story. I said, “it wasn’t you that made the several mistakes, you aren’t responsible for your relations. Some relations can be worse than enemies – because you are so unready when they turn against you.”

She nearly smiled at that. “Then it’s us against the world, eh?”

“There’s some good people out there – just recently tho’ I haven’t met many of them.”

“So if we’re going to get our future arrangements in place, wills and so on, there’s only thee to look to me and me to look to thee.”

“I wasn’t going that far.”

“Why not. I know you’ve only lived here for a year or nearly, but I’d trust you – and have – with C & D (that was how she often referred to Cathie and Di]. If I weren’t around who would I most trust to do their very best for aforementioned C & D. You’d be on the list. And these days, there’s only a list of one.”

“What. What do you mean?”

“Do I really need to say it even more bluntly. As regards a will, which I hadn’t updated since the family went kerbang – I am willing to leave everything to you – house, debts, children, chickens, everything. I’d trust you to do a better job than anyone I can think of.”

I sat back in the very comfy chair and said “Wow.”

I sat a little longer, very slowly drinking my wine and thinking. Nancy eventually asked “And … well … any response coming?”

“That’s a big ask – but, no, I can see that as a real option – and I’d definitely do the same in return. Now the idea has been put forward.”

“Wow – back to you.”

“I think we need to think about this. I think I think there’s a lot to be said for it from my point of view. If I’m gone, disappeared, bent, broken or otherwise incapable – then what would happen to Jack. God forbid that the SS, oops sorry Social Services, should get their hands on him. No, never.”

“I might have said it differently but having had a friend whose children were in care for only a couple of months - again – no, no, no, never, never, and even more strongly never. So I think that leaves you with me and me with you as the immediately sensible option. Yes?”

“Since this is going to be a cross-family multi-inter-swap, to mangle and abuse some jargon, we need to run this past a lawyer. To make things solid and secure.”

“In the morning, I’ll come over and we can draft some ideas, yeah?”

“Sounds good to me. There’s a glut of eggs so you can come for eggy breakfast.”

“When’s that – about eight.”

“Being a weekend, yes. A bit earlier on schooldays if we’re not doing an on-line day.”

I’d better explain. Even though this was in the days before online schooling was common, being so far from the school and having limited transport, the Head and Nancy had agreed that the girls only had to go in on certain days. The Head liked testing out his on-line methods with his staff and a willing family; the family liked it too. I had joined the scheme after a term of struggling. It was working well for Jack and for me.

“Sounds good, if not tasty too.” Home-grown eggs eaten outdoors taste fabulous.

The will-swap and the implicit child-care look-after swap still looked very sensible in the morning. Nancy had done some research, a lot of research actually, through the night. Reams of paper; Lists, schedules, forms a lot.

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Time passed. Some years in fact. Jack spent a lot of time with Diana and Cathie. Once in a while I thought something strange was going on. Perhaps, again hindsight, it was the refusal to have his hair cut. Oh, and the willingness to take over the washing and ironing. But I suspected nothing until I saw some pictures on Jack’s phone of a day out in Borchester. There were no pictures of Diana, Charlie and Jack. There were selfie pictures of Diana, Charlie and another girl. It took a moment or two before I realized. There were three teenage girls on show, laughing and giggling and obviously having a good time – and Jack was one of them.

I took a deep breath.

“Jack, did you realize which pictures you were showing me?” I held out the phone. I did not expect the reaction.

“I’ve been trying to tell you for ages, Daddy. Sometimes, when I go out with D & C, I dress up so that we can go as a team. It just felt silly being a boy all the time, when they are my best friends and I want to do BFF things with them. How much trouble am I in?”

“You’re certainly in trouble for not telling me what was going on. You’re in trouble for taking the risk of dressing as a girl when you’re not. And I’ll have to think about all the other sorts of trouble I can attach to this, presumably, long-running and likely-to-continue escapade. Are you planning to keep on dressing up? How long have you been hiding this from me? And what else should I know?”

“I’ve have been hiding it, I agree, but not really lying as you never asked what we did. I guess I have been deliberately uninformative. It began about eighteen months ago – that time I told you I got really filthy and muddy helping out with the old chicken shed. I had to borrow some clothes – and guess what – in a house full of girls, there’s only girl-type clothes. Cathie lent me a sundress because it was so hot – and I really loved the feel of it. It was just wonderful. Over the next month or so, I gradually tried on more and more and there was so much to enjoy. The colours, the materials, Oh, the feel of stockings – it’s divine. Ooops, I nearly said you should try it – but that’s a step rather too far.”

“So, it’s a regular thing. Does Nancy know?”

”She didn’t KNOW until recently. I think she’d guessed – but mostly we only went out when she was out for the day and we knew we’d not be caught by her. But she did find out from seeing some of Cathie’s photographs so we decided that we had to come out into the open with you. I’m very sorry Daddy.”

“What are you sorry for? Being caught? Dressing up? Sort-of-Lying to me? I’m wondering how long to ground you for – but the girls are your only friends and that would punish them too. I think they need to be punished but that needs Nancy and myself to come to some sort of agreement.”

“In the meantime, I’m going to be astonishingly adult and sensible (not that those two always go together – I want to see my daughter for dinner. Go and get dressed – and what’s your name?”

“Jackie, of course. I won’t be long.”

I drank a large scotch while I waited. And I wondered whether to ring Nancy immediately or later. After about 15 minutes, I heard the unusual noise of heels clip-clopping down the wooden stairs. Jackie was obviously putting on a show for me. My Jackie was actually a really pretty girl – longish straight hair curled under in a long bob; a pretty red and white sundress, stockings or maybe tights – and a visibly female figure. Hips, waist and boobage.

“You, um, I’m startled. You look very pretty. Just like I would want my daughter to appear. There’s clearly been a lot of practising going on. I mean, when and how long did it take you to learn to walk in heels – I was told it was really difficult. And the boobs – where did they come from, what are they, and all the other questions you know come with it.”

The boobs are just B-fillers inside an M&S bra – it’s amazing what you can get from Amazon. But, yes, we practise, they’ve had to learn about walking in heels at the same time.”

“Where’s your girl-wardrobe?”

“I do keep some here, especially now I do all the washing and ironing. And I’m still much the same size as C & D.”

“I think I’ve had enough and heard enough for tonight. I’m going to find time to speak with Nancy tomorrow – and I’d rather you didn’t report back to any of them until I have spoken, yes.”

“Of course, Daddy.”

Looking back, I am amazed and very pleased with my lack of explosion. It’s not every day that you discover that your only son is at least a transvestite. How much further he might be going down the T-line was going to be a potentially rough road.

I slept badly. Constantly going to the computer to look things up. I wasn’t unaware of the T-world. One of my friends at college had been a cross-dresser and I had joined him-her once or twice for an evening out – three or four of us, mind. Although, when persuaded, I had been out with her for a couple of evenings. Her femme personality was astonishingly different from her pale male. That alone had persuaded me that there ‘must be something' to this need to cross-dress and even go further. Jemma, as far as I knew, was intent on going further – she was certainly taking hormones and eager for castration. She was uncertain about the, what she called, the full works.

One of the last times we went out, she said ‘Just to be treated as normal, that’d be nice. I’ve never been able to understand any part of the man-world. I’ve always been attracted to the way girls work, how they cooperate instead of compete. I love it, them, well, us now. I’m leaving college and I’m going to be a woman. For me it’s obvious. I think I can pass as a woman. You and my other friends seem to think and behave so. Out in town I never get those sly, nasty glances any more. Nor the outright glares of disapproval. So I feel confident. The other new-girls I’ve talked with say ‘if you feel confident and look typical – then you should be alright’. That’s the road for me.”

I hadn’t seen Jemma except once since college and that had been an accident. She had looked, well, in her words alright. Very happy. I wondered if I still had any contact details – perhaps she could give me some guidance.

Then I realized I barely needed it. Jackie knew what her plans were. She probably knew what she wanted. I just had to ask.

Words were spoken – some harsh, some with understanding, some with lack of it. Jackie was after all still a novice as far as the outside world was concerned. So she had things to learn. And as an average human being – I had things to learn as well.

It turned out that Jackie just loved being alive. Jack was very content being a boy and Jackie was very happy being dressed as a girl and treated as a girl.

I asked, “Apart from Nancy, Cathie and Diana, does anyone else know?

There was a hesitation before Jackie (she was in a dress so it was Jackie-time) said, “I’m pretty sure that nobody knows. Nobody has said anything or indicated their concern.”

“Or shock, or horror, or disgust, or willingness to be very nasty – there’s all those big, vicious, ugly, abusive possibilities too. And with some it’s past possible to probable and then certain. You tread a risky path, darling.”

“I do know that, Daddy.” Jackie always spoke of Daddy; Jack still used dad.

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There was bad news next Easter. Nancy had found a lump a while before. And what with work and all, she had ignored it. By the time, she did divulge to her doctor, it had become ugly, significant and urgent. Fortunately, the combined medical decision was for a reasonable time in hospital. Nancy had hoped for something more home-based but their view was they needed to be able to deliver constant monitoring.

They did say there would be little need for intensive care except at certain stages.

Whatever – Nancy decided that this emergency medical situation would and could be treated as a trial run for the Swap (which won’t happen we hope). In her emails she had abbreviated this to Swapwwh. Whatever she called it, we were going to give the 'Will' a trial and it apparently would be for several months. Nobody knew and avoided wondering about the risk of Nancy not coming back fit and well. The medics talked in terms of 'long careful monitoring' not of 'life-threatening'.

So, Cathie and Diana moved across to my house – again we weren’t going to let the SS anywhere near. And my spare room was big enough for two girls, while Nancy’s wasn’t big enough for a dad and his boy-ish-girl-ish, y’know, my Jack-Jackie.

When we had all got ourselves more or less sorted, I called them in for tea. “So – it’s just girls in this house now.”

“You’re wrong, Daddy. YOU’re not a girl,” said an excited Jackie. This time, she was wearing another sundress as usual but with a single petticoat to give it shape. I think she enjoyed the feel and the sound as well.

And the three of them jumped into an over-excited mega-girl huddle. Yes – three can be a mega! Somehow I knew they were thinking and talking about whether they could get ME into a dress. Huh, Fat chance. Mentally and especially physically - too fat for a start. Too much sport, cylindrical body – I mean even my trousers were willing to plummet past my hips if I didn’t wear a belt.

“Okay, okay, simmer down, ladies. We’ve got things to arrange here.”

Gradually they calmed down. I could still see the interested glances and the wondering thoughts – so I ignored them. Now, I hear you ask, when should a male ignore the plans of a group of females. The answer is – NEVER.

It took three weeks before I was let into their plans.

I only needed to work occasionally as my sort of near-military consultancy was done both from home and by visits - and they did pay me large fees. I came back from a work trip in that last week before Halloween to be told ‘we want you to try on your Halloween costume, we’re going to have a party.”

“What pagan ritual dost though have me partake. Vile revelries, witches, potions, spells and sundry nastiness. Have at ye, my ugly ducklings.” And I pounced. Not very hard and so I couldn’t catch a one of them. They fled, giggling even louder than usual.

Fortunately it was still a warm September. My costume was as I guessed. A skirt and blouse, panties, tights, I was glad to see no bra - but there it was under the skirt with some large boobage. I hadn’t guessed in advance but the skirt was in a soft jersey, a material I enjoyed watching. I guessed that Nancy had helped with this. Even from intensive care in hospital.

I heard a soft scratch at the door. “Do you need any help, Daddy?”

“I think not. Seeing your dad in a fumbly sort of disarray wouldn’t be good for me or you. Depart, varlet.” I had some confidence that I would be able to arrange the harness in some adequate way. It looked like a powerful piece of elastic was going to be strapped round me. And I didn’t have much idea about tights and how to avoid snags. But I had seen both items attached and detached a lot of times – so I guessed it would be okay.

Fortunately, I managed. Then I put on the shoes, more ballet-flats and walked around my bedroom a bit. Long enough to feel at least comfortable. I knew without a wig or any makeup that I was going to be very obviously a learner at this cross-dressing game. But hey ho, it was going to give my girls some pleasure.

And it did.

Once they had finished sniggering at the half-and-half thing that came down the stairs, they treated me pretty much as normal. Until I dropped crumbs on my boobage. More hilarity.

When I went to bed, there was a nightie on the pillow. I wondered how long they wanted me to join in this pretense.

So, once we were all up, and I was in a different dress than the elves had sneaked onto my bedroom chair sometime in the night or while I was in the bathroom, I had to ask.

“Well, my ducklings, I need to know. What are the plans you have, how do you expect me to join in? Do you want me to dress up just this weekend, or more often? Or what? You’ll know that I’ve never done this before. You may have done it all your lives. Or just more recently but rather often, like Jackie. But this is new to me – I’m pretty sure I don’t want to do it often. I certainly don’t want to make a habit of it either. Speak up, duckies.”

Cathie, to my surprise, was the first to speak. “Some of what we want is, we do know, a bit silly, Some of what we want is hopeful. We aren’t slick city-dwellers. We’ve grown up in a lovely part of the countryside – with a mother and nearby father-thing. It’s been wonderful. Our father wasn’t the best and you’ve been a wonderful alternative. We can’t and won’t call you our father because that gives you responsibilities and duties which are more than we would ask. We are so grateful to you. And you’ve done a fantastic job with both Jack and Jackie. We know it could all have gone wrong when Jackie came on the scene – but you’ve done so well.”

There was a pause. “I had no idea you felt like this. I’m incredibly proud and honoured to be labelled like that by you. All I’ve ever tried to do is my best. And to know that you – and Jackie – think I’ve done well is, um, great. But while I’m enjoying, I think, giving you a bit of a laugh, or a thrill even, by dressing up tonight – it’s not going to happen again.”

“Oh, Daddy,” wailed Jackie. “Can’t we have a Daddymum sometimes. You don’t look that upset.”

“Tiresome child, I didn’t say never. It’s just not a thing I’m comfortable with. And everything I’ve read says that if the person isn’t happy and comfortable then they shouldn’t be pressed.”

But that evening, wearing the skirt and outfit they had chosen for me – it was different – and not awful. I had no idea of how things would progress.

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As things stand, Nancy is on the road to recovery. The two, nearly three, girls are having a wonderful time. Jack does turn up now and again which we both, well actually all of us, enjoy that.

And I’ve been Daddymum a couple of times more. I’m not volunteering y’know. But I feel Jack needs the endorsement; and it’s not as if it’s painful. We keep my dressing to ourselves, that is, just the five of us. I’m not stupid enough to take the 101% risk of being out in public. There is no way that a person of my shape and hairiness would ever look reasonable to an outsider. But the wearing of clothes occasionally, I see no harm to Jack-Jackie or my new family or me. And that is how I think about my child. SHe says there's no decision been made yet - apart from rather emphatically 'I like being a boy and I love dresses too; I like a bit of both.'

It may be wishful thinking, but would Cathie (the more likely) or Diana be the eventual partner for a Jack-Jackie-type person. They all seem very happy with how things are. And it may be my imagination, but they hold hands and cuddle more than I would expect. Perhaps I should speak to Nancy. Soon.

The new family might have begun with talking about a will, but times move on. Now that there's three girls, Nancy and I are still the grown-ups. But depending on life, and Jack-Jackie's final choice, let's hope there’s always a way.

If you're wondering what Nancy thought, well, she's much like me. If I'm supporting JJ with getting dressed now and again, then she's willing to take the same view. I wondered whether it would change our relationship but, so far, it hasn't. The big change is that the families spend even more time together - returning home just to sleep in a variety of bedrooms. But, you nosy parkers, both I and Nancy still sleep separately.