I awoke feeling a bit tired–perhaps from my troubled sleep–thinking about Jane and the disco, or maybe simply tiredness from shopping the day before. Tired from shopping? I’m a girl for goodness sake, it must have been Jane and her perishing disco.

It was eight o’clock when I struggled down to breakfast, Mummy was seated at the table eating toast and reading the Times. I yawned ‘hello’ and kissed her on the cheek. She likes these little things, which James never used to do. I flopped down in the chair with a box of cereal and poured cornflakes into the dish, then some milk over them.

Mummy looked at me over the top of her paper, “You seem tired, young lady?”

“Yeah, I like, didn’t sleep too well.”

“Why was that?”

I didn’t really want to tell her, so I fibbed, a sort of half-truth, “I was like, thinking about the disco tonight.”

“You were so excited about it?”

“Yeah, I like, suppose so, trying to work out what to wear.”

“Oh, my poor little goose, you have so little in your wardrobe, so little the door doesn’t shut properly.” She grimaced at me.

“Well, I like, don’t know what to wear, I’ve only ever been to one disco and that was at the school. I like, had Simon with me then, now I’ve only got Jane.”

“You said you were going with a group of girls.”

“Yeah, but I don’t like, know any of them, do I?” My voice rose a little at the end of the sentence.

“Don’t get aggressive with me, Charlotte Church.” Now she was annoyed.

I felt like crying, “I’m sorry, Mummy, but I don’t know any of them, do I?”

“I don’t know who you know and who you don’t, but I do know it would be good for you to get to make more friends with the girls you’ll be with in school.”

“Yeah, I like, know.” I shrugged.

“So why the pout, Missy?”

“I’m nervous. It’s like, bad enough if I’d been born a girl, with the possibility that they could know of me from before, like makes me nervous.”

“There’s not much we can do to avoid that, unless we move to a new area, which would mean selling this house and losing the support network we already have. In your case, your friends, the doctor and Mr King.”

“Yeah, I like don’t ever want to leave this house, ‘cos Daddy built it,” that did it, my apparent tiredness and the sudden memory of my father, sent me over the edge and I started to cry. Mummy moved her chair around to comfort me, and she hugged me.

“It’s just you and me now, Charlotte, we have to support each other.”

“I know, I just like, miss him so much.”

“So do I, darling, so do I.” I felt her weep a little too and I felt rotten for making her sad as well. We hugged for a few minutes and felt a bit better. “You don’t have to go out, if you don’t want to, I’ll ring Jane and tell her you don’t feel well.”

“I can’t hide from them forever, can I? So I like, might as well, get it over with.”

“You’re such a brave young woman, your daddy would have been so proud of you.” I saw the tears run down her face and I started crying again. Mummy passed me a tissue and started laughing. “Look at us, red eyed and miserable, and the sun is shining, come on, get yourself dressed and tidied up and we’ll go for a walk.”

“Okay,” I smiled back at her, not because I felt happy but in recognition of her attempt to cheer us up. I would shower or bath before I went out tonight, so I washed and tied my hair back in a ponytail. I dressed in jeans and top, with my trainers and strawberry socks.

“What, no makeup?” asked my mum.

“No, I like don’t feel like it, today.”

“How about just some lip gloss?”

“Okay,” I went into the cloakroom and smeared some on my mouth–it sounds as if I didn’t care, I did. I did it carefully but in some ways I didn’t care, I suppose I felt down or depressed.

It was quite warm and dry, so I pulled on my pink hoodie, and we linked arms and walked away from the house. “The washing will be done by the time we get back,” said my mother.

“Yeah, I’ll help you to like, hang it out on the line.”

Mummy squeezed my arm, “I thought you might.” I could feel the love pouring into me from her gesture, and I had to sniff back a stray tear. She was an absolute brill mother, and I loved her to bits.

We passed one or two people she knew and we spoke briefly, but not for more than a moment or two. Then when we got near the florists, she led us in and picked up a bunch of flowers that she must have ordered. We paid and she carried the flowers in both hands. It was one of those done up in plastic stuff with like a bowl of water in the bottom.

“Do you want me to carry those?” I offered.

“No, it’s fine thanks, they’re not that heavy.”

“Where are you taking them?”

“You’ll see presently.”

I suppose we walked a half a mile longer and we turned into the lane that leads to the church. We don’t usually go to the church unless I’m singing, and after the Cliff Richard thing, it felt strangely quiet.

We didn’t enter the church, but walked around it, to the graveyard. We didn’t usually do this, so what was going on? She led me to a part of the cemetery where there were no gravestones, just little flat name plates. Then I knew.

In front of me in brass attached to a small flat stone was my Daddy’s name, his date of birth and that of his death. I felt the tears well up in me. I didn’t know he was here.

“Daddy was cremated as you know, I had the ashes interred here. I didn’t tell you before because you were so upset, but I think you ought to know now. Would you like to lay these flowers by his name plate?”

I took them from her and nodded. I could hardly see where I was going with tears and I nearly fell over once. I stood them by his name and took the old, dead flowers away. Mummy took those off me, and asked me if I’d like to be alone for a moment. I nodded, and I presume she went somewhere to dump the dead flowers.

I couldn’t get my head around the fact that a once, tall and strong man, was buried under a brass plaque about the size of one of the paving stones on our patio. I cried and told Daddy how much I missed him and when Mummy came back we hugged and cried together.

I don’t know how long we were at the grave, or what ever they call it, Mummy said, interment or inhumation or something. When we left, I was exhausted and I’m sure I looked a right sight. We interlocked arms and strolled home, this time without seeing anyone.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” I asked.

“Charlotte, I’m sorry, but I had to deal with my own grief before I could help you with yours. I hope you understand?” I didn’t, but nodded anyway. I know she would only do what she thought was in my interest, so I had to believe her.

Back at the house, we sorted the washing and put in the second load, or Mummy did, I hung the clean stuff out on the line. It wouldn’t take too long to dry.

After lunch, Mummy suggested I take a nice luxurious bath, she even let me use some of her bath oil, not the cheapo Dove stuff I use, but Estee Lauder. It smelt absolutely gorgeous and frothed up a treat. I got in the water and once I dealt with the shock of sitting in hot water, I lay back and enjoyed it. I certainly didn’t think of England, because ten minutes later I was fast asleep, if it took that long.

I woke up coughing and spluttering. Must have slipped down the bath and got a mouthful of water–not so nice, but as no damage was done, I could see the funny side of it. The water was getting cooler, so I reckoned I’d probably been in there half an hour. As the bath emptied, I showered, washing my hair and rinsing off the bubbles from the bath oil. When I dried, my skin felt so soft, it was really gorgeous, Simon would have liked touching it, and I suspect I’d have liked that too. I became aware that my nipples were standing up and I felt myself blushing. Silly, no one could see me, but I was becoming aware of my body and I didn’t really want anyone to see me, except maybe Simon.

I examined my breasts in the mirror, they were growing a bit, still only an A cup, but I was only thirteen, and might be considered a late starter in the boob department, having taken the pills for only six months. I wasn’t complaining, Jane wasn’t much bigger, and it was amazing what I could achieve with a booster bra and some creative use of padding.

I dried my hair and decided I’d put it up. If we did much dancing it would get rather warm and I didn’t want sweaty hair; after a while it smells and it’s not very comfortable, let alone elegant. Elegant, me? Ha, that’s a word Mummy would use, me, I’d rather be kewl. Elegance is for old ladies of at least thirty, kewl is for kids.

I dressed, a camisole top with my push up bra, shorts and my footless leggings. I thought I looked quite good, my shorts showed off my small waist and the contrast at my widening bum. I thought I had a nice bum, least Simon said I did.

I put on a bit more makeup than usual, eyeliner top and bottom, mascara, blusher to highlight my cheekbones and a darker pink lip gloss. I did my nails to match the lippy and waited for them to dry. It was five o’clock. When my nails were dry, I pulled on my black boots, they have a four centimetre heel and come nearly to my knees. I can walk a bit in them, so hopefully I’ll be able to dance in them too. I put on a few bangles and my wristwatch, some dangly earrings and quick squirt of smellies and I was ready.

Because she knew I’d be bouncing around on the dance floor, Mummy did a light meal which I enjoyed, then after a quick cuppa, I helped her clear the table and then pulled on my denim jacket and grabbed my bag.

“Have you got your mobile phone?”

“Yes, Mummy, and my lippy and my tissues, and my money, and my comb, and my compact, and my anti-gorilla spray.”

“Your anti-gorilla what?”

“Spray, it keeps gorillas away.”

“We don’t have gorillas within hundreds of miles of here, except the zoo.”

“Shows how well it works then.” I beamed her a smile and she smiled back.

“If you run into any problems, give me a ring and I’ll come and get you.”

“What sort of problems?” I suddenly felt uneasy, had she thought of something I hadn’t?

“Anything, from feeling fed up to having a squabble with Jane. I wasn’t being specific, just supportive. You did say you were ambivalent about going.”

“No Mummy, I said I wasn’t sure to go or not.”

“Yes, ambivalent, that’s what it means, you were vacillating.”

“Oh no, I don’t want any injections, thank you.”

“Sweetheart, I said vacillating not vaccinating.”

“Oh, that’s alright then.” She was just showing off with her big vocabulary. Unfortunately, I can’t get her back–I don’t know any big words she doesn’t. Still that would be cheeky, wouldn’t it, and she does do her best for me.

Instead of letting me walk, she drove me over to Jane’s house. Jane introduced me to Suzy, Zoe, and Chloe. She informed me we were waiting for Daisy, who was always late.

Zoe had shorts on too, but she was wearing sparkly tights and Ugli boots. Jane had a mini with leggings and trainers, and Chloe wore a checked dress which flared just below her bum, she had on boots with huge heels compared to mine, and she could walk in them. They were quite pointed in the toes and the heels were stiletto ones, I felt a mixture of contempt and jealousy. They were way kewl, but she was too young to wear them. Her makeup was a bit extreme as well and during the chatter we had while waiting for Daisy, she explained her boobs had grown when she went on the pill–the contraceptive pill. I was horrified. I mean I was taking the pill too, but I couldn’t say that, I didn’t want them to think I was that sort of girl. Chloe was fourteen already, but that’s far too young to be having sex–or was it all talk?

I admired Zoe’s shorts and she said she liked mine. I got mine in Miss Selfridge when we were up in town–she got hers in Next. I noticed her legs were fatter than mine, but then so she was all over.

The bell rang and Jane let Daisy in. I sat next to her in Jane’s Mum’s car. “Do you go our school?” she asked me.

“I’m going to in September.”

“You look familiar–you don’t sing, do you?”

“A bit why?”

“You remind me of that precocious cow who was on the stage with Cliff bloody Richard, I mean, who’d be seen dead with that old fart?”

I decided I wasn’t going to let Jane drop me in it later. “It was me.”

“What was?”

“I’m the precocious cow who sang with Cliff Richard, he’s a lovely man, and I’m really glad I did it.”

She blushed and spluttered, “You were quite good, actually.” After that, we didn’t talk until we got to the disco.

Thanks to Gabi who interrupted her Burns Night to express edit this wondrous tale. A:)