"Don't you recognise me?" I asked. "No," he replied. "Don't you know your son-in-law?" I asked. "But you're a woman, I just saw your, well you know," he stated.   A Mother's Love - Part 8 by Alys

I laid Bekka down gently in the travel cot. I breathed a quiet sigh of relief as, after a little whimper, she resumed her peaceful sleep.

I was so exhausted, physically and emotionally, after the journey and the revelations about Mary that I just wanted to lie on the bed and crash out, without bothering to change my clothes. I forced myself to take off my dress, my tights, my bra and pants. I looked around for my suitcase for my PJ's.

There was no sign of my suitcase.

Strange thoughts of someone having broken into the house while we were at the hospital to steal my stuff came to mind. A sudden cold breeze rushed through the window, flickering the thin curtains and touching me with a chilling caress. I felt goosebumps forming on my skin and my nipples begin to harden.

Where was my suitcase?

I looked under the bed, without any success and then my exhausted, barely functioning brain remembered.

It was still downstairs in the living room. I hadn't brought it up with the travel cot. I considered my options. I didn't want to put my dirty clothes back on. I didn't want to walk round the house naked. I looked around the room for something suitable to wear.

I spotted a small pile of clean clothes on a chair next to the wardrobe in the room. I carefully looked through them and near the bottom found a blue nightdress with a bodice that looked like it would give me some support. I pulled it over my head and, after adjusting it a little, found it a mostly comfortable, if slightly tight, fit. I quickly took out some clean nursing pads from my bag, inserted them in the appropriate places and finally got into bed.

Sleep came within seconds.

What seemed like seconds later, but according to the clock was nearly four hours, my precious daughter was practising her human alarm clock routine. To avoid her cries waking Andrea I sleepily rolled out of bed and picked her up. I stuffed my finger in her mouth to suck while I worked out how to free the source of my hungry child's midnight snack from the bodice of my nightdress. After a few seconds of contortions I realised that the only answer was to push everything down to completely expose my upper body.

The only good thing about sitting up in bed, bare breasted, at around 2am, was that the cool night air coming in through the window stopped me falling asleep again. It was very much an auto feed. I was glad when Bekka had had enough and went back to sleep. My return to the arms of Morpheus took seconds again.

I felt the warm sun on my face. I opened an eye. The morning sunlight was pouring through a narrow gap in the curtains and illuminating my face. I had a strange feeling of confusion about the room that I was in. It looked so unfamiliar. Where were my familiar posters on the wall. The walls were such a different colour. Where was I?

"Waaaaaaaaa.......waaaaaa," the voice of Bekka waking and wanting my attention pulled me back into the reality of where I was. At the same time I became aware of a wetness on the front of my body. I jumped out of bed, quickly stripped off my wet nightdress. I picked up my daughter, quickly changed her, and then sat back in bed, putting her to my naked breast.

I felt much more comfortable with the central heating having warmed up the bedroom nicely. I pressed the radio button on the clock radio in the room. The station 'ident' was just being repeated.

"This is Classic FM, and time for some early morning Mozart, the Vienna Symphony Orchestra with the overture to the Marriage of Figaro," said the relaxed announcer.

"Great", I said to myself, " Mary's favourite too, I hope you like it sweetie," I continued as I stroked Bekka's head gently.

"and they say it'll make you a genius," I whispered to my daughter, as she suckled, thinking about the disputed Mozart effect on intellectual development*.

"Mary! You're home, it's a miracle that you have...." came a voice that was fairly familiar, as the door to my bedroom was opened wide.

In the door frame stood the smartly suited figure of George James, Mary's father. He had stopped in mid sentence and was staring at me, first my face and then my naked breasts and then back to my face. My face flushed with myembarrassment and I reacted without thinking and covered my breasts with my free arm.

"Oh you're not Mary, I'm so sorry I thought you were my daughter, that is one of her favourite pieces of music, she's very ill you know, sorry to disturb you feeding your baby, are you one of Mary's friends?" he asked while averting his eyes from my upper body.

"Don't you recognise me?" I asked.

"No," he replied.

"Don't you know your son-in-law?" I asked.

"But you're a woman, I just saw your, well you know," he stated.

"It is me George, didn't anyone tell you about me having to feed Bekka?" I asked.

"Oh yes I can see now, of course, I'm sorry Steve, I'm not sure I took it all in when Andrea told me. This is all a bit confusing," he rambled.

"Why don't you make a pot of tea, and I'll come down and explain everything when I've finished feeding Bekka," I suggested.

George was grateful for the excuse to leave, "Yes that's a good idea, to tell you the truth I'm a bit parched myself. Only got in from Berlin an hour ago." he said before leaving me in peace to complete my morning baby bonding.

Some fifteen minutes later I was sitting in the kitchen table opposite George, drinking a refreshing cuppa. I had found a skimpy, fairly translucent, dressing gown to wear and a pair of panties to hold in something else that dangled. Having a somewhat fuller bust than my wife, due to the breast feeding, I was aware that my female curves were enhanced by my attire.

I enjoyed the obvious discomfort that George obviously felt in my presence as I explained the details of my having to feed Bekka.

"Yes I can understand the why and how but I still don't get why you look so female" he commented.

"It's amazing how clothes, hairstyles and make up can alter completely how someone is perceived," I replied.

"Still you are very brave to do this all for Bekka"

"Yes he is, isn't he?" asked Andrea from the entrance to the kitchen.

George and Andrea embraced and then she reminded me that we needed to leave soon to make it to the hospital to visit Mary and hopefully catch her doctors to discuss any possible treatment options.

I quickly showered and dried my hair. Andrea helped me with my make-up and then chose a pretty, low cut, black dress, that was styled in such a way that my lack of female hips was concealed. I was surprised that she wanted me to be exposed so much. She explained that it would take peoples' attention from my face and then no one was likely to question my assumed gender.

"This looks tighter on you than it used to look on Mary," Andrea said after checking that I looked good enough.

"Yes, the few things of hers that I've had to wear, they're mostly a bit tight here," I said indicating my boobs.

Andrea suddenly sat down on an armchair.

"My son-in-law now has larger breasts than my daughter, that is beyond strange," she said looking at the picture on her window ledge, of Mary and I on our wedding day.

"Yes, Andrea," said George," sometimes the changes in society since we were young are hard to comprehend"

In a moment Andrea had recovered her composure and we were on our way to the hospital.

We entered the ward and made our way to the nurses' station.

A middle aged Filipino woman was sat at the desk. She looked surprised to see us, since eight twenty in the morning wasn't a normal visiting time. George explained who we were.

"Ah Miss James, of course, open visiting for her," she responded, after checking the details on her computer. The reference to Mary's maiden was like a dagger to the heart. As if we had never had a marriage. Those precious times together discarded.

"How is she?" I asked.

"I'm sorry she did not have a good night, she was crying a lot, mostly awake I think," she replied.

The nurse, whose name tag said Rosa, suddenly noticed something on the computer. She read it carefully.

"You are Miss James's sister?" she asked, strangely.

"Yes," I replied confirming my assumed identity, wondering why the nurse would be asking.

"Miss James has made a request of you," she said looking at me in an embarrassed way.

"Yes, what is it?" I asked in trepidation.

"I'm sorry to tell you this but she has asked that you don't visit her," she said tersely, " and she doesn't want to see your baby either"