Author’s Note: I had originally intended this story (part 1) as a stand alone. However, Sapphire asked me to develop it, which has been echoed by some of the readers. I am aware of the weaknesses in the rather contrived set up, but it was written some time ago. Please bear with me if future episodes become a little intermittent, I am now trying to keep two serials going, and unlike Blue Peter, have nothing ‘I prepared earlier’.   Best wishes,   Angharad .

Charlotte’s Tale

By Angharad

 

Part 9

After a brief and light lunch, I finished my primping with quickie makeup job,  mascara, lippy and blusher. Then, it was round to Jane’s house. When I got there, I was surprised to see I wasn’t the only visitor. This immediately made me feel twitchy.

“Hi Charlotte, have you met Karen, “ to my horror, she introduced me to Karen Brown, whom I’d met before over the karaoke competition. Then I was in my alias, of Christine Monk, I was dark haired and buxom, now I was blonde and paper thin.

Jane gave me the once over, “Well, you’ve certainly changed since this morning. You looked like a refugee from a charity shop then, now it’s little miss glamour puss. Crikey, what size are you now?”

I muttered back, “Eight.”

“Jeez Charlotte, I was bigger than that two years ago. You make me sick.” And she proceeded to put her finger down her throat, as if to make her vomit. I would have enjoyed the experience of winding her up, had I not felt anxious about Karen. Did she recognise me?

“Have we met?” asked Karen, looking suspiciously at me, “you look kind of familiar.”

“Don’t think so.” I lied, well it was only a part lie, because I wasn’t myself on the previous occasion.

“You do look familiar.” She repeated.

“You might have seen me round the shops, it’s one of my favourite haunts.”

“Yeah maybe, like the outfit.”

“Thanks.” I said blushing, and looking at the floor.

“Well Jane, I’ve gotta go, I’ll ring you later. Give my love to Simon, won’t you? Bye Charlotte.” I replied in similar fashion.

Jane saw her out, and upon returning, met the full force of my irritation. “What’s she doing here?” I snapped.

“She came around to see my I-pod, why? It’s a free country, so what’s it to you?”

“She was at the dance, with Richard Matthews. I beat her in the karaoke.”

“No Christine beat her in the karaoke, the bimbo who Simon fancies. You’re my friend Charlotte. So if you are worried she might recognise you, forget it. You look so different, I hardly recognise you and I saw you this morning. How come the change?”

“It was prearranged,” I lied, “that’s what I was trying to tell you earlier, that I had to go out with mum, and I wasn’t sure we’d be back in time.” This time I managed to look her in the eye. I was getting better at this lying lark.

“Where’d you get the threads?” she enquired, not challenging my story.

“In that boutique opposite Next.”

“I know, they get some good stuff in there from time to time. Got your nails done too, very posh.” I held out my hands for her to see more easily, gloating for a few moments while she examined them. “That’s a pro job.”

“Yep,” I replied, feeling as smug as is possible without actually exploding, “Mum’s treat.”

“My mother never treats me to a French manicure. So how come yours does?”

“For helping around the place and being generally wonderful.”

“Ha, the last time I saw you Charlotte Church, you were sat in the dark sucking your thumb, while making whimpering noises.” This hit me below the belt, and I seriously wondered why I called this girl, ‘my friend’. She was a regular psychopath.

“Well I’m not now. You try having your father killed in a car smash and see how you feel.” I felt angry as I snapped at her.

She looked a bit sheepish, and without a direct glance at me, she muttered, “Yeah, sorry, I was out of order.”

“S’kay.” I replied, but it was another lie, it had hurt but I wasn’t going to let her know just how much. “Where’s this pea pod then?”

“I-pod, you daft cow.” She laughed at my deliberate mistake, then proceeded to show me it in great detail. I have an ordinary MP3 player, and it is quite good, the I-pod was better. A point I admitted to Jane, but again it was a ploy. If she was going to play games, so would I.

We spent the rest of the afternoon playing music and gossiping. She brought me up to date with who was going with whom and who wasn’t. I wanted to know about Simon, but wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction by asking. He had made all the running so far, it was up to him if he wanted to continue our ‘friendship’. Now I was back to my former image, he might not want to bother.

An hour later, I was able to discover this for myself, when in walked the aforementioned boy. “Jane, have you got that tenner you owe me?” he said walking unceremoniously into the room. “Is that you Charlotte? By Christ you look thinner, but you look better than last time I saw you. How y’keepin’?”

“I’m okay, Simon, I’m getting there.”

“Yeah, you look pretty good. Doin’ anythin’ tomorrow?”

“What time?” I asked, my confidence feeling a bit stronger.

“Say, eleven, grab some lunch in town, do a film. That’s of course if my pipsqueak little sister here hands over the money she owes me.”

“Here you big baboon.” She retorted slapping it into his hand. “I don’t know what you see in that big ape!” she said to me.

“See ya tomorrow then, eleven. Wear that outfit, it looks good.” With that rejoinder, he was gone.

“They ought to make older brothers illegal.” Humphed Jane as we sat down and listened to her music some more. We had a cuppa as well with a few chocolate biscuits, then it was time to go. I wasn’t sorry. Having Jane as friend was a mixed blessing, she could be as nice as pie one minute, then as nasty as they come, the next. However, I was rather short of girlfriends, so I needed her for now. The connection with Karen was something of a puzzle, and I don’t like puzzles.

I had got what I wanted, contact with Simon, who still seemed interested in me. So my walk home was with a much greater spring in my step than had been there in my earlier encounter with Jane.

Mum noticed. “You saw Simon then?”

How did she do that? Reading my mind before I had half crossed the threshold of the house. I just nodded, but I was smiling rather smugly.

“Well, aren’t you going to tell me?”

“Course.” I replied, “he popped in while I was with Jane.”

“And?” prompted my mother.

“He asked me out tomorrow.” I was trying not to beam too widely in case my face cracked.

“What time?”

“Eleven.”

“Right then, early to bed tonight, I want you up by nine tomorrow if we are going to have you looking smart for lover-boy.”

“Muuuuum!” I wailed, “don’t call him that. He’s just a friend.”

“Of course he is.” She smiled back at me as I blushed furiously. Then we both laughed and hugged. “I’m glad to have my daughter back.” She said to me as we hugged.

“I’m glad to be back.” I said, as she squeezed me tightly.

After supper I watched some television, nothing in particular, just vegetated for a bit and then went to bed. I was looking forward to seeing Simon but I was also worried about what would happen.

 

When I got to bed, I worried about Jane meeting with Karen. To me, it made no sense; why would she go just to look at an I-pod? They were common enough and she could have seen one in almost any electrical retailers. I decided she must be after Simon again. That worried me, as she had something against which I couldn’t compete, namely, a real female body. However, I knew at fourteen, I shouldn’t be having sex anyway; although that wouldn’t necessarily stop anyone who was determined or careless. Besides, Simon was a nice boy, surely he wouldn’t want to, you know; would he? Then again, he was a boy and all they think about is girls and football. I tossed and turned some more.

One worry was out of the way, my choice of clothing. Simon had requested I wear the same stuff again. I wasn’t sure about it, but I wouldn’t have enough time to go shopping for anything else. I still had my twenty five quid, but I didn’t especially want to spend it for the moment. Then Karen came back into mind and I felt anxious again.

I must have still been anxious when I went to sleep because I dreamt of her. In my dream she recognised me and she asked me what I was doing with her boyfriend. I argued that he was my boyfriend, and she told me she’d see about that, then Jane seemed to be hovering in the background and I felt suspicious of her.

I think I fell asleep properly because I woke up to the sound of rain lashing against my bedroom window. That was all I needed. Now I’d have to wear a coat as well or risk getting soaked. I knew mum would insist I took my coat, so I resigned myself to my fate. I looked at the clock, it was a little after seven. I turned over to go back to sleep only instead of doing so all my fears and worries returned. I tossed and turned but couldn’t sleep again, so I got up and sneaked downstairs.

If I couldn’t sleep, then I could make some breakfast for my mum. I put the kettle on and popped some bread in the toaster, then I opened the orange juice and poured us both a glass. I drank mine while I waited for the toast to brown. Five minutes later I was knocking on her bedroom door with a tray of toast and coffee.

She looked at me with bleary eyes, “Goodness, what time is it?” she asked rubbing her eyes.

“About half past seven,” I replied smiling at her; “I thought you might like some brekkies.”

“That’s very nice of you dear,” she said taking the tray and pecking me on the cheek.

“You’ve been so good to me, I thought I ought to do something for you.” I felt very guilty saying this because she had been so kind to me and all I did was cause her problems.

“Well, that’s what mums are for isn’t it, looking after their favourite daughters,” she said smiling.

“How many have you got then?” I asked looking a little perplexed.

“That was a figure of speech darling. I have just the one, which is probably just as well given how much she costs me to look after.”

I felt a little chided by this remark. “No one forced you to spend anything on me,” I said pouting at her.

“No indeed they didn’t, I chose to spend what we did yesterday; but if I had two daughters, I’d have had to spend twice as much.”

The penny dropped and I stopped feeling resentful, two girls would be very expensive to keep; and I accepted her comment. I sat on the bed while she consumed her breakfast. She seemed to enjoy it, or said she did. “I think you’ll be able to get away without washing your hair if you comb it carefully,” she said looking at me carefully.

“I was going to shower,” I said in reply.

“I bought you a shower cap, so you don’t have to get it wet if you don’t want to.” I hadn’t even thought of that, so maybe she was right, after all, my hair always looked better after it had been brushed and blow dried by a professional. We sat and talked about anything and nothing for about half an hour, then I went to the bathroom and stripped for the shower. I dug about in the bathroom cupboard and found the plastic pack which contained my shower cap. This was going to be a new experience.

I could have simply lowered the shower on the stand and it wouldn’t have sprayed over my hair, but the idea of a shower cap was novel. I tore open the packet and pulled it on my head pushing my hair carefully under its elastic-ated edges. It felt really strange and not terribly comfortable, like a plastic bag on my head with a rubber band or something holding it in place. However, my hair was covered, so I gingerly got in the shower cabinet and started the water running. It felt really strange having the water sounding like it was bouncing off a plastic bag and then running over my body, but at the end my hair was dry and my body was clean.

As I dried myself, I could just make myself out in the steamed up mirror, I looked like a bean pole. My boobs were like two fried eggs, although I thought my hips looked slightly wider than they used to. A few months ago, I had all the curves of a straight line, now I wondered if that was changing at last. I hoped so. I dried and rubbed myself all over with the body lotion Jane had given me. I hadn’t used it for weeks. I felt a bit better for the self massage and after wrapping myself in a towel I slipped back to my room.

I picked up a rather nice pair of silky knickers when as I bent down to put my foot in them, I felt something strange happen in my groin. I felt a funny sort of discomfort and my erstwhile dangly bits emerged. I was horrified and screamed.

“What’s the matter?” called my mother as she rushed into my room, then she saw me and my shrivelled but intact genitals. “Oh!” was all she said. Then she helped me to the bed and we sat hugging for a few minutes.

“What am I going to do?” I sobbed, hugging her tightly.

“I’m not sure sweetheart, but let’s try think of this constructively. I’m sure that just wearing a pair of tight panties would suffice, or even two pairs.”

“I can’t do that, they’ll show through my jeans,” I sobbed.

“Could we push them back whence they came?” she offered.

“I don’t know, last time it hurt.”

“Yes darling, but I mean they been up there quite some time, so maybe it would be easier.”

“I don’t know, I wish I could cut them off,” I sobbed again.

“That could be a little messy dear, do you want me to phone Dr Phillips?”

“Why could he cut them off?”

“If he did, you might not feel much like going on your date.”

“Oh mummy, what am I going to do?” I wept and wailed.

She got me to lay back on the bed while she examined the offending bits of skin. She disappeared, returning with a flannel and began rubbing them, it hurt and I said so.

“Sorry dear, but I have get all this yucky stuff off. Remember, they haven’t seen the light of day for a couple of months or more.” She continued her assault and I lay there groaning. It stopped and I looked around and she had gone. I hadn’t noticed.

She was back two minutes later, pushing me back on the bed. She had apparently kept the papers that my original attackers had used to reshape my groin. She read them then suddenly, she pushed and pulled and I felt a sharp pain, then something cold was put on me and I was pushed a again. The pain was horrible and I squealed and wanted to writhe about.

“Hold still Charlotte or this won’t work,” she barked at me, and I froze. It throbbed like nothing on earth, but ten minutes later she let go my skin and my previously feminine contour had returned.

I stood up very carefully, it hurt a bit but I could cope.  “Wow mummy, you’ve done it.” I hugged her with delight and some discomfort.

“I think you’d better see if you can pee,” she said, looking a little anxious. I agreed and found to my delight I could, although it did tend to wash my bum when I did; but I could live with that for a bit.

I pulled on my knickers and jeans, it was very uncomfortable and when I sat down it was unbearable. There was no way I could wear them for my date. I wanted to cry again, life was so unfair.

“What am I going to do mummy? I can’t wear these jeans, they’re killing me.”

“You have plenty of clothes, wear something else,” she said helpfully.

“But I don’t.” It was true to an extent, since I’d lost weight, my togs didn’t fit and whilst I could have reattached my breast forms, the sudden gain in bust size would have been noticed, even by Simple Simon. There would also have been the matter of my chest being out of synch with my hips, which were also smaller with my weight loss.

“Look, it’s half past eight, if we hurry, I’m sure we can find you a nice skirt or something to match your top.” Now my mother was being helpful and I always try to be gracious when she offers me something. “Charlotte, where are you?”

“Here mummy, by the car.”

“Goodness child, you aren’t usually that quick. Got to do this…..wait for that… I forgot to do whatever….you are never ready this quickly, have you got everything?”

“Yes mummy, can we hurry?”

“Are you absolutely sure?”

“Not wearing any lip gloss today, then?”

“Ohhhh!” I squealed and licked my lips, she was right. “I’ll be back in a tick,” I said scampering off to my room.

After an age we found a parking space and rushed to the boutique where I’d bought the stuff the day before. Unsurprisingly, the woman who owned it remembered us, we had spent quite a bit; so she was eager to help.

“I’d like a skirt to match Charlotte’s top, if you have something suitable,” said mum.

“Is there a problem with the jeans; they looked lovely yesterday? Asked the shop owner.

Mum walked closer to her, “If you recall they are rather tight fitting, and well, she’s just started her…”

Giving her a knowing look, the shopkeeper started hunting through racks of skirts. I wanted to know what I’d started, but I thought I’d better keep quiet rather than say anything. The shopkeeper produced three skirts, “I think these may do the trick,” she said, then as I thanked her and took them, she added, “Do you get bloating or cramps, because I find starflower oil helps, or evening primrose.”

I had no idea what she was talking about, baked beans sometimes made me feel bloated but cramps; what was she on about? However, trying to avoid looking stupid, I just shook my head and told her I was okay at the moment. “If you need to change your pad, you can use my loo out the back.”

Pad, what was she on about? Then it dawned on me, pad – panty variety, periods, for the use of! Oops, that’s what mum was on about. Thinking as quickly as I could, I replied, “No, I’m okay for the moment, thanks anyway.” Now I had to make sure she didn’t see me in my knickers, she’d notice I wasn’t wearing one.

I tried on the first skirt, it was black with a pink floral pattern, short and flared. I’d have to be careful in any sort of breeze or I’d be showing my knickers. I popped out to show mum. Then back into the changing cubicle, the next skirt was a pleated black skirt with some sequins around the waistband and the hem. I didn’t like it either, but I duly modelled it for my mum. Finally, an above knee straight corduroy skirt with beadwork making a swirly pattern all around it. It also had a deep waistband with big belt loops and I had seen a belt I really liked.

I stepped out of the cubicle and gave them a twirl, the expressions were approving but nothing special. I went over to the belts and pulled down a shiny wide leather one with beading similar to the skirt. “Can I try this as well?” I asked before threading it through the belt loops. The woman shop-keeper saw where I was going with this and came to help me.

“That looks really special,” she said fussing with the belt; “They only came in yesterday, I hadn’t really put them with those skirts but they are made for each other.”

Mum asked how much and upon being told nearly had apoplexy, however, I was just about to offer to pay for the belt when the owner of the shop said, “You must have them both, so I’ll throw in the belt for nothing, but don’t tell anyone else or I’ll be broke by the evening.”

“Thank you so much,” I said hugging her, then rushed off to change.

“Is it alright of she keeps the skirt on, she’s seeing  her boyfriend in half an hour? Asked my mum, and came to tell me, taking my old skirt to be bagged up instead. So, instead of jeans and a top, I was in my pink and black skinny top, my new skirt and belt and my black suede slouch boots. I had my little black suede bag on my shoulder and my coat, reluctantly, folded over my arm when I left my mother and walked to my rendezvous with Simon. I felt really tidy, perhaps even better than I would have done in my jeans and I know mum was proud of me, the gleam in her eye as we parted, said it all. “Your dad would have been pleased with the way you turned out, young lady,” she said bringing a lump to both our throats.

I wasn’t quite so sure, I mean, how would he have coped with me dating boys? He wanted a son who played rugby or football, who he could take off fishing or hiking. Instead he got me, all I could do was sing. My feel-good factor dropped significantly as I thought of this, and I felt my shoulders drooping a little. I did manage to hold back the tears and avoid smudging my mascara and eyeliner; but it was a real effort of will. In the end, I decided that I was on the path I needed to walk and all I could do for daddy, was to make the best of it that I could. He might not have wished for this to happen, but I was sure he would have helped me as best he could. I would never know that now for certain, yet deep inside me in the damaged void I called my heart, I was as sure as ever I could be.

I saw Simon waiting for me through the blur of tears which despite my best intentions to stop, came anyway. He smiled at me, told me I looked ‘awesome’ and hugged me. Feeling a little raw, I held on to the hug and asked him to hold me. In a moment of sensitivity which was unexpected from him, he asked quietly, “Missing someone?” I nodded my response and the dam broke. To his credit, he held me for five or six minutes while I sobbed on his shoulder and then helped me to a nearby café where he ordered some diet colas while I tried to repair the damage to my makeup. I thought he was nice before, now I thought he was wonderful. I hoped no one would take him away from me and determined to fight back if they tried.

The date was something of a disaster, my misery which my mother had inadvertently started, continued for the rest of the day. We had a snack and went to see some film or other, Superman, I think. Yes, I’m sure it was, I remember some of the music now, my dad liked the John Williams’ music from the original films. So once I heard that, I was off again. I’m surprised Simon’s clothes didn’t shrink I cried over them so much. He walked me home but didn’t ask me for another date. He was so nice and all I could do was cry. Then when I went home, I couldn’t face my mother. She opened the door with this beaming smile and I rushed past her and shut myself in my room. I mean how could I tell her that it was partly her fault that I wrecked my first attempt at a relationship.

She came into my room and sat on the bed, but I refused to speak to her. I loved her and hated her so much at that moment I couldn’t trust myself not to say anything horrible, and while part of me wanted to hurt her back, part of me didn’t and that prevailed. Instead, I retreated inside again, like I always do. I’m good at that being inside myself, it’s safe there.

 

  since 11/05/06