Gruesome Tuesday

PART FOUR

©2004 Tanya J. Allan

This work is fictitious, and any similarities to any persons, alive or dead, are purely coincidental. Mention is made of persons in public life only for the purposes of realism, and for that reason alone! Certain licence is taken in respect of medical procedures, terms and conditions, and the author does not claim to be the fount of all knowledge!
The author accepts the right of the individual to hold his/her (or whatever) own political, religious and social views, and there is no intention to deliberately offend anyone. If you wish to take offence, that is your problem!
This is only a story, and it may contain adult material, which may include sex and intimate descriptive details pertaining to genitalia. If this is likely to offend, then don’t read it!
Unfortunately no politicians were injured or killed in the writing of this story, and no one else was either!
If you enjoyed it, then please Email me and tell me! If you hated it, Email me and lie!
I will always welcome contact!
tanya_jaya@yahoo.co.uk
The legal stuff!

This work is the property of the author, and the author retains full copyright, in relation to printed material, whether on paper or electronically! Any adaptation of the whole or part of the material for broadcast by radio, TV, or for stage plays or film, is the right of the author unless negotiated through legal contract! Permission is granted for it to be copied and read by individuals, and for no other purpose. Any commercial use by anyone other than the author is strictly prohibited, and may only be posted to free sites with the express permission of the author!

AUTHOR’S HEALTH WARNING

Dear Reader,

Life can be a crock sometimes, so if it all right with you, I actually prefer happy endings! So, if you want the hero(ine) to have a really miserable time, READ SOMETHING ELSE!

But if you want to see good prevail, and end up with a soppy smile, then I have achieved what I set out to do!

Please enjoy! Tanya

4.Sophie’s story

“Mills, why have you never created a piece of work of this depth before?” Mr Harris asked.

We were in art, and had to bring together poise and movement in a single picture.

I drew a ballerina in mid pirouette. I painted it in black and white, so that half of her was in the light, and the other half was in darkness or shadow! Her arms were stretched out above her head, and one leg was bent, as the spin was ending.

I had drawn it in art at my school, and they had liked it then, so I suppose I was cheating! It came from a photograph that I had seen in a paper in 2002, so if they could do me for cheating in advance, I would be very unlucky!

“I don’t know sir! Perhaps I’m a late developer!” I said, and the others laughed. So did Mr Harris, and he shook his head.

The week had been pretty good, I suppose. I had coped with all the lessons, except Latin! My God! What an inane subject! But Dad’s memory had saved me, and I was able to bluff my way through! Maths too! Not my favourite subject, but obviously one of Dad’s! So together, we brought up his grades. I hoped he would do the same for me!

I found that by relaxing, and trying to think like him, his memories opened up for me. I had even got used to having a willy and stuff! It was hilarious, and I was now almost able to go to the loo without giggling every time!

Not having boobs was a real bonus! I hadn’t realised how much they get in the way! But not having them brought it home to me! I thought about Dad struggling with mine, and that almost set me off again with the giggles!

My first time in the dining hall was an experience! I had seen the Harry Potter films, and I immediately was transported onto the set! I half expected an owl to fly the length of the hall with a letter for someone!

It really did look the part, with the six very long tables, where one sat according to houses. The younger boys near the door, and the older ones at the top table end! I was somewhere in the middle on the far left table, the Warburton table! Also, the food disappeared as if by magic! I would never have believed that the sons of gentlemen could stoop to the level of table behaviour as I witnessed! Mind you within a couple of days I was as bad, otherwise one would starve!

The food was delivered to the tables by a team of the younger boys, in large troughs. Plates were distributed, and a free for all ensued. Speed and asbestos fingers were the two essential qualities required for survival, and it took me a little while to manage to acquire a square meal!

The food was actually quite good, and plentiful, as long as one was quick enough! Mind you, there were those like Andy Kennedy who didn’t eat the food, except salad cream sandwiches! All the more for the rest of us!

I felt very uncomfortable with Sean! My problem was, that as Sophie Mills I could have fancied him something rotten, and knew that as Robert Mills, I mustn’t and couldn’t! So I worked really hard at thinking like Dad, but then Sean would smile at me, and I went all gooey! Mike was fine, and we got on really well. He was funny and made me laugh. And I could see why he and Dad were best friends! They were equally stupid!

Not playing games was good, as I was dreading the bloody rugger! I watched a couple of games, and it looked totally demonic! Applied violence with the added interest of an occasional odd shaped ball!

On Friday after prep, Mr Hodges had me come to his study. He was my house master, and was in charge of Warburton House.

“Sit down Rob! I just wanted to catch up with you, as you’ve had a rough week! How is the head?”

“Fine thanks sir.”

“No headaches or dizziness?”

“Not so far, no sir!”

“Good, good. I’ve been hearing good things about you in French and Art! Bit of a dark horse, eh what?”

“Yes sir.”

“I called your parents on Tuesday evening, juts to let them know that you were clonked on the old bonce! They asked whether you need to go home, and I said probably best to just keep on! Often when one has breaks in the routine, it takes a lot to catch up later!”

“Right!” I said, he was a bit of a loonie, this one!

“Fine. Well CCF on Monday! You will be up to that, won’t you?”

I stared blankly at him, and then the memory seeped in. CCF – Combined Cadet Force. The one day a week when little boys dressed up as soldiers and learned to kill other countries’ little boys!

“Probably sir!” I said, as doubtfully as I could.

“Good! Then back on full games on Tuesday, I hear you might bet into the Colts! That’s jolly good! Don’t get injured again, we will need you for the junior house match!”

“I don’t intend to sir!”

“Good, well, off you go, and if you need a chat, my door is always open!”

I left, and shook my head, he was a fruit-loop!

I went back to the study and Mike was gone somewhere and Sean was sitting in his old armchair.

“What did old Hedgehog want?”

“Just checking up to see I haven’t died!”

“Have you?” he asked, and smiled.

Shit, he was gorgeous!

“Not last time I looked!” I said, and turned away. This was unfair. I was a girl, how could I be expected to do this?

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice full of genuine concern.

No I’m not, I think I love you and I want you to take me in your arms and kiss me!

Well, that is what I thought!

“I’m fine, he reminded me about cadets on Monday. I had forgotten!” I said. All third formers were in the pre-corps section, where the basics, such as map reading and first aid were taught. Fourth formers were in the B squads, and went through basic training, drill and weapons familiarisation. We were fifth formers, and we were due to move on to our specialist sections now.

“Have you chosen yet?”

“Chosen what?”

“Don’t you remember, you can choose which section to join?”

“I had forgotten, what are the choices?”

“Army have the Combat/Cadre platoon, REME section, Signals section, and Engineers. Navy are just the navy, and the air cadets are just the air cadets!”

“Is that it?”

“Its is the cadets, no sewing circle! Doh!” he said, laughing at me.

“What about Duke of Edinburgh’s award?”

“The what?”

“Never mind. I’m not sure. What are you going for?”

“Combat/Cadre platoon! Why don’t you join me, it will be fun. We go on long camps and stuff!”

I imagined being stuck in a two man tent with him for a week! No, down girl, behave!

“I think I’ll join the RAF section, at least then I’ll get an idea how an plane works!” Or get to meet some pilots!

“REME would be my second choice. You get to muck about with engines!”

“What is Mike doing?”

“His old man is a bloody naval Captain, so guess?”

“RAF?”

“Right!” he said, and we both laughed.

I sat down and Sean fiddled about with the record player.

“Do you want some music?” he asked.

“Yeah, anything!”

“Give me a clue?”

“I dunno. Pet Shop Boys? Light House family? Boyzone? Dido?”

He looked at me blankly, and I realised what I’d said.

“Anything Sean. Beatles?”

He dug out the classic Beatles double white album, the one Dad went on and on about, and put it on the turntable. This was archaic! It was fascinating to see history being made!

We sat reading the play we were supposed to be learning, and I was conscious of him observing me.

I looked up. He was looking at me very oddly.

“What?” I asked.

He frowned.

“What do you make of this play?”

“It’s a play!” I said, helpfully.

“Yeah, but you have to play a girl’s part. Is that what you want?”

“I haven’t any choice. I’m not really bothered. Why?”

“I got the impression you were embarrassed!”

“About what?”

“Playing a girl!”

“It isn’t exactly what I was dying to do. But it is only a play. It isn’t as if I have to do it for real or anything!”

He frowned.

“I suppose not.” he said, but obviously had something else on his mind.

“Sean, what is really bothering you?” I asked.

“I’m not sure, and that’s the truth! But, it is silly, and I don’t want you to say anything to anybody, but when you were chosen to play Sophie, I was relieved!”

“Relieved? Why?”

“I don’t know, I think I’d rather do it with you rather than anyone else!”

“Do it, what, the play? Oh, do you fancy me then, Sean?” I teased, and he went very quiet!

Shit, this wasn’t how it was supposed to work!

“Look, Sean, we are friends, and that’s it. We can have a laugh, and do the best we can, but don’t start getting all deep on me! I don’t need it, and I can’t be doing with it! Okay?”

“Okay! But I just wanted you to know!”

I sighed. Bugger!

He fancied me, that was all I needed. And Dad said he never came across anyone gay at school. Only one of his best mates, that’s all!

As Sophie, I thought he was really nice. As Rob he was just a mate, yet he fancied Rob and not Sophie! How bloody confusing!

Mike arrived and I felt happier, the atmosphere was building up, and I almost expected Sean to make a pass at me! The problem was I might have encouraged him!

But the moment passed and was gone. Or at least for the time being!

The weekend came and went, and I prepared myself for CCF. I had always considered myself very anti-war. As a girl, I was all ready to conceive, bear and give birth to children! The whole concept of fighting and killing was alien to me! But I accepted and agreed that one had to have soldiers to defend your country and your country’s interests! It was just that I had never considered being involved!

But I was expected to take part, and I was resigned to doing so, but fell short of boundless enthusiasm for the activity! I saw the indifference and general attitude of most of the others, and felt reassured that I was in the majority! A few, like Sean, actually enjoyed it, and looked forward to Mondays with great enthusiasm!

As I bulled my boots and polished my belt, I wondered how Dad was getting on in my place. I smiled as I thought of the potential problem areas, and dreaded to think of the repair work that I was going to have to undertake on my return!

Then I had another bleak thought, what if there was no return? What if, I now had to follow Dad’s career and marry Mum, just so I could be born to go round in this circle for ever! It didn’t bear thinking about! And I blanked it out as quickly as I could!

I found that I settled down into the routine very easily. The boys were less bitchy than the girls I was friendly with. They were very basic, and up front. If they were pissed off, they’d say so, and why. There wasn’t the scheming and back-biting that some girls practised. I found it refreshing, even if the conversation levels were very superficial!

I also came to terms with my new gender, and once I controlled the giggles every time I went for a pee, it ceased to bother me. I was the same as everyone else, and actually there was no hassle at all! Getting up and ready took seconds instead of nearly an hour, and washing was just an exercise in getting the worst of the mud off!

Short hair was easy to wash, dry and brush, and again, took seconds instead of the ages I was used to! Clothes were simply something to wear to keep warm and dry, and really no one gave a toss what they looked like! There was no one to impress in any case, as blokes just didn’t give a damn about anyone else!

I suppose the older sixth formers did, as they didn’t have to wear uniform. Not that it was a strict uniform in any case. Tweed jackets, of subdued colours, grey flannel trousers, third, fourth and fifth year wore light blue shirts, and sixth form wore any coloured shirts. House ties for the lower years, and most of the sixth formers wore their sports colours ties or prefect ties.

There was no dressing to impress or to make any statement, and I found that strange at first, and then appreciated it was one less hassle! Dad was going to have a real problem! I couldn’t help but grin!

Monday morning arrived with a grey squelch! The rain was that variety that drenched everything in seconds, and one almost felt damp watching it out of the window!

After breakfast I had to pay a visit to the sick bay to have my ‘off-games’ chit signed, and given my release so I could now enjoy the dubious pleasure of being trampled to death on the rugby pitch!

I went to chapel, and sat in bum-numbing boredom with 350 other unfortunates, as we followed a two century tradition of following a Middle-class, white, English Jesus Christ, who only was there to help us beat off the fuzzy-wuzzy and the damn Hun!

The morning lessons dragged, and we had double maths! Urgh!

I tried to let Dad’s memories take over, and would have liked to have left him to it, but unfortunately, it needed a little effort to keep awake on my part! Lunch arrived, and then I had to dress in my army uniform, with boots, puttees, beret and belt. We wore the green ‘barrack’ trousers and green pullover with scratchy shirt and tie underneath.

We paraded, and I let Dad’s memories help me out a little. But it was so shambolic, I could have bluffed it without!

The cadet sergeant-major called everyone onto the parade, and we sort of got together in rows and lines in the school quadrangle. We were brought to attention, and the Major, who was plain Mr Harris for the rest of the week, came out and there was lots of saluting and silliness.

We, in the old B squads, were then asked to go to the group or section we wanted to join, and I went to the RAF section. There was a little realigning, as too many went for the REME section, and too few to the combat platoon! Some were ‘volunteered’ to move. Mike and I were fine, fortunately!

It was only then that I remembered Dad telling me that he acquired his love of flying from the RAF section at school. I smiled as I had chosen it for him!

We were marched round to the QM’s stores, and we went into the back room, and exchanged the army green for the RAF blue uniforms. The shirts weren’t scratchy, and we didn’t use boots and puttees! I was far happier, and we then spent the rest of the afternoon in a lecture about the RAF section! It was an easy day!

We had two more lessons after tea, and it was no great hardship. The work was much the same as I was used to, but I was glad that it wasn’t at the sixth form level, because Dad and I were very different, and our choices of specialised subjects at A level would not be the same! But we were at O level standard, and it was similar to my GCSE syllabus.

We had double English, and had a read through the play, in role! Sean put rather too much feeling into his rather lovey-dovey speeches to me, and I was as ambivalent as I could be.

Needless to say, the kissing noises and other catcalls made it so much easier! Not! And I resigned myself for a tiresome few months until it was over!

I then caught my thoughts.

Months?

I wanted to go back now, and here I was now thinking in terms of months!

I looked around the classroom. These boys saw nothing different in me, but I wasn’t the same as my Dad, or was I?

Was I really Rob, suffering from a head injury, and thought I was my own daughter?

No, I remembered all my friends at school, my bother, and all my aunts and uncles and grandparents! I was Sophie, and I had to hold on to that, otherwise I would never be able to go back!

God, this was hard!

“Mills! Are you part of this, or not?” asked Mrs Rennie.

“Sorry!” I said, and found my place again.

“I am not optimistic at this production winning a BAFTA!” Mrs Rennie said, sarcastically.

I read my part, and as I was having a Sophie moment, it was actually very convincing!

Mrs Rennie looked up as I finished the running dialogue I was having with Sean, and smiled.

We struggled on to the bell, and went back to our rooms. The evening passed without incident, and I settled down in the dormitory, but sleep was not easily coming! My brain was in a whirl, and I just wanted this to end!

To be continued in Chapter 5

since 03/09/04