Once again, I donned Mum’s massive apron before helping her make dinner.

I scrubbed the potatoes and carrots before peeling them, ready for mum to chop them.

I washed the cabbage leaves and rinsed the leeks.

I almost tripped over the apron a couple of times as I fetched whatever pots, pans, and utensils mum needed.

“Well have to get you an apron that fits,” Mum said.

“It’ll be a good few years before you grow into that one.”

Mum seemed to have everything under control.

The pans simmered whilst the meat roasted.

I asked if I could go to my room and read. Mum said I could, but halted me on the stairs.

“Can you check the boy’s room first and fetch me any laundry they’ve left lying around?”

“Oh?!” I moaned.

“Shouldn’t they do that themselves?”

“Well they should but you know what boys are like,” Mum replied.

“And straighten their beds if they need it… there’s a good girl.” she smiled.

Andrew had a small pile of stinky old socks and pants strewn next to his bed, George’s discard pile was much smaller.

“Why I have to straighten their beds and move their laundry and clear their dishes I’ll never know!”

I moaned to myself as I bundled their smelly clothes in my arms.

“Where shall I put them?” I asked mum.

“Oh they can go straight in the wash,” Mum said,

before having me also load the machine with the contents of the awaiting basket.

“How long does it take?” I asked when mum told me how to add the powder and switch it on.

“Oh, an hour or two.” mum replied.

“Can I go now?” I asked.

“Yes, I think so dear.” Mum smiled. “And thank you.”

“That’s OK.” I replied whilst thinking it’s not OK by a long chalk.

It’s just not fair that I have to do chores and housework whilst my brothers do nothing but eat,

sleep and make a mess,

but thinking about it,

when I ‘was’ a boy,

I didn’t do any chores either.

I guess Mum did it all on her own before she made me become a girl.

Maybe that’s why she wanted one of us to be a girl? I figured.

I grabbed my book,

slumped on my bed and picked up where I’d left off with The All Girls Detective Agency.

I read the next few chapters and wished my life was as exciting as theirs.

However, my escape from reality was cut short when my mother shouted my name.

I laid the table whilst Mum carved the meat.

My brothers Andrew and George returned in the nick of time.

“Oh there you are!” mum said when they entered the kitchen.

“I was just about to send your sister to look for you.”

My brothers concealed their sniggers with a brief snort.

Mum asked what they’d been up to and they replied with a non-committal ‘hanging around in the park’.

“Is it true that he doesn’t have to go to school tomorrow?” Andrew said,

clearly feeling hard done by if it was.

“Well, there’s no point buying Sophie a new uniform for her last two weeks,” Mum replied.

“If she’s getting two extra weeks’ holiday… then we should too,” Andrew claimed. George agreed.

“Well if you two want to be girls too,

I’m sure that can be arranged.” she suggested as his bravado sank.

“I’m more than happy to have a house full of girls.”

“Er…. no,” he mumbled as he wound his neck in.

The boys took their places at the table whilst mum and I served their lunch,

no sooner had they eaten,

they left,

leaving us to clear the table and wash the dishes.

“It’s not fair that the boys don’t have to do any housework.” I moaned as I wiped the tabletop.

“Well, i don’t recall you complaining when you were a boy,” Mum replied.

She had a point I guess..

but when I was a boy we all did a little bit.

Now I’m a girl they don’t do anything and I’m doing ten times as much.

After helping to tidy the kitchen,

I hoped I’d be able to retreat into my Adventure Book for Girls,

but first I had to unload the washing machine then help mum hang it all on the washing line.

Finally, I could resume reading the All Girl Detective Agency.

From their treehouse office,

the five girls had got involved in a case of blackmail against the headmaster of their school.

After a string of exciting adventures,

they eventually uncovered a plot that involved members of the local council,

a corrupt police officer

and their school’s deputy head.

Not only had they saved their school, but they’d also saved their headmaster’s career too.

After finishing the story I spent a while just thinking about it.

The girls in the book didn’t seem like real girls as they didn’t get all excited about dresses,

nor did they play with dolls or have to do housework all day.

I wished my life as a girl would be exciting like theirs.

I turned the page.

The next story is titled Adventure in Egypt and shows a color plate depicting a young girl exploring an ancient Egyptian tomb.

Clad in jeans and a jumper, s

he’s clearly a bit of a tom-boy,

ike many of the girls in these stories seem to be.

“I wish I was a tom-boy,” I said to myself as I began reading.

With a sickly mother,

the protagonist,

Clara,

is sent to stay with her father;

a professor and archaeologist based in Egypt.

She’s confined to her father’s apartment and is kept under the watchful eye of his housekeeper all day long;

a grouchy middle-aged American woman who can’t understand why any girl would want to be a tom-boy and can barely believe that Clara hasn’t packed any skirts or dresses.

I could completely empathize with Clara when the housekeeper forces the girl to wear a dress

.When her father fails to return home and the housekeeper locks her in the apartment,

Clara has to use her wit and skill to escape.

“That would be much easier without this stupid dress on!” she curses as she climbs out of a window.

Its cumbersome skirt, ribbons, and frills all get in the way as Clara is sneaking out of the apartment,

via window ledges,

drainpipes, and vines to get to the street below.

Yet again my escape into literature is halted when my mother shouts “Sophie Dear!”.

“Yea?” I reply from the top of the stairs.

I’m not surprised when mum has found yet another chore for me to do.

This time she’s got me ironing my brother’s school uniforms and seems to take great pleasure instructing me on how to do it properly.

After supper, I helped mum clear up the kitchen whilst my brother watched the telly,

and after that, mum told me it was time for my bath.

“I had a bath last night.” I reminded her.

When I was a boy I had two a week… at most.

“Girls have a bath every night,” Mum said as my brothers sniggered.

Mum told me to take no notice of them before leading me up the stairs.

No sooner had mum turned the taps on, I heard them both downstairs, falling about laughing.

They were most likely at me and my predicament.

After my bath, Mum told me to get ready for bed.

“But it’s nowhere near bedtime,” I claimed, knowing it was barely 7.00 pm.

“It’s near enough,” Mum replied as she placed my dress over her arm whilst I wrapped a towel around myself.

Once I had my nightie on, mum sat me at my dressing table and ran the towel through my hair, making sure it was dry.

She suggested we join the boys and watch TV.

I said I might stay in my room and read my book instead.

“OK… but don’t stay up reading too late.” she said.

“Lights out at eight-thirty remember.”

“OK.” replied.

Mum woke me early the next morning and I was dressed and having my breakfast at 7 am.

After washing my bowl, mum asked me to put a couple of bowls & spoons out for my brothers,

I put the cereal box on the table and a jug of milk,

along with a glass of juice each.

And not surprisingly once they’d finished I cleared the table and washed their dishes for them.

At least mum said ‘thank you.

George and Andrew left for school.

I asked mum what we’d be doing today.

“Well there’s plenty of housework to do,” she replied.

“More housework?” I moaned.

“Well the house doesn’t clean itself,” she replied in a chirpy tone.

“Would you like me to curl your hair again today, or are you happy with just a ribbon?”

“Neither.” would be my honest answer.

But since that clearly wasn’t an option, my actual answer was,

“Er… just a ribbon please.”

“I’ll put your hair in rags one night…” mum said as she tied a length of ribbon in my hair,

“…that’ll make it all nice and curly when you wake up.”

I didn’t reply. Mum had me dusting furniture that didn’t need dusting whilst she hoovered the floors that didn’t need hoovering.

I asked why and mum said that we’re keeping on top of the housework,

otherwise, the housework will be on top of us.

Cleaning what’s clean and tidying what’s tidy doesn’t make any sense to me.

After an hour of cleaning, Mum settled down in front of the radio with a pot of tea.

I asked if I could go to my room, but mum said that she wanted me to sit with her.

“You can bring your book down if you want to read,” she suggested.

As lunchtime neared, I asked Mum what we’d be having for lunch as I was getting hungry.

Mum said we needed to go shopping, and suggested we eat in town.

“Do you want to put one of your nice dresses on or are you OK as you are?” she asked.

Mum’s idea of a ‘nice’ dress is my idea of horrendous, so I opted to keep my relatively plain green dress on.

Being a weekday, the street was relatively quiet as we got in the car.

The sound of children playing echoed over the rooftops from my old primary school.

Part of me wished I was there, but a bigger part of me was glad I wasn’t.

I expect I’ll be a major part of the playground gossip now my Mum has decided I’m a girl.

“Where are we going?” I asked when she turned right instead of left at the end of School Lane.

“I thought it might be nice to go into Crickley for a change,” Mum replied,

Crickley being a small town on the outskirts of Covenworth.

I repeated the question when Mum turned off the main road on the outskirts of Crickley.

“I want to show you something,” she said as we drove down a long wide street, lined with sycamore trees.

She eventually pulled in and said, “There you are.”

I looked out of the window and into the schoolyard she’d parked outside of.

It was full of girls wearing purple gingham dresses.

Some wore a grey blazer on top of their dresses,

and all either wore or held a straw hat. I

t only took a few seconds for the penny to drop… they’re not ‘all’ girls! I turned to my mother.

“Is this Malham Hall?” I hesitantly asked.

“It is,” Mum said proudly.

I gulped as I turned my gaze back to the schoolyard.

Some of the kids were clearly boys, some clearly girls, with others it was hard to tell either way.

Some gathered in groups, chatting or eating their packed lunches.

Some played hopscotch,

some played with skipping ropes,

some played football, and some played catch or piggy-in-the-middle.

It would have looked normal if they all weren’t dressed as girls.

I tried to spot Vanessa in the schoolyard, but couldn’t see her.

“Are all the boys like me?” I mournfully asked.

“Some of them might be,

but most of them are just boys,” Mum replied.

“Why are they dressed like girls then?” I asked.

Mum explained to me about petticoating and how it helps some boys to behave themselves and do better in class.

“Maybe George and Andrew should dress like girls too then.” I suggested.

Mum smiled at me and started the engine.

“That’d cost me a small fortune in dresses….

money I’d much rather spend on you,” she said.

We drove into Crickley town center and mum found a parking space.

Walking down the high street was scary, to say the least.

Everyone must know I’m really a boy, but nobody’s pointing and laughing at me.

After popping into the butchers and the greengrocers, we went into J. J. Tate’s; a large independent department store.

Mum picked up some new bedding and asked if I could see any duvet covers I liked.

“They’re not very nice for a girl’s bedroom,” Mum said when I pointed out a few I liked.

“Dang!” I thought.

“I must have forgotten I was wearing a dress.”

Why Mum even bothered asking my opinion I’ll never know.

We left with two new duvet covers; one with princesses on, the other with daisies…

both pink with matching pillowcases and both the last thing Peter would have chosen.

When we arrived home, mu asked me which of my new duvet covers I wanted on my bed first.

I opted for the daisies and dreaded the day the ‘princess’ duvet goes on.

Mum and I stripped my bed, and mum put a plastic sheet over my mattress before putting a clean sheet over it.

“What’s that for?” I asked.

“I don’t wet the bed!” I insisted after hearing Mum’s reply.

“I know you don’t Sophie.” Mum said with a smile

. “But it’s just a precaution.”

Once my new duvet cover was on my bed,

mum told me how nice it looks,

before looking around the walls.

“I suppose we should redecorate and get you some new curtains too.” she suggested.

“As long as they’re not too girlie,” I replied.

“Nothing’s too girlie for my Sophie.” Mum grinned before leaving me alone.

I had a feeling she’d say something like that

I retreated from the reality of my life opened my Girl’s Own Adventure Book and continued reading An Adventure in Egypt.

Clara makes her way through the crowded streets of Cairo to her father’s office and sees him being bundled into a van, clearly against his will.

She follows the car on foot (an easy task in the busy city streets) until it disappears inside an old fortified building on the outskirts of the city.

The only way she can sneak inside is via a large vine that stretches up one corner of the surrounding walls,

but that’s not going to be easy in a dress.

As she waits for nightfall,

she briefly befriends a local boy who reluctantly agrees to swap clothes with her.

Clad in boy’s clothes,

she now has the freedom to swiftly scale the walls of the fortress and hopefully rescue her father.

I couldn’t help but smile as I imagined the boy wearing her dress and shoes,

nervously waiting for her return so he could get his own clothes back.

That evening, Mum made me have a bath soon after I’d helped her clear up after supper,

and after that, I had to get ready for bed.

Mum didn’t want me to get into a habit of hiding in my room every evening

so she insisted I watch TV with her and my brothers until my bedtime.

It was a long and painful ninety minutes.

I sat silently in my frilly nightie as we watched TV. George and Andrew barely spoke to me,

but both frequently eyed me with suspicion.

Not too long ago I’d sulk and moan if Mum sent me to bed as early as eight-thirty… now it’s not soon enough.

I slid myself under my new duvet cover and gulped at its girlishness.

Mum was right about the plastic mattress protector though…

I could barely tell it was there.

The rest of the week was pretty much the same routine.

I’d start each day getting up early and helping Mum with breakfast and housework.

If we didn’t go out, I read my Girl’s Own Adventure Book;

Clara did rescue her father, but in the excitement of her adventure,

completely forgot to give the boy his clothes back

. Somewhere in Cairo is a boy wearing her prissy party dress and Mary Jane shoes whilst Clara is happy to be back in her preferred tom-boy clothes.

I had a bath every night after clearing up after supper and spent the evenings in one of my nighties,

sat timidly in front of the TV and my sniggering, sneering brothers.

Most afternoons we’d go shopping or for a walk somewhere as Mum thinks it’s important for me to get out of the house.

I think mum just likes parading me around the streets,

stopping and talking to all and sundry and encouraging them to say flattering things to me.

Over supper on Friday evening, George told mum about his upcoming graduation ceremony which would be held the following Thursday.

He was looking forward to leaving school but wasn’t keen on having to wear a mortarboard and gown on the day.

“We’ll have to make sure your suits still fit boys.” mum said.

“And we’ll have to buy Sophie a nice new dress too.”

“I’ve got loads of dresses.” I moaned, although in retrospect it probably sounded more gleeful than whining.

“I know dear.. but for George’s graduation day you something extra nice,

with a petticoat too.”

“He’s not coming!” George spat.

“She!” Mum corrected. “And yes she is!” she insisted.

“What’s a petticoat?” I wondered as I wished the world would swallow me up.

A week later, my eldest brother George had graduated from high school and all the other kids have broken up for the summer holidays.

Mum wasted no time in getting the film in her camera developed so she could frame the photograph she took of George, Andrew, and I… and hung it proudly in the hallway.