Football Girl~Season 2~Chapter 19

Previously...

Here goes.

The thing is, I’m a girl inside and I always have been. This is difficult to talk about as I have been hiding this all my life. I live with my mum, as Dad went off with someone else when I was tiny.

Mum doesn’t know about me and I’m too scared to tell her as I know that she would never accept me as a girl.
I’ve seen her watching those chat shows where people go dressed as women and she laughs and sneers at them. She thinks that men are men, and women are women and that is that–no argument.

I cringe when I hear her and I just want to go somewhere and cry my eyes out. All I want to be is a girl. I have always been a girl inside. It’s not just the clothes, it’s how I am. I see other girls able to be who they really are and I envy them so much.

I have thought about just jumping off a bridge or taking pills, then all the pain would go away. I wouldn’t be a girl, but at least I would have peace. But I’m a coward and frightened to do it, so I haven’t even got that way out.

Susan, what I’m trying to say is that I don’t have any idea what to do. You are such a strong person, and you have shown that you can get over what you were and become the person you really are.
Have you any idea what I can do? I don’t expect us to meet or anything, you are far too important and busy for me to hope for that, but could you give me any ideas about how I can cope with all this without going mad?

I will understand if you are too busy to help though, and I really think that you are a very pretty and talented person.

Hugs and kisses

Joanne
(Paul)
XXXXX

I had tears running down my face as I read the email. I could feel for her and the pain she was suffering. I had to do something.

I got up from the bed, hopped over to the door and shouted, ‘Mummy!’

She would know what to do.

And now the story continues …

I sat on the bed as Mummy read Joanne’s email. I was still a bit weepy, well girls do cry you know, and as everyone will tell you, I always cry in the sad bits in films …

‘Susan!’

‘What?’

‘Don’t say “what”, dear,’

‘Sorry, pardon?’

‘Crying won’t help Joanne.’

‘But I’m emotional–oh, you don’t understand.’

‘I’m a woman too, you know, but crying will get you nowhere in this case. She needs help and fast. I don’t like this reference to suicide.’

‘But she said that she was too scared to do it.’

‘Things can change.’

‘Is that you in your Samaritan, counsellor type mode?’

‘Yes; I have seen too much of this and I know the signs. But being a hard headed and thoroughly grounded person, I have to put emotion aside for a moment; hang on.’

She picked up the phone and dialled a number. I noticed that it was only two digits so it was internal. Who said that I didn’t have those little grey cells that Hercules Parrot was always going on about?

‘Danni? Hi hon, we have a situation, can you come to Sue’s room? No she’s not dying, or in danger, I just need your advice–okay, see you in a few.’

‘What’s Danni got to do with this?’

‘I don’t want to explain twice.’

‘Bit short today Mummy?’

She rubbed her eyes.

‘Sorry love, the twins decided today to practice throwing food for the Olympics and seeing how loud they could scream at the same time. Since they got over their bug, they have been playing me up. They know what pulls my cord.’

‘Aaw, they are so sweet though.’

‘Just you wait till you have a baby; it’s not all sweetness and light.’

I thought for a moment.

‘I like the idea of having babies. Andrea and I speak about it sometimes and one day, we’ll use the donor bank thingie, but I am worried that it might hurt a teensy, weensy bit. When I was pretending to be a boy, the kids at school all said that women made a fuss of it and it couldn’t hurt that much. Danny Williams said that if horses and cows can have babies without making a song and dance about it, why can’t women?’

‘And you believed him?’

‘Yes, no–maybe. Anyway the thing is, I don’t believe it now, and it sort of scares me. Girls my age and younger have babies and I’m sure that it’s painful. I want to wait until I’m older–not as old as you, though …’

‘Bloody cheek!’

‘Don’t swear Mummy–no, I mean, there’s this biological clock whatsit that says that if you are old and wrinkly …’

‘Watch it!’

‘I didn’t mean you Mummy; you are young and wrinkly …’

She threw a pillow at me for some reason and we both collapsed giggling on the bed. That’s what I liked about my aging parental unit; she has a sense of humour!

We didn’t have time to talk any further on the subject as Danni came in looking sweaty–sorry, glowing. It looked like she had been using her muscles again, doing her tote that barge and lift dat bale impression.

‘Wosup?’ she said, her breathing rather heavy.

We came back to Earth and I remembered that things were serious. I felt guilty then as I had momentarily forgotten about the Paul/Joanne situation. I think now though that it was my devious mum just trying to stop me from worrying for a few minutes.

‘Come and look at this,’ Mummy gestured for Danni to come over to the computer.

Danni read the email. ‘Are you concerned that it might be a hoax or something worse?’

‘Maybe. On the face of it, it looks genuine, but let’s face it, there are people out there who don’t like our wunderkind .’

‘I am here you know and what’s this about wunderkind , I am an adult now–well almost. I prefer to be known as gifted, although … ’

‘… yes dear,’ she said dismissively and then continued to discuss me with Danni.

‘So, how can we check?’

‘Difficult, but not impossible; leave it to me. I’ll forward the email to my account and do a bit of digging.’

I sent an email back to Joanne, saying how sorry I was that she was having problems and that I would contact her in a few days. That was all that Danni allowed me to say. I just wanted to go and give the girl a great big hug, but I realised that it might not be a good idea until we were sure that she was genuine. I just hoped that the girl didn’t do anything stupid before we could do something about it.

‘Get those knees up–pump, pump …’

I hated this sort of training. The squad was at the training ground and Mike Thomas, the assistant manager, was running the training session today.

It was two days after my contact from Joanne and I was deemed to be fit enough for light training. If this was light, what the hell was heavy?

Mike had us doing all the sorts of things that I didn’t like to do. What was the point of dribbling balls in and out of traffic cones; I didn’t play against traffic cones, did I? Some of the opposition had the brains of a traffic cone, but that was beside the point. Then I had to run up and down this hill, while the others were having a rest, just because my peak oxygen level whatsits weren’t up to scratch. Well they wouldn’t be. I had just gotten off having a bug and my ankle was still a bit weak after my injury.

Rank discrimination was what I called it, but no one seemed to take my side in the matter.

Several of the lads said things about me and my supposed lack of peak fitness. I could have made some cutting and scathing remarks, but I was above all that and just poked my tongue out at them. Somehow they thought that I had done something funny.

It was very hard being a superior being amongst the Neanderthal men. Still, if rumours were true, at least one of the girls in the women’s team were going to join us in training soon, with the hope, (as far as I was concerned), that they would become part of our squad and the spotlight would go on someone else for a change.

It also appeared that other clubs around the country were also considering women players in the league. It was a fact–and that was not just me being big headed–that female attendance and attendance in general at the games I played in were significantly higher than when I was not in the team.

Money talks, and if unisex teams would earn more money for the clubs, then that may be the thing of the future, time would tell, but if it did happen, I would be a very happy bunny!

In a brief respite from the torture that is training, one of the new lads came up. He had been brought in by the previous management and had played a couple of times but was finding it hard to adjust to our league as he had previously played for Crantock, a division 2 team.

‘Hi Ben,’

He nodded and sat down beside me on the grass bank. He looked almost as tired as me.

‘I’m not used to this level of training, and I thought that I was fit.’

‘I know, Ben. They work us hard. Still, you need the fitness to keep up in the premier league, or so everyone keeps telling me.’

‘Don’t I know it.’

He was 18 and was quite nice looking, but I was not interested, as I had my Andrea.

‘Do you have a boy friend?’ he asked.

‘No, a girl friend.’

‘Oh, so you swing the other way?’

‘What, oh yea, I suppose so.’

‘Pity,’ he said.

‘I don’t think so.’

‘No, but I do. Well you can’t blame me for trying.’

‘A good looking boy like you should be able to find someone nice.’

‘Yea, I suppose, but I never know if they like me for who I am or what I am, you know a footballer with plenty of money to spend.’

‘They do pay us a lot.’

‘Mmm,’ he replied. ‘My dad worked down the mines and I get paid more in a week than he did in several years of hard labour.’

‘It doesn’t seem fair;’ I replied, ‘but that’s life, I suppose.’

‘Mmm,’ he said, ‘Well, I don’t think that I’ll be here much longer, so the big money is short term. I had better make the most of it … ’

I looked at him. He seemed a bit angry. I wondered what he meant by that, but I had no more time to speak as we were interrupted.
‘Come on you lot, we have work to do.’

I groaned and Ben grimaced as we both got up and continued with the training.

After the torture treatment–sorry training, I was told to go home and rest up while the others had a training match. They didn’t want to chance me turning my ankle or something. I really fancied playing, and if I wasn’t such a mature, grown up woman, I would have had a hissy fit.

Still, I was tired and achy and was pleased when Daddy drove me home. Andrea and Claire had been watching the training, and were very chatty as we drove home.

‘Those men are a lot bigger than you, and yet you did like, loads more work.’ said Claire.

‘Yea, what’s with that trainer and the shouting?’ said Andrea holding my hand and stroking my fevered brow.

‘I wasn’t fit enough for him,’ I said, ‘I needed extra work to get me up to speed–according to him.’

Daddy was on his hands free, talking to some agent or other and we were in whisper mode.

‘Poor lamb,’ said Andrea, kissing me lightly on the cheek.

‘Fer God’s sake!’ said Claire looking faintly sick.

‘What?’ we both whispered in unison after Daddy gave us the look with his inside mirror.

We continued on in silence as Daddy started spouting off a whole load of numbers and percentages. How he could concentrate on the road while doing that sort of mental gymnastics, I will never know.

Eventually we arrived home and I went painfully upstairs, only whimpering slightly, as I was a brave girl. I considered the possibility of leg transplants and then discounted them as we had another match in two days time.

Gracefully I lay down on the bed, well, I suppose I collapsed in a heap, but we’re talking semantics here. I’m sometimes stunned at the words I come out with and wondered if I like, swallowed a like, dictionary, ya know?

After a bit my iPing ponged–I mean my iPhone pinged. I had received an email.

Sitting up, I grabbed said telephonic instrument and looked at my emails, it was another from Joanne.

‘Hi Susan,

Just a quick one. I have told my mum and she threw a wobbly. She said that I was a sick pervert, and she wants me to leave. I’m packing now, and I have a bit of savings. I am taking a train to London. I’ll find somewhere down there. I’ll email you when I get an address.

Hugs
Joanne.

‘Blimey!’

I got up, my aches and pains forgotten as I ran out of my room and shouted for Mummy.

I found her in the twins’ room. She was giving them a bath and there was more water on the floor than in the bath.

‘Mummy, I have had another text from Joanne …’

I read it out while Mummy tried to dry the munchkins–not an easy task at the best of times.

In the end she shouted for Andria and Claire, who reluctantly took over the drying and mopping up job while we went off to a more quiet area–the garden room.

Danni was called and she arrived a few minutes later. She too read the email. ‘Well, she seems genuine enough. Her emails were traced to her home address …’

‘How do you know?’ I asked.

‘Don’t ask,’ she said.

‘Oh,’ I said.

‘Anyway,’ she continued, ‘as far as I can see, she’s genuine. So we need to discuss what we should do. It seems like her mother has rejected her–bitch; sorry.’

‘She is a bitch,’ I said hotly, ‘how can she be like that to her daughter?’

‘Some people can’t accept issues like this,’ said Mummy.’ We have to stop thinking about the past and look to the future. Any suggestions?’

‘We go and get her and help her.’ I said.

‘Easier said than done; we don’t know where she is.’

‘We know where she’s going,’ said Danni.

‘The station!’

‘That’s right Sue; but Josie, do you want your family involved?’

‘We already are!’ I said hotly.

Mummy looked at me and sighed. ‘We are involved. As soon as she asked Sue to help her, we became involved, and anyway, I couldn’t forgive myself if anything bad happened to her and if she did get to London, who knows what might occur.’

‘Okay; I’ll rustle up reinforcements–Charlotte and a few other guys from the team. We will all go there, just in case we have misread this, and then you Josie together with Susan can go into the station and find her. We won’t be more than a few yards from you.’

‘That’s not necessary …’

‘That is necessary, Susan. You do it my way or not at all.’

I thought about it and realised that it made sense. Bad things had happened to me more than once, and there were people out there trying to put me down. There was a chance that this was a setup and I really ought to be cautious.

I sighed. ‘All right; I’ll do what you say.’

We arrived at the station just thirty minutes later. We knew that we would get there before Joanne, as she had a further distance to travel than us and the bus service stank.

We were hoping that she hadn’t changed her mind or had been delayed. I had sent her another email saying that we should meet, but I had no reply, so I assumed that she didn’t have access to her emails or wasn’t answering.

It was early evening now, and the rush hour was in full swing with commuters arriving and leaving the station all the time. I assumed that Joanne would be in boy mode, or I hoped so, as I might not recognise her if she was wearing girl’s things or even maybe wearing makeup and a wig or something.

I had described what Paul looked like to the others–smallish with dark brown hair; very thin and unusually large hazel coloured eyes. He had been nicknamed Bambi at school–go figure.

Two of the security team drafted in were standing at the entrance to the station, leaving six of us including me and Mummy to look in the station. We particularly looked at the train that was next due to leave for London. It had just arrived and passengers were getting off and crowding through the exits from the platform.

After a while, there was a lull, as it was getting later and the train wasn’t due to leave for another 30 minutes. The station steadily emptied out and there were few travellers left, some of them started to queue close to the platform entrance waiting for the gate to open so that they could board the train. Shortly after, the gate was opened and the passengers started to go through the barrier and walk down the platform to find the carriage they were after.

Mummy was standing by me and I scanned the faces. No one looking remotely like Paul passed us. Twenty minutes and no sightings, twenty five minutes and the train was preparing to leave–then I saw her. The same size and shape as Paul, but wearing a long blond wig and a long coat and on her legs, boot cut jeans. She was carrying a small case and had a shoulder bag. She was walking across the station and looked like she had come from the ladies, the one place where we hadn’t thought to look. She looked frightened. And although she was dressed as a girl, it was the eyes that briefly glanced up that gave her away.

‘Mummy, that’s her,’ I hissed as she approached, head down, trying to hide her face.

Those eyes–even at that distance I could see that she had been crying. This wasn’t an elaborate setup. There wasn’t anyone hidden away trying to get at me somehow. This wasn’t about me at all; it was about a frightened girl who had run away and was very scared.

I didn’t stop to think, I rushed up to her and before she knew it, I flung my arms around her.

‘Joanne, it’s me, Susan!’

I shouldn’t have done it. I may have given her a heart attack or something, but she must have realised what was going on as after a moment’s hesitation, she clung onto me like a limpet mine and burst into tears.

She hung onto me wracking her heart out as the whistle went and the train noisily left the station. I was aware of being in a three way hug as Mummy joined in and I was so happy and grateful that I had her as a mother and that I was loved and cared for.

After a while, I looked up over Joanne’s shoulder and I saw Danni and Charlotte a little ways away. Danni was smiling, so she had no qualms about the situation.

We led Joanne over to the station cafe, Mummy took her case and handed it to Charlotte, whispering something in her ear before she came back.

Soon we were sitting in a quiet corner of the cafe with steaming cups of tea in front of us and three jam doughnuts–the sugar was good for shock, well that was my excuse anyway. It was hot in the cafe and we all took our coats off. Joanne was wearing a smock top, white with nice peasant style stitching.

She wiped her eyes with a tissue. Her makeup hadn’t been put on very expertly and she had panda eyes from all the crying.

‘Y … you came,’ she sniffed.

‘Well I wasn’t going to let you go to London,’ I said hotly.

‘Sue, cool it a bit,’ said Mummy, ‘Joanne, it wasn’t a good idea to up sticks like that … ’

‘I was chucked out. I didn’t know what else to do.’

‘Don’t you have any other family?’

‘No, we have rellies down south, but we never kept in touch.’

‘How old are you now?’

‘Fifteen, just.’

‘And your mother just made you leave?’

She nodded, choking up. I held her hand and said, ‘She can’t do that; it’s illegal or something, isn’t it Mummy?’

‘Yes, it‘s a parents’ responsibility to look after a child until 18 in this country, unless the child marries and is over 16.’

Joanne looked up, her eyes brimming with tears again.

‘M … mum hits me, especially when she’s been drinking or has split up from one of her boyfriends. W … when she threw me out, she had a kitchen knife in her hands. She had been drinking and I swear that was going to use it on me. I know she was. She has these rages, sort of a red mist and sometimes she just can’t control herself.’

She put her cup down and pulled up the left sleeve of her top; along her arm were several cuts and bruises of different colours, some old, others newer.

Mummy and I both gasped. ‘She did this?’ asked Mummy.

She nodded.

I said nothing. It was all too similar to my situation where my step father had done the same on a regular basis. I knew what Joanne was going through and my heart bled for her.

We stayed there for a while longer, giving Joanne time to pull herself together. Nothing was said, but it was obvious that she was to come home with us and we would sort things out the following morning–although I knew from experience what the first thing would be, a visit to the doctor’s and then probably the police and the social services. I wouldn’t want to be in Joanne’s mothers shoes.

We arrived home an hour later. The little ones were in bed and everyone else had disappeared too. I think that Danni or Charlotte had forewarned the family, and as we didn’t want to overwhelm Joanne in her upset state, it was probably a good idea that she didn’t get any sort of reception committee. We didn’t want to frighten her off, after all.

She was dead tired, but when we got home, Mummy took her upstairs. I think that she wanted to have a quiet counsellor type chat with her.

Andrea and Claire would probably remember Paul from school, and they would have to be warned about her present status as soon as I was able to get texting. I could have gone to see them later, but I thought it better to leave any lengthy explanations until the following day and anyway, school nights were fairly early nights in our house, more to the disgust of the kids and the approval of the parents.

Joanne didn’t come down later, as she had gone to bed. Mummy said that the poor girl wanted to see me later, and also mentioned that she was going to sort things out for her the tomorrow.

I left it at that and then soon after as I was knacker … sorry, weary, I decided on an early night too. I went to see Joanne before going to bed though.

She was in one of the bedrooms along the corridor from me and I knocked on the door.

‘Come in.’

I opened the door and there was Joanne, in bed reading a magazine.

‘Hi, Joanne, how are you feeling?’

‘Better thanks.’

She was in a cotton nightie and looked a bit strange without her wig as her hair was still in boy mode. Her face was scrubbed clean of makeup. Still, she had nice delicate features and as long as she didn’t go all hairy and muscley overnight, she should pass okay.

I walked over and sat on the bed.

‘Had a chat with Mummy?’

‘Yes, she’s nice. She made me feel better. I’m not looking forward to tomorrow though.’

‘I know, I’ve been there myself.’

‘Your old step-dad?’

‘Yea.’

‘We all saw the bruises when you were at school. I could never understand why nothing was done about it.’

‘Well, it’s over now, and in the past. I try not to think about it unless my therapist drags it out of me.’

‘You have a therapist?’

‘Yes; I have issues, as they say. Anyway, enough about me. I hope that the powers that be can sort you out soon.’

‘I hope so too. I can’t go back to mum, I know that. She thinks that I’m a sick freak. She never used to be like that, but now she can’t stop drinking and she gets violent when she does. Everyone says that its men who are violent, but they don’t know my mum; she scared the shit out of me sometimes.’

‘I heard on the radio the other day that a lot of men suffer from domestic violence, so don’t think that you are the only on to be bit by a woman. If all women were so nice and docile, there’re wouldn’t be female prisons.

‘I suppose,’ she said.

I stayed with her for a few minutes more and then, because she looked like she was all in, I kissed her on the cheek and said goodnight.

‘Thank you for being there for me,’ she said sleepily.

‘That’s what friends are for.’ I replied.

‘So we are friends?’

‘Course,’

‘Wow!’

I giggled, turned the light out and left her to sleep her pains away, if that was possible.

The next day was Friday, and I had to go back to the training ground for another workout with the psycho–I mean physio. I still had a few twinges with my ankle and the boss wanted to make sure that I was okay for the match against Farningham the next day. We were playing away, but it was only 50 miles from Melchester so we would be using the team coach for that one.

Daddy couldn’t drive me, and Mummy was helping Joanne, so I went Auntie Monica, Claire and Andrea as they were dropped off at school and then we continued to the training ground.

‘I have to go into town for shopping. Sue. Ring me when you’re done and I’ll pick you up.’

I pecked her on the cheek and then she went off. I picked up my sports bag and made my way inside after waving at Charlotte who was in the backup 4X4.

My life was so complicated!

A few of the lads were there for some extra training, and I nodded to them and then went to have my ankle sorted out.

The treatment was boring, and included a cortisone injection which hurt like hell. One of the fun things about being a footballer is the use of the needle in treatment. Without the drugs, half the clubs couldn’t put out a decent team. I didn’t like it and I wondered about what my body would be like when I was thirty or forty–I had seen the results of too many injuries in other players who had, in some cases had to retire early–and I had no illusions as to what might happen to me if I wasn’t careful.

I phoned Auntie Monica who she said that she would be with me in about forty minutes.

As I had time, and was feeling a bit cold, I went into the cafeteria and got myself some hot chocolate.

The place only had a few seats occupied, so I found my way over to a corner table and sat down.

I texted Andrea and Claire, but they were in class so I didn’t expect a reply any time soon …

‘Hi, can I sit down?’

I looked up and there was Ben, a bottle of Coke in his hand. He was wearing trackies and had that wet hair, just out of the shower look.

‘Sure.’ I said, putting my phone back in my bag.

He looked around and looked a bit nervous–I hoped that he wasn’t going to hit on me again–and then sat down opposite me.

He took a swig of his drink. ‘You weren’t in training,’ he said.

‘No I had to see the physio. Did you have a good session?’

He grimaced. ‘Not really; have you seen the team sheet?’

‘No.’

‘You’re in, obviously, I’m on the bench–again.’

‘You might get on.’

‘Maybe.’

He took another long pull from the bottle, put it down, looked around again and then leaned in towards me.

‘Sue, erm there’s something I have been asked to put to you.’

‘What?’

‘It’s just, erm there are certain people who like to bet on matches, you know?’

‘I think so–yes, I suppose so.’

‘Well there are bets on the result and other things like the time of the first goal and who scores it, first corner kick, even who might get sent off and stuff like that.’

‘It seems a weird way to lose your money to me, but if they want to waste it … ’

He looked around again and I wondered why he was so nervous.

‘You know that you sometimes take throw-ins?’

‘Yes.’ I might be small, but I am flexible and can get a surprising distance with my throw-ins sometimes. I wondered what he was trying to ask me.

‘These erm, friends of mine have asked if you would do a foul throw in the second half. They erm, kind of insist.’

‘What!’

To Be Continued...

My thanks go to the lovely and talented Holly Hart for editing, and pulling the story into shape.

Please leave comments and kudo thingies...thanks! ~Sue

If you are enjoying this story, The original Penmarris story - Changes Book 1 is now available on Kindle:

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B006NZFWG8 (US)
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Changes-ebook/dp/B006NZFWG8/ref=sr_1... (UK)

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