Queen's Gambit - Chapter 5

© Copyright 2025 Maeryn Lamonte

'I do not mind the dresses. In all truth I derive a great deal of pleasure from the sensation of smooth silk against soft skin, and my appearance in the glass, once I have taken the time to make myself presentable, is as much a source of pleasure for me as for anyone else who might see me.

‘That which brings me the most pain is the knowledge of how I myself would have regarded such a creature as I have become. I am no different within than I was ere this adventure began. I possess the same values, the same understanding of the world, the same commitment to fairness, and yet I know from my own deeply held beliefs – beliefs instilled in me as a child – that others would consider me in my present form as possessing no opinion of great merit.’

And so on. It was hard to keep it from becoming preachy, but I focused on her conflicting feelings between that which she felt certain to be true from what she had been taught as a boy, and that which she now felt to be true that possessing a woman’s body made not one ounce of difference to her capacity for thought. Emotions threatened to overwhelm her at times, and she was now constantly bombarded with fine details by her heightened senses, but they only made her more aware of the subtle differences in life, which in turn caused her to consider her opinions to be perhaps more rather than less valued.

By the time Mum arrived, the pain I had been experiencing had faded to near nothing and I had several chapters written. The arrival of the new knight, the first encounter with the lady.

“And how would you respond to my words had they been spoken by a knight such as yourself, good sir?”

“The fact of the matter is they were not, my lady.”

“Think you so? Perhaps I might challenge your perspective of the world. You were drawn to this region by tales of magic and misery, were you not?”

“You know I was, and yet I find little enough to show for them.”

“Only so much as your eye will permit you to see. In these tales, a number of knights of renown were known to come here, and each of them vanished without leaving so much as a trace.”

“Aye, what of it?”

“Permit me to introduce you to these lost knights.” And she proceeds to present the animals in turn, who by their manner and by means of a board marked with letters, all show themselves to be the persons in question.

At the last she presents herself as the knight who was most recently lost.

The newcomer is beyond shocked and withdraws to consider what he has been told.

Mum’s arrival meant it was time to pause for a while. I took a moment to save my new document and attach it to an email addressed to my still anonymous agent, then gave all my attention to Mum.

The staff insisted I remain in a wheelchair, which was frustrating since I was filled to the brim with energy, but nurses had their orders. In the end, I accepted that the best I would have would be Mum pushing me around the hospital grounds, which at least gave me access to fresh air and good conversation.

Mum had visited a bakery on her way to the hospital, so there was also sweet pastry goodness to be had. I managed to put away half of an Apple turnover and enjoyed it at least as much as any whole one I’d eaten in the past. The rest went back into the bag and tucked into my dressing gown for future indulgence.

She stayed with me most of the morning. At lunchtime she was shooed out of the room with the promise she could return in the evening, and I was introduced to my first gynaecological examination prior to lunch.

“Remarkable,” the doctor said. “If it weren’t for your notes, I’d believe this was all natural. Any discomfort?”

“From you sticking your fingers inside me?” I asked. “That wasn’t an option yesterday, so it feels weird and yes, more than a little uncomfortable.”

He withdrew from my nether regions, entirely unembarrassed by my words. “I meant in general. I understand you were in some pain yesterday.”

“No, that’s cleared up completely. It just feels, well I suppose normal in a new way, does that make sense?”

He smiled. “I have no experience to compare it to, but I imagine so.” He removed his gloves and himself only to be replaced with a tray of lunch.

I’ll say this for private medicine, the food is better. I still didn’t empty more than half the plate.

Vegetables and fruit tasted better. It was the carbs I was happy to leave – the mashed potatoes in this case, and one of the sausages.

A couple more doctors came to poke and prod at me in the afternoon, and when Mum arrived in the evening, she was told I would be fit to be discharged the following morning. Somewhat to the hospital’s disappointment since they’d been expecting to keep me for a couple more days. From Mum and Dad’s point of view it made the already significant bill a couple of grand cheaper.

“Your father will be pleased,” Mum said examining the bill with some concern. “This is already going to be a challenge to pay.”

“How much?”

“None of your business.”

“I’m not sure how you can say that when it’s my surgery you’re paying for.”

“Your father won’t want you worrying about it. Promise you won’t say anything to him.”

“On one condition. If I make any money on this book I’m writing, you let me contribute.”

“That’s your money, sweetheart. You should keep it.”

“And spend it how I like, I agree. How I like to spend it is covering my medical bills.”

“Well, alright. Let’s see what comes from it first though, shall we?”

No sense in chasing after more. We chatted into the evening and dined in the cafeteria, me still stuck in the stupid wheelchair, but the food was still good.

The following morning, once Mum had filled in a few papers, a porter delivered me to the front door and I was able to stand up for pretty much the first time with the new arrangement between my legs.

I was a little wobbly on my feet, so we cut the planned shopping trip short and headed for King’s Cross. We lunched at Gregg’s, same as I had with Stacey just a week earlier, and sat chatting until our train arrived.

There had been nothing in the girls’ WhatsApp group since my last post to it. I posted my news to them. ‘Hey, guess what? Pinocchietta is a real girl after all!’

Judith’s response was a little rude, in that it comprised only three initial letters, the first two of which were W and T. Admittedly, I hadn’t given them much to go on.

I went into more detail, giving them the official version rather than Merlin’s.

The responses came in over the course of the train ride. Generally positive and upbeat, but with an underlying sense of, ‘we’re living our lives now; you should go and live yours.’

Merlin had been right about the girls. Ships passing in the night, navigation lights disappearing over the horizon.

Now, how to break the news to Lance. I texted him. ‘Let me know when’s good to call.’ This was something I was going to have to do in person.

He replied with a thumbs up emoji, which was a little ambiguous. I played it safe and took it to mean that he would do as I asked, rather than now was good.

This time I tried chatting with Mum only to find her distracted. I guessed the bill had come in at considerably higher than she or Dad had been expecting.

I dug out the tablet. If nothing else, I could do my bit towards covering the cost. I linked it to the train’s WiFi and opened the one email waiting for me

‘Sophie. Can’t believe I didn’t say anything before. This is really good. More please.’

I replied with one word. ‘Revisions?”

To which she replied almost immediately, ‘Not yet. Get it written first. Creativity does better without criticism, not that there’s much to criticise.’

So I went back to the story. I’d learned from somewhere that the biggest struggles in life are when we’re presented with evidence that challenges our most deeply founded beliefs. I’d faced precisely that several times over recent weeks. It felt like it was getting easier, but I’m not sure if that just meant I was becoming more inclined to believe new things. Not a bad thing if it made me more open minded, but there was such a thing as taking it too far.

I wrote my way through the new knight’s adjustment to his recent discoveries, and managed a very believable inner conflict as he fought his way through to accepting the new reality. When he returned to lady knight – I really was going to have to give them names – she was impressed by his preparedness to change, to the extent of considering not just her opinions and those of the other transformed knights – when they felt inclined to go through the effort of communicating – but also of the ordinary people who had suffered at the hands of the evil wizard. Despite her own inner turmoil, she found herself falling for the man.

By degrees, their friendship grew into something closer. She learn s to accept herself as a woman, including the aspect that caused her to be drawn to men, and one in particular, while he learned to accept that, whatever her past, her present and future would be as a woman, and a truly beautiful one at that. Not just in her body, but in her soul as well. She had sacrificed her future for the sake of all who might suffer under the mage, and that care for others dwelt at the core of the beauty he saw in her.

He petitioned the king to have the land given into the care of the person who evidently cared most for the land and its people, which unusual request was granted, and she then asked that he rule alongside her, asking that he consider marriage.

The wedding took place in a forest glade in the presence of the people with the animal knights attendant as guests of honour. Dressed and ready for the ceremony, she descended into the depths to the buried dragon.

“Forgive me for disturbing you, great one,” she said. “After this you have my word, I shall seal in this cave and ensure no-one interrupts your slumber.

“I am only sorry there remains no magic to return you to yourself.”

“It is to that end I wished to come. I have reconciled myself to this new life. I am to be married this very day, and to a worthy man. We shall bring peace and prosperity back to this land. Even the knights who were transformed into beasts will play a part.”

“You bring me some small amount of happiness in the telling of this tale.” A small tear of joy appeared in the corner of the dragon’s eye. “Take this last gift and do with it what you may. The world belongs to humans now. I wish you a better future than was found by my kind.”

The tear coalesced into a pearl the size of her thumbnail. Within its depths patterns swirled.

She withdrew from the dragon’s final resting place and ordered the tunnels collapsed as they climbed back to the world above.

The wedding took place with feasting and great joy. At the height of the celebrations she called the animals forward. Taking first the wolf under one hand and gripping the pearl tight in the other, she said to the wolf, “Be as you truly are.”

The wolf grew into a man. Naked and grizzled with some aspect of the wolf still about him. He was clothed soon enough and the other animals returned to something close to their original form.

At the last, the new knight took the pearl from her unresisting hand, cupped her cheek and said to her, “Be as you truly are.”

In that moment, she knew that she wanted nothing more from life but to love and be loved by this fine man. She felt her true form settle upon her and it was no different than the one she already possessed.

In total, it added forty thousand words to the story. I sent it off to Sophie ten minutes before we arrived at Selby. I pulled the remains of the apple turnover from my bag and offered a bit to Mum. She smiled wanly and accepted it.

Dad was waiting for us outside the station. Mum kissed him and handed him the bill. He blanched a bit then said, “We’ll manage somehow.” Then he turned to me with a smile. “Well kiddo, how does it feel?”

“Pretty amazing Dad.”

“Hey, whatever happened to Daddy? I was getting to like that.”

Mum put something together in the air fryer which proved to be quick and tasty. I suspected we wouldn’t be enjoying any takeaways any time soon.

I was first to finish my food by dint of eating the least. About the time I was done, my phone buzzed. Message from Lance. I asked to be excused and took my phone upstairs to my room.

“Hey you,” I breathed when he answered. “How’s your day been.”

“Better for hearing your voice. Dad’s still being a total tool.”

“Weeellll, I might have some news that may just give him an aneurism.”

“If only wishing would make it true.”

“Careful what you wish for. You’d miss him if he was gone.”

“Maybe you’re right. Go on, tell me your news. I could do with cheering up.”

“Well, you know I had a doctor’s appointment a few days ago?”

“That was the same day you sent me the photo of you. I wondered why I didn’t hear anything afterwards. Is everything alright?”

“Better than. It was an endocrinologist appointment...”

“Yeah, I don’t know what that is.”

“He looks at hormone levels and stuff. He was supposed to be trying to find out why I’ve been eating so much, but when he got my blood work back, he went sot of apeshit.”

“I’m sure you’re going to tell me why.”

“Long story short, I’m really a girl with girl hormones and girl bits and everything, at least on the inside, and I just started puberty a few days ago.”

“So...”

“Why does everyone think I’m a guy? It turns out I absorbed my fraternal twin brother while Mum was pregnant and the left over bit he gave me was what was dangling between my legs.”

“No shit! Wait. Was?”

“He referred me to a clinic in London where they specialise in turning men into women and they put me under the knife a couple of days ago. Hurt like you wouldn’t believe when I woke up, but I am all girl, baby.”

His two word response was an invitation to do something to him which I wasn’t yet prepared to do, on account of being under aged.

“Maybe in a few years if you’re a really good boy.”

His next suggestion involved using a different orifice.

“Sorry, don’t have the necessary equipment anymore, not that it ever worked properly anyway.”

“What?”

“Nothing, I’m just messing with you. Listen, Dad was saying something about getting me fitted for my uniform, so Mum and I are planning on driving down in a few days. Any chance of meeting up?”

“Only if you’re passing anywhere near Oxford. School’s shut for the rest of the summer.”

“Well, you’re kind of on the way. Maybe I can persuade Mum to stop off on the way too or from.”

“Okay, let me know which day or days and I’ll talk to my folks. Chances are Dad will be busy, but Mum and I could maybe meet you for lunch somewhere. They can figure out which of them hates the other more and you and I can go for a walk.”

“I don’t think my mum hates anyone,” I said.

“Just mine then. Tell yours to come wearing armour.”

“I hope you’re not being serious.”

“What, about my mum’s reaction to the parents of the boy in a dress who’s turning her son into a sodamite?”

“Wow. Sounds like a real bitch.”

“Goes with the territory. Socialites have special lessons in how to hate each other politely. Plus Dad’s position calls for someone who can plaster on a smile for just about anyone. Survival technique for that is to be totally bitchy about them afterwards. Mum’s a master, or mistress – no that makes her sound even more dodgy.”

“Well, however unpleasant she may be, I’m pretty sure Mum can handle it, and I really want to see you.”

“Like I say, I’ll see what we can manage.

“I’m not really supposed to be using my phone, so I’d better hang up before anyone notices. Thanks for the call; you have no idea how much I needed that “

“I can hear some of it in your voice, and you’re welcome.”

“Do I get to have the last word today?”

“Of course sweetie. Go right ahead.”

“I love you.”

“Shit, and you expect me to leave that without a response? I love you too. Now go again.”

“I miss you. If you can visit, that would be amazing.”

It begged a response, but I’d told him I wouldn’t. He hung up on me leaving me feeling all melted and gooey in places I had never had before, going with Merlin’s version.

Babbage – my new name for my ancient computer – whirred into life. There was an email from Sophie.

‘Love it, love it, love it. Loads of red pen to come, but don’t be put off by it. This is such a fantastic story. Work on changing the bits you marked earlier in the story, I’ll work on finding a publisher who’s looking for this sort of thing. If we’re lucky, we’ll get more than one interested and get a bidding war going.’

More exciting news. I wasn’t in a mood for writing though. That would have to wait for tomorrow. I headed back downstairs where Mum and Dad were eating ice-cream. I grabbed my spoon and took a small scoop of Dad’s, I mean barely any.

“Now I know you’re a girl. Hands off!”

I smiled sweetly at him and put my spoon down on my plate.

“Do we know when we’re sorting out my uniform?” I asked.

Mum nodded at Dad and took another spoonful of ice-cream.

“Arranged for Thursday,” Dad said. “It’s about a four hour drive, so I suggest you and your Mum drive down on Wednesday and find somewhere to stay for the night.”

“We could ask the school. I’m sure Mr and Mrs Ambrose wouldn’t mind putting us up.”

“We’re not going to bother anyone,” Mum said, “but asking the school’s not a bad idea. They may know somewhere they can recommend.”

“I thought we were trying to save money.”

“Not if it means imposing ourselves on someone. Is that understood?”

“Sorry Mum, I was just trying to help.”

“That’s alright, love, but there’s some things you just don’t do.”

“Any chance we could stop for lunch in Oxford either coming or going? It’s on the way and only about an hour from Marlborough.”

“I suppose we could. Any particular reason?”

“Lance lives there. He suggested maybe we could meet him and his mum for lunch on one of the days. Please Mum, it’s been ages since we saw each other.”

“Well, I don’t see that it can do any harm.” She looked at Dad who shrugged and nodded.

No more incentive needed. I jumped up and gave Dad a hug – he was closer and Mum was more kind of on the way to my room, because she got one next.

“We should let the school know Gwen’s change of circumstances,” Dad said. “As I understand it, they’re making special arrangements that no longer apply.”

It would mean I would probably not get to stay with Peter and Jenny, but then again, that was the sort of thing that destroyed reputations before you could do anything in a school. Besides, living with a bunch of girls would be fun, right? Like the summer school just gone, only longer term. It would also make life easier not having any restrictions on using toilets and changing rooms.

“Yeah, okay,” I said, then ran up to my room.

‘Coming down Wednesday to go back Thursday. Either is good to meet up for lunch. BTW, can you recommend anywhere to stay?’

‘Mum and Dad usually use the Fox and Hounds, which probably means it’s the most expensive. You know, status symbols and all that? I think there’s a Premier Inn, but I don’t know. The school should be able to advise.

‘Will ask which day is better for lunch and let you know.’

The next few days were largely about getting used to my new life. Lots of editing a rewriting, most of it in response to, 'lose the Olde Worlde speak. What you gain in a semblance of authenticity, you more than lose in the stilted and cumbersome way it comes across.'

It was annoying because I'd spent a lot of time trying to get it right, but the words flowed more freely once I wasn't trying to be something I wasn't, and I have to admit, the final result read a lot better.

Apart from that, quite a few of the discards and rewrites were bits I’d been rather pleased with when I’d written them, so I was reluctant to chuck them, but I could think of no outstanding reason to keep them, so I trusted the person who was offering to find me a buyer for my work. There was no doubt in my mind that the redone version was considerably improved on the first draft.

Then there were the peculiarities of my new body, whether thanks to modern science or the magical input of a wizard only I could see, I’d been growing in different and, well I suppose when you think about it, not entirely unexpected directions. Possibly at an unexpected rate, like my body had suddenly woken up to the fact that the race had started and was chasing hard to catch up.

The itchiness in my chest had turned into a couple of small but nicely formed breasts, my waist had narrowed and my hips broadened, causing considerable changes to the way I moved when I walked, and matters down below altered in ways I wasn’t so sure I liked.

The need to urinate now required a response sooner than I was used to and I had a few near escapes before I adapted to the new feeling. And the act of widdling was so strange compared to what I’d been doing all my life, plus there was the need to wipe clean afterwards.

Then there was the slight spotting of blood in my skippies (like mother like daughter with the terminology) leading to the inevitable conversation and learning to load torpedoes into the tube. It kind of went with the territory and you have to take the not so good with the good, but not my favourite aspect of the change of status.

I felt weaker too. I mean that probably sounds like a ludicrous thing to say given that I always had been the class wimp, but after I packed for the journey with Mum, lifting my bag took considerably more effort. Okay, granted there was a lot more stuff in it, because who wants to wear the same thing twice, but even so...

On the flip side, I felt so much more flexible. I mean, it felt like my hip joints were totally different. It took a bit of work with stretching exercises, but within a week I could do that splits thing with one leg straight out in front of me and the other straight behind. I was pretty sure that with a little effort I’d be able to do the standing on one leg with the other straight up next to my ear. Not that I’d want to try while I had a tampon in place.

TMI? I guess so. Sorry.

Balance was better as well. Absolutely no wobble when standing on one leg, or when transitioning between ballet poses.

Yes, I looked them up, and I tried them. I’m a girl now. It’s allowed.

Lance’s Mum was busy on the Thursday, but she invited us to join her and her son for lunch on Wednesday at her country club. I could feel Lance cringing as he extended the offer.

“What’s wrong?” I asked him.

“She does this to everyone. She won’t say anything you can object to, but it’ll be a masterclass in one-upmanship, I can guarantee that.”

“Thanks for the heads up. We’ll see you at one o’clock tomorrow. I, for one, can’t wait.”

“Yeah, me too. I just hope Mum doesn’t ruin it.”

So did I, but it was a bit late now.

Dad loaded Mums car with our gear the evening before. As before, Mum put together a couple of boxes of sandwiches to bide Dad over, then I helped her make us all a lasagne, because how am I ever going to get my lasagne fix when I’m boarding? I mean, meals included and all that, but there are options for looking after yourself over the weekends.

Early to bed, early to rise. Three hours to Oxford, so we didn’t need to be underway before ten, but Mum’s never been happy starting a road trip unless we plan to get where we’re going at least an hour early. In this case we went with three hours, giving us a chance to look around Oxford before doing the old meet and greet.

I’d been a CS Lewis fan since I caught chicken pox at age seven and Mum kept me distracted by feeding me books, the one that most captivated my attention being the Voyage of the Dawntreader. For my next birthday, she bought me a hardback set of the Narnia books. It had the Magician’s Nephew listed as book seven, but she took it out first, explaining how, although Lewis had written it last, it was actually a prequel to the rest. My birthday had fallen on a Friday that year and I’d finished all of them – including a reread of Dawntreader, to put it in context, you understand – by Sunday afternoon.

She’d booked us into an eleven o’clock CS Lewis tour without telling me, so we had a magical hour wandering around one of my literary hero’s haunts before reclaiming the car from the multi-storey and heading out in search of the country club.

Mrs Girling looked quite spectacular in a silk blouse and tailored trouser-suit. I’d told Mum about Lance’s warning of what to expect, so the extent of our own effort comprised of smart skin-tight jeans – Mum has a body worth showing off and so did I now – and loose fitting tops – white for Mum and pale yellow for me. She looked down her nose at us but, since we hadn’t tried to dress to impress and still looked pretty amazing, she couldn’t think of a suitable put down. Instead she inspected me closely before sniffing dismissively.

“You don’t look like a boy,” she said.

“That would be because I’m a girl,” I said with a bright smile.

“No,” she said. “You only think you are.”

“Actually,” Mum said with just a hint of frost in her voice, “she is a girl. She had a medical condition which she’s just had corrected.”

“I didn’t think you were allowed to have gender reassignment surgery at such a young age.”

“You’re not.” Winter was definitely approaching in Mum’s voice. “However, according to recent tests, including a chromosomal analysis, Gwendolyn is and has always been a girl.

“Anyway, it’s a delight to meet you. You are so very much like I was expecting. I’m sorry we’re a little underdressed, but after three hours on the road I’m sure you’d look a little grubby.”

Lance’s mum’s smile was so devoid of sincerity, it verged on a scowl.

“Not at all, not at all. Please, we have a table over this way.”

She led us into a relatively empty dining area where the aforementioned table awaited us. Silver service, lead crystal glassware and an exceptional view of an immense garden.

Lance fell in beside me and murmured in my ear, “You look f... absolutely stunning. What did you do?”

“Oh, just let mother nature do her thing. I don’t believe she’s done with me just yet though. You look pretty stunning yourself. Have you had your hair cut?”

“Actually, yeah. Mum insisted. She said she wasn’t going to be seen with me here unless I made an effort.”

“I took the liberty of ordering for us,” Mrs G said with her rictus grin. “The crab salad is to die for.”

“You’re very kind,” Mum said, her own smile looking more sincere, apart from the angry challenge in her eyes. “It’s as well Gwen’s father didn’t come with us, or he quite literally would have. He’s allergic to seafood. I’m sure you know some people who have the same problem.”

It was the first I’d heard of it. In fact I’m sure I remember Dad tucking into a lobster thermo-something-or-other on one of our holidays.

“Yes, well, Lance might have said something.”

“I’m not sure how Lance would have known. Gwen gave me the impression Lance had been refused permission to speak with her. She‘s been quite insufferable over it all.”

“Well, she must have spoken to him, mustn’t she. Otherwise how would we be meeting now?”

“I believe she texted him and he responded to say he would ask. I’m so glad you agreed.”

“Would you like a glass of wine with your meal?” She raised a hand summoning a waiter.

“Best not. We still have an hour’s drive ahead of us. Just water for me.”

“Gwen?”

“I’m a little young,” I said, totally ingenuous. “Water will be fine for me too.”

“A glass of Chablis please, and two Perriers.”

“Mum!” Lance complained.

“And a coke.”

The food was fantastic, and the spectator sport even better. Mrs G may have given masterclasses in one-upmanship, but Mum was a tenth dan black belt. The parry and repost was a wonder to behold, and Mum had a response to everything Lance’s Mum had to throw at her. In the true nature of a martial arts master (or mistress? No, still sounds dodgy) Mum never attacked outright but only responded to the attacks thrown at her. By the end of lunch, Mrs G was openly sweating. Not a great look in a silk blouse.

“Anyway,” she said. “I expect you need to be going.”

“Not especially. We can check into our hotel any time after three. Other than that, Gwen wrote to Peter and Jenny Ambrose to tell them we were coming down and they invited us for tea – I think you call it dinner in this part of the country.” Her tone managed to convey how quaint a notion she found that. “Do you know the Ambroses? Peter teaches English and ran the creative writing master class Gwen attended a few weeks back. Did you know, Mr Cavendish was so impressed with Gwen, both as a writer and a person of integrity, that he offered Gwen a scholarship to attend Marlborough.”

“Yes, well Lance doesn’t have to rely on charity to attend.”

“I was given to understand that the scholarships were awarded to deserving students. Not to charity cases. But I’m sure your Lance is as much of a credit to the school.”

“Mum!” I hissed. That had been the closest to an attack as Mum had made. Provoked, perhaps, but true masters are supposed to be above such trivialities.

“It’s alright, Gwen,” Lance made his first contribution of the afternoon. “I wasn’t a great student before I met you. In fact, I think Dad had to make a couple of sizeable contributions to the school to keep me from being expelled.”

“Lance! This is hardly the place!”

“It’s no more than you’ve been trying to do since they got here, Mum.”

“Lance, please.” I took his hand. “Your mother has been a wonderful hostess. Mrs Girling, thank you so much for inviting us here. It’s such a lovely place. I was wondering if you’d mind letting Lance show me around the gardens for a while. It’ll give you a little more time to get to know Mum.”

The rigidly plastered smile she turned on me held more than a hint of madness to it. I was almost tempted to feel sorry for her. Almost.

“Of course dear,” she said. “Don’t go too far though, will you?”

I stood up, dragging Lance to his feet. “Thank you so much. C’mon my luver.” This last to Lance in as broad a West Country accent as I could manage. We weren’t native to Yorkshire – hardly likely with a surname like Llewellyn – but Dad’s family had migrated from southern Wales to Bristol where he’d met and married Mum. We’d moved to Selby for Dad’s work when I’d been about eight or nine, and I’d never quite managed to acquire a Yorkshire accent. Possibly a partial cause of all the persecution I’d experienced at the expense of the all muscle and no brain brigade at school. Still, anytime I wanted to display my heritage, my old West Country accent did the job nicely.

We left them talking about what their respective husbands did for a living. Mrs G introducing the topic in the hope of boasting about her husband’s partnership in a prestigious law firm, but Mum described Dad’s job in a way that suggested he kept every computer system in the National Health Service running.

“Will they be alright?” Lance asked.

“My mum will be,” I answered, but we’d better keep this quite short for your mum’s sake. Maybe half an hour, no more.”

“You’d be surprised what we can do in half an hour.”

“My dad warned me that boys your age only think of one thing. I assured him you were different and that you thought about rugby some of the time too. Was I wrong?”

He laughed. “Do you know how much I’ve missed you?” he asked.

“I can guess, if it’s anywhere near as much as I’ve missed you.”

We were away from prying eyes at last and he didn’t waste any time showing how hungry he was for me. I could feel the bulge in his trousers as he pressed it against me and found myself all soft and weak kneed as a result.

Half an hour later we made our way back, to find Lance’s mum almost pathetically grateful for our return.

“It’s gorgeous out there, Mum,” I said. “They have peacocks and everything.”

“Oh, I’ve never much care for them,” she said. “Anything that goes to such an extend to show off its finery is too needy for my taste.”

It was almost too much for Mrs G, but Mum stood and held out her hand, which the other woman took without thinking.

“It was such a pleasure meeting you. Thank you so much for lunch, but I suppose we should be going. Is that alright dear?”

She directed the question my way so I pouted to make it clear that I wasn’t ready yet and clung to Lance.

“Come on darling, put him down. You’ll see him again soon enough.”

So I dutifully followed her outside to the car and we drove off leaving the two of them watching us disappear down the driveway.

“That was fun,” Mum said with vicious exhilaration. “You know, I have a lot more respect for your young man, knowing he’s survived having a mother like that.”

“He says his father’s worse.”

“I suppose your father will have to deal with him if it comes to it. God, the nerve of that woman!”

“Calm down, tiger. You left her in shreds, you know.”

“I suppose I did at that. I’m sorry, I probably went a bit far.”

“Well, I for one loved the peacock comment.”

She snorted. “Do you think they’ll ever talk to us again?”

“Not if we’re lucky, but I doubt we will be. I’m guessing she’ll want revenge.”

“She did strike me as the vindictive sort. Well, I’m sure when the time comes we’ll be up to the challenge.”

The remainder of the trip seemed to last a lot less than an hour, perhaps in part because Mum was energised enough not to pay much attention to the speed limit. Fortunately our satnav gave us some warning when we were approaching a speed camera.

We checked into our cheapo accommodation, which was pleasant enough for being pretty basic, took turns in the shower and dressed for our evening with Peter and Jenny.

Mum hit it off with Jenny from the outset. Both the Ambroses were delighted with my news – medical that is – although more than a little disappointed that I would be moving into one of the girls’ dorms after all, rather than staying with them.

“You’ll have to visit regularly,” Jenny insisted, and I promised I would.

After we’d eaten, Peter and I left Mum and Jenny building a close friendship. I’d promised to show him my book and now it was in its final stages.

He skimmed the first part, picking up on the changes I’d made, then devoured the new chapters. I’m guessing an essential skill required for teaching English is the ability to read fast, so I shouldn’t have been surprised how quickly he made it through to the end.

“That’s quite the story, Gwen. I am going to be hard pressed to teach you anything, I feel.”

“I doubt that, but thank you.”

“No, I’m serious. I mean you’re a scholarship student so we’re going to expect something special from you, which means I’m going to have to give you room to shine. I’m really looking forward to it. You are the kind of student I dream of teaching.

“I wonder if you’d do something for me, now that your all but done with this.”

“Sure.”

“I was wondering if, in the remaining weeks before you join us as a student, you’d write down your version of how you came to be in this position.”

“I could do that.”

Which brought us to the end of the evening. Peter drove Mum and me back to our hotel since she’d had a little too much wine and I obviously wasn’t old enough to be put in charge of an automobile.

In the morning he collected us and delivered us to our car in time to go see about uniforms. The blue tartan skirt was a little frumpy in my opinion, but it was warm enough and comfortable. We forked out way too much money for the works, not that Mum objected too strenuously.

“They cover any alterations you need while you’re at the school in the price, so I imagine it’ll be worth it in the long run.”

Personally I think she was just a bit spend crazy after the hospital bills.

My phone buzzed on the way home. I dug it out of my bag expecting it to be Lance, but it wasn’t him.

I answered and sat listening for about ten minutes, making the occasional vaguely intelligible grunt in response. Words from the other end finally dried up and I was left searching for a response.

“Thank you. Thank you so much.” I was too stunned to put much enthusiasm into the words, but I had meant them, unimaginative or no.

I dropped the phone into my lap.

“Well?” Mum asked after a couple of minutes. “Don’t leave me in suspenders.”

“Can... can you pull over for a minute?” I pointed out the window at an approaching lay-by.

Mum dutifully slowed to a stop and turned concerned eyes my way.

“That was Sophie. My, er, my agent.”

“Is it bad news. I’m so sorry darling, you worked so hard on that thing.”

“No! No, it’s nothing like that. She managed to find two publishers who were prepared to bid for the rights. She has an advance of sixty-five thousand pounds to send me. Then I’m looking at thirty percent royalties. She says that’s unheard of for a new author.”

“Oh! My God!!”

Do you know how uncomfortable a hug is when you’re both wearing seatbelts?

“It’s a good job you asked me to stop,” Mum said. “I think we’ll just sit here for a while.”

“Will the sixty-five thousand pay for my medical bills?”

“More than, but you’re keeping that money for yourself, young lady.”

“No, I’m not Mum. We had a deal, remember.”

“Oh yes. I suppose we did. Well, let’s decide when we get home and talk to your father.”

“Can we call him and tell him?”

“I’ll do that. You call your agent back and tell her how you really feel. The poor woman puts in that sort of effort and you tell her just thank you?”

So I called Sophie back and apologised. She laughed and told me she was used to that sort of stunned response, and thanked me for calling back. Now where to transfer the money. I told her I’d have to sort out a bank account and get back to her, at which point she laughed and said she’d forgotten for a moment how young I was and did I have any plans for future stories, so I told her what Peter had suggested, at which point she said to make sure I sent her a copy when I was done. In fact, could I send her copies of other things I’d written so she could look for other gems to develop.

I was vaguely aware of Mum laughing and crying through her own conversation with Dad. Once we’d both hung up, we walked up and down the lay-by a few dozen times until we had our feelings under some sort of control, then settled back into the car for the long drive home.

Dad didn’t want to accept any money from me, but I argued that the unexpected and massive medical bills were for my benefit and it seemed unfair for them to struggle to find the cash when I had it. The only reason I had the money was because they’d allowed me to go on the course in the first place.

For that matter, the only reason I was a girl was because of my trip to Marlborough, but that was the Merlin version of the tale, and Mum and Dad both believed Dr Munroe’s version.

I persuaded them in the end and still had forty grand left over. I offered to pay for the uniform too and they drew a line in the sand.

So what does a teenage girl do with forty thousand pounds? I mean, a new computer for one thing. I had a soft spot for Babbage, but I loved the portability of Mum’s tablet. In the end I followed Dad’s advice and bought a small but powerful laptop, which I named Lovelace, because why not?

It went with me everywhere. I spent time in coffee shops and under the trees in the park tapping away at my various projects. Peter’s request for one, and a half dozen others that Sophie had suggested might be grown into something book sized.

Former schoolmates would pass me without recognising me. Wayne – remember Wayne? The gorilla who’d followed me off the bus and threatened to kill me behind my Mum’s back – approached me once and I told him I already had a boyfriend. He went back to his group of friends and I vaguely heard the word dyke used in their subsequent conversation.

I closed my laptop and walked over to them, leaning close to his ear and whispering loud enough for everyone to hear.

“I’m not actually into girls,” I said, “but I do prefer to keep my relationships within my own species. Now, as a general rule, when a girl tells you she’s involves with another guy, that doesn't give you the right to badmouth her. That being said, even if I weren’t in a relationship with someone, I wouldn’t be interested in you if you were the last human being alive, and to be clear, I am using the term human in it’s loosest sense. If you were to grow up a bit and act your age rather than your IQ, you might find yourself in with the chance of losing your virginity before you reach the age of forty.”

He turned redder by the second as I spoke. If he’d suspected who I was, he’d have beaten me to a pulp, but Neanderthal or not, he wasn’t about to hurt a girl.

That was pretty much the most significant event in the remaining weeks of the holiday. I texted Lance regularly and he replied just as regularly, but there’s only so much you can say when there’s nothing of note going on in either of your lives.

Merlin made no further appearances, which meant either he’d expended more mana in our last encounter than was good for him, or he’d been a figment of my imagination and my imagination had decided it could get by fine without him.

The day finally came when I was supposed to head down to Marlborough. I had a little more luggage than on my last trip – for one, I’m a girl now, for two I had to get by for a whole term, not just a week, and for three hello! I’m a girl!! – so Dad took the Friday off and drove Mum and me down with the boot bulging with stuff.

Jenny was among those welcoming newcomers. She introduced me to a delightful girl my own age named Polly. She had a frizz of unruly hair and a mouth overloaded with an unfortunate number of teeth, and along with it one of the most infectiously bubbly personalities. You couldn’t help liking her.

She led us up to a dormitory with eight beds in it, where Dad gratefully put down his burden, then proceeded to show us around the school. The welcome pack included a map, which would help make sense of the mass of new information. I was already familiar with some of it from my previous visit, but there seemed to be so much more.

She ended the tour at the entrance to the gymnasium we’d used as a medieval banqueting hall on my previous visit. This time it was filled with tables and a throng of milling students, all trying to decide which extra curricular activities they wanted to join.

“Any questions?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “Do you want to meet up later? I don’t know, maybe at dinner?” Well, tea, but when in Rome...

“Really?” Her grin widened, showing even more teeth. “Okay. I do need to show some more people around, but I’ll meet you at the canteen at about seven?”

“That’d be great. I’ll see you there.”

Mum and Dad kind of hovered while I took in all the options. The ones that caught my eye were the debating club, which fascinated me since I’d never come across such a thing, the student council that represented the students in regular meetings with staff – you didn’t choose to join the council but had to be elected – the politics club, which seemed a bit top loaded with young conservatives so probably needed a little balancing out, and the historical society. Admittedly that last one, in recent years, had stated that the mound had nothing to do with Merlin – the official stance of professional historians too – so I wasn’t sure they had anything to offer me. Then there was the medieval re-enactors who were all about authenticity, so might be of interest.

My parents were getting fidgety. Dad put a hand on my shoulder.

“Your Mum and I thought we’d go settle into our hotel, if you think you’ll be alright on your own for a while?”

“I’ll be fine, Dad.”

“There’s a welcome for new students and their parents in the hall at about six. Why don’t we meet you there at quarter to?”

“Okay.” I gave him a hug around his waist. “Love you.” Mum next of course. You shouldn’t play favourites with your parents (stick out tongue emoji).

Peter was hovering near the creative writing club stall so I went over to say hi.

“We’d love to have you as part of the group,” he said, “but I think you’d be intimidating to us lesser folk. Sophie told me about your book deal. Congratulations.”

“Thanks. I’ve nearly finished what you asked me to write. It just feels like a bunch of loose threads at the moment though. I kind of need something to bring it to a conclusion.”

“Well, let me have what you’ve written so far.”

“Sophie wants to see it when I’m done.”

“I’ll keep it confidential. If you choose not to join, could I ask you to consider coming along as a guest from time to time?”

“Sure.” I took the blurb anyway, just in case.

Then there was the chess club. Not my usual sort of game – not that I’d played any of them in a while. It looked complicated.

“It is,” a familiar voice said at my shoulder.

I was wondering when you were going to show up, I thought at him.

“I told you it would be a while.”

Yeah, all the mana and all that, yada, yada, yada.

“I’m stronger close to a source.”

Like the mound?

“Yes. You know, this game has fascinated me since it first came to England in the eleventh century. Some unusual ideas, like the promotion of a pawn when it reaches the other side. Mind you, you’d think the king would be the strongest piece on the board, but it’s actually the queen. I have to wonder if that’s where I went wrong the first time.”

Does that make me a bit of an experiment?

“All of life is an experiment my dear, so yes, I suppose it is in a way. Don’t take it the wrong way. The knights also fascinate me. Not so powerful as the rooks perhaps, but more versatile and not so restricted by the other pieces on the board.”

Is that supposed to be some sideways reference to Lance?

“Make of it what you will. You could learn a lot about strategy from playing this game.”

I’m not sure I much like the idea of a game where you have to sacrifice your men in order to win the game. I’d rather look for an outcome where everyone wins.

“Yes, well, good luck with that.”

I moved on to the next table, which was empty with no-one manning it (or womanning it. Budding feminist streak? I’d have to watch that).

“This I rather like,” Merlin said. “The school puts it out every time there’s a club fair like this. It’s an invitation to any student to set up a new club should they feel so inclined. A, er, D and D club started a few years ago, but didn’t prove to be that popular.”

It was a neat idea – the table rather than the D and D, I mean. Another time maybe.

So what happens now? I thought at my ghostly companion.

“Now you learn what you must become. I will be here to guide you, should you need me, and to provide what assistance I may, but that was another mistake of mine with Arthur. I had my own ideas of what his destiny should be, when ultimately I should have trusted him to make the right decisions. His, er, more unfortunate choices were made at a time when he ceased to listen to me, after I had been a little heavy handed perhaps. Men’s pride is often their downfall you know.”

What would you advise for now?

“Bide your time. Live a little, learn a little more, make friends, decide what you believe to be right for the future. You’ve done remarkably well so far. Trust your instincts.”

Well, that’s kind of... vague

He chuckled. “It is, isn’t it. Even so, let’s see what the future brings.”

I nodded.

“Lance and his parents have arrived. You might want to head to the front entrance.”

That sounded like a good idea, so I did as suggested.

A large limousine had parked inside the school’s front gate. I recognised Lance and his Mum standing beside it. A tall and imposing figure, resplendent in double breasted pin stripes, looked about him with an air of impatient annoyance.

“Hello Mrs Girling, hi Lance. Mr Girling, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He turned to his wife and son. “Who is this annoying creature, and what does she want?” he asked brusquely.

“This is Gwen, Father. She’s my girlfriend.”

That merited me a little direct scrutiny, not that I cared for it much.

“So you’re the freak who has my son infatuated. Whatever makes you think I might wish to speak with you.”

“Oh. I was working under the assumption you might be inclined to be polite. I imagine your job would be a lot simpler if you were.”

“What did you say?”

“I’m sure you heard me just fine.”

“How dare you! Has no-one taught you to respect your betters?”

“In the first instance, I was polite and respectful at the outset, but I’ve spent too much of my life being pushed around by bullies, sir, so so excuse me if I have a tendency to push back. In the second instance, I’ve been taught to show respect to those who earn ite. Would you feel any respect for me if I’d been as rude to you?” I kept my voice reasonable, which was probably worse than if I’d reacted angrily.

He leaned in close, sneering, and growled, “You don’t belong in this place.”

I recoiled a little, but more from his stale breath than anything else.

“There are professional educators in this place who don’t agree with you, sir.”

“Yes, and I intend to have words with them.”

“I suppose you have to do what you have to, and we’ll see what comes of it.”

“Yes, we shall,” Merlin said at my shoulder. “Officious little toad, isn’t he?”

I barely held back a smile, covering it by rummaging in my bag. “Would you like a breath mint?” I asked, offering him one.

“Just what are you implying?”

“Oh, there’s no implication, sir, though I expect you’re not used to people telling you such things to your face.”

He batted the mints out of my hand. Lance stooped to pick them up and rescued more than half. I popped one myself and put the rest away.

“Well, I’m a little disappointed with the way this encounter has gone, but I suspect there’s nothing much to be gained by prolonging it any further. Lance, will I see you at dinner?”

“Lance, I forbid you...”

“No, Dad, you don’t. While I’m here, I do what I like.”

“Lance.”

“No Father, Gwen’s right. I’m fed up of you pushing me around, and while I’m here at least, you can’t tell me what to do.”

“You don’t have to go to this school, you know,” Lance’s mother hissed.

“I suppose not, but wouldn’t that be a waste after all the money Father’s spent to keep me here?

“Sure Gwen. Save a few spaces for us and we’ll join you when we get there.”

I left before the situation could become any more awkward. Where to though. There was always the mound, but that would be crawling with people today. I decided my best option would be my dorm room. I could unpack and, with luck, enjoy a little solitude. If that didn’t work, I could always try making friends with my new dorm mates.

Of course it didn’t quite work out that way.

I arrived to find three girls in the process of shifting my stuff out into the corridor outside the dorm.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I asked.

The queen bee among them offered me a condescending smile. “We’re moving your things for you,” she said. “You must have made a mistake, you see, this is a girls’ dormitory.”

“Yes! It was assigned to me. Because I’m a girl.”

“That’s not what I heard.”

“Well, check your sources more carefully in the future. Now, if you would be kind enough to take your stuff off my bed and put mine back...”

“Oh, I don’t thinks so.”

“Is there a problem here girls?”

I recognised her as the matron from Judith and Zoe’s block.

“Hello again Ma’am. I thought you looked after a different block.”

She peered at me suspiciously for a moment. Oh yes, you’re one of the girls who was here for the writing course, aren’t you?”

“Yes Ma’am. I’m Gwen.”

“Well, Gwen. Perhaps you’d like to tell me what’s going on here.”

“Sure. I arrived a couple of hours ago with my Mum and Dad. There was no-one in the room so I put my things on that bed by the window. The bag at the foot of the bed is mine.

“I showed my parents about for a bit, then they left me at the clubs fair and went to check in at their hotel.

“After I’d greeted my boyfriend at the gate, a came up here to find these three moving my things out into the corridor, saying that I don’t belong here.”

“She’s not a bloody girl!” Queen Bee exclaimed.

“Language, Marie! Now, what’s this nonsense?”

“To be fair, there was some confusion over it all when I was here a couple of weeks ago, so it doesn’t surprise me that there are a number of unpleasant rumours floating about...”

“Can you prove you’re a girl?” Marie interrupted.

“Actually, yes.” I fished out my phone. “I had an appointment with an endocrinologist a few weeks ago. My dad said I should keep a copy of his report in case I had to address any problems like this. The relevant sections are highlighted.”

I handed the phone to the matron who read aloud, “’Typical hormone levels of a teenage girl. XX chromosomes. MRI scan shows complete set of female reproductive organs.’ It does seem to be quite clear on the matter.”

“But...”

“Can you prove you’re a girl, Marie?”

“Why should I need to?”

“Oh, I agree, but then again, I’m curious as to why you thought Gwen here should be required to so. You will put her belongings back on her bed, by which I mean the one by the window, and you will apologise to her.”

“But...”

“Not up for debate, young lady.”

Marie glowered at me and all but spat, “I’m sorry.”

“Not acceptable,” the matron growled. “Let me be clear on this, Marie, I expect high standards from my girls, and so far, you are falling short. That goes for you two as well, Elaine and Abigail, isn’t it?” The two looked startled and worried. “You really ought to know better than to go blindly following someone into doing something you know full well is unacceptable.

“As for you Marie Logan-Andrews, I’m for reporting this infraction to the headmaster, but I’m going to have a little chat with Gwen here. Let’s see how inclined she is to talk me out of it.”

Marie visibly blanched, picked up the nearest of my bags – the one she’d dropped – and flounced back into the room.

It’s a lovely word that, and it feels so much more appropriate to women. The OED defines it as moving in an exaggeratedly irritated or angry manner, which means totally different things for men and women. Women have this tendency to step with their knees bent and push upwards, like they’re stamping along but as quietly as they can. If they happen to be wearing a skirt, it causes it to bell out like the locomotion you see from some jelly fish. That’s flouncing to me, and it’s what Marie was doing in spades.

“Now,” the matron turned her gimlet gaze my way, “let’s you and me have a private chat, eh?”

I followed meekly in her wake down a corridor or two to a snug little office. She waved at an armchair in the corner of the room and turned the kettle on.

“Tea alright, love?” she asked.

“Yes, thank you, ma’am. Do you really want me to talk you out of reporting this?”

“No”, she chuckled, “of course not, but there’s no harm in letting her think so, entitled little cow that she is.”

“Then w...”

“I’ve been doing this job a long time, Gwen, and every year I see the same thing. I see privileged, arrogant and deeply unpleasant individuals looking to see what they can get away with, and I see kind and hopeful souls who always look for the best in the people they meet. The target of choice of the first kind is the second kind, so what I do, as much as my position allows me, is to strike up a relationship of sorts with the vulnerable girls in my dormitories.

“Don’t think for one second that I won’t come down on you like a ton of bricks if you knowingly step out of line, but while you are open and honest, thoughtful and kind, I’d like to stand by you and at least give the impression to those who have a mind to be unpleasant to you, that I will be a whole lot worse to any of them who pick on those I take under my wing.”

“I appreciate your intent, ma’am, but I can see how that might have a negative effect on people like myself.”

“Which is why I don’t give you an option.” She handed me a mug and settled in the chair opposite. “And while it’s just the two of us tucked away in here, it’s Penny.”

“Yes ma’am, er, I mean Penny.”

“Good, you’re a quick study.

“Oh, and I do remember you from a few weeks ago, so I’m aware your story isn’t that straightforward. I’d like to hear a few details if you don’t mind. Not many girls feel the need to carry around proof of their gender for one thing.”

So I took a sip of my tea and led her through my story. Born a boy, felt like a girl from an early age. Struggled with identity issues and finally found a way of coping by writing my thoughts and feelings into stories. Won the competition and came for the creative writing course.

She interrupted me around there. “So, to be clear, when you were here for the course, when you were spending time with those girls late in the evening in their room, you were actually a boy.”

“Officially, I suppose so, but I would say there were mitigating circumstances.”

“Ooh, I can’t wait to hear this.”

“Well, my competition entry was about a knight who is transformed into a woman. Our teacher, Mr Ambrose...”

“I know Peter, yes.”

“I sort of let on to him that I was sort of trans, and I let slip much the same thing to the girls.”

“Oh?”

“Peter suggested we could choose different names for the week if we wanted. I mean I was christened Gavin and we had a Stacey in the group. When it came to my turn, I kind of said Gwen without really thinking, then changed it to Gawain, but they knew it wasn’t a mistake on my part.

“The girls started treating me as another one of them; an honorary girl, they called me, and I just sort of fitted into behaving the way I’ve always felt inside.

“Then they started talking about having a late night natter in one of their rooms, and they didn’t feel it was right that I should be excluded.”

“So was it their idea or yours to smuggle you into their room?”

“I suppose theirs, but I really didn’t argue against it much. The chance to be one of the girls was just too good to miss.”

“And these mitigating circumstances of yours?”

“I hadn’t started puberty when I was here. I have never been interested in girls in a, you know, intimate way. It seemed like the reason for the rule about boys not going into girl’s rooms was more about concern over what boys and girls might get up to in private, and that wasn’t something any of us were interested in. I think we all – me included – saw me simply as one of the girls, albeit with a bit of an unfortunate physical defect.

“We did consider asking Mr Ambrose if it would be alright but, no-one thought that would go well, so we figured – there’s that saying, isn’t there? Easier to get forgiveness than permission?”

“You were found out though, went you?”

“Yes. One of my friends thought it might be fun to replace my jeans and tee shirt with her skin tight jeans and a top. I only brought the one pair of jeans with me, so when breakfast time came the following morning, I still only had Zoe’s jeans to wear, and they didn’t look right with any of my shirts, so I wore her things to breakfast.

“After a bit of an explanation to the head master, with my parents listening in, Mr Ambrose and his wife volunteered to chaperone us for our late night chats, and they offered to put me up in their home so I could spend the rest of the weeks full time as a girl.

“Mr Cavendish offered me a scholarship, and we were making arrangements for me to stay with the Ambrose’s and to attend as a transgender girl, when my doctor discovered this lot.” I pointed to my phone. “I’ve had operations to correct my physiology and make me fully female, and now puberty has set in and I’m becoming... well, what you can see.” I pushed my chest out, making my budding breasts more noticeable. “Because there are no issues with my physical gender, the school decided I would be better off boarding in a girl’s dorm, so here I am.”

My tea had gone cold, but I drank it anyway.

“Well, that’s quite a story. Thank you for being so open and honest. I’m afraid it’s made me all the more inclined to take you under my wing. I hope that doesn’t cramp your style too much.”

“I shouldn’t think so, but why all the more inclined?”

“Because you’re a teenage girl with no understanding of how to be one, and that makes you that much more vulnerable.”

“Vulnerable and weak aren’t the same thing, Ma’am.”

“I never said they were, but you have to choose your moments to be vulnerable. You need to be careful about who you expose your soft, white underbelly to.”

“I suppose.”

“Anyway, we’ve been gone long enough. Well head back and see what the girls have done. Follow my lead, alright?”

“Er, sure.”

Marie, Abigail and Elaine were sitting on their beds, chatting quietly.

“I still don’t agree with you,” Penny raised her voice a little as we entered the room. These three deserve to... Oh, are you still here?”

Follow my lead she’d said. “But ma’am, you stopped them before they did any harm, and I’m sure now the misunderstanding’s been cleared up, there won’t be a problem.”

“Well, alright, but just this time. And you three, I’ve got my eye on you.”

She closed the door firmly behind her. Not quite a slam, but enough to make a point.

All three of the girls had puffy eyes.

“Are you guys alright?” I asked.

“Not really, no,” was it Elaine or Abigail said. “We’ve all been thinking about what would happen if our parents hear we got in trouble on our first day.”

“Did you really keep her from informing the head?” Marie asked, very much a different person now.

“Well, I’m not sure I did much, but we talked for quite a while and, I mean, you didn’t exactly do anything, did you?”

“Damned right we didn’t.” Marie regaining a little self-righteous indignation.

“Actually,” Abigail or Elaine said, “what we did to Gwen here was pretty shitty. I’m sorry Gwen. We all are.’

Elaine or Abigail nodded and the two of them stared at Marie until she reluctantly added her nod.

“Well, let’s just forget it happened and start over,” I said. “I’m Gwen and I just started here.”

“Yeah, we heard about you. I’m Abigail by the way. Abby. We heard about you being on the creative writing master course. That’s quite a big deal, you know.”

“Yeah, I still can’t quite believe it, but it was so cool. All the other competition winners were girls too. We had such a blast.”

“So how did you land the scholarship?”

“I don’t know. I must have done something that impressed Mr Cavendish.”

“Like what? I mean it would have to be quite significant.”

“Well, it could have been a lot of things. One thing Mr Ambrose did for us all was arrange for us to speak to a publisher and maybe have our competition entry included in a magazine or something.”

“Yeah, so what?”

“Well, mine asked me to add thirty plus thousand words to it and she’d see if she could get it published as a novel.”

“No way,” by a process of elimination, Elaine said. “So, are you gonna do it?”

“Already done. Final draft went to my agent earlier in the week. I had two publishers fighting over it. It’ll probably be in the shops by Christmas.”

“Bloody hell, Cavendish will love that, having a published author in the student body. No wonder he offered you the place.”

“Well, at the time he did, the book deal was still some way off.”

“What’s it called and what’s it about?” Abby asked.

Which meant we had stuff to talk about until six.

My smart watch beeped – yeah, it’s new. With forty odd thousand in the bank I’m hardly going to do nothing with it, am I?

“I have to go. New arrivals thing in the main hall. I said I’d meet my parents outside in about five minutes.”

“Go,” Marie said. “We’ll save you a seat at dinner.”

I beat Mum and Dad to the hall by less than a minute, but that gave me just enough time to notice that I was one of only a small minority not wearing their uniforms before Mum hissed at me to ask why I hadn’t changed.

“Sorry Mum, I didn’t realise uniform was expected, and I was a little distracted making friends with my dorm mates.”

“Well, can’t help it now. Come and sit with us.”

We made our way into the hall where I hid among the parents.

It was the usual welcome to the school boring rubbish with a few useful pieces of info hidden among the tedium (just to check if you were paying attention). It only lasted half an hour, for which thanks were offered for small mercies, then there followed a mingling of bodies.

In which Mr Cavendish, who’d most likely spotted my parents from his vantage point on the stage, made a bee-line directly for us.

“Miss Llewellyn.” I cannot tell you how much of a thrill being called that caused me. “I see you elected not to wear your uniform.”

“I’m sorry sir. I didn’t know we were supposed...”

He held up his hands to fend off my onslaught of words. “It’s fine, it’s fine. Nothing was expected today, except by those who think conventionally. Tomorrow, however...”

“Of course, sir.”

He turned to my parents. “Perhaps I can introduce you to a few people? It’s Derrick and Lynne, isn’t it?”

“Er, yes, yes and yes,” Dad said. “Did you have anyone in particular in mind?”

They drifted off to the boring adult corner, apparently having no further use for me, so I looked around for someone to talk to. Pretty much all the kids were younger than me – starting year seven whereas I was in year ten – and staying close to their parents. Eventually, my eyes fell on a familiar face.

“Gwen.” Peter was all smiles. “How’s my favourite pupil?”

“Great, thanks. I thought you weren’t supposed to have favourites.”

“Oh, I think it’s alright as long as every one of them is a favourite. You’re all so different, so it’s easy enough to find a different reason for you all to be.”

“So what am I favourite for?”

“Favourite pupil who’s a published author?”

“Nice try, but not quite yet.”

“All but according to Sophie. She's been updating me with every step you take. She’s quite impressed with you. Says a lot of her other clients could learn a thing or two. So anyway. That homework?”

“Like I said, it’s not finished.”

“I know, loose ends and stuff. And like I told you, send me what you have.”

“What about Sophie wanting to look at it?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep it safe. One copy only and on my school laptop.”

“I do trust you, sir, but, well, you know.”

“I do indeed. Sophie has lectured me on numerous occasions about the importance of keeping manuscripts secure.”

“You mean I’m not the first person from Marlborough whose material she’s published?”

“Firstly, she’s an agent, not a publisher. Secondly, of course not. Who do you think I send my material to?”

“She’s your agent?”

“Among others, and I have to confess to being more than a little jealous. I can’t remember her ever being so enthusiastic about anything I sent her.”

“Is she really?”

“No, I just told her to say nice things. Of course she is. Doesn’t your current bank balance tell you anything.”

“I suppose. Wait, did she tell you how much she paid me?”

“That wouldn’t be very professional, would it? And yet again, it’s the publisher who paid you, she just took her cut before passing on the rest. I imagine once your book hits the shelves, you’ll have a lot more coming in too. Sophie’s too good an agent to let a gem like your story go for just a one off payment.”

“Yeah, I’m kind of looking forward to that. It wasn’t even my best story.”

“Now, that’s just showing off. I’m going to have to punish you for that.”

“I look forward to it. So what happens now?”

“Well, generally, everyone wanders around looking for someone interesting to talk to. Then, when they lose interest, they go home. In your case, you decide when you’re hungry enough to go to dinner.”

I checked my watch. I wasn’t late yet, but I was going to have to get a wiggle on.

“I should go. When’s my first lesson with you?”

“On your timetable. Enjoy your last few days of freedom. Oh, and a bit of advise? Spend a few minutes over the weekend figuring out when and where your lessons are on Monday. Nothing makes a worse first impression than turning up late.”

I hunted around for Mum and Dad, only to find them talking to Lance’s parents. I approached warily.

“Hello sweetie,” Mum said. “Look who we ran into.”

“Yeah, I’m looking,” I said cautiously.

“Mr Girling here...”

“Quentin please.”

“Quentin here was explaining how he likes to host a soirée for a few friends and colleagues just before Christmas. He’s invited us this year, since Oxford’s on our way home.”

“That’s very thoughtful of him, Daddy.”

“It is very generous,” Mum said, having evidently picked up on the same cues that were making me uneasy, “but I’m not sure we can afford...”

“Nonsense, the whole evening’s on me – us,” he glanced at his wife. “We book the whole hotel for the evening, so there’ll be a room available if you wish.”

Mum and I exchanged looks. There was something off about this – both the Girlings were hiding something – but suspicions weren’t reason enough to decline. Dad accepted for all of us.

“I just came over to say it’s dinner time and I have a few friends waiting for me, so maybe I’ll see you later?”

“We’ll be around tomorrow if you can bear to be seen with your parents. I mean we’re not exactly cool, are we?”

“Cool enough. Why don’t I meet you at the main entrance after breakfast?”

“Will we be able to visit the mound?” Dad asked.

“I’ll check, but I’m sure it won’t be a problem. Maybe we could go look at Silbury Hill as well. It’s only about ten minutes’ drive west of here.”

“No public access though. We can drive past it, but I don’t think there’s anywhere we can even stop nearby.”

“It would still be cool to see it and compare the two. Anyway, see you guys tomorrow. Love you.”

I ran off, aware that I was a couple of minutes behind.