Chapter 1

They say that you can’t choose your parents, and I for one, can heartily agree with that. My own parents, Duke and Daisy Smithers, should have had a better upbringing if there had been any justice in the world. Their own two sets of parents were aging hippies, living in a commune and growing odd plants.

I’m not saying that they were bad people on the few times I had met them, merely spaced out for most of the time. I’m still not sure if my parents had actually married, but the five of us children all bore the surname of Smithers.

We lived in a nice house on Ampton Road, Birmingham, as they had done quite well for themselves when they were new to the music business and not as jaded as they now were. I have to admit that they did try to make sure that we were dressed reasonably well, and that we went to school, no doubt their rebellion against their own parents. School for us was Hallfield, being a co-educational that took you from kindergarten to the exams. It was an easy walk from home.

I was their fifth child, and, hopefully, the last. My birth wasn’t easy, so I was told, as Mum had been on drugs for some time while I was being created. It caused me to be taken, before time, as the complications were making her own life problematic. As a result, I was no sturdy lad. In fact, the first words, so they said, that Mum spoke when she saw me was, “He’s hardly there!”

Which is why I now have the name that I’m lumbered with. My siblings are, by age, Artichoke, usually called Archie. He’s your typical big brother, and I do mean big! He looks after the rest of us as if we were his herd. If the story is to be believed, he was conceived in a field of artichokes when my parents were working in the commune fields.

The oldest sister is Belisha, or Belle to us. You can guess where she was conceived, one dark night after a show. I guess that she was lucky that she didn’t get lumbered with Zebra.

Then there is Cataclysm, usually called Cat, which she does live up to, at times. She was born at a very big time for our parents, when their band, the Smithereens, was actually in the charts, even if it was the Midlands C&W Indie charts. All three of them work, but still live at home.

My other brother, just two years older than me, came about after my parents were living separate lives for some months. They were in different rehab clinics. His name is Dromedary, as it only took one hump when they got back together. We call him Drom.

Me, well, with those first words, I ended up, after much debate, as Ephemeral. Usually I’m Effy at home, and the same is my nickname in school. Which is a problem, because I’m a boy. I hoped that they stop with me, as the next one would start with F, and there’s no knowing just how that would pan out.

Being musicians, my parents rose late and played until the early hours. They had a regular spot in a Western-themed bar, of which there are a few in Birmingham. The better-known ones are Coyote Ugly and Rodeos’ BBQ, and they had played in those better places, and others, in their best days.

Now, they played in a grotty little place called Quarter Horse, which did have a quarter of a horse, in fibreglass, hanging at the main door. It tried to be a true western experience, with peanut shells on the wood floor, and wire netting to save the band from being pelted with bottles. When I say it was rough, I do mean rough.

The set-up was luckily good for us kids. Some nights, Archie would take us there, around midnight, after the band had been on for a couple of hours, and us smaller ones would duck down and walk across the front of the stage, salvaging the best of the thrown fruit and veg for stew the next day. Did I tell you that the band was well past it? That, as far as the management was concerned, was the attraction, as it led to more drinking, more rowdy behaviour, and lots of sales from the trays of throwable items. It was, as they say, entertainment.

It was summer, the one before I started my last year at school, Drom had done well enough to be going tertiary, which was a first for the family. He didn’t have to go far, just to the Birmingham City University Conservatoire. He was studying Applied Theatre, as he wanted to be an actor, rather than follow his elders. Archie was working as a motor mechanic, and both girls had gone into hairdressing, not being clever enough to take up nursing.

Me, well I really had an itch to be a train driver, belting along the rails in an easy chair and your hand on a lever. I ask you, how hard could it be? That was until I watched a documentary on the TV, on the first Saturday night of the holidays. It followed a day in the life of a train driver, with him talking about the complexities of the job, with frequent inserts of near-miss footage, as well as interviews with ex-drivers who needed psychiatric help after seeing people step out in front of them.

When I declared that my dream job was no longer a dream, Belle told me that they needed an assistant at the big salon where both sisters worked. Cat agreed that it would be a good way for me to earn some money over summer. I wasn’t keen, but something to do and getting paid was a real draw.

I was taken into town with them on the Monday morning. The girls spoke to Ruth, the owner, and she looked hard at me.

“With a little TLC, we can make him almost appear as just another teenage girl. If he does the sweeping up of hair, and general tidying, you will hardly know he was there.”

So, they gave my hair a brushing and put a salon tunic on me, then gave me a broom and a dustpan and brush. What was funny was when I looked at myself in a mirror, I saw that the tunic was so long on me, it hid the bottom of my shorts.

I have to say that it was an easy job, sweeping around as customers left and rearranging the vanity tools. One interesting aspect of the job was that I was in a constant gaggle of women and girls, some almost my age. It allowed me to observe them without anyone calling me out as a perve. I stayed quiet and kept my head down.

For lunch, I went to the café nearby with my sisters and was bought a lunch that wasn’t enough to keep a hamster alive, but they were buying so I ate it all. That set the tone of the first week, and I was given an envelope with some cash in on Friday afternoon. I joined my sisters to go in on Saturday, feeling good about this. It may be a good occupation until I go back to school.

That Saturday, one of the ladies commented, out loud, that the girl doing the cleaning looked a bit plain. The owner stood up for me, telling her that I was still at school and was a tomboy, but good at what I was employed for. That afternoon, after everyone had gone and we were cleaning up, she took me aside.

“Effy, dear. That Hargreaves lady was right. We shouldn’t have a plain person working in the salon. When you come in with your sisters on Monday, I’ll give you a brief make-over, so that you won’t stand out. It’ll be so light; you’ll hardly know it’s there.”

During Sunday, I was in two minds whether I would go to the salon on Monday. Belle sat me down in the afternoon.

“Effy, this isn’t as big a deal as you think. Just a little bit of powder, a touch of lippy, and some eyebrow pencil and you’ll look the part.”

“But sis! It’s make-up. What happens if someone who knows me comes in?”

“Who do we serve?”

“Women and girls.”

“How many have been in for their summer make-over that you go to school with this week?”

“Maybe a few, but I wasn’t wearing make-up at the time.”

“Says the one with a pink tunic that looked like a dress on you, and nicely brushed hair.”

“Did any of them say anything?”

“A stylist and her customer keep total secrecy, but I can tell you that it was all good.”

“I’ll be toast next term!”

“More like crumpet, brother dear, the way a few were looking at you. You’ve scored more than a few points by working in a salon. Most girls would prefer a boy who had some appreciation of the other side.”

Mollified, I joined my sisters on Monday morning, and I was taken into a back room by Ruth, and properly ‘Molly-fied’. She brushed my hair, gave my legs a quick scrape with a safety razor, sat me in a chair and worked on my face for only a few minutes.

When I went into the customer area, all the girls smiled at me. I looked at myself in a mirror but found it hard to see what she had done, except that I looked like a girl for some reason. By the time we went home, I had completely forgotten that I may be wearing make-up, except for the odd raspberry taste when I licked my lips.

In fact, it took until evening before Cat approached me with a wet wipe to clean my face. I had been wondering why Mum had been grinning and Dad had been giving me odd looks. That set the tone for the second week, with just the face needing work in the morning. I noticed a couple of other girls from school, and they invariably smiled and greeted me with a hug, not something that had happened before.

In the third week, I was keeping the salon so clean and tidy that I had a little time on my hands. Ruth sat me at one of the chairs and got me to brush my own hair into a different style, and clean off my face to redo it myself, with her giving me tips as I worked. After that, I had to do it myself in the mornings, and never forgot to clean it off before we left.

So, by the time I was in my fourth week at the salon, I could do my own hair and make-up, making sure that I kept with the ‘hardly there’ look. On Tuesday, I was emptying the dustpan when Ruth called me over to the reception desk. Standing there was Marina, a girl in my class who I had crushed on for a couple of years.

“Effy, this customer wants to have the same look as you. She has an afternoon with her grandparents and doesn’t want to look too made-up. It seems that they’re a bit traditional. Can you take her appointment?”

What could I do, mess up this nice job by saying that I couldn’t do it? I could do my own face, so why not someone else.

“If you would care to walk this way, madam, there’s a spare seat.”

When I had her sat comfortably, I asked her what she would like.

“I want that ‘girl next door look’ that you have, Effy. My grans haven’t seen me for a while, and I’m sure that they wouldn’t appreciate the look that I normally use. I learned how to make myself totally gorgeous, but not how to keep it simple. I always do too much.”

“You do look gorgeous, Marina. Hold still while I clean all your good work off.”

I cleaned her face and did what I’d been doing for myself. This time, close up and personal with Marina, one of the most beautiful girls in school. I had been good friends with her twin brothers, who were a year ahead of me, and had started their apprenticeships this summer. As I worked, we talked, and I asked her questions about how the boys were getting on.

“They’re enjoying the work. Scott told me that it was almost like being back at school, learning the theory. Virgil really enjoys working on engines.”

I have to say, right here, that her mother was brought up in a family that had a collection of the Anderson TV cartoons. So, the boys ended up as Scott and Virgil, from Thunderbirds. Marina was actually Aqua Marina, from Stingray, but didn’t like to use the first name. Of course, with a mother called Penelope, their destiny had been set. Their father had been christened Peter, but he was known, in the area, as Parker.

When I had finished her face, she wanted me to brush her hair like mine. When she stood, she gave me a hug.

“Thanks for that Effy. If I’m asked what I call my look, I’ll tell everyone that it’s the ‘Ephemeral look’. What are you doing on Saturday evening. I’ve got a pair of tickets for ‘Pauline and the Pussycats’. Would you like to go?”

“Me, of course I would. I think that they’re fabulous.”

“Of course, you do realise that it will be a girls night out, there’s a crowd of us from school who are going. The other girls have been talking about how natural you are and want you to join us. We’ll meet you at the fast-food joint next door to the theatre. Glam up and look good. I’m sure that your sisters will help you look the part.”

With that, she went to the desk to pay her account and was out the door while I stood there, wondering what I’d got myself in for. Me, Effy Smithers, going out on a Saturday night with the gorgeous Marina! I had been crushing on her from afar and she had just hugged me! Not only just her, but there was her band of friends, the best-looking bunch that I knew, and who had been subject of some interesting personal times before sleep.

That evening, I asked Belle about going out with the girls.

“Hold it right there, Effy. That glamour-puss Marina has asked you out for a date with the rest of her friends, and she told you to ‘glam up’.”

“That’s what she said. She thinks that you and Cat will be able to help me.”

“How keen are you? It will cost you a bit of the wages that you’ve earned. We can keep the cost down by going to cheaper outlets, but you’re going to have to study hard to appear natural on Saturday evening. It’s also finding the time to shop. I’ll ask Cat.”

She went off, coming back with a big grin.

“You’re in luck. This Friday evening there’s a big late shopping event at Digbeth. There will be a lot of traders open and I’m sure that we’ll get you what you want. Come along to our room and I’ll measure you. That will save time.”

I went to the girls’ bedroom, usually a restricted area, and had to take my shirt off so that she could measure me. With things written on a notepad, she smiled.

“You’re in luck. This will cost you less than I thought. Cat and I have old things that we’ve never thrown away that will fit you. We’ll have a look and make a list of what you’ll have to buy to be your own.“

I went to bed, that night, wondering if it was going to be worth it, all this preparation for one night at a show with Marina and the girls. Still, if it gave me points that I could trade on in my last year at school, it could be a good move.

On Wednesday, I was told that I may have to take the odd customer with simple procedures, as my work yesterday had been good. I was expected to be arriving with the same look as my sisters on Monday. Until then, I was to see what I could do in that regard. Belle thought that it would be a good opportunity to try out my look for Saturday.

During our lunch time, I gave Belle the money she asked for, and she went off to get me my very first female things. She came back to the salon with a couple of bags. That evening, I had to try on the things she had bought for me. It was strange to dress in their room, with a bra that had spongy things in the cups, panties with no pee slit, a top and skirt, all stood on a pair of open-toed strappy shoes with a small heel. There were a few things that I was told to do in the morning, mainly being given a pink safety razor and told to shave my arms and armpits when I showered in the morning. I was also handed a black handbag with a long strap.

“Why do I need this?”

“Effy, dear. You know that policemen have a lot of stuff that they have to carry when they’re working, like radios, handcuffs, and a truncheon.”

“Yes, it’s what they need for their job.”

“Well, being a girl is much the same. There’s things that we have to have with us and there’s no pockets on our usual outfits.”

“So, what is it that takes a bag this size?”

“Well, there’s the make-up that you’ve been using. Then there’s your wallet, your keys, your tissues. Not forgetting spare panties and period things. You never know when a period can start. I remember when I went to Blackpool with Tony. He had an old motorbike and by the time we got there, the vibration had made me lose feeling in my feet and had shaken my insides so much that I started a period a week early. He was very upset that it had spoilt the weekend of passion that he had planned.”

“How can I have a period? I’m a boy.”

“You’re trying to look like a girl on a girls’ night out. No, self-respecting girl would go out with the crowd without carrying emergency supplies. You never know who may ask you if you have a spare tampon.”

I knew what a tampon was, and what it did. Living with two sisters did educate you on some odd things. At school, some of the rougher guys would joke about pulling the string to see if the girl would say ‘mama’ in a mechanical voice. I asked Cat about it one day, and she told me that any guy who tried that with her would be talking in a squeaky voice for some time afterwards.

“Oh! And you do need a couple of condoms to make the statement that you’re not just a kid. I expect that you have a few in your room, maybe Drom has a few put aside.”

Luckily, Drom was staying with friends and doing theatre things with a dramatic society, so I had my private space to do what I had to do. Thursday morning, I showered using the new products that Cat had put in the bathroom for me. I went to the salon with my sisters, in the skirt and top, and having already made up with some cosmetics that Cat had given me to use, with the bag on my shoulder, filled with all the things that I normally stuffed into pockets. At the salon, the tunic didn’t reach the skirt hem, so that I now looked more like the others.

Friday, Belle loaned me a different outfit and we all had a laugh on the way in.

“Effy, I don’t think that Mum could believe that it was you at the meal table, last night. Dad could hardly stop smiling. He always wanted girls, and with you now looking like one, we now outnumber the boys. Of course, with their own childhood and the fact that we’re a dysfunctional family, there’s no way that they would complain about what you’re doing.”

On Friday afternoon, Belle sat me at one of the salon stations and did my hair differently, adding some colour streaks, and then gave me a more glamorous make-up. I was staggered. Not only did I look girlish, but I also looked almost as good as Marina with her school face. Belle got me to follow every move as she worked. As far as I could tell, it was what I had done before, only different colours and a lot thicker application.

After dinner, Dad gave me some money.

“I’m proud of you, Effy. At last, there’s someone in this family daring to be different. All the rest have followed normal pathways, although Drom may turn up trumps with the theatre. I’m right behind you. Cat has told me what you’re doing this for, but you may want to go beyond Saturday night. When you go out, tomorrow night, I want you to be the best-looking girl in town and do the family proud.”

Archie drove us to the market, a big part of the retail area. The streets were closed with pedestrian use only. He dropped us off and told Belle to call when we were ready to leave. There I was, in a skirt and top, made up to look like a fashion model, and here to look for an outfit for an evening with the girls!

Once I had been there for half an hour without anyone laughing, I started to enjoy it. I had all the money that I’d earned, on top of what Dad had given me, and was trying to spot bargains as much as my sisters. I had a couple of skirts and tops in a bag and needed to go to the toilet. My sisters took my arms and marched me into the public loo, where they guarded my bags while I used a cubicle. While I was touching up my lipstick as my sisters were doing their own business, a lady commented on my make-up, so I told her that it had been applied at the salon. When we left the loo, Belle was laughing.

“Not only a pretty girl, but a walking advertisement for the salon. Cat and I are going to look at sexy underwear, you carry on along the street and we’ll catch up with you.”

I wandered, slowly, looking in windows and checking out the specials. I was looking at a dress in the window of a vintage shop when a reflection caught my eye. I saw my brother, Drom, standing next to a menswear shop across the street. There was a guy standing next to him, his arm across Droms’ shoulder. As I looked, they turned to face each other, and they kissed!

Marianne Gregory © 2026