I’m not sure what I was expecting but once inside the main building, the former Wellow House itself, it was less Hogwarts and more, well, ordinary. Okay so there was a big wooden staircase and a bunch of trophy cabinets which, unlike the Dukeries Academy versions, actually contained some pots. There was even a direction board, the school office apparently occupying a room off of the foyer.

I knocked on the door, unsure of the etiquette, nervously shuffling my feet.

"Come in,” a woman’s voice encouraged.

I took a deep breath, here goes nothing.

"Can I help you?” the room’s sole occupant enquired.
"I um, I’m supposed to report to Mrs Jarvis?”
She looked over her glasses, "And you are?”
"Daisy Miller Miss?”
"You either are or not.”
"Am Miss.”
"Ah yes, Miz Pinckney’s girl.”
"Yes Miss.” I confirmed.
"Well don’t stand there like a lemon girl, come sit and we can get the formalities out of the way and get you assimilated as a Wellow girl eh.”

Oh joy…

My ‘assimilation’, took almost forty five minutes, mostly getting me ‘into the system’ which was completed with the production of an ID card attached to a lanyard.

"Don’t lose it,” Mrs Jarvis admonished, "You’ll need it to access all the scholastic areas including the day pupils entrance.”
"Okay, I’ll try not to.”
"Don’t just try Daisy Miller, wait here and I’ll get someone to show you around, the rest of your year are on a study period, you’ll join them after lunch.”
"Yes Miss.”

She left the office, leaving me alone and, I have to say, a little bewildered. On Friday I left Dukeries Academy as Johnny Baker, now, today I’m enrolled as Daisy Miller, a student at Wellow House Prep school. And all of this to appease some village folklore from stupid ago.

The door opened but instead of Mrs Jarvis, a dark haired girl, at a guess, from the sixth form, bounced in.

"You must be Daisy, Arabella but everyone calls me Bella.”
"Er, Dais,” I offered in reply.
"Grab your stuff and I’ll give you the tuppenny tour of this fine establishment.”

Well here goes nothing.

"So what heinous crime did you commit to end up at Welly House?” Bella enquired as she led me through what felt like a maze of corridors.
"Crime?”
"Well you must’ve done something to get shipped in here this close to the end of the year.”

I guess it’s a valid question, one for which The Coven hadn’t given me a believable excuse for, think Dais but don’t make it too complicated.

"Well I’ve been home schooled,” I started.
"Lucky you.”
"Anyway, my cousin Johnny was having a bad time after his friend died in an accident so our parents decided we should swap places so I’ve come up to Wellow, he’s gone down to Devon.”
"Where in Devon. Mel comes from Exmouth.”

Where indeed, I think we went on holiday when I, that is Johnny, was about six.

"Just on the edge of Exmoor, its like a smallholding?”
"Sounds cool.”
"What about you, where are you from?”
"Acle, not far from Norwich, so if you’re home schooling why are you here?”
"GCSE’s, my Aunt, Johnny’s mum thought a more formal environment would be better than revising in the pub, she knows Miss Pinckney? It was all a bit last minute, I only arrived on Saturday.”
"Ah, Pinkers.”
"She seems quite nice.”
Bella paused before offering a response, "I guess she’s okay, bit of a wallflower. You said Pub?”
"The Red Lion, opposite the Maypole? My Aunt and Uncle own it.”
"Ah, so that’s why you aren’t boarding, I think we’ve only got like five or six Day girls, there’s none in Year Eleven tho.”
"What year are you?”
"Lower sixth which is how I landed this plum job.”
"Sorry,” I offered.
"Don’t be, you’ve got me out of French Lit, Descart specifically, dry as Gordons.”

When it comes down to it, a school is a school, classrooms, sports facilities, toilets, the main difference with Wellow House over Dukeries was the lack of cloakrooms and the ratio of girls to boys. I hadn’t really thought about it before, I guess there have always been similar numbers of each throughout my school career but here, well its more like about eighty / twenty in favour of my new gender.

I did my best to remember the layout, where everything is, the do’s and dont’s – all pretty standard stuff.

"And here,” Bella swept open one half of a double door, "Is the refectory! Food central, its not exactly home cooked but I’ve had worse.”

At the Dukeries, the school hall is where school dinners are supplied, a noisy self service set up. The food isn’t bad per se but sandwiches and the local chippy feed more of the school than the kitchen. Wellow House, was the difference between a greasy spoon and a proper restaurant, from what I could already smell, the food was going to be good, the décor was pleasant and I’m pretty sure you won’t need to shout to have a conversation. And of course there wasn’t a ‘food operative’ waiting at a till to relieve you of lunch tokens.

The refectory had only just started serving, we were ahead of the crowd at least but behind what Bella informed me, were the bulk of my fellow year elevens. The food on offer was, Mum would say, traditional, cream of something soup, braised beef, something which could have been veggie burgers, an assortment of veg, a salad bar and a selection of cold desserts, think jelly, yoghurt, fruit salad. I was very tempted to go for the beef but my guide headed straight to the salad stuff so I followed suit.

Once we’d eaten, Bella took me to meet my peers.

"Hi girls and you Morton,” she started, I’m guessing Morton was the lone lad at the table, "This is Daisy who’ll be joining you guys until the end of term. She’s not boarding, she’s staying with family in the village. Be nice eh?”
"We always are Bel,” someone piped up from along the table.
"I’ll leave you with these reprobates then Dais, good luck!”
"Er thanks.”

My erstwhile guide departed for parts unknown leaving me to the tender mercies of Year Eleven.

"Like your hair,” someone opined.
"Er thanks,” I allowed feeling something of a lemon stood at the end of the table.
"That bag real?” a befreckled red head asked.
"Real?”
"Hermes, bit over the top for a book bag,”
"It’s my aunt’s,” I proposed.
"Don’t mind Donna,” her neighbour suggested, "Jess by the way.”

Names were given, connecting them to faces, well apart from Donna and Morton might take a few days but all too soon I joined the groups exodus to my first class at Wellow House, Biology.

At the Dukeries the school day finishes at three forty five but for Wellow House, four thirty is the cessation of hostilities. The afternoon hadn’t been too bad, of course I’d had to recount my reason for being there and I suffered a little ‘new girl’ hazing but as far as I could tell, no one doubted my persona. Well I did catch Morton watching me a couple of times and I got a few questioning looks from other pupils when we moved to the language lab.

But I’d survived, I may have even learnt stuff. My class mates seemed mostly friendly, not that I was aiming to make any kind of lasting relationships. That said, I felt a slight pang of jealousy when they all headed to their accommodation, chatting and laughing, leaving me to depart alone. Yep I’d survived a day as Daisy Miller flying solo but I don’t think I’ve ever felt quite so alone.

"Ah there you are,” Aunt Claire announced when I slipped into the bar, intending to escape upstairs. "I thought you’d be home earlier.”
"Here I am,” I allowed with a sigh, "Classes don’t finish until four thirty.”
"And?”
"Well what?”
"How was it?”
"Okay I guess.”
"No problems?”
"Nope.”
"So what’s it like being a Wellow House girl?”

Apart from the girl bit, having to wear a skirt and everyone thinking you are a bit of a yokel, oh nothing.

"School’s school,” I shrugged.
"If you say so, anyway, there’s a plate in the fridge then get yourself ready, its aerobics at six.”
"Really? Do I have to?”
"I don’t see you doing any other exercise so yes you do.”
"Won’t everyone see that I’m not erm, exactly the right build?”
"Women come in all sorts of shapes and sizes.”

Yeah but I’ve got, erm, a little extra.”

"I’ve put you some stuff out to wear.”

Looks like my goose is cooked.

My ‘plate’ turned out to be more salad, at this rate I’ll fade away to nothing. On the plus side I could at least load the plate with pickles and stuff, somehow a slice of pork pie found its way on as well.

"You working tonight Dais?” my brother enquired as he passed through to start his own evening shift.
"Maybe later, I’m being dragged off to Aerobics first.”
"Sooner you than me.”
"What’s that supposed to mean?”
"Legend has it that those sessions are brutal.”
"Which legend is that, Charlie?”
"What if it is? Anyhow it was Denise, she went once, swore she’d never go again, said it was like boot camp.”
My shoulders slumped further, "Great.”
"Leave you to it then, g’luck.”
"I’ll need it.”
He was at the door before he turned to offer a parting shot, "By the way, looking hot in that uniform Dais.”
"Really?” I fired to the already empty doorway.

True to her word, Mum, Aunt Claire had pulled out some of the sports gear we bought Daisy in Retford. Socks, trainers, pink leggings, a flowery crop top cum sports bra and more pink in the form of an oversize Adidas® sweatshirt, very, erm, Barbie®. I stripped down to my knickers which had done the job of containment fine under a fairly loose skirt but tight leggings?

And so I spent best bit of fifteen minutes trying various options to hide Johnny Junior a bit better and with minimum discomfort. It was never going to be simple, it was either too uncomfortable or everything broke loose as soon as I did anything remotely active. It was more by accident than intent that my gonads slipped up inside, with them out of the way, the rest worked a treat, by the time I had the tights on the illusion was pretty good.

I had hoped the sweatshirt would cover things up a bit too, however it barely extended past my top and the neck was so wide it hung off a shoulder whatever I did. A look in the mirror confirmed my worst fear, I looked far too convincingly like a gym bunny.

"You ready Daisy?” Aunt Claire called from below.
"Coming,” I returned.

Since I’d last seen her she’d changed into her own gear, bike shorts and a long, loose T shirt – maybe more appropriate for someone her age? Not that I’d suggest that to her face.

"Come on then, bring those towels and water bottles will you, I’ll get the car turned ‘round.”

At least I haven’t got to walk the streets in this getup.