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Douglas and Martin hadn't been expecting to fly today but Carolyn had managed to scoop up a last minute client who had been let down by another charter firm and they couldn't say no. It was a bit of a shame really, Martin had actually been looking forward to his weekend off. After trying his hand at a little Richardson-esque creative entrepreneurship by investing in some cheap gadgets from China which he duly sold on to family and friends he was a little flush with cash. To celebrate he'd planned a trip to the RAF Museum in London with Arthur. Martin had planned the whole day out so they could see each special show that went with some of the exhibitions and have plenty of time left over to have multiple goes on the flight simulator and 4D cinema. Martin wouldn't admit it, but he was disappointed that they'd had to put it off until next month. Still, as he and Douglas stood at the front of the cabin ready to greet their clients, Martin felt that same tingle of pride and rightness. He was the captain and Gertie was his charge.
"Seven hours to kill, Captain, any suggestions? Quote the irate customer perhaps?"
"Hmm, we have had some good ones lately."
"I'd rather snog a rabid dog than fly with you again."
"Douglas, I'm hurt, I thought we had a future together." Martin faux pouted.
"What can I say, we had a good run but the romance is dead."
"Oh, what about this one." Martin put on his best Scottish accent which was definitely better than his French. "I'm only asking to see the score, just fly a little lower and slow down a bit."
"Luckily we were able to get updates from ATC Glasgow."
"Shame we never told him the right score line." Martin smirked.
"Football really isn't our thing. He did get rather confused when Celtic's score started going down."
"He wasn't as bad as the person who complained that her window wouldn't wind down." They both chuckled at that one. Even Arthur had scratched his head and had to think of a reply that didn't sound too silly. "So what are the stakes?"
"Loser does the next walk-around in sub zero temperatures. And I mean proper 'Arthur getting stuck to the plane again' sub zero."
Martin liked the sound of that. "Done. I'll go first... who said 'This plane smells like a sweaty dog who rolled in a dustbin full of week old baby vomit'?"
"The delightful Miss Felicity Brawley who had the misfortune of arriving before Arthur could clean up after that stag-do in Prague." Douglas craned his neck to look outside. "Looks as though our cargo has arrived. Older man, younger wife-"
"Another client with a twenty-something trophy? I honestly don't understand, what on earth would you have in common? It's embarrassing really."
"Well by younger I mean twenty-years his junior and he's knocking on seventy-five. Filthy rich too, I believe gratitude for losing our weekend can be converted into pounds sterling at a very reasonable rate."
"Any idea who they are?"
"The Merryfords. He's some sort of copper or aluminium magnate, and I expect she's wife number four or five. Oh, she's brave too, she's just shooed Carolyn away and gone to organise Arthur with the bags."
"Oh god, Carolyn is going to be a nightmare."
"With any luck she'll skip the flight and go gallivanting with Herc in the countryside while we're stuck in this tin can with wings."
"Here we go." Martin straightened his tie as the older man climbed up the steps into Gertie. He looked bright and cheerful if a little bemused by the interior of the plane. Granted the airline who'd let him down was far more luxurious but at least they were actually going to fly them somewhere.
Martin shook the man's hand and tried not to wince at the tight grip and how much Martin's hand was dwarfed by his. "Welcome aboard MJN Air." Martin said confidently. He'd practiced saying it in the mirror so many times it was finally starting to sound natural.
"Me and the wife appreciate the short notice, gentlemen." He gave Douglas's hand a shake and Martin was heartened to see him smother a wince too. "Wouldn't want to disappoint Susie on our first anniversary. Where has she gotten to?"
"I believe she's trying to pack the hold." Douglas added. "And possibly the steward."
Mr Merryford gave ones of those hearty chuckles that seem to rumble happily from his belly. "Likes to have things her way does Susie. I don't suppose you could sneak this into the galley? Keep it chilled." Mr Merryford pulled out a bottle of vintage champagne. "Bit of a midflight surprise."
"Of course, sir." Martin took the bottle with a polite smile and quickly placed it in the galley fridge that wasn't really that cold. "She's very lucky."
Martin was vaguely aware of Mr Merryford making a quip or two but the whole world had fallen silent. Martin's stomach dropped, his mouth gone dry and his throat tightened at the sight of the woman making her way up the steps. Elegantly dressed in a pink outfit fit for Ascot and enough jewellery to make Martin think about his fuel calculations. Martin couldn't move, he couldn't speak. Martin thought there could be a chance that she wouldn't recognise him, he'd never told her he'd gotten his license and it had been years since he'd last seen her. He dipped his head a little to hide his face and prayed silently for a miracle.
No, Martin was stronger than this. He was the captain and he was different now, better and tougher. Ish. He straightened up and held out his hand. "Welcome aboard MJN Air."
Martin's hand was left hanging as she looked him up and down, her nose wrinkled in contempt as she took a slight step back as if she was afraid to be touched and tainted. That look of distain was as familiar as if he'd seen it yesterday. Martin weakly withdrew his hand and hoped no one else had noticed.
"If-if you'd just like to take your seats we can, uh, do the safety checks and be on our way." Martin voice stammered and waivered all over the place and he knew that Douglas and Mr Merryford were both looking on with interest. The small space was already feeling claustrophobic when and Arthur arrived with a beaming smile and arms full of hand luggage.
"You? You're the captain?" The woman scoffed and Martin visibly flinched. "They let people like you fly planes?"
Martin couldn't reply quick enough before Arthur jumped in. "But people like Skip are brilliant so of course Skip gets to fly the plane. He's really good at it too, aren't you, Skip?"
"Dear lord," The woman clutched at her chest and moved away from Arthur. "Are they all like you? That Knapp-Shappey woman looked very-"
"Please, um." Martin butted in quietly but enough to cut her off. "Let's just get you seated and Arthur here will take you through the safety demonstration."
"Right-O, Skip. If you'd like to make your ways to the seating area to be seated in an upright seated position-"
"Oh they don't know do they?" Mrs Merryford sneered as if she was enjoying this and Martin was finding it hard to breathe. "They don't know what you really are."
"I am the captain of this c-craft and we're falling behind schedule so if you could kindly please take your seats my first officer and I will prepare for takeoff." Martin blurted out every word but had no time to escape.
"They have a right to know what they are exposed to!"
He'd tried to be the better man but being amicable was never going to work. She despised him far too much to give him the small mercy of pretending to be a stranger. Martin's heart was pounding enough to make his chest hurt and his hands were beginning to shake from the adrenaline. Martin had spent years thinking about what he'd say to her if they met again but she'd always had a way of making him feel so small he couldn't speak. "Don't, just, please don't. Not here." Martin was pleading, begging for her not to tell them, not like this. Douglas was asking what was going on but Martin had his attention focused on the immediate problem. "We-we can talk somewhere privately but for now why don't we just carry on-"
"What the bloody hell is going on, Susie?" Mr Merryford looked angry and decidedly more formidable than the amiable chap they'd just shaken hands with. "Did this man do something to you? Should I call the police?"
"Oh, he hurt me alright. Deeply and callously." She spat, glaring daggers at Martin who could do nothing but stand there as it all unravelled. His little life he'd built for himself was about to crumble before his eyes. "He broke my heart and destroyed my family."
"Mum-" Martin looked down and blinked away the tears that were building. "It wasn't like that."
"Don't call me that, I'm not your mother you- you disgusting tranny!"
So many things happened at once that it all seemed a bit of a blur. There was shouting, even Arthur raised his voice, as the Merryford's were effectively bundled out of the plane. Martin took his chance and bolted into the flight deck and crumpled into his seat in a flood of tears. The voices from the cabin soon faded and Martin was alone.
There it was. The one word that was going to change everything. A whole herd of cats, or whatever the collective noun was, had been let out of a very big bag.
Martin knew how this would go. Douglas and Arthur would start thinking about all the little signs that should have tipped them off. Martin knew they'd be thinking about the times they'd seen him taking pills, times they'd seen him at the beach or by the swimming pool with his shirt off, how his beard grows in tufts even though lots of people on hormones can grow perfectly fine beards and fancy stubble. They'd fit all the pieces together even where they don't fit and use it to explain why he's particular, why he's so completely hopeless with women, why he tries so hard to prove himself and why his own mother can barely look at him.
Martin felt the bile rise in his throat and tried to swallow it down. He'd not seen her for almost seven years and nothing had changed. Even Simon and Kaitlin had told her not to use 'that' word. It didn't matter. That's all he'd ever be to her. Some mutant, an abomination, a mistake. The tears flowed a little harder now and he couldn't hold them back. He'd tried so hard but she'd always known something was wrong with him even when he was a toddler. He was never what she wanted him to be. Even when he tried to wear the right clothes, act the right way, say the right things and play with the right toys, it wasn't enough. He didn't know how be a girl, it just wouldn't come naturally and he couldn't copy Kaitlin forever. The older he got, the less he tried and the worse her words became. She never laid a hand on him but Martin would have preferred a slap around the face to the scathing comments about his clothes and hair and how ugly he looked. He wasn't alone though, he had one ally in the house all that time. Martin had never missed him more.
There was a quiet knock on the door and slowly it cracked open. "Uh, Skip? You alright?"
Martin sniffed heavily and wiped his eyes but there was no hiding his state. "Not really."
Slowly Arthur shuffled in and cautiously took Douglas's seat. Martin couldn't look at him, knowing Arthur would be scanning his face for clues. It was only natural and Arthur was curious about everything but Martin couldn't handle the scrutiny.
"I guess we're in the same club now." Arthur began casually.
"Which club is that?" Martin could barely muster the energy to speak but Arthur was kind at heart and he didn't deserve to be ignored.
"The 'having a parent who isn't that brilliant' club."
"Yes. Yes, I suppose we are." Martin saw some of his mum in Gordon, a bitter and spiteful streak. It was probably why he felt closer to Arthur after the St Petersburg incident and they started hanging out more often. Martin knew how it felt to be a disappointment. "I wish we weren't."
"Me too. But we both have mum so that's alright."
"That will change when she finds out. I better say goodbye to Gertie." Martin ran a gentle hand across the controls. He'd miss her too.
"Are you leaving, Skip?"
"Carolyn's hardly going to keep me on after this."
"It's not your fault we lost a customer and from all the shouting I don't think mum's going to give them their money. You know mum's favourite people are the ones we don't fly anywhere so if anything she'll be really happy."
"I meant about... my secret."
"Oh mum won't mind. And if she does then she won't have a steward anymore and access to all my secret recipes."
Martin finds himself smiling a little. "Thank you, Arthur, but I really wouldn't expect you to quit on my behalf."
"But I would. And Douglas would too, I bet."
Martin wasn't fooling himself. Douglas probably had a thousand tales of adventures in Thailand and all Martin would be from now on is some sexual curiosity with about as much authority as a car park traffic warden. "Where is Douglas now? God, she'll be telling him everything, like I'm some monster."
"Douglas won't believe anything she was shouting. Anyway he was busy uh, 'escorting them off the premises' and having a bit of a shout himself. He's quite boom-y when he's angry."
"God, this is a disaster!"
"It's not the end of the world, Skip. We just got to know you a bit better, that's all."
"It just the happens to be the most personal thing in the world."
"I got a chickpea stuck up my nose."
"Sorry, what? You have a chickpea up your nose now?"
"Not now! When I was little. I stuck a chickpea up my nose and it got wet because I had a bit of a runny cold so it swelled up and got really, really stuck. I had to go to the hospital and everything."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I didn't want you to know because it's really embarrassing."
"As embarrassing as having your mother announce... what she announced?"
"Well it happened when I was six. And seven. And eight. And nine. And nine and a half. Mum stopped keeping chickpeas in the house after that. See, now we're even. I know your secret, you know mine."
"I can see why you'd want to keep that to yourself." Martin wasn't being serious but the effort Arthur was making was heartening. "I won't tell anyone."
"I know. Oh, we can go to the RAF Museum tomorrow now! See, things are actually better! Brilliant!"
Martin turned sharply as the flight deck door opened only to reveal a slightly ruffled Douglas. "Carolyn's dealing with them now and she's got her teeth bared. With any luck we'll find a carcass picked bare by morning." Douglas came closer and lent against the storage cupboard. Martin was almost taken aback but the concern written on Douglas's face. He was expecting some sort of knowing smirk. "Are you alright, Martin?" He almost sounded fatherly.
"Um, well, I've had better days." Martin was beginning to feel a little more collected even if his insides were churned up and wracked with nerves. "Are you, uh... alright?"
"Peachy. I've just gotten my weekend with Verity back and I got to play at being a hard-as-nails bouncer so I'm doing quite well."
"You know that wasn't what I meant. I mean about me being... alternative."
"Oh." Douglas looked taken aback. "So that's true then?"
"Not the word she used but... yes. It's true."
Douglas shrugged. "Doesn't bother me in the slightest though I can't deny I'm surprised which is rather irksome. In fact, I was expecting you to tell me your mother was being quite delusional."
"Well Skip does have those pouty lips and he's short and his hands-"
"Arthur," Martin bit his lip, "it is not considered polite to point out ones... tells." Gentle education seemed like a better approach, it wasn't as if Arthur knew the etiquette. Most people didn't.
"Ah, right, sorry Skip."
"Quite alright. So, do I want to know what she said when you were leading them out?"
"If you'd be gracious enough to accept the advice of your first officer I'd suggest you not ask. Arthur, however, did make the quite delightful speech."
Martin's eyes widened. "Oh god, what did you say?"
"Not much really. I don't usually get that angry but she was being extra nasty so I told her that you are kind, and clever, and funny, and a really, really brilliant person and that the outside bits don't matter and it wouldn't matter if you were a cat or a kangaroo because you'd still be Skip on the inside and that's all that matters. I might have also said something about how you were a brilliant pilot and would never let otters on the flight deck but she'd stormed off by then so I came to check on you."
Another happier tear escaped this time. "Thank you, Arthur. You didn't have to."
"Arthur wasn't going to let her get away with it, he's the MJN pit bull when he wants to be. It's the alpha dog DNA."
"It must be." Martin gave Arthur the best smile he could muster and got a beaming one in return. "So just Carolyn to go." Martin puffed out his cheeks. She was the person who'd decide his fate. "Do you think she'll sack me?"
"Nothing to worry about." Douglas assured. "You are still free and Carolyn's got a broader mind than you'd expect if some of the rumours about her adventures in the sixties are to be believed."
"Really?" Martin was interested now. "I haven't heard anything. Well, apart from the clearly made up one about the belly dancing in some hookah bar in Morocco." Douglas quirked an eyebrow in confirmation. "Blimey, I'm not sure if I'm reassured or traumatised."
"As long as you're not offing the passengers I think you're safe. We need the repeat business." An aching silence followed and Martin knew it well. It was a silence for unasked questions of varying appropriateness. "So... I take it your family didn't take your change well?"
"Actually it was just mum who didn't. Dad was... well he was bloody brilliant actually. Well, apart from trying to get me to become an electrician instead of a pilot." Martin anxiously twisted the ring on his finger as he began to talk. "From the start he understood. I mean, I was always a bit of a misfit so dad would spend extra time with me and we always got on. I used to watch the darts with him even though it was just men throwing pointy objects at cork. He was the one who always convinced mum to let me have short-ish hair and wear trousers all the time, even when I was little. I mean, Kaitlin helped with that side of things because she loved dresses and dolls and being a mummy's girl but Mum was always trying to get me to be like her. Dad was the one who listened to me, who took me out on jobs when I was getting bullied at school, who taught me how to look at girls without staring, he was the one who took me to a specialist doctor in London when I was fourteen, he gave me... so much. I'd never had anyone explain why I felt so wrong all my life, I thought they'd tell me I was mad and take me away. They did some blood tests to check my chromosomes and when we went back the doctor said I had gender dysphoria."
"You don't have to say anything if you don't want to. I shouldn't have asked really, none of my business." Douglas actually looked unsettled and Martin even felt a tiny bit guilty that he'd thought the worst of him.
"No, it's alright, I mean I'm not going to give you a blow by blow account of everything but those trips to London were a revelation. It was like suddenly the whole world made sense, who I was made sense. It wasn't easy for dad but he supported me and ran interference between me and mum. When he died..." Martin just shook his head. "I haven't seen her since his funeral. The last thing she said to me, before today that is, was 'I just want my little girl back'." Martin's bottom lip quivered as he remembered. "I understood why she was hurt, I really did, but she could never understand she never had a daughter in the first place, she had a son."
"A rather wonderful son at that. Her loss." Douglas gave Martin a comforting pat on the shoulder.
"Thanks, Douglas. God, I'm not doing my manliness any favours crying all over the place."
"We all get a chance to have a manly cry once and a while. Should have seen me when Verity was born, a blubbering wreck."
"And that time that toddler head butted me in the you-know-wheres. I don't know why we let him on with that spiky helmet."
When the door opened once more they all turned. Martin's stomach clenched but Carolyn looked like she always did after dealing with disgruntled customers, a bit like a goat with an itchy nose.
"Well the not-too-Merryford's have gone. And good riddance."
"I'm sorry, Carolyn." Martin couldn't keep from apologising. His family disaster had cost her vital business.
"Oh you've got nothing to be sorry for, silly boy."
"I, um, just, well... Did, they uh, say why they were leaving?"
"Because one of my pilots is really a woman, yes they did happen to mention that little tidbit."
"No mum, it's the other way around. Skip's really a man, he just got the wrong outside bits when he was born."
"Yes, well I try not to concern myself with the private parts of my crew or anyone else I meet for that matter."
"Poor Herc." Douglas snarked under his breath.
Martin had other concerns. "I honestly didn't know it was her or I would have warned you there might be... complications. I'd have hidden in the flight deck or found a replacement or worn a disguise or Douglas could have-"
"Calm down, Martin. It doesn't matter now anyway and there's still money in the bank. They weren't eligible for their deposit on the basis that your mother is quite horrible."
"Is that in the contract, Carolyn?" Douglas questioned. "Deposits shall be considered non-refundable in the event of passengers being late without notice, intoxicated or in the event of awfulness."
"Undue cancellation." She answered briskly. "I think she's got more than she's bargained for, Mr Merryford was not impressed with her little display."
"He did seem like an alright chap." Douglas added and Martin had to agree.
"Mum's been married twice since dad died. Simon and Kaitlin keep me updated every now and then. She fancies herself as going up in the world. Or marrying up. I don't have anything to do with her."
"Good thing too." Douglas added.
Martin couldn't quite believe how calm everything was now. It seemed like there should be consequences, more questions, some decree that Martin couldn't use the loo or share hotel rooms anymore. This couldn't be right. "Are you all sure you're ok with this? I really don't have to leave?"
"Martin," Carolyn began firmly, "I don't care a jot. It's not as if you use your genitals to fly the plane-"
"Well, there was this one time back in my Air England days-"
"Douglas, shut up or I will ensure that you room share with Arthur for the next year."
"Brilliant!"
"Martin, as far as I'm concerned, as far as we're all concerned, nothing has changed in the slightest. Unfortunately for you that means that nothing has changed in the slightest. Douglas will still run rings around you, Arthur will continue to help and make a nuisance of himself and I will continue to tell you to jump and you will continue to say 'how high'? Understand?"
"Yes, Carolyn." Martin smiled.
"Right, well I think that's enough drama for today. I do believe that the Merryfords owe us lunch."
"Excellent idea. We can even bring along that bottle of champagne they left behind. I'll drive, Martin, I think you could do with something bubbly inside you."
"Oh, oh! Can we go to KFC?"
"No, Arthur, we're going for a grown-ups lunch, not a nine-year-old's birthday party." Carolyn kept her exasperation in check. "I thought about that posh pub on the way to Wellsbury. The one that does the lamb."
"Or we could go... Moroccan." Douglas shot Martin a sly grin and Martin found himself giggling with pent up relief as much as anything.
As they filed out of the plane and made their way to the car park still debating where to eat Martin thought to savour the moment. He'd never planned to tell them but on the other side of the 'Big Reveal' it wasn't so bad. He'd expected his world to end but if anything it was a bit like that afternoon in his dad's van.
"Laura!" The elder Crieff shouted from the van window at the teen in the baggy jeans and equally baggy t-shirt. "Don't pretend you're suddenly deaf! Get in here it's bloody freezing!"
With shoulders slumped Laura followed her father's instructions and got in the passenger side. The van was blissfully warm and soon she found a spare jumper in her lap which she slipped on without a word.
"Where's your coat?"
"Dunno. Left it at school. Snuck out the window." She didn't look at her dad, instead choosing to stare out the passenger window. She knew it wasn't worth lying, her dad always saw through her. Most of the time.
"Did you have lunch yet? Or breakfast?"
Laura said nothing.
"Starving yourself isn't going to help." Laura couldn't help but feel ashamed as her dad rubbed his forehead, completely at a loss. "Let's go get some sandwiches and eat by the airfield, I haven't got another job until two."
They drove in silence to a nearby supermarket and Laura waited in the van in case someone spotted her parentally sanctioned truancy. The whole journey Laura was itching to speak. She talked to her dad about everything, mostly, but once the words were out, they couldn't be taken back. Even in the horror films she was never have supposed to have seen, no one was as terrified as she felt right now. She curled up in the seat and pulled her arms inside her jumper as if in a safe cocoon. She daydreamed about flying away somewhere in her very own Cessna, the new one that they'd just put into production with the wing modification that increased manoeuvrability. When her dad returned with the sandwiches she ate greedily as they drove to the airfield, another excuse not to talk.
They pulled up in their usual spot and turned off the engine. "Hmm, doesn't look like there's much going on today."
"Maybe the RAF base is doing something?" Laura mused, there weren't many planes stationary either.
"Think if we lurked around there we'd get arrested for spying."
"Don't think we look very Russian."
"Niet, comrade!"
Laura giggled but the tears came thick and fast like they always did when she finally let her guard down. She tried to hide in her jumper but her dad's arms were already drawing her into a hug.
"Oh, sweetheart, what are these about?"
"You'll hate me if I tell you." Laura sobbed.
"There is nothing on this earth that could ever make me hate you, not even if you were a spy."
"Dad, I'm being serious." She sniffed and tried to compose herself. It was difficult as she kept doing those stuttery breaths she couldn't control.
"I know, silly jokes are all I have really. That and two ears really good at listening."
"I don't..." More jumping breaths. "I can't..."
"It's alright, you don't need to worry, whatever it is I can sort it out or we can sort it out together. Just take some deep breaths, there's my girl."
"Dad... do you think... that maybe it's possible... that people might want to be something that they're not?" She tested the waters. Word by word, maybe a hint would be enough.
"What do you mean?"
"Like someone, God or something, made a mistake. With me."
"What mistake did he make?"
Laura shook her head, the words wouldn't come.
"I'm not going to hate you, I promise, everything is ok. What mistake did he make, sweetheart?"
"He made me a girl."
"Oh... oh um... Christ."
"Do y-you hate me? I'm so sorry, I'm sorry." Laura tucked her head into her knees and balled up as she cried.
"Shush, no need for that, love. I love you no matter what, I promise that will never, ever change. I'm just... well, god... how long have you felt this way?"
"Always." She said to her knees before lifting her head. "I've been having dreams and sometimes...I just hate my stupid face and my stupid body, it's wrong, I'm so ugly and wrong!" She sobbed. "I'm weird and stupid and no one likes me." Laura found her dad taking her fists and gently coaxing them open. It almost hurt to relax them after clenching them so tight. "Do I have to go to an asylum or an institution to get fixed? Am I going to get taken away?"
"No, no sweetheart, that won't happen. I won't let that happen."
"I can pretend if anyone asks, I promise, no one will know."
"Look, are you... are you sure? I know your body is going through a lot of changes and it's a confusing time with hormones and all these new feelings."
"I found some of Simon's old clothes in the loft a while ago. I put them on sometimes after everyone has gone to bed and... when I look in the mirror I look more like how I think I should. Like I'm the person I feel inside."
Mr Crieff held her hands tight. "Right, ok, um, I think we should find someone for you to talk to, a doctor or someone who knows a hell of a lot more about this than me. I mean, I've read about it in the papers but I don't really know where to start."
"Me neither." It was then that Laura realised her dad was crying, a few quick blinks sent a tear down his cheek. "Dad?"
"I'm ok, I just... I think I've known for a while too." He nodded his head like it was all beginning to make sense as he smiled at Laura. "All this time you've been my boy, haven't you?"
"I-I-I..."
"Shh, it's alright. We'll sort this out. It isn't going to be easy, but we'll figure something out."
"What do we do now? Mum is going to kill me."
"I'll deal with your mother. It's probably best we keep this between us for a while, until we know what happens next."
"Do you think I'm sick?"
"No. No you're not sick. I just wonder if it's my fault, maybe I made you this way. Christ, I've let you down so much, I should have known you were... confused. I should have seen it earlier and maybe I could have done something, stopped it or helped you so we didn't have all this palava with school and running off all the time."
"It's not your fault, Dad. It's mine."
"Let's agree it's no one's fault for now and get some expert advice, alright, love?"
"I don't want anyone to know."
"It's our secret for now, just be careful with what you do in the house, ok?"
"Yeah."
"It's funny, your mum said if you were a boy I could pick your name. Realised later that's because the nurse told her we were having a girl."
"What were you going to call me?"
"Albert. After your granddad." Albert Crieff was a flight engineer during the Second World War. He wanted to be a pilot but an accident with an eye rifle in his youth put paid to that so he did the next best thing.
"Uh... ok."
"Albert Martin Crieff."
"I like Martin." As she looked in the side mirror she repeated the name in her head. It felt good but she wished it didn't, she just wanted to be normal. She clenched her jaw which always made her look more boy-like and said the name again. If only she could close her eyes and wake up as a boy, she'd be so happy.
"It might take me a while to get me head around this."
Laura nodded, she felt guilty for putting him through so much. "S'alright, I know."
"Promise me you won't do anything stupid like run away from home or hurt yourself over all this. You come to me, always come to me."
"I will, Dad."
"Promise."
"I promise."
"Good. Go on, tell me what that one is." Mr Crieff pointed to a light aircraft coming into land.
"A Pegasus XL-Q, looks new." Laura - Martin - gave a cocky grin. "Easy."
They spent the next hour watching the airfield while Martin's dad told him about his day. Martin listened, just happy that despite what he'd said, nothing much had changed.