I’m staying at my Uncle Jomo’s. Al thinks he and my Auntie Becky will take good care of me. Uncle Jomo regularly sends money to my mother, his sister. They had two children when they lived in Nilemwe but both died within days of each other from Malaria. They seem really glad to have me staying and seem preoccupied with feeding me and keeping me warm.
“Keep you from wanderin’ off the straight and narrow” he said. Perhaps he does know I’m a cross-dresser and at the that opportunity I’ll find a cross-dressing club in Melchester and start doing my thing. “Better than stayin’ in some country hotel and spa, stoned out of your skull with a pair of bored Ukrainian full backs!”
Can’t decide about Al I keep hoping that one day he’ll tale me aside and talk about our ‘hobby’. That he’ll give me the lowdown on how to survive, as a cross dresser, in a big Premier League club like Melchester City. I’m training at the Academy with the Youth Teams so they can check me out, I guess. The training is hard especially when it rains. Pours with rain in Nilemwe all the time, but never this cold. I’ve played in a couple of games already and scored in the second one. The manager is German and he watched the last game and seemed enthusiastic about my performance. He talked to me after the game and ruffled my hair a lot. He was very difficult to understand and once said something about ‘cross-dressing’ but on reflection it was only his accent.
Candy lives next door. She’s sixteen and from Ghana. She likes to drag me around Melchester. Shopping and the movies. I love shopping in Melchester. I can’t wax lyrical enough about the variety, the elegance, the sheer amount of choice. They even have a special store that sells nothing but Prada. And no-one seems to care if you linger longingly fingering items in the women’s section. I like to go shopping alone now … once I met Candy in a big department store coffee shop after a small shopping expedition. Without invitation she dived into my shopping bags and pulled out two very fetching blouses and the smallest pair of beige lace panties.
“Who are these for?” she shrieked. Everybody in the coffee shop turned and looked as she held up the panties.
I nearly panicked and said “I bought them for you” – before thinking that it perhaps wasn’t considered cool in Melchester to buy your new found friend a pair of lace panties – however cute.
“Er …they’re for my mother!” I blurted.
“Yes, I told you she was in a nursing home. Well she likes to look at the colours and rub the silk against her skin.”
“The staff will steal them,” said Candy, surprising me with her urban cynicism.
“I’m sure they won’t” I said, “She does mention them when I call. Says how pretty they are.”
“Maybe,” said Candy, unconvinced, “as long as you’re not gonna take them back to Uncle Jomo’s and try them on in front of your bedroom mirror!”