David pulled at the stray nondescript hair on his chin and grimaced at the mirror. He was a plain, chunky eighteen year old, yet to grow into his looks, stuck in the unfortunate in-between stage. He had spent the previous evening crying, he didn't know why. He just knew he wasn't happy.
He was unaware that his peers felt much the same way, or that all teenagers, regardless of popularity, had experienced the same. They would boast loudly and often about their online conquests, their opinions of girls that in reality were way out of their league, and avoid talking to the girls that were in the right ballpark, as teenagers always do. Something might happen with those, and if something happened they probably wouldn't know what to do anyway. In the online world of social isolation and apparent social ease of the influencer and porn star, the awkwardness seemed peculiarly specific to them. They could discuss several types of sex, but could not actually bring themselves to meet anyone to do it with.
How would David ever manage to find anyone? Was he destined to be lonely forever? He was so boring, so ordinary. He just wasn't as popular as the kids with rainbow badges on their bags, they all seemed to have friends. David despaired, he didn't want to be alone, but how to get out of his single rut when he didn't really have anyone he could call? They all communicated on Whatsapp or online, so he didn't physically see his friends all that much.
David's mother did not have such problems. Karen was an artistic powerhouse, still at 50 sporting a mohawk, often to be found smothered in glue and paint and dancing in the main city square, yelling for people to join her, which they did. A different generation, used to doing what they wanted and not discriminating, they looked happy. Why were they so different? Their lives seemed so much easier? David looked upon his mother with awe. If only they were close, but they were not.
8
David's small and obsessively neat father Saeed, on the other hand, ran the family business, a large logistics carrier. David knew he would not be short of jobs, on the plus side, but he also knew he had little to say to the drivers he had to deal with when he was at work.
When David turned 18, thanks to childhood weekends spent at work, David had been given a junior manager position, which involved loading the vans and making sure the drivers would stick to the rota he had assigned them. He was, in terms of title, now above his older sister Uma, who ran the office and had been granted the title of administrator, a common way to run companies.
The business, like many others, could not run without the female administrator, but it could easily work around the lack of the more expensive and male junior manager. Already he had the standard advantages conveyed by his gender and title and was unaware of any of it.
Thanks to his love of anime, David had quite the range of cartoon based hobbies and even toyed with animation and learning Japanese, but he remained, frustratingly for his parents, socially isolated with only a couple of equally gormless friends. All Karen's efforts to bring him out of his shell seemed to be for nowt, as he was still a sulky and shy boy. Karen would despair.
“Do I look OK mum?” David, on his way out of the door to go to work, would ask.
“Who cares?” Karen was usually busy doing something else, since she had two grown up children still in the house and artwork to do. She was not the warmest of mothers, but she was fun if you were anybody else. “Stop worrying about what other people think, they usually don't.”
Which meant that although David was extremely privileged and in fact quite spoilt, David was also rather emotionally neglected.
Had Karen known about this, she would have been dismayed. Why would he need her validation?
A late baby, she had been brought up by the tough wartime generation, who had carefully taught their Gen X kids that they should not be introspective at all, or at least not talk about it if they were.
That would be selfish, like their earlier Boomer children, long since gone. That was how wars were won, certainly not by staring into the mirror and thinking about yourself. There was a greater good that must be maintained, therefore no time for yourself or silly posturing.
Ironically Gen X was the most inclusive generation in history, even more so than the Boomers that preceded them, because to them, labels were for losers, money was something other people had, the individual was paramount and all that mattered was the quality of your interactions with other Gen X, regardless of looks, race, sexuality or anything else. The priority for Gen X was a more individual connection, which was why the Boomers, high earners and keen social activists had looked on them with such contempt in the years following civil rights, pride and women's rights demonstrations that they had participated in.
Although this high value placed on social interaction and individuality gave people plenty of space and confidence to be themselves, it did not translate well to the later generations of Millennials and Gen Z, who had been led to believe that validation was he only thing that mattered thanks to the like button on their social media posts at a vulnerable age.
To them, validation meant worth, both financial and social in some cases. Making a brownie was safer, more popular and more interesting than making an epicurean wonder, as long as it could be put in a short video for likes and follows. Smart people would invest hours in gaining a following, 9
because that meant influence and money. Even the unsuccessful ones would spend hours, days, weeks worrying about building a following. They would all carefully watch each other to see what gathered the most precious likes, and take care to keep up with the most popular interests. The age of social capital started, almost accidentally it seemed, via the adoption of social media.
David was no exception to this, although he did not make many Tiktoks, he would release little animations and drawings on his Instagram, now and again he would tweet, and he had a very small youtube account. He preferred to check on other people, so he followed the most popular accounts in order to have something to talk about. He had a twitch account, which he would use to give money to pretty girls or watch other people play video games as he fell asleep at night.
And then one evening, after a couple of exhausting hours on his Pornhub account, he spotted Dylan McVitie. He was entranced. Dylan made him feel special and wanted and less awkward. He would end every video with 'love ya.' Dylan seemed self-aware, awkward, anxious about some things like him, Altogether very relatable. He found himself watching Dylan more often. He carried on with his other activities, the usual round of porn, instagram, youtube, twitter and regularly dropped in on some trans accounts he had discovered on the threads he was following Dylan on. He suddenly felt he belonged to something, that there was something to believe in and some prospect of attention at long last.
David was not fussy where this attention would come from, he could just see a lot of sad, isolated kids were not sad and isolated any more, and some of the plain boys like himself were making videos showing their progress of taking hormones. The pressure was off, they all supported each other. Not like the other interest groups at all, the likes did not relate to something specifically and mysteriously 'cool,' they could be quite mundane, as long as the kids were trans. In addition some of them looked and talked as if they were having actual social lives and they talked about their feelings as if they mattered, most unlike his parents who did not stop to consider him at all.
It became quite fascinating to him, the new language, correcting people who weren't in this exclusive circle, asserting your rights to your pronouns. The longer David looked, the more attractive it became and the more alienated he felt from his comparatively tedious and disinterested parents. He made actual friends, that he could message. This made David feel better about himself, less dwarfed by his business-as-usual fastidious dad Saeed and devil-may-care mother Karen. In the Dylan club he was a person, with very important feelings and a sense of self, however unsure he was about what that actually entailed.
And then the inevitable happened and Karen had to talk to Saeed.
“You aren't going to like this, try and stay calm.” Karen began.
“What?” Saeed, already irritated by his messy wife being late for the dinner he had prepared, stiffened. What could their awful Scottish children want now?
“Well, there is no easy way to say this, David has decided that he is a girl.”
Saeed reddened. “I told you this liberal bullshit wasn't going to work, didn't I? Why didn't you let me take him to mosque?” Saeed was a very free thinking Muslim, but he was Muslim at the end of the day. Karen had known her insistence on no religion was not likely to be consequence free for Saeed, long term, but they had always previously muddled through.
10
“I'm not overjoyed about it either, but I am sure we can come to some agreement over this, Saeed.”
Karen tried hard to remain calm. “Might I suggest we play along until he understands?”
“Play along?” Saeeds blood pressure was getting dangerously high.
“Yes, we can start with his job. He cannot be a junior manager if his older sister is only an administrator. What would the other female staff think?” Karen shot Saeed a knowing look.
“I see what you mean, yes.” Saeed smiled at his naughty wife. “Cleaner it is, then. I will get Joe to cover, he is a good driver. Do you think halving his wages will push the point home?”
“I would say a third is plenty, and make sure he does a nice early morning shift. Thank you Saeed. I will take care of the rest.”
“What is his name now? He cannot be David, surely?” Saeed queried, wrinkling his adorable little nose at Karen.
“Well I decided on Mavis. He may try and tell you it is Sandra, but I'm pretty sure as his mother I still get to name him, even if he is a girl.” Karen smirked.
“Mavis it is.” Saeed laughed.
David, unaware of this, laid out his new skirt for his management shift the following morning. He wondered what the drivers would think of his new look. What could they do, he was the manager?
Karen popped her head around the door. “4AM start tomorrow, Mavis.”
Mavis, the lady formerly known as David, grimaced “Why mum? I was going to make a video tonight?”
“You have a new job. The only vacancy your dad had for a younger sister was cleaning. If you are looking for any gender affirming housework, there are a few things I need doing too.”
Mavis could see what his/her mother was doing, but found him/herself quite unable to answer this.
His/her mother had been good enough to buy him/her some female clothing, s/he could not exactly say no to her request.
“When am I working until tomorrow?” s/he asked.
“You can come home and pair some socks at 11am or so. You won't have enough money for the driving lesson tomorrow, I will take care of it once you have finished the rest of the stuff I need you to do.” Karen looked bored.
“Other stuff? I was going to see Ranjit and Imran?” Mavis did not seem impressed by this prospect.
“You can't hang round with boys any more, Mavis, your father would be teased at mosque.” Karen suppressed a smile. “He's quite old fashioned about some things. Ask your sister.” Uma, was, by now, in on Project Mavis.
“OK.” Mavis resigned him/herself to his/her fate. S/he guessed that s/he would get used to it. “Are you angry with me, mum?”
11
“Angry? Why would I be angry? I have two lovely daughters now. I don't know if your father will let you spend time alone with girls though, you are somewhat....intact.” Karen gave Mavis a pointed look. “I am a bit sad that I brought up such a conformist, though. I thought I taught you better than that. Always question authority, Mavis, even if it has pink hair.”
“I'm a conformist?” Mavis found this astonishing. “You're old, mum, you just don't get it. You're the conformist trying to keep things the same.” s/he scowled.
“Yeah, have you ever seen me in a skirt with a stupid ribbon in my hair, Mavis? Karen looked scornful. This was becoming the longest conversation they had ever had. She was neither a chatty nor particularly emotional kind of mother.
“No.” Mavis felt awkward. Karen was usually in men's clothes.
“Why do you have to wear it then? Is that what you think being a woman is? Or is being a woman getting humped by your little rainbow friends? Is being a woman actually just getting attention?”
Karen tried very hard not to show the sneer that was bubbling as she got angrier.
Saeed, hearing Karen's voice rise slightly, popped his head around the door. “Time to go to sleep, I think.” Saeed smiled. “Make sure you aren't late, Mavis, you need to be out of the depot and into the back offices before the drivers arrive.”
“Is that so they don't see me?” Mavis was faintly horrified. “Are you ashamed of me, dad?”
“Not at all, Mavis, having another sweet and lovely daughter is fine with me. I just want you to have the option of changing your mind, so let's keep it quiet just now.”
“I won't change my mind, dad.” Mavis was adamant and looked fierce.
“Well, we will have to discuss some surgery for you then. We can talk about it once you've tried it out for a couple of weeks.” Saeed nodded to himself wisely. “Best to see what you think of your new payslip first, eh?” Saeed retreated and went to bed, feeling rather smug.
“Oh yeah, I suppose you had better tell us your new pronouns in case we are bored enough to want to talk about you.” Karen was still annoyed, but had calmed down a bit.
“I, I thought she/her?” Mavis was beginning to feel a little bit overwhelmed with all the new things s/he had to think about. Surgery, money, not being allowed out by her/his draconian father. None of these things were within her/his stride so far. S/he hadn't really considered the castration, the rainbow people didn't always seem to bother, but it did not seem to be optional if you had a Muslim father.
“Ok, So you want to be sterile, you presumably don't care about orgasms, you want to be on medication for the rest of your life and you want people to point at you and use incorrect pronouns because some banks, creepy multinationals and rainbow people told you to. Rad, bro. I'll see you after the driving lesson tomorrow, you will need me to pay the bill because you can't afford it on the wages from cleaning. I'll maybe take you to get some Mac makeup, it's expensive but it might cover the stubble for a couple more hours.” Karen picked up some washing and then remembered to return it to the basket. Gender affirming laundry was probably in order for Mavis.
12
“Thanks mum.” Mavis was not going to be getting a lot of sleep. This was not sounding like so much fun. Good material for a video though, he thought, as he drifted off to sleep.
The following day, after a very dull few hours cleaning, Mavis arrived back home to Karen, who awaited him/her with a bag of socks. After a very tedious hour dealing with those, Mavis then cleared all the laundry baskets, put on the laundry and Karen took him/her to match him/her for some thick Mac makeup to cover his/her facial hair.
When evening came it was Saeed and Uma's turn.
“So Uma, which man do you think you might want to meet?” Mavis, Uma and Saeed were at the kitchen table evaluating a page of potential husbands for Uma. “We can try one at a time if you can tell me which you want?”
“Yeah dad, I'll try the accountant first, the junior doctor looks OK too, but he's probably too busy for dates.” Uma looked as deflated as she could whilst looking at the tiny photographs of various Muslim men for her to marry.
“Great. I'll set it up with his dad. Sorry Mavis,, nothing for you today, I thought you might want to talk about surgery.” Saeed looked around at his new daughter. “Facial surgery, castration, you know you will have to have new breasts and genitals. Not a lot of time to wait for the NHS because we will have to get you married earlier. I'm guessing it will have to be someone that needs care and isn't fussed about kids.” Saeed looked matter-of-fact. “We can always get someone from overseas.”
Mavis was horrified. “I have to marry a man? A man that you pick?”
“Isn't that the whole point of being a girl? Are you telling us you don't want to get married?” Saeed was genuinely confused. “If you don't want to be married, why would you want to be a girl?”
“I....don't know. I don't....not like girls, I just don't know.” Mavis, who was not in fact all that fussy, had not even considered the matter of marriage, particularly arranged marriage as it had never previously come up.
Uma, who had a very nice discreet boyfriend and no intention of marrying some accountant that her father had dredged up from nowhere, scoffed. “How can you not know if you're gay? You're either gay or you aren't?”
“It....wasn't the reason for me transitioning. It was.....more of an identity than anything to do with sex.” Mavis was aware of being well over his/her head at this point. “I'll.....have to think about this.”
“OK.” Saeed closed the book of photographs. “We can talk about this later. If we are going ahead with this, Mavis, we will need to get you castrated and your face fixed as soon as possible. Then once I have found you a husband, it is all taken care of. Let's start with the hair removal, that doesn't have to change your life forever, does it? I'll get that sorted for you.”
“Thanks, dad.” Mavis was overwhelmed. “Can I really not see my friends any more?”
13
“Let me know what you decide. When you decide what gender you want to be, I can let you know what works. Just now, probably best not to let this out at the mosque too quickly and your friends probably talk at home. I don't want to lose business when we have surgery to pay for.” Saeed looked very serious. “If this is something you really want, we can do it, just let us know what you want to do. Don't take too long, I don't want to have to send you to live too far away.” he got up from the table. Saeed hoped that with this new potential for being sent overseas, Mavis would see sense.
“Is there any more work that I can do? I'm not earning very much?” Mavis knew better than to ask for the old job, but s/he needed to earn more than the pitiful amount s/he was now getting for cleaning.
“Not just now, you might want to work for another company as well, not much to do for a girl. I don't want you to be unsafe doing deliveries. I did think about it, Mavis.” Saeed looked suitably sorry. “It would not do for a daughter of mine to be knocking on doors with parcels. It is my job as a father to keep you safe for your husband.”
“OK. I will look for more work.” Mavis now realised that s/he was a bit more exposed than s/he would like, given his/her shyness and only previous experience being with the family. “I will think about the other things. Thanks dad.”
Karen appeared at the door, “Are you ready to go to your gran's now, Mavis?”
“Gran's?” Mavis had had no idea this was the plan for the afternoon.
“Yeah, I thought it might be nice for your gran to have her new granddaughter over. That way you can be......yourself.” Karen's nonchalant expression did not change.”You can even stay over if you want.”
“Uh, don't think so.” Mavis adjusted a hairclip. “I don't mind going over for a bit though.”
Karen and Mavis went out to the car. “OK Mavis, put on a bit more lipstick and you're driving.”
Karen knew that Mavis was not that great a driver yet and wanted to give Mavis the full driving experience.
“You're the best!” Mavis was keen for more driving experience.
“You know you probably won't be doing much driving in Iran?” Karen did not smile but tried to sound carefree.
“Dad is sending me to Iran?” The urgency of his/her father's wish to have him/her castrated suddenly dawned on Mavis.
“Well, that would make sense, we can try and find you somewhere a bit nearer, but Iran is by far the simplest answer. Have you looked up Iran as a place to live?”
“No, I don't really know anything about Iran. Dad never really talks to me.” Mavis suddenly realised something about Iran. “Iran isn't all that keen on women, though, is it?”
“Cute chicks but no, not that great for women. I'm sure your dad will find you someone nice and 14
gentle. I suppose we had better get you some religious instruction, Persian and Arabic lessons.
This is quite exciting isn't it?” Karen brightened. “I am almost jealous.”
Mavis realised his prospects in Iran were somewhat bleak and probably wouldn't entail getting out of the house much. S/he pictured a life of caring for a disabled man that probably couldn't see very well and not leaving the house. “I think I need to give this some thought.”
“Yeah, I think you should do a bit of research about Iran and about transitioning.” Karen pursed her lips. “The rainbow people won't be coming to Iran with you. You're also going to need to learn something about Islam. If you want to go ahead with it, we are of course in full support,” Karen grimaced.
“Would you think I was an idiot if I decided against it?” Mavis wondered what his options were.
“Not at all. I think you should learn something about Islam anyway. Your dad would appreciate it.”
“Can I ask you something, mum?” Mavis looked at his mother as s/he pulled the car into Gran's drive.
“Shoot.” Karen put on the handbrake and turned the Skoda's engine off.
“How did you and dad end up together?”
Karen laughed. “No parents involved, so Saeed was free to fall in love with the nearest lumpy punk. He liked my lack of controllability and keen interest in reading.”
“Why does he want to pick husbands for us?” Mavis was a little confused.
“He is protecting the family. If word got out at mosque about your transition, we would lose standing, which means losing business. He is being a good dad and protecting your inheritance.
Let him find you a husband, if that's what you want, we can manage this situation without upsetting anyone. I didn't even know you liked boys.” Karen got out of the car and came around to get to the driver's seat.
“Gotcha. Thanks mum.” Mavis was increasingly aware that s/he was not yet wedded to the idea of boys, surgery or marriage. S/he smoothed down his/her skirt. S/he headed into Gran's house, making ready for the boiling heat that was always turned up full.
“I'll pick you up when you call.” Karen waved and started the car.
Gran, who was also known as Elaine, was a sharp witted 85 year old who had formerly been a geography teacher. She answered the door and looked Mavis up and down.
“Why are you wearing a skirt? Is this some new thing I haven't noticed on the internet?”
“Didn't mum tell you? I'm a girl.” Mavis could not believe they had not bothered to talk about this.
Was s/he invisible?
“Oh no, that's a shame.” Elaine was not restricted by the inclusivity rules in her disapproval at this potential change. “I suppose you'd better come in. I was hoping you would change a light bulb, but 15
I can't ask you to climb a 20 foot ladder now.”
“I can still climb a ladder, gran, I'm not disabled.” Mavis scoffed.
“Not in that skirt, you can't. I'm not having you ruin my good insurance record.” Elaine turned and staggered slightly as she returned to her chair. “You can maybe change grandad's bed if you can lift him, do the commode. I don't think the carers emptied it.”
“Lovely.” Mavis thought the light bulb sounded like a much better option. “What about the garden? Do you want me to do anything with that?”
“In a brand new skirt? Nope. Besides, you have to look after your hands if you're going to be a girl.
What on earth does your father think of this, David?” Elaine did not hold back.
“It's Mavis now. He is arranging my surgery and then a husband, apparently” Mavis was still unsure about this part.
“You did not pick Mavis as a name.” Elaine started to laugh. “Put the kettle on, there's a dear.”
“No, mum picked it. What can you tell me about Iran?” Mavis skipped through to the adjoining kitchen to put the kettle on for tea. Gran was a straight shooter, s/he would get some clarity from this conversation at least.
“He's picking a husband for you in Iran?” Elaine continued to cackle. “You haven't looked it up yet?”
“No, why?” Mavis grabbed some biscuits and put the teabags into the mugs and the sippy cup for Grampa.
“Are you serious, Mavis? You want to give up your job, move to Iran and live as a woman?” the tears of mirth were now apparent on Elaine's face. “You will need quite a bit of surgery. Are you even on hormones yet?”
“No, I only mentioned it last week, so we are setting up appointments for stuff like that just now.
Do you think it's a bad idea, gran? I'm not even sure I want to be married yet.””
Elaine was now rocking slightly in the chair, she could not stop the laughter. Saeed was very smart, she did like his style. She dried up long enough to ask “How is your Persian and your Arabic?”
“Yeah I'm going to have to learn that too. I think dad is going to marry Uma off first, so I probably have a year or so by the time we've done everything.”
“How are you going to pay for all this?” Elaine wondered how much Mavis was earning.
“Dad said he would take care of it.” Mavis was blissfully unaware this was likely to be the cost of a small house.
“Business is good then. Are you still manager?” Elaine managed to straighten her face as Mavis re-entered the room with tea. S/he popped the sippy cup through to his/her grampa and returned 16
“No, the only job they had for a younger sister was cleaning. It's kind of boring. I'm not allowed to see my male friends now either.” Mavis looked a bit deflated at this.
“You're going to have to spend some time at mosque, too. Do me a favour, poppet, look up women's rights in Iran on the computer over there.” Elaine was now considerably more serious.
“And then fetch me my pashmina, I will show you how to wear the hijab.”
Mavis liked this idea, and went to fetch the pashmina first, a decision s/he was soon to regret due to the boiling temperature in the house. Elaine wrapped his head and neck slightly more tightly than she normally would to give Mavis the full effect.
“So....hot.....” Mavis looked in the mirror and quite liked the effect, but broke a sweat fairly rapidly as it was a fine wool pashmina.
“Now look at the computer.” Elaine sipped her tea as Mavis sat and searched for women's rights in Iran.
“I suppose I could be an activist?” Mavis was only faintly horrified as s/he looked up from the computer, Elaine thought she had better make the point a little more strongly.
“Iranian jail is no fun, Mavis. Add to this that your best bet is a disabled man with poor eyesight, and you will be living pretty much like me, but also hot, with a man that you don't know and at risk from almost all the others.” Elaine tried to make Mavis consider this more carefully. “Are you actually gay, dear? Your life would be a lot more fun.”
“That's just it, gran, I don't know? I think I quite like girls.” Mavis had still not settled on this question. “So arranged marriage and moving to Iran not such a good idea then?”
“Your father is trying to help you. Before you do anything else, try spending some time at mosque with him, even if you have to be a boy whilst you do it. You might find that helpful.” Elaine counselled. “Before you change gender, you need to know a bit more about the gender you're turning down. You have no idea how many advantages you're throwing away.”
“Like what? I've had more conversations since I announced this than I've had in my entire life.
What sort of advantage is being ignored?” Mavis slumped slightly in his/her chair.
“Honestly, try seeing this from your parents' point of view, and your sister's. You had a nice quiet life, nobody bothering you, doing whatever you like, effortlessly getting a manager's job that your sister wasn't even considered for, purely because you're a boy. There are worse things than being ignored.” Elaine looked at Mavis. “It is probably just as well this happened, because now you have a chance to get to know everyone, but I wouldn't go chopping my body up over it if I was you.”
“Right.” Mavis looked at the carpet, slightly ashamed of his/her own advantages.
“My advice is spend some time with dad. Get your management job back. Figure out if it's boys, girls or both, learn the languages, after all that you can decide to chop your bits off because then you will be equipped for this Iranian madness you are considering. Delay it a bit, if you do this now, you will be very sorry. Life is short, you don't want to spend it lugging some man you don't know around with your head wrapped up in a blanket.” Elaine paused for a bite of her biscuit and brushed some crumbs onto the floor. “And you'll need to understand a bit more about Islam.”
17
“Okay. Can I take this awful thing off?” Mavis tugged at his/her hijab.
“Are you a boy or a girl?” Elaine pushed her luck a little, just for fun.
“I think I'm a boy if it involves roasting to death in this pashmina.” Mavis laughed at the simple trick his grandmother had pulled. “I'm glad I came over.”
“That's okay dear.” Elaine began to wonder if it was time for Antiques Roadshow.
“Why can't Uma be a manager?” David pondered. He had not thought about the job roles at all.
“As a boy you have to support a family some day, so you need the advantage. Uma will be getting married and leaving, so she has to be replaced, that's the thinking behind it. It's not fair and it's not right, but it's also not exclusive to your family. I don't know what I would have done if I hadn't met Grampa.”
“Dad said he had to keep daughters safe for husbands, which means Uma can't be a driver either.”
David remembered. “Being a girl is a bit restrictive even here.”
“Don't get me started. Thank your lucky stars you aren't one.” Elaine's attention was wandering to the TV. “Can you put the BBC on?”
David put on the TV and went to lift Grampa out of bed and into his chair so that he could put fresh sheets on the bed. Once this was done and Grampa was changed into fresh pyjamas he found a pair of trousers in the wardrobe and changed the lightbulb. Heading out to the garden, newly revelling in the freedom of being male, he pondered how quickly his gran had dealt with it. Was this really just about getting to know his parents, being noticed? All he wanted to do now was see Imran and Ranjit and play computer games all night.
After raking some leaves and mowing the lawn, he made Gran and Grampa some more tea and called Karen.
“Hi mum, it's David.”
“David. Are you sure this isn't Mavis?” Karen was confused. If this was a change of heart, her mother had worked at lightning speed.
“I'll tell you in the car, can you pick me up?” David sounded older.
“Sure.” Karen grabbed the keys.