“This, these and this are not what I’d expect to see inside a male. They are, without doubt, female reproductive organs, slightly immature, but growing. You have no testes; this flesh here is simply fatty tissue and surplus skin. This, here, is an ovary, mirrored by one over here. They are almost normal size, which would indicate they are possibly ready to start ovulation. Once that starts, as I told you last time, your body will try to get rid of the womb lining, and as yet, you have nowhere for it to escape from.
“You, young lady, are coming into the clinic this evening, and I shall operate on you tomorrow morning!”
That is exactly what had happened.
Kayla had told her friends she had, ‘women’s problems’, which required a quick minor operation, and left it at that. The girls were all interested, demanding more information, but the boys decided that they had enough information, changing the subject rapidly.
Pete had been worried, but as Kayla didn’t appear concerned, he relaxed and didn’t press her.
“Hello, sweetheart, how do you feel?” her mother asked, putting the magazine to one side.
“Woozy.”
“I’ve spoken to Mr Sweeney. What a pickle you’ve turned out to be!”
“Why?”
“He’ll tell you better than I can, but it seems you should never have been Kyle.”
Kayla felt pleased, but also very sleepy, so with a smile fixed on her face, dropped off to sleep again.
Meanwhile, in the Swedish Consulate, Jacob Manning and his mother-in-law were shown into the Consul’s office.
Lens Petersen was a tall fair man, the archetypal Norseman. In his fifty-third year, he was an experienced diplomat, and enjoyed his job. Mrs Clarke’s request intrigued him, after her letter landed on his desk some two weeks previously. It was certainly one of the most unusual requests he’d ever had, so he was looking forward to finding out more.
After greeting them and shaking their hands, they sat in the comfortable chairs in his opulent office. The picture of the current Swedish monarch, King Carl XVI Gustaf, dressed in naval uniform stared down at them from beside the Swedish flag.
“Now, how can I assist you?” he said.
Ingrid spoke for nearly fifteen minutes, without interruption, highlighting Kayla’s unusual situation. Lens asked various questions, read the various doctors’ letters, which explained her unique medical condition.
“Now, you are still a Swedish National, Mrs Clarke?”
“Yes, as is my daughter. She was born in Sweden.”
“Yet, you both have dual nationality, yes?”
“Yes.”
“Has your granddaughter applied for Swedish nationality before?”
“No.”
“Hmm, this is, as you rightly said, a complicated and peculiar situation. I am not in a position to make a decision on this today. I will have to seek advice and Kayla will have to be interviewed at some point.
“I am not unsympathetic, but this case could set precedence and I would hate to make a mistake. I understand she is a normal female, now the surgery is finished?”
“Yes, completely. It was confirmed this morning by the surgeon. Kayla is a normal fertile female.”
“Then the gender issue is not a problem, but the nationality application would need a decision by our immigration service. I will pass on the forms, with a minute explaining the situation. I have to be certain that she would seriously consider making Sweden her home, at least for part of the time.”
“Mr Petersen, my daughter would find her life irrevocably damaged if her true origins became generally known. Now, as young people do, she started down a course that I had no knowledge of, but once started, it gathered momentum, and we find ourselves having to perpetuate a lie in order to live ordinary lives. Our request is not built on any other motive other than one of wanting to live a normal life. She speaks almost perfect Swedish, and has indicated to me that she would be more than willing to make Sweden her home, if it means she can live out her life, free of her past.”
Lens smiled.
“Thank you Mr Manning. I think I understand. I shall do what I can.”
The interview over, Jake and Ingrid left, hopeful that their request could bring Kayla some degree of security for her future.
“Where’s dad?” Kayla asked.
“He’ll be in soon, as will Mama.”
“It hurts, mum.”
“Badly?”
Kayla frowned as she tried to pin down what she felt.
“Not a sharp pain, a sort of dull ache. Like a deep bruise.”
She looked at the drips feeding her left arm. A urinary catheter snaked its way from under the blanket to a bag discretely hung out of sight by the bed.
“What time is it?” she asked.
“Nearly four.”
Kayla was surprised, as her operation had started at about eight in the morning.
“When did I come up from theatre?”
“Three hours ago. Do you remember speaking to me?”
“Vaguely. I feel slightly sick.”
“Do you want the nurse?”
Kayla shook her head.
“No. Do you know what he found?”
“Yes, it’s as you hoped. You are a girl, sweetie, one hundred percent female.”
“But, what about my bits?”
“Your bits are fine. Mr Sweeney will be in to see you soon, but he told me everything is as normal as could be.”
Kayla lay back against the pile of pillows, closing her eyes. An enormous weight lifted from her. She’d feared being a sort of half person, neither one nor the other. She relaxed and drifted off again.
Rebecca smiled on seeing her daughter’s face relax into a beatific smile. She left her for a moment, seeking somewhere to contact her husband by mobile.
“Jake, it’s me. Where are you?”
“On my way back. How is she?”
“Fine. She is a little groggy, but has been told the good news and is sleeping just now. How did your visit go?”
“I think it was okay. It’s difficult to tell, that’s why they’re called diplomats, they say the right things, but one never knows quite what they’re thinking. I feel there is a chance we’ll be successful.”
“Oh God, I hope so. It would answer all our problems.”
“We’ll have to see. I suggest we don’t tell Kayla in case they don’t go along with it.”
“I agree. She could get her hopes up, only to have them dashed. Far better we give her the good news if it happens that way.”
“Right, that’s settled. How are you, have you eaten?”
“I had a salad in the hospital dining room. I’m not that bothered.”
“We’ll come straight up. Ingrid wants to see her in any case. Has lover boy called?”
“Peter? No. Kayla told him to wait a day. She didn’t want him seeing her all sideways.”
“I thought he might call, just to check.”
“I’ve had both phones switched off, I’ll check Kayla’s in a minute.”
“It’s fortunate that this coincides with half term, otherwise she’d miss some important school time.”
“Jake, she’s doing so well, everyone says she’ll be fine.”
“I can’t really believe this. How can we all have been so blind?”
“I know. But, be happy for her. I think she’s finally who she wants to be.”
“I am happy for her. I feel an arse that I never saw the signs. She must have been so unhappy!”
“She’s making up for it now. That smile was worth everything to me.”
“I just hope she is not in for disappointment should the truth get out!”
“We must make sure it doesn’t!” Rebecca said, forcefully.
“I’ll see you soon.”
Rebecca then switched on her daughter’s phone and had to smile. There were seven text messages from her friends, with four more from Peter. She made her way back to the room when a nurse asked her if she wanted a cup of tea.
“They’re just checking her dressings. Mr Sweeney is on his way, and wants her ready for inspection, so to speak.”