Chapter 1
I ran away from home shortly after I turned sixteen, totally fed up with the fighting, the shouting and the endless arguments. I'd made some plans, but they weren't exactly thorough and I didn't have much money.
I caught a bus out to a vine-growing region in the countryside. I understood that there could be six to eight weeks of grape-picking work there - ten hours a day for six days a week.
I got a job straight away. I was housed in a 'picker's hut' - primitive and not very comfortable, but shelter, at least.
You usually did the picking in pairs and I was teamed up with a woman who was probably twenty or so years older than me. Her name was Ivy and she was clearly much more experienced and capable than I was.
It was hot, hard work and I struggled to begin with. Ivy was patient with me - teaching me and encouraging me. I think she could see that I was willing and trying my best.
Trouble was, we were paid at piece rates - the more grapes you picked, the more you got paid. Ivy was definitely carrying me for that first week and I felt guilty.
"We all had to start sometime, Helmut. You'll get there."
I did; my fitness and skill improved and by the end of the second week I'd caught up with her in output. I felt so much better; she had been really kind.
The picking on the property was finished after four weeks and Ivy said to me, "Do you want to come with me to the next place I've got lined up? Probably two or three more weeks work."
Hell, yeah.
"Listen, mate, if you like, you can stay with me in my van, sleep in one of the spare bunks," (Ivy had a nice dual-axle caravan).
Hell, yeah again.
I felt that I had fallen on my feet. For some reason, Ivy had taken a shine to me.
"Good. Now there is one thing, people might think it's a bit strange - an old duck with a toyboy or something; I reckon it would be best if we pretend that you're my son. Whadda ya think?"
"You're no old duck, you're my Mum," I declared happily.
"No doubt about it, son, you're quick."
I was really enjoying my new life. I did have one problem though, clothes.
I'd come away with only one change of clothes because I needed to travel light. Grape-picking can be dirty work; too often I was going off in filthy clothes in the morning because my other ones hadn't dried overnight after I washed them.
I had some money now and could buy some more stuff, but naturally, the couple of clothing stores in the area closed on Sundays, the only day we had off.
Ivy suggested that I borrow some of Corrine's gear, "There are two boxes of the stuff cluttering up the back of the ute. Have a look, take what you want, I very much doubt that she'll want any of it again."
Corrine was Ivy's daughter. Six months ago she had left home (the caravan, that is) to seek her own destiny - "I was pleased for her, love. I think we should all find our own path. Of course, I still worry about her; she is such a self-assured person, I just hope that she doesn't overplay her hand."
I found a number of items I could wear. "Mum, you're sure she won't mind?"
"Nah, love. Don't worry, she probably won't want this stuff anyway. She won't mind."
Chapter 2
Ivy lined up some orange picking work for us next and we headed straight there when we finished the grapes.
"Helmut, we could swing off to go clothes shopping for you, but it will probably mean that we will be a day late to our new gig."
"And they may give our places to someone else. No, don't worry about it, Mum. I'm fine. If Corrine doesn't mind, I'm actually finding her gear quite comfy."
"You look good, you know."
"Oh, yeah, sure, Mum."
We pulled into a roadside rest area to make ourselves some lunch. When we'd finished eating, Ivy said to me, "Come here, love."
She started brushing my hair. I guessed what she was up to. Then lipstick.
"Mum, what are you doing?"
"Have a look at yourself, hon."
The image in the mirror didn't surprise me. I sighed, "So shall I be your pretend daughter rather than your pretend son?"
"Mightn't be a bad idea, you know. I've been thinking, love, if your folks have reported you missing to the police, then the cops are not going to be looking for a girl."
It was something I hadn't really considered. Now that I thought about it, it was likely that my mother would report me missing and my photograph would presumably be circulated.
The last thing I wanted was to be sent back to my dysfunctional family; I liked my new life.
I was nodding, "You've got a point, Mum. Let's do it."
Helen was born.
We worked bloody hard (and made good money) for another six months and we were finally taking a break - a lovely national park with a swimming hole, some interesting sights and numerous delightful bushwalks.
I'd come to really like being Helen and, quite frankly, I loved my new mum.
"Come on, get in," I was yelling at her as I splashed around in the water.
"I'm coming, I'm coming," she called back while remaining prone on her towel.
I'd probably have to go and drag her in, and then her phone rang. It was Corinne; Ivy hadn't heard from her for over a month. I swam over to unashamedly listen in.
Corinne wanted to come back home (to the caravan) for a while.
Ivy had already told her about me, though how much detail I wasn't sure, "Don't worry, there's plenty of room for you and your sister." She was grinning at me.
Chapter 3
We picked Corrine up from the bus station in a regional town.
The 'real' daughter was nearly two years older than me, slightly taller and an attractive and confident-looking young woman. Ivy had warned me that she could be a bit bossy.
She gave me a steady appraising scrutiny. "So this is Helen, is it? All dressed up in my clothes, I see."
"I hope you don't mind, Corinne," I responded meekly.
"Hmmm."
"Corinne, please be nice. She's lovely."
"Mum, if she's going to be my little sister, she'd better get used to it. Now (she addressed me) listen to me, you young brat, you can keep wearing my gear, but you owe me, okay?"
I was nodding nervously.
"And," Corrine went on, "remember that I'm the big sister, you're the little sister."
Somehow I found the right words, "Yessir, no sir, ma'am, you're the big sister, absolutely, definitely, totally."
Corrine laughed. "And don't you forget it," she grinned, "Now come here and give your big sister a hug."
Within weeks we were behaving like a pair of sisters: play, laughs, teasing, squabbling, hugs and so on. She was terrific, so full of life and confidence, and a good worker too because we were back at work.
Then:
"Mum, you've got to get Helen onto hormones so that she can grow her own tits."
"What???"
"I know a fair bit about this stuff because there was a girl in the flat next to mine who was trans. She told me all about it, it's quite interesting."
Mum and I were staring at each other with raised eyebrows.
"And, sis, don't you start with any of your bullshit. You're not going back to being Helmut or whatever it was, are you?"
My head was shaking 'no' of its own volition.
"Now because you're still legally a minor we'll have to do it shonky. I can find out where to get the stuff, the right dosages, procedures, etc."
Mum and I were just gaping at Corinne and nodding. God, she was a bossy sister.
By the time I turned eighteen, my change was well underway and I was loving it.