Kingsteignton, 1993

It’s an early spring day in 1993. There’s blossom in the orchard at St Michael’s Church Of England Primary School, and the low sun floods the empty classrooms on the upper floor. The year-five and -six children are playing rounders on the field.

All except one. A nine-year-old boy, short blond hair and bright blue eyes, emerges from the cloakroom. He glances around, checks his shirt is tucked in, and sits down at the craft table. He opens a secondary-school maths textbook, picks up his pencil, and starts to work.

He hears the door at the top of the stairs slip open. At the edge of his vision he sees a tall woman, flowing brown hair and striking blue eyes. He doesn’t look up as she approaches, too shy to meet eyes with a stranger, but as she starts to talk his pencil stills. He’s listening.

Hey ███. I’m… you. Or rather, who you will become. I know this doesn’t make sense right now, but I also know what you just did. I know this is where it started.

Don’t be embarrassed. You feel like there’s something wrong with you. There isn’t. You feel so alone, but there are others like you. There always have been. And there are people out there who can help, but — I’m so sorry — you won’t find them.

Mum and Dad wouldn’t understand. They’ll send you to the Boys’ Grammar. You’ll know you don’t belong there, but you won’t understand why. You’ll fear the changes that the boys welcome, changes that will contort your body and steal your voice. You won’t sing again. You’ll starve yourself.

Mum will worry that you’re always sad. But she won’t know that in the darkness and silence of night you’ll slide an antique letter opener from its leather sheath and ask yourself: would it hurt? Would it hurt more than living like this?

Every night you’ll pray for the serenity to accept the things you cannot change, but one day you’ll find the courage to change this thing you can. Under a secluded waterfall on a Scottish island, you will finally realise who you are, and you will be transformed.

You’ll find a strength and a confidence that you never imagined could be yours. You’ll stand tall and walk with your head held high. All your dreams will come true. One day you’ll look in the mirror, and see… me.

But — I’m so sorry — it’s going to take another thirty years.

I’m not here to forgive you. I don’t blame you for taking so long. I want to thank you. Thank you for all you endured for so many years to keep me safe. Thank you for sacrificing yourself so that I could exist. I’ll make it worth it. I’ll make you proud.

I love you. I’ll see you in the future.

With that, she slips away, and the boy is alone again.