The Times, They Are A' Changing. Part 2 of 4

Printer-friendly version

Chapter 2

I had kept up with the newspapers and wasn’t unaware of the reputation my hometown had as a gay center. I had read articles, both for and against, and was well aware of what I was about to embark on. As a writer, myself, the second verse of the song now had more meaning to me. I needed to keep my eyes wide, because this was the one chance to get it right and not become a laughingstock.

I forced myself to stay quiet, as the wheel spun. When it stopped would be the time to find out if I could make it work. The odd thing was, because of all the training that Mum had given me since I was little, this step didn’t seem too strange. What was strange was, after lunch, her being with me in the bathroom, with me naked and in a bath, while she supervised my shaving all over, and giving my hair a double wash and condition.

While this was happening, the girls were running riot in my bedroom, trying on things that caught their fancy. When I had been dried and dusted, I had one of my sister’s dressing gowns on when Mum led me back to the bedroom. All the girls, who had arrived in jeans, now wore skirts or dresses that they liked. I looked and thought that I would be unlikely to have worn any of them, as they didn’t suit my preferences. I was told that, today, I would be following their lead, and that it would be my first outing without trousers.

They had already picked out a plain light blue set of bra and panties, and I was allowed to pop back into the bathroom to put them on, with special instruction on how to minimise what little tackle I had. It was a struggle, both physically and intellectually, but I achieved what I had been asked to do and went back into the bedroom. Now, I had the gown taken away, and inserts put into the bra cups, to give me some shape. Obviously, my sister had thought she had needed help in that department, all those years ago.

It was a progression from then, with layers being added, then subtracted, and then replaced, until I stood there in a light blue dress with a flared skirt, sensible shoes with just a small heel, and a feeling that I should have done this years ago, if only to see if I looked stupid. I was sat at the dressing table, and, between my mother’s selection and what the girls had brought with them, I had my brows tweezered and my face made up. Then Brenda weaved a magic spell over my hair, giving me a very feminine look. I looked in the mirror and decided that I didn’t look stupid, after all.

The acid test, I was told, was to spend some quality time in the shops. Mum unlocked the Cruiser that Dad had bought to prove his manliness, and we all piled in for a short trip to the town centre and the shops. With the heeled shoes, I couldn’t help but copy the girls as we walked away from the car, with me now trying to copy their voices.

The first stop was a department store, which sold the go-to brand of cosmetics the girls all used, and I was sat on a seat, while all of the previous work was wiped off and a new layer applied. The brief was to find my palette, and I think the girl nailed it. Leaving there with a bag of their products and a handbook designed to help young girls learn how to do it for themselves, the next stop was the jewellery counter.

There, I bought a range of cheaper bracelets, necklaces, and rings that I liked, rather than what my sister had left. I found that I was a lot less flashy, and the girls nodded as I made my choices. Of course, the offer of free piercings if you bought earrings couldn’t be walked away from. We left there with me sporting my new studs. Mum took the bags and said she would take them back to the car and catch up with us in the Lanes. The girls nominated a shop which they thought would have things I would like, and she agreed to meet us there.

As I may have said, me and shopping were poles apart, so this new experience needed to be positive for me. Once I shed the notion that I was quickly buying something that would fit, and I would not dislike, I got into the ways the girls were teaching me. That shopping was fun, it didn’t need you to actually buy something, and you make mental notes on what pieces you liked, so that you could go back if you saw something that you knew would go with them.

The time flew, and by the time Mum caught up with us, we all had bags with our purchases in. We took time out, in one of the many cafes, to talk about what else I needed. My sister had, I was now coming to realise, been flashy to the point of trashy, and there would be things that the girls would help me clear out of my wardrobe. The sexy underwear would stay, as I was told that you feel good knowing that you had it on, but the very short skirts and plunging necklines were not my thing. One thing I was short on was decent shoes. So, we left Mum sitting with our bags as we raided a shoe shop.

Our final shop was lingerie, at my insistence. This morning, I had seen that my sister had loved baby doll nighties, while I had decided that something a bit longer, and less see-through, was my preference. When I had brought a selection, and paid for them, the girls declared that I was now my own woman, with my own likes and dislikes.

There was a group discussion on how well I had gone, and the consensus was that they all were now thinking of me as Connie, a slightly inexperienced girl, and that I would be all right with what we had in mind for next week. I was becoming happy with a lot of touching, hugging, and the occasional kiss on the cheek. The last was mainly from Maria, who had been quiet and a little withdrawn before we had embarked on our shopping trip with me in a dress.

She now endeavoured to be close, and to be helpful when I was dithering over my choices. She had been shooting off to bring back things which she thought may be what I was thinking of, and most times she was right. She was the one who would look me in the eyes as she spoke, which meant that I spent a lot of time gazing at her own baby blues. I don’t know what was happening, at the time, but, later that evening, she was the one in my thoughts once the girls had left, laden with their shopping and added bags of some things that they liked from my wardrobe.

This gave me room for my own choices. There was now a couple of bags for the op-shop, mainly the very trashy stuff that none of the girls would wear. Mum got me to wear one of my new dresses, with slightly higher heels, and she took me to a good restaurant for a celebratory dinner. I had found most people friendly, during the day, but being helped into my seat and called ‘miss’ was a whole new experience. The funny part was that it was the place that Pete’s family operated, and I saw him working in the kitchen. We had not been frequent diners, so it was interesting to be eating something cooked by a good chef.

That night, I was shown how to properly clean off the make-up, and to arrange my hair so that it would fall into place in the morning. I wore one of my new nighties for the first time, and had a good night of restful sleep, after the exertions of the day.

Sunday, Maria, and I had arranged to spend time together. It had been a sudden decision, based on a band that was playing in one of the parks. I hadn’t really considered it to be a date until I started to get ready. I started dithering about whether I should go with pants, a skirt, or a dress. I finally put together an outfit that was totally new, a straight skirt, with a plain top, new boots and, for the first time, tights. It took a while to do my make-up, but finally arrived at a point where I couldn’t see streaks. I put all my things in a backpack bag and left the house.

We were going to meet by the Pavilion, and the bus dropped me off not far away. Maria was waiting for me and greeted me with a strong hug and an air-kiss. She told me I looked nice, so I told her she looked fabulous, and we linked arms to walk towards the music we could hear. The whole time we were together, we didn’t talk about cooking, or my previous existence. It was about clothes, things we liked, comments on both the boys and girls that were all around us. It was as if we were a couple of girlfriends having a good time. It was then that I understood that it was just that, me having a good time with a girlfriend, but as an equal.

The band was good, and there was no seating, unless you sat on the grass, so we moved around, grooved to the music, and even danced with a couple of lads for a while. I wasn’t outed, made to feel uncomfortable, or even looked at unless it was from boys looking at girls in the way they do. It was a first, and I did, at times, feel like an exhibit. It was then that I understood a little of what drove my sister. It would only take a shorter skirt, more boob, and an attitude and you could own your position. As I looked around, I saw a few like that, so flashy that they were protected by the aura of power. I could see boys ogling them but afraid to approach.

I pointed this out to Maria, who told me that it was a very hard thing to maintain that powerful aura without ending up without friends. She said that a girl could go too far with the look, and end up attracting the wrong kind of guy, one who just wanted another notch on their bedhead. Today, I was learning a lot about life as a girl, and now knew that my brother-in-law had collected more than his notch.

We had hot dogs in the park, and then strolled back towards the Lanes. At a jewellers, we bought each other a friendship ring, then found a shelter on the Esplanade, and looked out towards the sea as we sat and talked. When it was time to go, I stood and held my hands out to help her up. As she stood, she put a hand behind my head and pulled me into a kiss. It was a momentous event, as far as I was concerned, my first kiss, ever, and the fact that we were both wearing lipstick wasn’t part of the equation. It was so nice, we did it again.

She looked me in the eyes and smiled.

“Connie, I’m glad you like me, and glad that we’ve had this day, together. I’ve been wanting to kiss you since yesterday afternoon, and didn’t get much sleep last night, thinking about you. To answer your first question, yes, I’m a lesbian, and I find the new you impossible to ignore. If it’s any consolation, this vindicates what you are doing and verifies that you really make a wonderful woman. Never stop believing in yourself. I’ll be by your side as long as you want me around.”

“Maria, sweet thing, I, too, spent a lot of last night thinking about you. Today has been wonderful, for me, as well. This is the first time I’ve felt strong feelings towards anyone, and I don’t know how I’ll be, as time goes on. You’ll always be my friend, and that’s something you shouldn’t take lightly, as you are the first true friend I’ve ever had. Yesterday, for me, was like emerging from a lonely egg to find myself surrounded by beautiful swans who considered me one of the flock. To answer a question of your own, I’ve never had sex, nor have I masturbated, so I don’t know if I could satisfy your needs. If you want to go further, you’ll have to teach me what I have to do.”

“Wow, all this and experimental sex thrown in. I think I could be in love.”

That’s when I held her close and initiated our next kiss. Of course, we needed to repair our lipstick, then we held hands as we strolled along the promenade, just another pair of gay girls in the gay center of the south coast. Before we parted, we now talked about the coming week at the school. She was there to be able to find a job in a restaurant and had expected to be spending several years as an underling, before getting to actually cook.

“Maria, you’re better than that. The reason that we’re being considered for the trial course is because the whole class has attracted attention through our dishes. I can’t see any of us needing to spend years being a drudge to a domineering chef. Forget what you’ve seen on the television. Real restaurants, those who have good reputations, look after bright people and nurture good cooks. Our teacher told me that the best way to make your mark is to open your own place. That’s not too far-fetched, and it might be something we can all think about, we have a couple of years before we need to move.”

We parted at the bus stop, hugging and air-kissing. There was no need for blatant posturing, now we were sure of ourselves. I rode home, thinking about what had happened. It wasn’t something that I was going to share with Mum, a genuine first time I’ve kept anything from her. I was sure that she’ll figure it out, eventually. That thought was blown out of the water as soon as I walked in.

“Connie, you look flushed, is it that Maria? I saw her, yesterday, making puppy eyes at you, and wondered if she’d finished snaring you at the park. She’s a nice girl, in fact, they’re all nice girls. Sometimes I wonder where I went wrong with Harriet. I think it may have been your father’s influence and genes. You never knew her, properly. She was a wild one and determined to get her man. His family are very well off, with a chain of supermarkets along the coast. I’m still not sure if there was any love there, but that’s something she’ll have to work out for herself. Her son came into our office, last week, to see if he could get a part-time job, after school. He’s in first year at High School, and very good on the computer, so I think we may have him around. It was hard to stay clear. I wonder if she had told him that it’s his granny in charge.”

“I’ve been thinking about Harriet a lot in the last couple of days. I’ve been imagining her in those trashy outfits. I saw a couple of similar girls, today, and have decided that she got what she was after, but I wonder if she ever found love, or even any joy.”

“Suddenly, my child has started to think about more than cooking. I’m beginning to like this new daughter of mine more than ever. I gather that you and Maria are an item?”

“Yes, Mum. Being with her has made me realise what I’ve missed, all these years. Did you and Harriet cook, together? Did you hug and talk about boys and make-up?”

She sat and looked at me and I could see tears form in her eyes.

“You’re right, Connie. Your father and I were determined to make the paper a success, and I think that Harriet may have been left to her own devices as she grew up. And then there was your brothers to look after. They were all within a few years of each other, so she was never able to develop any maternal feelings by being the big sister. I now realise that I’ve neglected you, as well. Yes, we’ve spent time together, but it hasn’t been a loving relationship. Can you forgive me?”

“Of course, I forgive you. Today has been a revelation, and I have had more actual contact with other people than I had in my previous existence. Would you be upset if I hug you?”

She had a look of wonder as I went to her and put my arms around her, squeezing for all I was worth. Then, the dam broke, and we were both crying tears of joy. She kept on telling me she was sorry, and I kept on telling her that it was all right, that she had nothing to be sorry for. When we calmed down, I told her that I wanted to see if Harriet’s old bike was in the shed, because I would need to use it if I was going to ride to classes in a skirt. We both went our rooms to repair our faces and for me to change into jeans,

I opened up the shed and turned on the light. It was quite large, with my grandfather’s old hand press in one corner, salvaged when the original house had been demolished. It was the one thing that had allowed me to spend time with my father, when he showed me how it worked. I produced playbills for a school play, in my latter year in primary.

There was a good workbench and all the type for the press. Mum joined me and sat on the stool while I pulled the covers off the bicycles. You could tell that we never threw anything away, as there was the bike that I had used for primary, a hand-me-down from brother Robert, as was the bike I was currently using. Then there was the racer that John had spent a fortune on. At the back was Harriet’s bike, dusty but looking all right. I lifted the others away and pulled it out.

Mum had joined me and looked on as I hoisted the bike over and rested it on the saddle and handlebars. As expected, the tyres were flat, but the outer was still flexible. As I took the wheels out and worked on replacing the inner tubes, she started talking. I listened, without comment, as she unburdened her guilt.

“There are things that you haven’t been told, Connie. I think that you should know them now. I knew that Harriet wasn’t taking her pills and was aiming to get pregnant. She thought it was the one way of getting away from us without having to work. A fat lot of good that did for her. I’ve been told that she runs the supermarket at Worthing, and has been known to be on the check-out, at times. She didn’t get on with her father, thought that he was a drunken womaniser. She got that right. I knew the woman he was seeing; we had gone to school together. We still have odd meetings to talk about life.”

“Wow, Mum. That’s something I wouldn’t have guessed.”

“She was at his funeral. Your sister wasn’t there because her husband wouldn’t let her come. His family thought that your father was a drunk, an adulterer, and not a person that they would acknowledge. She didn’t come to your brothers’ service, either. I know that you were told that he was lost, overboard, in a storm. The lie was that there was no storm involved. He had taken after his father and screwed anything he could, in every port they called into. The official cause of death was suicide, after the ship’s doctor had informed him that he was full of sexually transmitted diseases and would be in hospital for an extended period as soon as they could get him ashore. That night, he threw himself over the bow-rail, a certain death as the propellors would leave nothing to recover. The night watch saw him go over.”

I stopped what I was doing and went to hug her as she sobbed, quietly. Nothing was needed to be said, and I went back to repairing the tyres as I absorbed what I had been told. Talk about my life being tipped over!

“John couldn’t stay in the area after that. He had married, had his first son, and a good job in engineering. The move to New Zealand was the best thing he could have done. I get the odd letter; he wrote after I sent him a letter with your father’s death notice in. He’s done well for himself and runs a workshop in Wellington. He asks after you, I think that he feels a bit guilty about how distant he had been when you were small. Robert would lead him in his wild ways, and it took him a while to become his own man. That only happened when Robert went to sea. If you ever get the chance, I’m sure that he would appreciate a letter from you.”

I carried on fixing the tyres in a comfortable silence. She had stopped sobbing and had dried her eyes. She looked at the old printing press.

“You know, I think it would be good with your experiments to provide a printed recipe. Not something off a computer, but something with a bit of taste. I’ll bring home some fresh ink for the press, tomorrow. If you still remember how it works, you’ll be able to produce something in time for Thursday. It would only need a dozen copies.”

I went to her and hugged her again, giving her a kiss on the forehead.

“I love you, Mum. That’s a brilliant idea. I think the bike’s almost ready. How about you start dinner and I’ll help when I get in. Thank you for telling me the truth. Somehow, it makes everything fall into place and I can gauge my family in a new light. We are all, in the end, ordinary people with ordinary wants and dislikes. I can’t see why I was so different unless it’s your genes at work. The others were all like Dad.”

She smiled.

“You, dear one, were out of the box. For that, I’m eternally grateful.”

She left me to finish off. I pumped up the tyres, made sure I couldn’t hear a leak, put it back on its wheels and gave it a good clean and oiling. I put my usual bike with the others and covered them up. Then I cleaned the printing press and sprayed the working parts with a penetrating oil, so that it would move when I tried using it.

As I worked, I thought about my life, in relation to what I’d just been told. The song lyrics came to mind, and the second verse that says, ‘the loser now will be later to win’. I had been a loser all my life, it was time for that to change. It was time for me to be a winner. If it took me to do it wearing skirts, then bring it on!

Marianne Gregory © 2023

up
116 users have voted.
If you liked this post, you can leave a comment and/or a kudos! Click the "Thumbs Up!" button above to leave a Kudos

Comments

I hope

Maddy Bell's picture

Connie has the nous to flush out that penetrating oil with some actual lube or that bike will have a very premature demise!
Loving the story, she’s turning into a regular Fanny Craddock!


image7.1.jpg    

Madeline Anafrid Bell

The Gay Capital Of England

joannebarbarella's picture

When I was a kid it was the dirty weekend rendezvous for Londoners. There was a bar/hotel at the bottom of West Street called Sherry's which was notorious for illicit romances. It wasn't even legal to be gay (queer) in those days. So I don't think it was a gay destination then, but maybe I was just innocent!

From what I hear now, there could be no better place to change your gender orientation overnight. The last time I was there was in 1996 and it already had that reputation, so Connie probably wouldn't even raise an eyebrow these days.

It's doubly nice that her mother accepts and approves of the change.

I don't remember a park near the Pavilion unless some of the grassy areas in Old Steine have been improved. I know the Esplanade is largely unchanged because I've seen the TV series Grace. In The Lanes the layout won't change, only the shops.

Riding a bike from Patcham to the city is still a fair stint for a daily jaunt.

I feel it a little contrived

Angharad's picture

to get him in skirts, something even a college at Brighton wouldn't do, too many lawsuits about.

I've only been there once or twice, I don't like it prefer Hove, which was where I had my surgery, a long time ago at the legendary Avenue clinic.

Angharad

Memories...

and the equally legendary Mike Royle no doubt. A very nice man.