Chapter 31 - Mum’s letter

I was at Kings Cross station on Monday morning with twenty minutes to spare before the arrival of Dad’s train from Newcastle upon Tyne. I therefore wasted forty pence just to go to the ladies toilet to check on my hair and makeup. They were both fine, as I knew that they would be, just as my outfit had been given the seal of approval by Suzanne that morning. I suppose it gave me something to do whilst I waited for his arrival. There were two thoughts going through my mind: why he had been so accepting of my new life, and what was it that he wanted to tell me urgently? Why hadn’t he tried to talk me out of my decision to live as Clare; ordered me to ‘pull myself together’ and even perhaps ‘take a cold bath’? After all, I was his only child and his only chance of ever becoming a grandfather and I was now planning to throw this away. I’d assumed that he’d been too ill to argue on the first occasion he met me as Clare, and that the arguments and recriminations might come later as he regained his strength. Yet we had spoken together on MSN several times since then and this had not been the case. He had simply accepted that whereas he once had a son, he now had a daughter. To judge from many of the transgender stories that I now read on an Internet story site, this was not the way it usually worked. Fathers were supposed to get angry, perhaps even violent, or feel demeaned in some way if their sons chose to reject their masculinity.

Then there was the matter of just what it was that was so important that he would subject himself to two three and three quarter hour train journeys just to come and see me in London for the day, in early February. I’d asked Vera if she knew what it was all about earlier that morning, when she’d phoned me to confirm that she’d just taken him to the station and that he’d caught his train.

‘Sorry pet, he didn’t say. I got the impression it was something to do with your mam and his former marriage and so I didn’t like to pry. He asked me to drive him over to his house yesterday so he could collect something that he was intending to take to you, but that is all I know.’

‘It is all rather mysterious. I just hope he doesn’t catch cold or tire himself out with the journey,’ I replied.

‘Yes, I know; men can be really stubborn at times,’ she commented and I had to agree.

I loved the way that from the day that I’d first explained to her about Clare, Vera had accepted me as a young woman and I suspected that this had helped my father come to terms with the situation. Vera could never replace my mother but all the same I felt she appeared to be a good influence on Dad.

‘Thanks so much for looking after him since he came out of hospital, Vera.’

‘Think nothing of it pet.’

I looked at my watch; it was almost 11.45 so I made my way to end of the platform where his train was due to arrive, just as it was pulling in to the station. A crowd of passengers soon began to alight and I watched carefully for any sign of Dad as they streamed past me. At last I caught sight of him walking slowly, carrying a small briefcase. Mum and Dad had left it quite late to get married and then it had taken them some time for her to fall pregnant with the result that there was a forty year age gap between us. Even so, he appeared to have aged an awful lot over the last two years. No doubt this was partly due to the trauma surrounding Mum’s illness and death and then, more recently, with his own health problems. He was no longer the vigorous middle-aged man that had brought me up.

I waved and then walked up to meet him half way.

‘Hi Dad,’ I said, kissing him on the cheek. ‘How was your journey?’

The kiss was something that Tom would never have done to his father.

‘Hello, kidda. It was fine thanks.’

He stopped to take a good look at me.

‘You know you make a canny looking lass.’

I blushed.

‘I do my best,’ I said taking him by the arm.

’So far so good,’ I thought to myself.

‘Let’s go find ourselves a taxi.’

‘You don’t want to be wasting good money on taxis in London, why can’t we take a tube train?’

This was the Dad I knew and loved, but he did have a point. A taxi from Kings Cross to Notting Hill Gate would be much more expensive and would also take quite a bit more time over the journey than simply hopping on to the Victoria Line and changing to the Central Line at Oxford Circus.

‘Alright then, I suppose it is only a five minute walk for us at the other end and it seems to have stopped raining.’

‘So where are we going, hinny?’

‘We shall be having some lunch at my flat, with my friend Suzanne. I’ve prepared us all a casserole and it has been in the slow cooker since 7.00am.’

‘That sounds fine to me, lass, but I do need to have a private talk with you.’

‘Don’t you worry, Suzanne has promised to leave us on our own after lunch, so we can have a talk. She will probably go to sleep. By the way what time is your train back?’

‘Five thirty’.

‘That should give us plenty of time to talk.’

Our tube train journey was spent checking up about the state of his health, asking about how things were progressing between him and Vera, and then explaining about my own domestic and work situation. He made no further comment that I was currently living and working as a woman. In fact there was no reference to Tom or to the fact that he had once had a son. This suited me for the time being, but I knew that there must soon come a time when the matter had to be addressed.

Our meal went quite well. Suzanne did her best to join in the conversation and be cheerful but even eating meals in company was becoming more of a struggle for her these days. Eventually I cleared the table, loaded the dishwasher, and then helped her back to her room for an afternoon sleep.

‘Alright Dad, I think we can both talk in private now. I know you are anxious to discuss something with me, but there is also something important that I need to tell you, and if you don’t mind I’d like to get that out of the way first.’

‘Go ahead lass.’

‘I think you should know that I had an appointment at a Gender Identity Clinic last week. Do you know what that is?’

‘Yes I do, he answered in a matter-of-fact way.

This came as a slight surprise to me, but I carried on without registering the fact.

‘I believe they will soon begin to prescribe a course of oestrogen for me. Once that happens there will be no going back to being Tom.’

I waited for the explosion of anger — there was none. Instead he spoke in quiet, measured tones.

‘You are sure that is the right thing for you to do?’

‘Yes Dad, I’m quite sure.’

He sighed.

‘In that case, all I can do is accept your decision, wish you luck and offer both you and your late mother a sincere apology.’

‘Why is that? What has this got to do with Mum?’

‘We both realised that you were not happy with your life as a youngster, and there was something troubling your mind. I suspected that you might be wondering if you were gay as you never seemed to have any special girlfriend. Your mother wondered whether your issues went even deeper and related to what she called your gender identity. She did a certain amount of research on both topics so that she would be able help you to come to terms with who you really are, when and if you eventually decided to ‘come out of the closet.’ However, she became seriously ill, herself, and for a while your problems were rather overlooked by the whole family. Once we realised that her condition was going to be terminal she wanted so much to talk to you about your future before she died. I was frightened that if she did so, it might put ideas in to your head, and that you might grow out of whatever feelings you may have had. I’m afraid that I talked her out of speaking to you on the subject, and am now bitterly regretting having done so.’

‘But you were not to know that I would one day discover that I was transgendered. I didn’t even know myself at the time.’

‘Yes, but we both knew that you were very unhappy, and were perhaps unwilling to face up to your own feelings. I’m now sorry that I deprived you of the opportunity of having your mother’s advice and support before she died.’

‘It would have been nice to have known that she understood and that I would always have her support no matter what I decided to do, or how I lived my life,’ I said.

There was an awkward silence for a few moments, before my father continued talking.

‘Shortly before her death, your mother managed to type two letters to you on her computer and I arranged for them to be printed out. One letter was written to you in the event that you would one day admit to me that you were gay and the other one if you should admit that you were transgendered. I promised that I would keep both letters a secret until one or other of them should be needed to pass on to you, and then destroy the other one. I have followed her instructions, and so here is the last letter written to you by your mother.’

He handed me a sealed envelope from out of his briefcase. I immediately recognised my mother’s handwriting on the outside: ‘To Tom, or whatever name you now use.’ I opened it and began to read.

14 May 2005

My dear child,

If you are reading this letter then it probably means that my long-held suspicions about you were justified and that you have not been happy living in the male gender. It is not easy for me to accept the fact that the body that your Dad and I provided for you does not correspond with the mind that is inside it, but the most important thing is for you to live a happy and fulfilled life. If that means that you have now decided to live your life as a woman, and will one day undergo surgery, then you must go ahead and do what is right for you. I am only sorry that I will not be around to offer you my support and to discover what a fine young woman you will undoubtedly become.

Your Dad has persuaded me not to discuss this matter with you before I die. In return, I have made him promise that he will learn all about your transgendered condition and do his best to accept you as the daughter that perhaps you should have been in the first place. He is a good man, and I am sure that he will keep his side of the bargain. It will be difficult for him after I die, and I hope that one day he will again find companionship. In the meanwhile I hope you will also do your best to help him come to terms with my loss and your new life.

As you know, I never wore much jewelry, but there are a few items left to me by my mother which I should now like you to have. I hope you will remember me when you wear them. I have asked your father to give them to you when he hands over this letter.

Your Dad and I were always proud of you as our son, but I am sure we would have been just as proud of you as our daughter. Keep well, and look after one another.

With much love,

Mum.

I read the letter two or three times before the contents fully registered.

‘Oh Dad, if only I’d known,’ I said dissolving into tears.

‘If only we’d all spoken about our feelings a little more,’ he said putting his arm round my shoulders to comfort me.

‘I would have so liked Mum to meet me as Clare, but I didn’t know what I wanted for myself, when she was ill. I only know that I didn’t want her to die.’

‘I know, Clare, but I am sure she would be happy if you and I can now make up for lost time.’

‘That’s the first time you’ve actually called me by my new name,’ I said, sniffing.’

‘It’s a nice name and suits you.’

My father reached in to his briefcase and handed me a dark blue jewelry case, and a brown box for a ring.

‘Your Ma wanted you to have these as well.’

I took them without saying anything and opened each in turn. The first contained a lovely sapphire necklace, with matching earrings, and the second contained a diamond engagement ring. I slowly put on each item in turn, first removing my existing earrings. Then, suddenly it all seemed too much for me, and I was overcome by the emotion and I began to sob. Geordie men are not renowned for showing their emotion, but Dad did his best to comfort me.

Once we had both recovered our composure Dad and I stayed chatting together about the past, the present and the future for the next hour or so. Time passed very quickly and before I knew it, Suzanne’s clock was showing four and it was time for us to think about him getting back to the station in time for his train.

‘You would be welcome to stay here in my bed tonight, if you like; I could sleep on the couch.

‘No thanks, Clare, I would not be able to change the ticket I’d booked and in any event I’d prefer to return to Sunderland tonight.’

‘Alright then, I’ll just have a look to see whether Suzanne is awake, so you can say goodbye to her.’

In fact Suzanne was still deeply asleep so we decided to leave her in peace and made our way back to Kings Cross.

On the way Dad told me that he would be moving back to his own home the following day as he was now fully recovered and no longer needed to attend the hospital as an out-patient.

‘I hope you stay friends with Vera though, I think she’s a good influence on you and I get on well with her.’

‘Don’t you worry about that, hinny; we have plenty of plans to go out together come the spring. Now you tell me some more about this appointment you had at the Gender clinic.’

I went through the story of my first assessment appointment and then explained that I was waiting for a second appointment in the next week or two. I reminded him that once I’d satisfied them that I was truly suffering from gender dysphoria and it was not just a passing whim on my part they would probably begin to prescribe me with the medication I needed for my permanent transition.

‘Would it help if I rang to say that your mother and I were behind you in your decision?’ he asked.

I smiled at the idea.

‘No I don’t think so, thanks. I’m an adult now and responsible for my own life, but I may just show them Mum’s letter to me at my next appointment.’

We waited for his train to be made ready and I saw him on board.

‘I’m so glad that you came today, Dad, and gave me that letter from Mum. Please don’t feel that anything in the past was your fault, it was just the way things happened.’

‘I’m glad that I came too, Clare. Good luck with your new life.’

I kissed him one more time and then left without looking back in case I became tearful once again.

The visit had been emotionally exhausting for me but it had been an important milestone in my relations with both my parents.

By the time I made my way back to our flat it was the height of the afternoon rush hour and so I had to stand all the way with my nose pressed against some guy’s armpit as we both held on the flexible overhead handles, to stop ourselves from falling over. I let myself in to the flat calling out to Suzanne as I entered the front door. There was no reply, so I assumed she was still sleeping. I took off my coat and boots, and put on some slippers and noticed that it was 6.30 pm. We would both soon need an evening meal but decided to make us both a cup of tea first. Five minutes later I took the tea to my flat mate only to find that her bed was empty.

‘Suzanne, where are you?’ I called out in alarm.

There was a muffled sound coming from inside the toilet. I tried the door, which was not locked, but I could only open it an inch or two. This was just enough for me to see that my flat mate had collapsed on the toilet and was lying on the floor, preventing me from getting in.

‘Suzanne, are you all right? What has happened?’ I asked.

A slurred voice responded.

‘Remember that you promised me that you would not call an ambulance.’