"

The Might-Have-Been Girl A novel by Bronwen Welsh Copyright 2015

Chapter 7 New Year's Eve

It was the 31st of December 2000 and a Sunday, so we didn't have a performance of the play. Since the cast and crew were away from their family and friends, and most of us didn't know people in London, we decided to have a party of our own to celebrate the start of the New Year, and as I pointed out to a few people, the 'real' start of the new Millenium.

“How do you make that out?” said Ross. “Do you mean all those people who celebrated last New Year's Eve were wrong?”

“In a word – 'Yes',” I replied. “Our calendar went from 1BC straight to 1AD. There was no Year Zero, so the first Millennium went from 1AD to 1000AD, and the second one from 1001AD to 2000AD. Why do you think Stanley Kubrick called his film “2001”? Because it was set at the start of the third Millenium.”

Ross looked doubtful.

“Look at it another way,” I said. “If you set out a two thousand-yard running track, where would you put the finish line, at the start or the end of the two-thousandth yard?”

“Well that makes more sense to me. Anyway, it's too late now, everyone's already celebrated the New Millennium.”

“It's ironic that I was never good at maths at school, but I can understand what millions of people couldn't,” I smiled.

Ross laughed. “So you're not just a pretty face.”

Of course, he wanted me to blush and I didn't disappoint him.

The party was held in a rehearsal room at the theatre which had been dressed up for the occasion, and just about everyone attended. Emma had brought along two party dresses for us, the one she had selected for me was in radiant blue with a darker blue tulle overlay – very sweet and feminine and I loved it. For herself, Emma had chosen a deep green satin dress without an overlay, but still very pretty.

As usual, we spent a few happy hours getting ready. I knew already that I couldn't imagine going back to being a plain boy again after all the fun I was having. While we were still in our underwear and getting dressed, Emma produced something out of her drawer and held it up. “What do you think?” she asked.

She saw the look on my face and laughed. “Surely you've seen a suspender belt before?”

“Only in pictures,” I replied. “They're very old-fashioned aren't they? I thought women only wore tights nowadays if they wear any hosiery at all. A lot seem to go for the bare leg look.”

“Well that's where you're wrong,” said Emma. “For special occasions, nothing beats suspenders and stockings. Men are very visual creatures and the flash of a stocking-top drives them wild.”

I couldn't help thinking that I had learned more about Emma in the past few weeks than in the whole eighteen years preceding them. Of course in my case, I had to be careful that I didn't get in the situation where a man would ever see the tops of my stockings. Well, there was one man that perhaps I would have made an exception for, but he was up in York University and I was in London. I could feel myself colouring up at the thought but fortunately, Emma didn't appear to notice. It was ages since I'd thought of Reggie. Why had he popped into my head now?

“Why don't you try them yourself?" said Emma. "I've got a spare belt and several pairs of sheer nude stockings. You'll find they feel really feminine to wear.”

Emma showed me how to put on the belt, and then after I carefully drew each stocking up my leg, how to adjust the length of each of the three suspender straps and attach it to the welt of the stocking so that it did not wrinkle when I was either standing up or sitting down. She was right of course, as she was in so many things, it was a really sensual feeling, far more so than wearing tights.

I did my own makeup, and it passed the Emma check. “You are getting really good at it now,” she said. After that, I put on my slip and the dress, and finally a pair of black court shoes with five-inch heels. The final touch was my clip-on earrings and a gold chain with a blue pendant around my neck.

We made quite an impact when we arrived at the party, with many compliments and admiring glances. Not all of the women were dressed up the way we were, not having thought ahead about what they needed to wear. The party was great fun, and I danced with a lot of the men. I had the distinct impression that many of them had forgotten that I wasn't really a girl. I took care not to drink too much, and I stuck close to Emma when I wasn't dancing. I could see that Monty had his eye on me, so I deliberately didn't look in his direction.

Around eleven o'clock, I needed to go to the 'Ladies'. I looked around for Emma but she was nowhere in sight, so I went on my own. The toilets were down a corridor some distance from the hall. When I came out again, my make-up refreshed, I was surprised to see Monty standing in the corridor. I smiled at him and attempted to walk by, but he stood in front of me.

“It looks like you've been avoiding me, Harriet,” he said, his speech slightly slurred. Even from a few yards away I could smell the alcohol.

“Hardly that, Monty, you're standing in the wings each evening when I come off stage.”

“But your sister's always there too, ever since the first night,” he replied. “You seemed to enjoy the kiss we had, but we haven't had a chance since, so how about it now?”

I didn't know how to respond to that. After what Emma had said, I knew that kissing Monty was not a good idea, but how could I avoid it? Up until now, my time as a girl had been a dream run, but now I was up against a situation that many young women must experience – unwanted attention from an amorous and intoxicated admirer, and of course it was partly my fault for letting him kiss me that first time. I wished that someone else would come down the corridor but no-one did. I decided that the best option might be to give him his kiss and then get well away from him.

“Why not?” I said with a smile although it was the last thing I wanted to do.

“Good,” he said stepping towards me and putting his arm around my waist pulling me towards him. Our lips locked and in a few seconds, he forced his tongue into my mouth. I could taste the alcohol on his breath and felt like retching. I hoped this wasn't going to last long but Monty wasn't going to release me any time soon. I could feel how aroused he was getting and when I felt his hands starting to pull up my dress I first felt panic and then a wave of anger. I never thought he would act this way in such a public place but the alcohol had obviously lowered his inhibitions. Just in time I thrust him away and slapped his face – hard.

“Just what do you think you're doing Monty?” I snapped. In retrospect, I realise that he could have reacted violently in return, but fortunately he didn't. Lifting his hand to his face where I had hit him he said “Oww! That really hurt Harriet.”

“It was meant to, Monty. Try that again and I'll scream and then you'll be in real trouble.”

“I thought you were enjoying it,” he whined.

“Well you thought wrong. I'm going back to the hall now. Don't follow me and don't try to kiss me again, o.k.?”

“Alright,” he mumbled. As luck would have it, Emma appeared just then. She took in the situation at a glance, looking at Monty whose cheek was turning a bright red and then turned to me “I've been looking everywhere for you,” she said. “Come into the 'Ladies' with me.”

Of course, I then had to explain to Emma what had happened.

“Should we report him to David?” she said. “He'll probably be fired.”

“No, he's drunk, but I think he'll behave from now on,” I said. “One more incident and I'll report him myself.”

At midnight, there is a tradition of kissing everyone in sight. Even the older men kissed me, but on the cheek. It would have looked strange if they had shaken hands with me. Monty seemed to have learned his lesson as he looked sheepish and kept well away.

The party broke up about two o'clock and we were driven back to the hotel by Ross who had brought his car to London and I knew had had very little to drink. David had told us that we could sleep in Monday morning, so we didn't set the alarm before going to bed.

There is a follow-up to the incident with Monty. At the next performance, when Emma was again there to catch me as I ran off the stage, Monty came up to us and in a rather sheepish manner asked if he could speak to me. I looked at Emma and she nodded but said: “I'll wait here for you Harriet.”

We walked a few steps away and Monty said “Harriet, I'd like to apologise for what happened on New Year's Eve. I know now I was drunk and my actions were out of line. Thank you for not reporting me. Will you forgive me please?”

“Yes you were out of line, well out of line Monty. Don't ever do anything like that again o.k.?”

“Yes, I promise,” he said, and with that I left him and walked to where Emma was waiting for me. When I told her what had transpired, she said “You handled that well Harriet, but a word of warning. Girls have to be careful not to put themselves in situations where bad things can happen. We're not as strong as men, remember that. I know you are a special case but even so Monty is bigger and stronger than you and you might have found it hard to stop him.”

To be continued

I would like to acknowledge the assistance of Louise Anne in proofreading the text and giving me a great deal of useful advice about modern-day Britain to incorporate in the story.