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

Chapter 13   One small step for a girl

It was Monday morning and we had finished our packing. My bigger suitcase came in handy. Why is it that whenever you go on a trip, you always bring home more than you left with? I took Emma's advice and wore my grey trousers and a woollen jumper over a silk camisole for the trip back. We went downstairs for breakfast and prepared to leave our home of six weeks. By now the staff felt like old friends, so we left a generous tip to be distributed amongst them, and rather than tackle the tube with our suitcases, we had phoned Tom the taxi driver two days earlier and arranged for him to take us down to Kings Cross.

Tom turned up on time and loaded up the suitcases for us.

“Of 'ome then. 'Ow long as it been since you came down,” he asked.

“Can you believe it's six weeks, Tom?” I said. “We're going to miss London.”

“Who was it said 'When a man is tired of London he is tired of life',” he said.

“Samuel Johnson,” I replied. “You'll find it in the book 'Boswell's Life of Johnson.”

“Never been one for books meself,” he said. “But 'e knew what 'e was talking about.”

On the way to the station, my mobile phone beeped and I fished it out of my handbag. It was a text from Reggie and read 'Thx 4 a WONDERFUL day. Have a safe trip. Pls ring when u get home. Love Reggie xxx'

I replied 'It WAS a day of wonder. Glad you thought so too. Will ring you when home. Love Harriet xxx'

Funnily enough this was the first time we had used the word 'love' in our texts and had never said it to each other. Perhaps we were too nervous to go that step.

Emma and I managed to make our way through the crowds at Kings Cross railway station. Thank goodness all big cases have wheels on them now or we would never have managed it. The train drew smoothly out of the station right on time, heading north. As I looked out of the window at the passing scenery, mostly light industrial units and the backyards of houses at first, I knew I was going to miss London, and most of all Reggie, and wondered how I would settle down back in Bridchester. Emma seemed a bit subdued as well.

Perhaps not surprisingly I slept for a lot of the journey. Emma had to wake me up when it was time to change trains at Doncaster. When we reached Bridchester we hired another taxi to take us and our luggage home. The front door of our house opened the moment the taxi came to a halt and there was Mum almost running down the path to greet us. She hugged us both and told us the kettle was already boiled and asked if we had eaten, her words tumbling over each other. I felt embarrassed. We had been in London for six weeks having a great time, and it was obvious that Mum was lonely and no doubt had missed us dreadfully. I was glad that I had made my fleeting trip the previous week.

After having tea and a sandwich, I dreaded the thought of going up to my room. I knew it was full of alien things and clothes that belonged to a boy called Harry who was never coming home. However, when I did climb the stairs, dragging my suitcase behind me and pushed open the door I had a surprise. There was a new duvet cover on the bed in feminine shades of pink. A dressing table stood in front of the window, and when I opened the wardrobe, all Harry's clothes had gone. I sat down on the bed feeling stunned. Then there was a knock on the half-open door. I looked up and Mum was standing there.

“I hope you like it,” she said. “The dressing table is second-hand I'm afraid, but every girl needs one and I hope it will do for now.”

“Yes, thank you, it looks lovely,” I managed to get out. “What happened to...?” I gestured in the direction of the wardrobe.

“Packed away in boxes up in the attic,” she said. “I got our neighbour Mr Wilkins to put them up there. He doesn't know what's in them. The delivery man from the shop brought the dressing table upstairs. He's not someone we know.”

Dear Mum, she anticipated how I would feel and had done her best to make my home-coming special and had succeeded wonderfully. I stood up and gave her a hug.

“Thanks Mum, it's just perfect,” I whispered.

After she had gone downstairs, I rang Reggie to tell him I was safely home and also about the change in my bedroom.

“Your mum's a star,” he said, and then after a pause “I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” I said. “I'm back at work tomorrow, but I'm going to come down and see you as soon as I can.”

Later that evening David rang, partly to make sure we were back, but he also had something else to say.

“Harriet, I was thinking that perhaps you'd like to wait until lunchtime tomorrow before coming down to the theatre? That way I can tell everyone who wasn't in London and knows you, about your changed status.”

“That's very thoughtful of you David,” I replied. “Otherwise they might think that I can't give up the character of Margaret.”

He laughed at that and hung up. I'm so lucky to work with such nice people.

When I did arrive at the theatre the following day, dressed down in my grey trousers, more practical for work, everyone who hadn't been to London just said “Hello Harriet, welcome back”, or “Hi Harriet, how was London”. It was just as if this is the way I had always appeared. If there was anyone I was concerned at meeting, it was Mary. Of course, it hadn't been my fault that I had taken over her role in 'Brutus', but for some silly reason, I felt a bit guilty about it. I needn't have worried, she was really nice to me, putting her arms around me, giving me a big hug and whispering in my ear “Welcome to the sisterhood.”

The Apollo Players' first production of the year was 'A Life' by Hugh Leonard about a civil servant with six months to live who looks back on his life, its successes and disappointments. Past and present meet, and the characters appear as their present age and also as they were when young. Mary had been given the role of the character Mary, as a young girl, the only woman Drumm really loved. It was quite a substantial part and I was sure it was going to make up for missing out on 'Brutus'. Ross had the lead role of Drumm and Emma was to play the younger Dorothy.

I took up my position again as assistant stage manager. I took 'the book' home with me that first day and read through the entire script. I felt the tiniest bit jealous of Mary. It's a part I would love to do, but you can't have your appendix out twice, and anyway, she deserved the part as she is a good actress. It would also seem very selfish to want to take over from her again.

As with 'Brutus' after a couple of days in the wings, prompting where needed, I found I had already committed most of the play to memory.

I was still in regular contact with Reggie by phone, text, and email. I was speaking to him on the phone one day and telling him about the new play and Mary's part in it and he said. “She'd better be careful you don't trip her over and take the part for yourself!”

“Reggie! What a terrible thing to say. When we say 'break a leg', it's for good luck. Anyway, I think she'd go on with crutches if she had to!”

Needless to say, nothing bad happened to Mary, and she performed the role very well. I confess I missed being on stage, but I was sure I'd get another chance soon. In the meantime, I made an appointment to see my local G.P.

I decided that for my visit to Dr Maria Wilson I would dress as a girl of course, but not overdo it. The last thing I wanted to do was look like a drag queen. I wore my green woollen skirt with black opaque tights, and the white silk top with the camisole underneath. I wore make-up but not too much, and by now my false nails were a fixture. One more thing, I had been to the local jeweller and had my ears pierced, and was now wearing gold studs in them until they healed.

Mum offered to come with me to visit the doctor and I was in two minds as to whether it was the best thing to do or not, but she seemed to want to come so I said 'yes'.

Perhaps acting professionally on stage had given me confidence because I walked up to the receptionist and said in a quiet voice “My name is Harriet Stow, but you have me registered as Harold Stow. I've come to see Dr Wilson regarding my gender identity, so I would be obliged if you would refer to me as Harriet and let her know in advance of my preferred name.”

The receptionist looked at me and said “Of course. A friend of mine was in London recently and saw you in a play there. She said you were very good.”

'Goodness,' I thought to myself. 'I can't believe this'

“Yes, that's right,” I said “I'm part of the Apollo Players theatre group. That's why it's very important to me that this visit is kept confidential.”

“You need have no worries on that account, Miss Stow,” she said rather primly. “We consider patient confidentiality to be of the highest priority here.”

'Ooops!' I thought, and out loud said “I'm sorry if I offended you. I might be over-reacting but this is very important to me.”

Her face softened and she said “That's alright Miss Stow. We all have a part to play and I hope we do it well here.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that,” I said while thinking 'A part to play? Does she think I'm just acting?'

I sat down beside Mum and picked up a ten-year-old magazine.

“Is everything alright?” she asked. It's amazing how she picks up vibes.

“Everything's fine Mum.”

Five minutes later, Dr Wilson poked her head around the door and said “Miss Stow?”

I got up, seemingly calm and collected, but my heart was beating about twice resting speed and I hoped she wouldn't start off with a pulse and blood pressure check.

In her consulting room, she indicated a seat beside her desk and looking at her computer screen said “The last time you were here was two years ago with a severe upper respiratory infection. Obviously things have changed since then. Would you like to tell me about it?”

I set about giving her a potted version of my life, from being bullied at school for being a 'sissy' to getting the job at the theatre, my role in 'Brutus' and how I was required to live full-time as a girl and how I felt about it. One thing I didn't mention was Reggie as I felt my relationship with him was not relevant to this consultation.

“Being an actress has its 'pros' and 'cons',” I said. “On the one hand it means that I observe how other women talk and act and that has helped me to blend in, but on the other hand, I realise that some people may think that I am still acting a role that I'm reluctant to give up. All I can say is that I wouldn't be here speaking to you now if that was the case. I truly believe that I have discovered why I felt confused as a child. Dressing as a young woman feels totally natural to me. I don't get any sexual thrill out of doing it although I must admit that I love the variety of clothes that are now available to me.”

Dr Wilson sat back in her chair. “You are the second young person who has come to me with a similar story in the last six months. I have done some research on the internet and it seems that an increasing number of people who find their birth gender at odds with their feelings of gender identity are seeking help. I have to warn you that the amount of medical assistance for what is termed 'gender dysphoria' is woefully inadequate in this country, and others too I believe.

“What I must also say to you is that six or seven weeks is a very short time to be presenting as a woman, and I think it is necessary for you to continue living this way for another three months at least before any specialist will consider treatment for you. I know that your mind is made up, but it is very important to give yourself the time to confirm this. It may surprise you to learn that there have been instances where people who consider themselves transgender have gone a long way along the path to transitioning, then changed their minds and tried to blame the doctors for in some way coercing them.

“What I propose is this; I would like to do a preliminary examination of you first. It will involve your genital area too. Are you alright with that, and would you like a chaperone to be present? I can ring for our practice nurse to come in. It is the usual procedure.”

I replied that if it was the normal procedure, I was happy for her to call in the nurse, which she proceeded to do.

In the meantime she asked me to go behind the screen in the corner, undress and lie on the couch.

“There is a blanket you can use if you like,” she said.

When she and the nurse came in, I was lying there naked except for my panties. There didn't seem much point in using the blanket as it would have to be removed for the examination. At this point she did check my pulse and blood pressure. I'm sure both were a bit raised but she probably expected that. She looked at my breast forms and said “They are very realistic aren't they.”

“Yes, I am quite used to wearing them now. I would feel strange without them.”

She checked over my body and said: “I would now like to make an external examination of your genital area if you give me permission.”

I thought to myself that it was likely I would have to experience a lot of this so I told her to go ahead. After a few more minutes she indicated that she had finished and that after I got dressed she would discuss her findings with me. She and the nurse then left and I put my clothes back on.

When I came out from behind the screen and sat down again, Dr Wilson was busy tapping away on the keyboard.

“My preliminary findings are that you are a healthy young person. You have normal male organs but I hope you don't mind me saying they are on the small side. I would say that your development in that regard is less than would be expected for someone of your age. However this could change, so what I am proposing to do is to put you on a course of spironolactone, which is called by the brand name Aldactone. One of its effects is as an anti-androgen. That means it works against the effects of male hormones which can make changes to your body. It's completely reversible, so if you stop taking it, the androgens can start work again. I would like to take blood for some tests now, give you a script for three months of Aldactone which you can start taking after I get the test results back and ring you to give you the go-ahead. When I see you again, if you still wish to proceed, I will refer you to an endocrinologist and specialist in gender dysphoria, and if they agree, you can then start taking hormones that will start you on your way to transitioning.

With that, she took some tubes with coloured tops from a rack, assembled a needle into a holder and after placing a tourniquet around my arm, selected a vein and inserted the needle. One by one she pushed the tops of the tubes into the other end of the needle in the holder and I watched them fill with blood, drawn in by the vacuum within the tubes. When she had labelled them all, Dr Wilson said “I believe I saw your mother waiting outside. Would you like me to bring her in and have a word with her about what I am proposing?”

“Yes please,” I said. I could hardly believe that my journey to womanhood was beginning, even if slowly at first.

Dr Wilson brought Mum in and gave her a précis of what she had told me.

“Are you comfortable with what Harriet is proposing to do Mrs Stow?”

“I want her to live a happy life and if this is what she wants, I will support her in any way I can,” said Mum. I could have got up and hugged her.

“I'm glad to hear it. It makes such a difference when people in Harriet's situation have family support.”

I am pleased to say that a couple of days later I received a message from Dr Wilson to say that she was satisfied with my test results and that I could start on the Aldactone. Taking that tablet felt like the first step on my journey to becoming a woman.

To be continued

I would like to acknowledge the continuing 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.