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

Chapter 18   A 'misunderstanding' or two.

By the end of the week, most of the cast were comfortable in their roles and no longer relying on the book. The sole exception was Jim Rogers and that was causing me some concern. He was playing the role of my father, so my only scene was the one with him, and if he fluffed his lines he could easily ruin it for me as well as himself.

As I knew his part as well as I knew my own, I was able to quietly give him a prompt when he stumbled, and even carry on without a pause when he skipped whole lines of dialogue. Inevitably though Mark noticed and discreetly called Jim over to ask what was going on. I was out of earshot but it didn't take an expert on body language to tell that Mark wasn't too happy. After all, in three weeks we would have Opening Night with Sir Edgar in attendance.

A short while later Jim came up to me and asked if there was somewhere quiet we could talk. We walked out to the back of the stage where we were surrounded by props, scenery and flies, the ropes and pulleys used to hoist scenery up and out of the audience's view.

“I'm sorry about the rehearsal,” said Jim. “I feel I'm letting everyone down, especially you. I wonder, could I ask a favour? How would you feel about coming to my house for a one-on-one rehearsal to help me get my head around this scene without all the distractions here?”

“Well, if you think it would help,” I replied.

“There's no rehearsal here on Friday since Mark has to go to a meeting, so how would Friday morning suit you? Marjorie, my wife will be home but she won't disturb us.”

So it was agreed that I would come to his house at about ten o'clock on Friday. Everyone was supposed to concentrate on learning their lines instead of rehearsing, so it seemed like a good thing to do. I now know that when Jim invited me to his house I should have heard warning bells, but I didn't.

I arrived promptly at ten o'clock, and Jim's wife opened the door. “You must be Harriet,” she said. “I'm Marjorie, Jim's wife.”

Jim then appeared and greeted me, and we went into the lounge to start our rehearsal. I was surprised to see a painter's easel in the middle of the room with an oil painting of a rural scene placed on it. “That's Marjorie's,” said Jim. “ It's her hobby and I thought it would add a touch of realism to our rehearsal.”

We started rehearsing and it was going well. Jim seemed far more comfortable with his role and had barely a slip-up. About eleven o'clock, Marjorie popped her head around the door and said “I'm off to the Women's Institute lunch now. I've left some sandwiches and cake for you on the kitchen table.”

Still no warning bells, which shows how naive and inexperienced I was as a girl. As we continued the rehearsal, which was now flowing very nicely, Jim suddenly got up, which wasn't in the script, and without warning wrapped his arms around me and started to kiss me passionately. I was so shocked that for a few seconds I didn't react. Then I thrust him away from me and gasped “Jim! What on earth are you doing?”

Jim looked stunned. “I thought that's what you wanted. The way you've been acting during rehearsals, flirting with me, well I just picked up the signals you were sending.”

“No Jim,” I replied. “That's exactly what it was – acting. Don't you know that girls flirt with their fathers from a very young age? It's a safe way of practicing their skills for later in life.”

Jim looked crestfallen. “No, I didn't know that. I've only got a son and no daughters. I've really blown it haven't I? Are you going to tell Marjorie?”

I took pity on him. Like many women, I thought that it might have been partly my fault, although he should have realised that what happens on stage isn't real.

“No, I'm not going to tell her,” I said. “provided that it never happens again. Anyway, I'm going to leave now. I can't continue the rehearsal after what's happened. If your wife wonders why I left early, you'll have to come up with some excuse for me.”

Jim didn't try to stop me as I gathered up my coat and handbag and walked to the door. When I reached it I paused. “By the way, your performance in the scene is so much better now, I don't think you need any more private rehearsals.”

While I was waiting for the bus, I mulled over what had happened. Was it possible that Jim had deliberately muffed his lines to set up our get-together? I really couldn't be sure, but one thing I did learn after this second occasion of an unwanted kiss (the first being Monty), that there was so much more to being a girl than I realised and how easy it was to send out the wrong signals.

I took the opportunity during my next telephone conversation with Emma to tell her what had happened.

“Was I very naïve?” I asked her.

“If I say yes, I don't mean it in an unkind way,” she replied. “Although I'm sure you've been a girl from when you were born, it's easy to forget that you've only been expressing yourself as one for a few months, and you're on a steep learning curve. Remember that one of the expressions often used about pretty girls or women is to say that they are 'attractive'. Think about what that means – men are attracted to them, and sometimes they misunderstand the signals a woman is sending out. You have to learn how to handle men, and that means realising that they don't always think with their brains.”

I blushed as I got her implied meaning.

“By the way, I think Jim's wife was very naïve to leave her husband alone with a girl as pretty as you, so don't think that it's all your fault.” she concluded.

Once more I breathed a prayer of thanks for my older sister and her sage advice.

To give Jim his due, there was no repeat of the incident, and at the next rehearsal his performance had improved remarkably, in fact he was almost word-perfect. Mark in an aside to me said “I believe you've been giving Jim some extra tuition for his part. Thanks for that, it's really worked.”

“Well it's in my interest for him to know it well, so I was glad to help,” I replied.

--ooOoo--

The two weekends prior to the Opening Night were free for the cast. After that, we would be performing a matinee and an evening show each Saturday, so we would only have Sundays off.

When I told Reggie he sounded apologetic.

“I'm sorry Harriet, but I'm playing football for the local club on Saturday. I didn't realise you had the Saturday off, and I can't really get out of it.”

“That's alright Reggie. Actually, I've never really seen you play since we were at school. Do you mind if I come up and watch?”

“Of course not. I'd be delighted if you did. We could have some tea together after that.”

I mentioned previously that Reggie was a star athlete from an early age, representing the school at cricket and football. Since there are a number of football codes around the world, I should clarify that I am referring to what is called 'soccer' in many countries. Soon after he started living in Southgate, Reggie sought out the local football and cricket clubs and was soon a valued member of them both.

Sweet guy that he is, Reggie offered to come down to Wood Green to escort me to Southgate but I assured him I would be alright coming up by train on a Saturday morning. When I awoke it was to the sound of rain on the roof, but unlike cricket, football is played in all weathers, so short of extreme fog or a tornado, I knew the game would go ahead.

I dressed for warmth with tights under my trousers, a woollen top over my camisole, boots and a raincoat, and after breakfast set off for the tube holding a large umbrella. Reggie asked me to text him when the train left Wood Green and said he would meet me at Southgate. I tried to dissuade him but to no avail, and in the end, I was glad he was there.

It is a convention in the tube not to make eye contact with anyone, and in fact, most of the passengers were engrossed in a newspaper or magazine. I had neither so I was looking around at the other passengers when I became aware that one of them was staring at me. I quickly looked away, but in that momentary glance, I saw he was in his twenties, unshaven and wearing the ubiquitous 'hoodie'. I tried to look out of the corner of my eye to see if I still had his attention and was a bit concerned to see that I did. I hoped he would get off before Southgate, and my heart rate increased when I realised that he stood up when I did to get off the train. I carefully ignored him as I went up the escalator, my heart still pounding and was so glad to see Reggie waiting for me at the top. I ran to him and he hugged me, and I saw the man walk away without apparently glancing in our direction.

“What's up Harriet?” said Reggie. He is extraordinarily perceptive of my moods.

“It's probably nothing, but there was a man on the train. He was staring at me and got off here too. I'm probably being paranoid but I was so glad you came to meet me.”

“The guy in the hoodie? I noticed him looking at you, and then when he saw you were meeting me he hurried off. What a creep.”

“Well he's not going to spoil our day. What time do you have to be at the ground?”

“Not until twelve o'clock. We've got time for a coffee if you like. I've got my gear with me, and we're playing Edmonton at home so the ground isn't far away.” For the first time I noticed his large sports bag at his feet. Just for fun I tried to lift it up.

“Are you carrying bricks in there?” I joked.

As we left the station I glanced around but there was no sign of the guy. Hopefully, he was long gone. Thank goodness the rain had stopped but I wondered what condition the ground would be in.

After a coffee and a sandwich at the Subway across the road, Reggie hailed a taxi to take us to the ground. I was still feeling a bit nervous. I don't know what it was about that guy but he had really spooked me. Reggie had to go to the change-rooms of course, so I went over to the small stand and sat next to another girl about my own age.

“Hello,” she said. “Is your boyfriend playing?”

“Yes, he's in the Southgate team.”

She laughed “Mine's playing for Edmonton. I guess we are rivals today.”

I laughed too. “That doesn't mean we can't be friends. I'm Harriet.”

“Paula. Nice to meet you. Do you go to all your boyfriend's games?”

“This is the first time actually. I've just come down from Yorkshire for a while to work.”

“You haven't got much of an accent,” she commented.

“No, I'm working on it. I don't want to stand out in the crowd,” I responded.

We chatted for a while and then the two teams came onto the field.

“Who's your guy?” said Paula, so I pointed out Reggie.

“Mmm, nice. You're a lucky girl,” she said.

“I know,” I responded. “Who's your guy?”

“That's him – Mickey. Hey, it looks like they're lining up against each other,” she said as the teams took their positions.

“Actually, he's more than a boyfriend. We're getting married next month, not before time,” and she patted her stomach which I now realised showed they were expecting a baby.

“Congratulations. He looks like a nice guy. I'm sure he'll make a good father,” I responded.

The referee blew the whistle and Reggie's team kicked off. To be honest I don't really know the intricacies of football apart from the obvious one of needing to kick the ball into the opposing team's goal. It was obvious in a very few minutes that the ground had had plenty of rain and soon the players were covered in mud. The crowd around us roared and cheered, gasped and booed as the mood took them. I tried to keep an eye on Reggie but it was getting increasingly difficult to make out who was who.

After a while Paula said “I've got to go to the Ladies. Do you want me to bring you back a drink?”

“Yes please,” I replied, opening my purse to pay her.

“No, this one's on me.”

I continues watching the game and the noise was so loud that I didn't notice someone had sat down in Paula's seat until a voice said “We meet again.”

I turned and gasped. It was the guy from the tube train.

“How did you get here?” I asked.

“I'm Sherlock 'Olmes. Nah, it was easy, I saw the team logo on your bloke's bag, and found out where they were playing.”

This was a bit worrying. I wondered what he wanted but thought it better not to ask. In fact, he supplied the answer. “I thought I'd come and 'ave a chat with you since you was staring at me on the train.”

This was patently not true, in fact, it was the reverse. I didn't think it was wise to aggravate him but I did say “My boyfriend's here you know? He won't be pleased to see you.”

“Oh 'im. All brawn and no brains. Any'ow he's down there on the pitch, I saw 'im. Me names Charlie by the way, what's yours?”

I was saved from replying by seeing Paula making her way back along the row of seats. She stopped as she reached us.

“'Scuse me, you've got my seat,” she said.

“Piss off, it's mine now,” replied Charlie, his mood suddenly changing.

Paula glared at him and then appeared to trip, emptying the contents of the two hot drinks straight into Charlie's lap. With a yell he started up, clenching his fists and I thought he was going to punch Paula. She stepped back, anxious about her baby, and as he lurched forward, I pushed my umbrella between his legs and he tripped and fell flat on his face. With an oath he got up, blood streaming from a cut on his forehead. He seemed to be making up his mind which of us to hit first when a large man in the row behind reached around his chest and grabbed him.

Charlie struggled and cursed “Let me go you bastard, you can't 'old me, it's against the law.”

“Now that's where you're wrong Charlie, I am the law,” said the man.

Charlie struggled to turn round and his face turned very pale as he saw who it was.

“Oh 'ello Sergeant Willis, I was just having a little fun with the girls,” he said.

“It didn't look like fun to me,” said the sergeant. “You're coming with me. A few hours in the cells will help you cool off.”

Turning to us he said “I'd like you two ladies to come down to the local police station and make a report. You might like to press charges.”

“Can we do it after the game?” said Paula. “Both our boyfriends are playing.”

The sergeant agreed to that, and just as he left there was a roar from the crowd. Someone had scored and I thought it might just be Reggie, but it happened at the far end of the ground, and with all the mud on him I wasn't totally sure. The rest of the game played out without incident. I went to buy two more drinks and was able to get them safely back to the stand. Someone from Edmonton scored in the last couple of minutes so it was a draw – one all.

Paula and I waited for the boys to go into the locker-rooms and wash some of the mud off themselves, and then they both came up together to find us in the stands. It wasn't until they came close to us that they realised their two girlfriends were sitting side by side. We had to explain what had happened, and Mickey offered to drive us all to the police station since Reggie didn't have a car.

Fortunately, Sergeant Willis took us separately, me first, into an interview room to discuss the incident and ask us to make a statement. I had by now realised that some complications could be looming.

“You saw Charlie recognised me. It's not the first time he's been in trouble and probably won't be the last,” he said. “If you'd like to make a statement we can charge him with threatening behaviour.”

I gulped and knew I was blushing. “Sergeant, I need to ask you something. If Charlie fights the charge will I have to give evidence under oath?”

“Well yes, that's likely,” was his reply.

“Well I have a problem with that. You seem I'm transgender, but I only recently started treatment so my birth certificate says Harold Stow, whereas I go by the name of Harriet.”

He stared at me. “Really? Wel,l I would never have guessed.”

“There could be another problem if I answer to a male name and there is a reporter in the gallery. I'm currently acting a female role in a play at the Mercury Theatre in Finsbury Park, and part of my contract is that I must be seen to be a female at all times. If I am 'outed' in a newspaper, I may well lose my job.”

The sergeant thought for a minute. “Since no-one was actually injured in the incident, if we discount the hot water and the bump on Charlie's head, I could leave him to stew in the cells for a couple more hours and then give him a big dressing down; saying you kindly agreed not to press charges on this occasion. I will then administer a Police Caution which doesn't involve a court appearance, but letting him know that he'll be in serious trouble if something like this happens again. How does that sound?”

I breathed a sigh of relief. “That sounds very good, thank you, sergeant.”

Of course then I had to speak to Paula and ask her not to press charges either, since if she did, I might still be called as a witness and my name would come out.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked. “That little twerp deserves to be behind bars.”

“I do have a very good reason for it Paula, but please don't ask me what it is.”

She smiled at me “A woman of mystery eh?”

I suddenly had a thought. “Well, alright. I”m acting in a play in Finsbury Park and if there's a reporter in court and it comes out that I was involved in a rumpus, it would be really bad publicity and I could lose my job.”

“You're an actress? Wow!,” said Paula. “Well alright, although I still think he should do time.”

“Well the sergeant has promised he will if he ever sees him misbehaving again.”

We went out to tell the boys what had happened, and then I suggested we all go out to tea together. We had a very enjoyable meal at a small restaurant, and by the end of it we were firm friends and promised to catch up again. Oh, before I forget, it was Reggie who scored for the home team, but not Mickey who scored the Edmonton goal although he had a few near misses.

At the end of the meal, which I insisted on paying for, Paula and Mickey in turn insisted on dropping Reggie off at his flat and taking me all the way down to Wood Green. I think they were slightly surprised that as boyfriend and girlfriend I was not staying the night with Reggie, but they didn't comment on it. However, on Sunday I took the tube back to Southgate and spent the day with Reggie at the flat. Richard was out, so we had it to ourselves. There is an expression 'playing house' which is what we did, spending the day like a married couple, cooking, watching television, even a little cleaning up, and also other things that married couples do. I couldn't help thinking that I would love to be doing this with Reggie all the time.

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.