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I thought I was getting a new job, but it turned out to be a whole new life

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Chapter 30   First steps on a long road

Phoebe opened the door and gave a little squeal of excitement upon seeing me. “Harriet! Welcome to your new home.” She gave me a hug and then said “And this must be Reggie; it's lovely to meet you.”

She showed us the way into the flat and a tall dark-haired young man, his shirt sleeves rolled up came out of one of the bedrooms.

“Hi, I'm Paul,” he said. There were introductions all round and after a quick tour of the flat, which seemed very nice, I was shown the bedroom that was to be mine. Since she had a hand in finding the flat, Phoebe had of course first choice of bedroom, although she did say she would swap if I preferred. There was not much difference between the two rooms, Phoebe's had a view of the park across the road, and mine had a view of the river, so I said I was perfectly content with the one allocated to me.

“Are you hungry? I'm just going to make a risotto,” said Phoebe.

“That will be lovely,” I said. “I have been taking cooking lessons from Reggie, so I will be able to take my turn in the kitchen.”

“That's great, Reggie, ” said Phoebe. “Perhaps you can teach Paul a few dishes. I think he lives off bacon and eggs most of the time.”

A short while afterwards we were all sitting around the kitchen table and tucking in to a very tasty risotto. Everyone knew what Phoebe and I did of course, but the boys explained their jobs. Reggie went first and said that he worked in a bank at present but would be going to university in York in a few months. Paul said he was a plumber by trade but he was also a keen amateur painter and had sold a few pieces. He had recently heard there was a position vacant as an assistant set designer and painter at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre and had put in an application for the job.

“I keep telling him he earns far more as a plumber,” said Phoebe. “But he'd prefer to work as an artist.”

I wondered how Phoebe had met Paul but it seemed rude to ask. However she answered my unspoken query for me.

“If you are wondering how I met Paul, he came to do some work at my parents' house...”

“And I swept her off her feet,” said Paul, grinning. “I didn't know she was an actress then, since I never watched television soaps.”

“But surely you must have watched 'Wensleydale' when you found out Phoebe was in it?” I said.

“Oh yes, I watched it then of course,” he laughed. “I'd have been in big trouble if I hadn't. She even quizzed me on the show to see if I'd watched it. Since her character was written out, I haven't really been interested in it

Phoebe explained, “The episodes take about three months to be shown on television after we shoot them, so I've only just finished appearing. Apparently there was a howl of protest from fans when Jesse, my character went to Australia.”

“Was it a shock when they wrote you out?” asked Reggie. I kicked him under the table. Even the best of men can be very insensitive at times.

“Yes it was, but at least they didn't kill my character off, although sending her to Australia was the next best thing I suppose.” We all laughed politely at that.

After the meal, Reggie and I offered to wash up, and then he asked if there was anything else he could do.

“If you'd be kind enough to lift my suitcases onto the bed then I will find it easier to unpack them,” I replied. Reggie glanced at his watch.

“Perhaps I'd better get going. Can I come up to see you next weekend?”

“Of course you can Reggie.” I replied. “Will you come up by train?”

“Well I could come up Friday evening and stay Friday and Saturday nights, if that's alright?”

“It's more than alright and you know it,” I said. We kissed and he held me closely. I could feel his body reacting to mine, but there wasn't really the opportunity to do anything about it that day, but the following weekend would be a different matter.

After Reggie left, I went to my room and started taking my clothes out of the suitcases, hanging up my skirts and dresses in the spacious wardrobe, and storing my tops and lingerie in the dressing table drawers. I placed my makeup on top of the dressing table which had a nice big mirror. I was feeling a bit tired after the day's journey, so I undressed and slipped on my nightie, removed my makeup and went to bed. Now that the flat was quiet I became aware of some squeals and muffled giggles coming from Phoebe's bedroom. Obviously Paul was staying the night.

On Monday morning I was up early, excited to be attending my first rehearsal with the Royal Shakespeare Company. I had finished my breakfast before Phoebe appeared. The dark rings around her eyes suggested that she had had little sleep. There was no sign of Paul, so presumably he had left the flat before dawn as I hadn't heard him. I believe plumbers do start work early.

Phoebe yawned and said “You're up early.”

“Well, it's our first rehearsal day and I'm looking forward to meeting all the other cast members,” I replied. “Anyway, do you mind if I use the bathroom first?”

“Go for it,” was her reply, so I did.

By the time I was dressed and ready, Phoebe had finished her breakfast, but she still had to shower and dress, so I said I would walk to the theatre since it was such a nice morning. My real reason was that we were expected to be at the theatre by ten o'clock I didn't want to be late. Phoebe didn't seem to be in any hurry and I knew I would just get frustrated waiting around for her.

I walked along the banks of the Avon, past joggers and runners, while a number of people were out on boats. I thought to myself that I was going to enjoy my time in Stratford. At the theatre, the cast were already gathering on the stage waiting for Tony Robertson the director make an appearance. I saw that Dame Emily and her understudy were standing together and walked over to talk to them. As there are only two female parts in Hamlet, I suppose it's natural that the people playing or understudying them would stick together.

“Harriet, my dear, it's so nice to see you again,” said Dame Emily.

“And you too, Dame Emily. I'm so glad to have got this position as understudy and it's all thanks to you.”

She smiled. “I could only recommend you for the audition. Tony would never have given you the position if he didn't think you are suitable for it. Now let me introduce you to my old friend and understudy, Madge Browning.”

Madge smiled at me and held out her hand. “Welcome to Stratford, Harriet. I've heard so much about you.”

“Nothing bad I hope,” I said, blushing.

“On the contrary, I heard about your performances as Margaret in 'Brutus', and I think we're lucky to have you.”

By now my face could have set off fire alarms. Fortunately Phoebe arrived at that precise moment and I was able to introduce her to Dame Emily and Madge. It was lucky she arrived when she did as the director Tony Robertson arrived on stage only a couple of minutes later on the stroke of ten o'clock.

“Good morning ladies and gentlemen,” he said. “I'm Tony Robertson the director; welcome to this production of 'Hamlet'. Some of you know each other and may have even worked together in the past, but some have not, so I suggest we start by introducing ourselves. Shall we start with the ladies? Dame Emily of course needs no introduction.”

Dame Emily smiled. “By that Tony means that I've been around so long that everyone knows me.” There was a ripple of laughter at her remark. I later found out that she and Tony were old sparring partners.

She continued “For the record, I'm Emily Good and I'm playing the part of Queen Gertrude.”

Madge then introduced herself as Dame Emily's understudy; Phoebe followed and then it was my turn.

“I'm Harriet Stow and I'm understudy to Phoebe for the part of Ophelia,” I said.

“And a second understudy for Queen Gertrude,” added Tony. That caused a murmur amongst the cast. “I know it's unusual, but with so few female cast members, it seemed wise to cover all bases.”

“Now for the gentlemen,” said Tony. “David Lodge is no stranger to Stratford, having most recently appeared here as the title character in 'The Scottish Play'.”

I had heard of the superstition about not referring to the title of Shakespeare's tragedy apart from when it was actually in production, but this was the first time I had actually seen it in operation. (For anyone who wonders what I am referring to, type the words into a search engine, because as an actress, I am not going to name it either!)

“Hello everyone, I'm David and I'm pleased to be playing the part of Hamlet,” he said.

Each of the other actors and their understudies then introduced themselves in turn, and then Tony announced his intention to run through the play and do some blocking of the actors' moves.

“I would like all cast members to be 'off book' by the middle of next week at the latest, but those who need to can use it for now,” he said, and with that he called the actors who are in scene 1 to the stage.

The rest of us started to head for the stalls to watch the action and in some cases such as mine, to take notes.

Phoebe called me aside and said “I'm not needed until scene 3 so I'm going out for a coffee. Would you like to come?”

“Thanks for the offer but I think I'll watch the action for a while,” I replied. The truth was I wanted to absorb the atmosphere of the theatre and the play.

“In that case, if I'm not back, can you ring me when they are getting close to when I'm needed? I'll only be five minutes away,” said Phoebe and I agreed to do that. For a moment the thought crossed my mind that if she wasn't back in time, they might call me up on the stage, but then I thought that wasn't very fair, and anyway it might lead to a difficult situation between us since we were sharing a flat. As it happened, she was back in time, and went through her lines very well in my opinion, with only a couple of references to the script.

We broke for an hour's lunch at one o'clock and then came back for the cast to complete the run through. At this point I should mention that we were going to perform the full text of the play, running for nearly four hours, plus a thirty minute interval. Probably the most famous recorded version of 'Hamlet' is Laurence Olivier's 1948 film for which he won an Academy Award, but it is a very heavily edited to conform to the average feature film length of the time, almost cutting the text by half, and whole characters are missing. At least he hardly touched Ophelia's lines.

Phoebe showed me a nice little cafe she had found only five minutes' walk from the theatre. It seemed that a lot of theatre people went there, and we enjoyed a light lunch together..

When the rehearsal was finished, Tony said “Thank you all for coming. I have pinned a rota of cast members and understudies on the notice board next to the stage door, showing when you are required for the next two weeks. There are enough copies for everyone to take home. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow at ten o'clock.”

Phoebe had disappeared once her part was completed, so I took a copy for her as well. Now that I knew when I might be required, I could ring the specialist that I had been referred to by Dr Wilson, and see if I could make an appointment on a day I had free. It was just before five o'clock so I rang the rooms in case someone was still there and was pleased when a woman answered “Dr McLeish's clinic.”

I explained who I was and that I had a referral. I also mentioned my occupation and asked if an appointment might be available on the days I had free.

“You are in luck,” was the reply. “There's been a cancellation and I have a four o'clock appointment this Thursday. Can you make that?”

“Yes I can,” I replied.

“This is a private clinic as I expect you know,” she went on. “The cost of an initial consultation is £250 as we allow forty-five minutes. Subsequent appointments are £150.”

I swallowed hard. “Fine,” I said, thinking I was in the wrong profession.

The next couple of days I attended the rehearsals but was not called up to the stage. Phoebe seemed to be remembering her lines better which I'm sure was a relief to her and the director.

I booked my ticket to go down to London on the train, and rang Reggie to tell him what was happening. He said he would meet me at the doctor's clinic and we could have a short time together before I took the evening train back to Stratford.

Thursday morning was a warm sunny day, as indeed it should be since it was now officially summer, but you never know what sort of weather we will get. I had given some thought about what to wear and decided on a bright cotton summer dress which was a pretty lemon yellow colour with a pattern of flowers. I had seen it in a sale in February and couldn't resist buying it even though I knew I would have to wait months to wear it. Under it, for the first time I wore a white silk full slip which I had bought for the bargain price of two pounds at a charity shop in London.

Regarding slips, I know a lot of young women say that only grannies wear them, to which I might reply that grannies are old enough to teach youngsters a thing or two. Slips are pretty and feminine, but they are practical too. They create a smooth body silhouette and help your dress to hang properly on your body instead of bunching up. They also work as an anti-static barrier, stopping some materials clinging to your legs, especially if you wear stockings.

Besides that, no-one can see what other underwear you have on, and you don't ever have a 'Princess Diana' moment, as in that famous (or infamous) photo taken with the sun shining through her dress when she was a nursery assistant. Of course they are nice to wear and make you feel quite glamorous. There is now quite a collection in my lingerie drawer, full slips in white, nude and black in various lengths, and half slips in a variety of colours, and I wear one under every dress or skirt unless it is lined.

When I bought that first full slip, I said to the assistant “I can't believe how cheap it is.”

“No-one seems to wear slips nowadays, except for trannies and grannies,” she replied.

Some imp of mischief made me say “I hope you don't think I'm one?”

“A tranny or a granny?” she laughed. “You're neither; I can spot a tranny a mile off and you're far too young to be a granny.”

For my trip to London, I decided against stockings since it was such a warm day, and painted my toe-nails to match my lipstick and nails and wore open-toed sandals with three inch heels. My hair was longer now and I decided to wear it loose. Phoebe expressed approval when she saw me just before she left for the theatre.

“If you hadn't told me about you, I'd never have known,” she commented.

The journey to London proved uneventful. Learning from the previous experience, I took both my script of Hamlet and also a book to keep me occupied and make sure I didn't make eye contact with any young males in the carriage. The train arrived at Marylebone Station on time and the clinic I was to attend was in Harley Street, well-known for all its clinics and medical specialists. It was not too far from the station, but since I had plenty of time, I took a bus down to Oxford Street with its wonderful collection of shops. It's strange to think now that in my former life, shopping was a real chore but as a young woman there is nothing nicer than spending a few hours especially in the clothing and shoe shops, even if you don't buy anything.

At one point I stopped for a sandwich and cup of tea in a cafe as shopping is hard work, especially in heels! I did finally treat myself to a pretty top that I just couldn't resist, and then it was time to head towards Harley Street and my appointment. As I neared the clinic, I was pleased to see Reggie waiting at the door for me. We exchanged a kiss before we went inside. The receptionist took my referral letter and gave me a form to fill in, the usual things, was I on medication, any past serious diseases, who was my local doctor, etc. On the subject of my address I had a query so went back to her and explained that my current address might be only for a few months, so it was agreed that my address in Bridchester should be given, with a note added about my current Stratford address. Then there was nothing to do but wait, and it always seems the more senior the doctor, the longer you have to wait.

Eventually a door opened and a not terribly convincing person dressed as a young woman appeared and approached the receptionist. Reading back, that sounds rather bitchy, but the fact was that 'she' had far too many male characteristics, such as height and broad shoulders, to easily pass as a female. Then a pretty young woman appeared at the door and said “Harriet?”. I got up and followed her into the consulting room.

“I'm Helen McLeish,” she said in a lilting Scots accent. “Please sit down.”

She opened the letter that the receptionist had passed on to her and quickly scanned the few lines it contained.

“Well now, Doctor Wilson has referred you to me for assessment and possible hormone therapy. Why don't you tell me about yourself?”

As I began an abbreviated history of my life with an emphasis on the last months when I started to express myself as a young woman, I knew of course that she was assessing how successfully I was doing so. I did my best to act naturally, but started to wonder if in fact I was putting on an act instead.

“I hope you will excuse me,” I said. “The fact is that I'm rather nervous which might seem a bit ridiculous when I'm used to standing on a stage and talking in front of several hundred people.”

She smiled at me. “Well the circumstances are a little different. I'll be frank with you; it's my job to ensure that you are genuine in your desire to live your life as a young woman, and of course since you are an actress, and a very good one from what I hear, then it would be much easier for you to be 'putting on an act' rather than expressing your true feelings.”

I blushed at the compliment of course but tried not to let if affect me. “I understand that,” I replied. “But it would be very foolish of me to try and deceive you into giving me hormone treatment if I didn't genuinely want it. I can assure you that the first moment I dressed as Margaret and stood in at the last minute in 'Dear Brutus', I realised what had been wrong with my life up to that time. Ever since that time, I have become more and more convinced that Harriet is the person I was always meant to be.”

“So what is your ultimate goal, Harriet? Do you want to continue dressing and acting as a woman, take hormones to feminise your body and leave it at that, or do you want to undergo reassignment surgery?”

“My goal is to become as complete a woman in body as I can be, thus matching the woman I am in my mind,” I replied.

“Very well,” she replied. “I'm sure you realised that the journey you are undertaking is a long difficult and expensive one. What would you do if I refused to treat you?”

“I don't want to make melodramatic threats about killing myself,” I replied. “But truly I cannot contemplate returning to a life as Harry. He has completely gone now and will never return; so I suppose my only option would be to try to find another doctor who would agree to treat me. Please don't take that as some sort of threat, but it's what I feel.”

Dr McLeish smiled. “It's part of my job to play 'devil's advocate', especially at my first meeting with a patient. I suggest that I now go on to examine you and take some blood for hormone tests if you are in agreement?”

“Certainly doctor,” I replied.

“Please go behind the screen, undress completely and lie face up on the bed. There's a blanket you can use to cover yourself. I will just call in a nurse to be present while I examine you. That's a requirement of the practice, but she will stand in the corner of the room.”

I knew this was coming but I still dreaded it. It was bad enough that every day I had to see bits of me that no woman has, but to have to expose them to another person, even a doctor was much harder. Still, there was nothing for it, so I went behind the screen and did as she asked. In fact the examination wasn't nearly as bad as I feared.

Dr McLeish appeared wearing latex examination gloves after I called out that I was ready. I had heard the door open and close and assumed the nurse was in the room but I couldn't see her.

Dr McLeish actually gasped when she drew the blanket down and saw my breasts. Being so used to them, I had forgotten to mention my breast forms but did so now.

“They're very realistic,” she said. “Do you remove them from time to time?”

“Yes I do, about once a week for a few hours to give my skin a rest,” I replied. “It actually feels a little strange to be without them now. At first I didn't realise how much they affected my posture. Of course I am hoping that with hormones I will eventually have no need of them any more.”

She smiled and carried on with her examination. The part I was dreading was over soon enough as Dr McLeish quickly and efficiently did what she had to do. Finally she said she was finished and that I could now get dressed.

When I appeared from behind the screen, the nurse had gone, and Dr McLeish was now sitting on a chair in front of her desk and motioned me to sit on an armchair a few feet away, which I did, crossing my legs.

“That's a pretty dress you're wearing,” she said.

“Yes, I bought it in Finsbury Park while it was still too cold to wear it. In fact today is the first time I've worn it out of the house.”

“Ah yes, the English weather, but you should try Scotland's,” she said with a smile.

“And I see you've been shopping.” She pointed to the bag with a famous retailer's name which for some reason I'd brought into the consulting room. I don't know why I did that as I could just as easily have left it with Reggie to look after.

“Yes, I was early, so I looked around the Oxford Street shops for a couple of hours,” I replied. “I could easily have spent thousands if I had them, but I restricted myself to buying just one top. Would you like to see it?”

“Yes please,” she replied and I took the thin silk blouse out of the bag, unwrapping the tissue paper that contained it.

“Oh my, that's lovely!” she exclaimed. “You certainly know how to buy clothes that suit you.”

It suddenly occurred to me that with the examination out of the way, I was now relaxed in a way I certainly hasn't been previously. Now doubt it was obvious to Dr McLeish too.

“Well now, down to business,” she said with a smile. “You will need to have some blood tests done, but if they are satisfactory, I am prepared to start you on oestrogen therapy. The dose depends on your results, so I will post the prescription to you. I presume you've read up on the internet the likely reactions to the treatment?”

“Yes, I have,” I replied, while in my mind I was performing cartwheels.

“Very good. I would like to see you again in a month. Will you have started performances by then?”

“Well, I'm an understudy but I still have to be at the theatre for performances just in case I'm needed. In fact the only day I have off is Sunday.”

“It's a very busy life you lead,” she said. “Well you are not the only patient of mine with a similar problem, so once a month I do hold a clinic for a couple of hours on a Sunday morning. The next one is due this coming Sunday, so on your way out, please make an appointment with the receptionist for a month's time. I'll give you a request form for the blood tests. There is a collection centre a few doors up the road, and the sooner you get the tests done the sooner I can send you the prescription.”

I assumed that was the end of the interview and was about to get up when she said. “One more thing. Is that young man who came in with you your boyfriend?”

I could feel myself blushing. “Yes he is, and he is very supportive of me.”

“That's good to hear,” she replied. “It might be wise to warn him that you will probably get mood swings when you start on the hormones. You will be even more of a young woman than you are at present, and I will be frank with you, you already present as a young female better than ninety percent of my patients, particularly when you are relaxed.”

She stood up then and it appeared my first consultation was over. After I left her room, I glanced at my watch and was surprised to find that nearly an hour had passed. I made my next appointment and settled the account.

When we left the building Reggie said “How did it go?”

“Very well,” I replied. “She's a really nice lady. I need to get some blood tests done now and if they are alright I'll be starting on hormones very soon. She did tell me to warn you that I might get mood swings, just like any other girl does.”

Reggie smiled. “So will I notice a difference?” he said teasing me. I punched him playfully on the arm.

“What a dreadful man you are!” I exclaimed. “I don't know what I see in you.”

He smiled as he took my hand. “Perhaps it's got something to do with me loving you?”

“Oh Reggie, what would I do without you?” I said and kissed him on the cheek.

I found the blood collection clinic and had half an arm drained. When I returned to the waiting room, Reggie asked how long it was until my train departed.

“I've got about an hour and a half,” I said.

“So we've got time to find a cafe and have a cuppa then before we go to the station.”

“Oh Reggie, I wish you were coming with me. When can you come up to Stratford or would you like me to come to Southgate?”

It being summer now, Reggie was playing cricket almost every Saturday, and I certainly wasn't going to ask him to forego that because he enjoyed it so much.

“Well, if you can come down to London while the cricket matches are on, we can have Saturday night and most of Sunday together, and when you start your performances and have to stay in Stratford, I'll come up as often as I can. How does that sound?”

“Perfect,” I replied. It wasn't really perfect of course, but it was the best we could do in the circumstances and at least I would get to see him most weeks.

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.