“Hi!” I say with an excited squeak as I open the door and am greeted by the grinning, dark-skinned face of my bandmate. “Virtual hugs and kisses!”

“Virtual hugs and kisses!” Adeola giggles as we both hold our hands up and wiggle our fingers at each other- our latest attempt at a covid-safe greeting. “Is Becca already here?”

“Not yet, I think she’s still getting used to there actually being traffic on the roads of London!” I chuckle, before grinning as Adeola’s fiancé enters our flat carrying an expensive-looking bottle of wine. “Hi Marco! Virtual hugs!”

“Virtual hugs!” Marco chuckles, waving his right hand while passing the wine to me with his left.

“Hey guys!” Kayla giggles as we head through to our living room, where the smell of our dinner wafts through from our kitchen-diner. “Virtual hugs and kisses!”

“Virtual hugs and kisses!” Adeola says with a giggle as she and Marco sit down on her sofa- notably, keeping her distance from Kayla and I. “Ahh… it kinda- kinda worked out perfectly in a way, didn’t it? Having a ‘rule of six’ when it comes to seeing people in person.”

“Well- as perfect as it can get under the circumstances, anyway,” Kayla replies as I start to fidget. “I mean, it’s not like covid’s simply disappeared, after all.”

“And god knows catching it is the last thing any of us need right now,” Adeola whispers quietly as I feel three pairs of eyes slowly turn in my direction.

Fortunately, in the four months since Kayla moved back in, neither she nor I have had any run-ins with covid, or any other illnesses for that matter. Then again, it’s not like we’ve had much of a chance to catch anything from anyone. Lockdown didn’t start to get ‘eased’ until the end of June, and even then, all that meant was that ‘non-essential’ shops began to open again, such as clothing or electronics stores. Bars and clubs are still closed, sporting events can’t have live crowds at them, and, of course, live music is on indefinite hold as well.

That’s not to say that I and the rest of the band have been sitting on our backsides doing nothing over the last few months. We’ve continued our ‘Zoom gigs’ on a semi-regular basis, and we’ve hosted the occasional ‘showcase’ on our social media channels as well, where we’ve featured up and coming artists- I was particularly happy to help out my friend Ellie’s flatmate Sade by featuring a couple of her songs on my YouTube channel over summer. However, our ‘zoom gigs’ rarely last more than half an hour, and most of the time, it’s just the four of us singing into our laptops, meaning no costumes or elaborate dance routines. While I certainly miss the former, I’m almost relieved about the latter- though it's certainly not by choice.

The most frustrating thing about the virus is, of course, the demand it’s putting on our health services. Kayla and I have, of course, done our part for the NHS, both in joining in the clap every Thursday evening and donating to Captain Tom and other fundraisers. We both, however, also have private medical insurance, though even there, doctors are getting overwhelmed- which is especially frustrating for me.

While I’m feeling a lot better than I did when I contracted covid, I still can’t say for certain that I feel 100%, and the frustrating thing is that I can’t get an appointment with my doctor to determine just how much the virus damaged my lungs. I’ve been doing a lot of exercises I found online to try to regain my strength- ironically, a lot of which involve singing- and I still try to work out daily (as much as I can, anyway), but every day that passes makes me more and more frustrated. I want things to get back to normal. I want to get back into the recording studio and back onstage with my friends. There are only so many times that even I can binge watch Game of Thrones from start to finish. Right now, though, all I can do is sit back and be patient. Fortunately, I am at least not going through this alone. I have my friends, my family are keeping safe- especially my parents, who are continuing to work for the NHS- and I have Kayla by my side at all times. Even if she seems to be coping with the isolation much better than I am…

“Oh my god, is that a baby Yoda cushion?” Adeola squeaks as she catches sight of our latest piece of furniture.

“Yep!” Kayla giggles as she picks up the cushion and gives it a cuddle. “We may have binge watched the Mandalorian a few times in lockdown, hehe!”

“Along with just about everything else that Disney, Netflix and Amazon have to offer, heh,” I chuckle.

“Yeah, we’re currently watching Pose again, on BBC,” Adeola says. “Even if it is making me nostalgic for our parties at Charlotte’s, heh!”

“They’ll start again soon, I know it,” I say confidently. “In the meantime, we’ll just have to enjoy what little company we’re allowed to have, heh!”

“I’ll try not to take that personally,” Marco chuckles, making us three girls roll our eyes. “Besides, you’ve all been keeping busy lately, haven’t you? I know I hear you recording in our studio all the time, sometimes for, like, eight hours a day.”

“…Have you got a project you’ve not told us about?” I tease my bandmate.

“Maybe,” Adeola mumbles, before blushing and giggling. “Ahh, you know- you know Lauren, like, not ‘our’ Lauren, but the dark-haired girl, Nikki’s friend? She’s working for a fashion house in central London, they’ve recently released a range of accessories specifically for people with dark skin, and- yeah. Lauren called up my cousin, next thing you know, I’ve got a basketful of their stuff in our flat, a bigger bank balance and about 50 Instagram videos to record. I think Abbey-Gayle and Malaika got in on the action too, though, so- yeah.”

“Don’t suppose they do accessories for pale-skinned blondes, do they?” Kayla asks, before giggling and sighing. “Never mind, I know, EVERYWHERE does accessories for pale-skinned blondes.”

“Yeah, but they still look best when you wear them,” I say, exchanging a gentle kiss and a cuddle with my girlfriend.

“D’aww, how are you two STILL so cute after all this time?” Adeola asks as Kayla and I blush. “And when I get home I am totally emailing Stuart and telling him to write a song titled ‘Still Cute After All This Time’, hehe! I might even let you two sing it!”

“Oh- shut up,” I mumble as our bandmate laughs even harder, only stopping when a knock comes from our front door. As we're the hosts, obviously, I get up to answer the door while Kayla heads back into the kitchen, and the grin immediately returns to my face when I see our other bandmate on the other side.

“Virtual hugs and kisses!” Becca giggles excitedly as she waves her hands in their air, just as her best friend had done a few minutes earlier.

“Virtual hugs and kisses!” I say, smiling as I stand by to let our final bandmate and her tall, blond-haired fiancé into the flat. “Glad you could make it on such short notice!”

“Well- not that I wouldn’t have taken up the invitation anyway, but it’s not like any of us have a lot on right now, heh,” Becca chuckles as I smile sympathetically. “Something smells amazing, though!”

“I’m flattered, but I’m also taken,” I say, smirking as my bandmate scowls.

“…Virtual punch in the arm!” Becca snorts, before turning around and giving her fiancé a light jab in his arm as we head into our living area. “We live together, so yours isn’t virtual!”

“Ah, but you love me really,” Riley chuckles as he wraps his arm around Becca’s waist- an action the brown-haired woman clearly approves of. Not to be outdone, I wrap my arm around Kayla’s waist as Becca and Riley greet Adeola and Marco, before leading everyone into our kitchen-diner to get seated for the meal.

“Have you redecorated since I was last here?” Becca asks. “Admittedly it has been a while since I was last here.”

“Had to do something with all this extra free time,” I chuckle. “Probably the only advantage of having no sense of smell for weeks is that the paint fumes didn’t get to me, heh.” I bite my lip as this causes an awkward silence- and in fairness, the last thing anyone attending a post-covid dinner party would want to talk about is covid. “Anyway, I- I’ll get some wine open…”

“…Yeah,” Adeola says as I try not to cringe any harder than I already am. “Anyway, Riley, has your brother’s girlfriend had her baby yet?”

“Who, Georgie?” Riley replies. “Not yet, she’s due middle of December. By that point her dad might have forgiven Marley for getting her pregnant when she’s only twenty, heh.”

“Is she still working at the salon?” I ask, before frowning as I realise I’ve put my foot in it yet again- no one’s done much work in ANY salon over the last six months… “Um, employed by the salon, like. She always did wonders with my hair whenever I stopped off there.”

“Me too,” Becca says with a smile that I can immediately tell is trying to spare my blushes. “I mean, yes, she’s a bit ditzy, but she’s REALLY good at her job.”

“Totally,” Kayla concurs, smiling to let me know she's also trying to get me 'off the hook'.

“I think she’s still employed there,” Riley replies. “She’ll probably go back after- umm, after maternity leave, like.” This time, it’s my turn to smile sympathetically as Riley squirms.

“…Maybe we should agree at this point that it’s okay to bring up the topic of covid in conversation, as long as we don’t dwell on it too much?” I suggest. “I mean, yes, it’s uncomfortable- both, like, metaphorically and literally- but it’s better than, like, tiptoeing around it, right?”

“Yeah- yeah, you’re probably right, heh,” Becca chuckles. “No sense in pretending that it doesn’t exist. Even if that is kinda why we’re having this dinner party, heh.”

“Nah, we’re having this dinner party ‘cause we’re best friends,” Adeola retorts. “And it’s been way, WAY too long since all of us were in the same place together.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Kayla sighs as I give her hand a gentle squeeze. “Though speaking of ‘tiptoeing’, I seriously can’t wait for Thursday, heh!”

“For what it’s worth, Krystie can’t, either,” Riley says. “She was actually down there today tidying up, getting ready for you four on Thursday.”

“I know she really misses teaching her students face to face,” Becca says. “It’s odd when you think of how much money and fame she’s made from the Angels that she’d still enjoy going into work every day, but- yeah.”

“Nothing better than actually doing a job you love,” Kayla chuckles.

“Something I think we can all relate to, heh,” Riley chuckles.

“…Don’t you work in an office- well, home office,” I say, smirking as our agreement means my faux pas isn’t received as badly as before, “checking social media all day?”

“And updating it, editing photos and videos for it and managing a team of people who do the same,” Riley replies with a shrug. “JB wouldn’t pay me to do something that didn’t need to be done. And while I have nothing against people who do, it’s better than flipping burgers all day, that’s for sure.”

“And speaking of ‘better than burgers’,” Kayla says as she removes from the oven the vegetable lasagna we spent the afternoon making. Naturally, this brings a smile to everyone’s faces, and hopefully helps them think about the dreaded c-word, if only for a brief moment.

“We might not be Gordon Ramsay,” I say with a smug smile, “but we’re much cuter, hehe!”

“And less sweary,” Kayla giggles as she places bowls of steamed vegetables and boiled potatoes on the table. “The serving spoons are all clean and sterilised, so tuck in!”

“It smells delicious,” Adeola gushes, before turning to her fiancé. “Don’t think that means you can lick the serving spoons, though!”

“Eww, PLEASE tell me he doesn’t do that?” Becca says as Marco rolls his eyes.

“My family’s Italian, we take food VERY seriously,” the dark-haired young man reminds us. “One of my favourite memories growing up was my Nonna letting me lick the spoon after she finished serving everyone’s meal. I haven’t seen her in years, heh. It’s actually her 80th birthday next year, you know?”

“…You’re still not licking the spoon,” Adeola says, making us all giggle as Marco rolls his eyes.

“Then this had better be one of the best lasagnas I’ve ever eaten,” Marco cautions us, taking a forkful and pausing before swallowing. “…Not up to Nonna Ronconi’s standards, but it’ll do.” Needless to say, this is enough for Kayla and I to exchange a high-five before dishing up our own meals and sitting down around our table. After posing for the obligatory selfie, I raise my glass, a wide grin on my face as I take in the view of all of my best friends in the same place at the same time.

“A toast;” I announce. “To Out of Heaven: unbreakable!”

“Unbreakable!” The six of us cheer, before eagerly tucking into our meal.

After finishing our lasagna (and an excellent chocolate sponge pudding our friend Jacinta made for us) we spend the next hour and a half simply hanging out, chatting and enjoying several bottles of wine we'd saved for a special occasion such as this one. Our four guests leave just after 9:30pm in order to beat the curfew, and after loading up our dishwasher, Kayla and I collapse down onto our sofa together, where I take several deep breaths to try to settle myself after the evening’s fun.

“Hey,” Kayla whispers as she gazes into my eyes. “You okay?”

“Hmm?” I reply. “Yeah, just- just a little tired, heh. Looking forward to getting into something a bit more comfortable, heh!”

“Really?” Kayla teases. “Stephanie Abbott looking forward to taking off a dress?” I roll my eyes and give my petite girlfriend a gentle nudge, before adjusting the short, form-fitting long-sleeved dark red dress I’ve had on since mid-afternoon.

“Just for that, you don’t get to help me take it off!” I tease, giggling as Kayla rolls her eyes.

“For what it’s worth, I’m really tired as well,” Kayla chuckles. “And before you ask, no, I don’t have a fever, a cough or loss of my sense of smell and/or taste. Maybe I just got used to lounging about all day, I dunno.”

“But you’re glad to be, well, not lounging about all day anymore?” I ask.

“Definitely,” Kayla replies with a giggle. “Really looking forward to Thursday as well, it’s, like, things are finally starting to get to some kind of normal, you know?”

“Definitely,” I say. “Well, as normal as ‘normal’ gets right now, anyway.” And as ‘normal’ as my virus-ravaged body is ever likely to feel again, I ruefully think to myself.

We eventually go to bed (albeit in our separate beds) just before 11pm, and as usual, I toss and turn for what feels like hours before finding a comfortable sleeping position and eventually nodding off. As a result, when my alarm wakes me the following morning at 9am, my whole body still feels tired and achy, and it takes a considerable amount of effort to merely sit up, let alone get out of my bed. However, I do eventually muster up the strength to get up, and after taking care of my ‘morning needs’ (including my HRT pills, the supply of which thankfully hasn’t been affected by the pandemic) I pad through to the living room, where Kayla is already awake, fully clothed (albeit in leggings and a baggy sweater) and playing on our Switch.

“Getting a bit of early morning Animal Crossing in?” I ask my girlfriend, who smiles as she sees me enter the kitchen area.

“Just catching up as I didn’t get to play last night, for obvious reasons,” Kayla replies. “Sleep well?”

“Meh, as well as I always do,” I reply, trying not to grimace as I hear the usual sympathetic sigh that reply gets. “I’m okay, really. How about you, sleep okay?”

“Yeah, fine,” Kayla replies with a shrug. “…I may have stayed up browsing Etsy on my phone until past midnight, though…”

“Meh, it’s your wardrobe, your fault if it gets clogged!” I tease, smirking as Kayla’s jaw drops.

“Umm, excuse me?” My girlfriend protests. “Who was it again who bought fourteen different bikinis and swimsuits in one month? That month being September, aka ‘the end of summer’?”

“…There’ll be another summer next year?” I mumble in reply. “Also, I’ve been told that swimming is good for, like, asthmatics, so I thought that- you know, maybe…”

“Well- okay, I guess,” Kayla mumbles. “You’d kinda need a pool first, though, and I think Charlotte & Keith’s has been drained since the start of lockdown, heh.”

“Well, like you keep saying, covid won’t last forever,” I chuckle as I sit down next to Kayla with my cereal and coffee. “You got anything planned for today?”

“Just the Strictly It Takes Two interview later,” Kayla replies. “Gonna get a bit more dressed up for that though, heh!”

“Yeah, I don’t want people thinking I live with a slob,” I say, giggling as this earns me a not-so-gentle nudge from my girlfriend!

“Are you doing anything other than running your mouth today?” Kayla asks, nearly making me choke with laughter on my Weetabix.

“A couple of promotional videos for Instagram and TikTok,” I reply. “Including, believe it or not, a couple of swimsuit vids, heh. Apparently, we’re getting really big in Australia, so- yeah. It’s coming up to summer in their part of the world, they want to cash in, and I’m not going to say no to more cash.”

“Which you’ll inevitably spend on more swimsuits,” Kayla teases with a devilish smirk.

“And birthday presents for you,” I retort to the woman who turns 23 in two and a half weeks’ time.

“You’d better,” Kayla purrs. “Oh, and speaking of birthdays, Hannah will be on the Strictly interview with me tonight, then we’re sort-of having a ‘Zoom party’ for her as it’s her birthday, like, today.”

“Guess I’m dressing up two nights in a row then, heh!” I chuckle- though secretly, I obviously have no problem with this- something Kayla quickly susses.

“Poor you,” Kayla teases, before giggling. “Got anything else planned for today?”

“Nope, hence the lie-in,” I semi-lie in reply- while I don’t have any plans, the lie-in wasn’t entirely by choice. Again, my girlfriend almost immediately sees through this.

“Well- okay,” Kayla says with a sympathetic smile. “I’ll let you have the TV in a bit if you want. AFTER you get dressed, hehe!”

“I’m in no rush,” I chuckle. And it’s not like I’ve got the energy to be in a rush, either, I think to myself as I eat my breakfast.

Eventually, though, I muster up the strength to head through to the bathroom to get washed and dressed, though like Kayla, I only bother with a pair of leggings and a baggy sweatshirt- I don’t even bother with a bra or any make-up, a far cry from last night's chic look. When I return to the living room, Kayla has, as promised, left the TV to me, so I let out a long sigh as I ease myself down onto the sofa, pick up a PlayStation 4 controller and settle in for a morning of Ghost of Tsushima- just as I’ve done for virtually every morning over the last seven months. Not that I mind, though- not because of how much I'm still struggling with long covid, but because I know that the woman I love is only ever a few feet away if I need her.

The day seems to trundle by as I alternate between playing videogames, watching TV and chatting with Kayla, the only real 'excitement' coming when I change into my new swimsuits and bikinis to film the promotional videos I told Kayla about this morning. We mix it up slightly before dinner by trying out our friend Nicole’s daily dance exercise routine, but I can only manage 20 minutes of it before getting out of breath and needing to sit down. I’m grateful that I at least haven’t put on much weight over lockdown…

Eventually, though, the time comes for me to retreat to my bedroom- both to give Kayla privacy for her TV interview, and to get myself ready for tonight! Even though we won’t actually be ‘at’ the party, I still need to make an effort, so I strip off my slouchy loungewear and pull on a slinky lacy bra and thong before sitting down at my dressing table. While I applied some make-up for the swimsuit videos I recorded earlier, I know I'll need a LOT more for this evening. Rather than recreate last night's look, I instead opt for a blend of two glittery eyeshadows I recently received for yet another promotional video, matched with heavy false eyelashes and cat-eye eyeliner. Rather than last night's blood-red lipstick, I opt for a darker burgundy colour, smiling as I finish with matching lipliner and a spritz of some of my favourite perfume. Even if the other partygoers can't smell my perfume over Zoom, I still can, and the girlier I smell, the happier I feel.

With my make-up done, I pull on my outfit for the evening. Naturally, as it’s the birthday party of an Angel, my outfit needs to be as on point as my make-up- again, even though we won’t physically be there. Tonight’s dress is custom-made- as is much of my wardrobe- and has a very close-fitting, high-necked black bodice with a mesh decolletage and a short, heavily ruffled skirt covered in dark blue sequins. After spending almost five minutes zipping myself into the very tight dress (and having to confirm for myself with a tape measure that I indeed haven’t gained any extra lockdown inches), I pull on a pair of glossy light grey tights, touch up my lipstick and nail polish, slip my feet into a pair of extra-thin stiletto heels (and being thankful that I won’t have to do much standing this evening) and head out into the living room, where I’m greeted with a whistle and a cheer.

“Looking hot, Miss Abbott!” Kayla enthuses as I do a slow twirl for her.

“Thank you,” I say with a smug grin. “You’re also VERY sexy, Miss Ford!”

“I know,” Kayla says, her smug grin mirroring my own as she stands up and shows off her dress for the night- a dark purple dress with long lace sleeves, a figure-hugging bodice and a flared knee-length skirt. “Obligatory selfie for the fans?” As little as a few months ago, I’d probably have balked at this idea. However, I’ve come to accept that I have certain ‘responsibilities’ toward the people who buy our albums, and by extension, pay our wages- they're the ones who are keeping me in this flat, alongside the woman I love, as the woman I love being.

“Of course!” I giggle as I encircle Kayla’s slender waist from behind, while we press our faces together and grin for her phone’s camera.

“Okay,” Kayla announces, her grin somehow widening. “Obligations done, socially distanced fun can begin!”

“Yay!” I cheer, letting Kayla know with the tone of my voice that I picked up on the sarcastic tone of her voice. Under the circumstances, though, I’d much rather be socially distanced than have covid be an ‘uninvited guest’ to ANY party.

After pouring ourselves each a glass of sparkling wine, we hook up Kayla’s laptop (which she’d just been using for her TV appearance) to our widescreen television, before logging into her Zoom account and grinning widely as the faces of many of our friends appear on screen- all of whom cheer our arrival!

“Hey girls!” Viks- Hannah’s best friend- says as the birthday girl herself (who is in the same room as Viks but sat some distance away, obviously) blushes. “Glad you could make it!”

“Oh, we weren’t going to miss this!” Kayla giggles as we toast the still-blushing birthday girl with our drinks.

“Happy birthday, Hannah!” I say, earning another cheer from the assembled (virtual) crowd.

“Aww, thanks girls!” The birthday girl giggles. “I’ll admit, this isn’t exactly how I planned to turn 28, but I’m at least with all the people I love, so- yeah, hehe!”

“She’s been saying that every time someone joins the call so she THINKS doesn’t have to make a big speech later on,” Alice- Hannah’s unofficial Angel ‘protégé’- teases the blonde woman, who rolls her eyes in response.

“It’s working, isn’t it?” Hannah replies with a smug grin. “And Steph and Kayla, thank you so much for my present, I haven’t opened it yet as it’s back at my flat, but- yeah. Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s awesome!”

“We won’t spoil the surprise,” Kayla teases as we both grin smugly (for the record, we got her a kit to do a home facial- not that she needs it as her skin's flawless, but as salons have been closed for six months, anyone would be in need of some pampering). “You didn’t bring them round to Viks’s house, then?”

“Not a good idea to bring a load of presents to a living room that usually has an excitable three-year-old girl in it!” Viks replies, making my girlfriend giggle and blush.

“A three-year-old who’s only just gone to sleep as it is!” Jonathan- Viks’s husband and the aforementioned 3-year old’s father- says as he returns to the living room and sits down next to his wife. “Hey girls! Looking forward to tomorrow?”

“Hopefully not as much as tonight!” Hannah interjects, shooting a 'playfully angry' glare at her host.

“Ah- yeah, it’ll be great to finally get back in A studio, even if it is a dance studio, heh!” Kayla chuckles, and even though I nod along, there’s a part of me that still thinks we’re maybe getting back to ‘normal’ quicker than we should. There’s no reason why we couldn’t still have tomorrow’s session virtually- even though I of course dearly loved seeing Becca and Adeola in the flesh yesterday.

“Well, I’m sure Krys’ll be glad to hear that,” Mikey- our dance teacher and choreographer’s husband says from his part of the screen. “She’s currently dealing with our own three-year-old, heh!”

“Who, along with our three-year-old, is probably more eager to get back to the studio than anyone!” Jamie chuckles from her part of the screen. “But as cute as our girls all are, I think we’re sort-of getting away from the girl who is tonight’s REAL princess, hehe!” Jamie- along with the rest of us- giggles as Hannah starts to blush again.

“And I really, really do appreciate it,” Hannah says quietly. “Though I do hope this’ll be the last birthday party I have that’s- well, that’s like this, heh!”

“We ALL hope that,” Viks reassures her BFF as the screen slowly starts to fill with the faces of our friends.

After welcoming the newcomers- and listening to Hannah repeat her explanations of where her presents are and her gratitude for everyone's presence, Viks leads one final toast to the birthday girl before we all tuck into individual slices of cake that were delivered earlier today (another amazing creation of Jacinta’s). As with yesterday, though, the party comes to an end just after 9:30pm as Hannah prepares to head back to her own empty flat- a prospect I can tell she isn't looking forward to, especially on her birthday of all days, and something I can easily sympathise with, having had to deal with an empty flat of my own in the first few months of lockdown.

With an early morning tomorrow, Kayla and I excuse ourselves at the same time as the birthday girl. However, it doesn’t take long for us to discover another ‘advantage’ to virtual parties, as mere seconds after we leave the call, we lean in to give each other a long, deep kiss.

“Umm…” Kayla says hesitantly. “We- we ARE sure the call’s ended, right?”

“The laptop screen’s down, they wouldn’t be able to see us regardless,” I reply, earning a giggle from my girlfriend as she kisses me again.

“Heh, I- I really had fun tonight, you know?” Kayla asks. “I mean, yes, it technically IS a party, but- you know?”

“Yeah, I get it,” I say with a happy sigh. “Nice to get all dressed up even if there is literally nowhere to go. And yes, there are times I prefer the ‘dressing up’ to the actual going out, heh.”

“So do I, sometimes,” Kayla shrugs. “Heh, I’d be surprised if there are any girls out there who DON’T feel that way from time to time.”

“I suppose,” I muse. “Heh, especially after these last seven months.”

“DEFINITELY after these last seven months,” Kayla said, before slowly sliding a hand underneath the hem of my dress. “So… Another thing we’ve, like, missed out on over the last few months…?” I smile sympathetically as Kayla closes her eyes and grimaces, before chuckling awkwardly. “…We’ve been seeing each other for three years, and THAT’s the best line I can think of…”

“I’m slightly more concerned by the fact that you’re plastered after one and a half glasses of wine,” I retort, earning a withering look from my girlfriend.

“…I don’t have to get drunk to want to have sex with you, Steph,” Kayla says in a reassuring voice as she gently lays a hand on my chest. “You know- KNOW that I love you. And, yes, I fancy you as well. A lot. If anything, my attraction to you has only grown in the last few years.”

“…Thanks,” I mumble. “And you know I- you know how much I love you, right?”

“Of course,” Kayla whispers. “And because I know you will, don’t get too hung up on ‘keeping me away from getting physical with men’. The physical side of things really, REALLY is a low priority for me. You know THAT, too.”

“…You literally just propositioned me for sex,” I retort. “Like, thirty seconds ago.”

“And that offer’s still on the table,” Kayla says with a devilish smirk. “Or in bed. Or here on the sofa, if that’s what you want. Steph, the most important word in the sentence ‘I want to have sex with you’ is the word ‘you’, not the word ‘sex’. Seriously. I mean… we’re always at our best when we’re, like, doing our own thing, playing by OUR own rules, aren’t we?”

“Better than all the rest,” I say, grinning widely as Kayla leads me by the hand to her bedroom…

25 minutes later, the two of us are laid in Kayla’s bed, naked as the day we were born with the room spinning as I try to get my breath back.

“…See?” Kayla asks with a smug grin as she props herself up on one elbow.

“OH yeah,” I chuckle as I exchange a gentle kiss with Kayla, before the petite girl extracts herself from the sheets.

“I’m just going to wash up,” Kayla explains. “Don’t want to get too much make-up on my pillows, heh!”

“Yeah,” I chuckle as I lay my head back and take a deep breath.

“Oh- Steph!” Kayla playfully chastises me, making me frown with confusion as I open my eyes and scrape my hair away from my face and out of my mouth. “So much for no make-up on the pillowcase, heh! You must have been more tired than I thought, heh!”

“Huh?” I grunt, blinking several times to get my bearings. “Oh, umm- yeah… I should- I should get washed up myself…”

“S- Steph?” Kayla asks. “Are you okay?”

“Hmm?” I reply. “Oh, umm, yeah… It’s just- it’s just, you know, late… I- I’ll get washed up. Do you have a spare pillowcase?”

“No, I only changed them this evening,” Kayla replies, before smiling sympathetically. “It’s okay. I think we both need a good night’s sleep, heh! I’ll see you in the morning, Steph.”

“Sure,” I say, smiling wearily before heading through to the bathroom to remove my own make-up, then into my bedroom where I flop down heavily onto my bed.

Unsurprisingly, it takes me next to no time at all to fall asleep, and I’m still asleep when my phone’s alarm wakes me the following morning. After stretching my tired body, I head through to the living room, where, unsurprisingly, Kayla is already awake and eating breakfast- just as she’s done every morning for the last few months.

“Morning!” My girlfriend says with a smile as I head into the kitchen and pour myself a much-needed mug of coffee. “Sleep well?”

“Like a baby,” I reply, giggling as Kayla’s grin widens. “What time’s the taxi coming?”

“About 45 minutes,” Kayla replies. “Krys has texted by the way, says we should just wear workout gear today, don’t need pointe shoes or anything.”

“Okay,” I reply, relieved as no pointe shoes means probably no complicated choreography, which means no tired or aching muscles when we leave the studio. “I assume we’ll be wearing masks, though?”

“She didn’t say, but I think we’ll be okay without,” Kayla replies. “I mean, the studio’s big enough for all of us to be spread apart. And we did only just see two of the other three women who’ll be there a few nights ago.”

“Yeah, but the third of those three women is asthmatic,” I remind my girlfriend.

“And dancing kinda uses a lot of oxygen,” Kayla reminds me. “Not like I want to sound like one of those anti-mask morons that have been popping up everywhere, but- yeah. Maybe keep them on between routines, I dunno. Krys’ll let us know.”

“Okay,” I shrug. “Fancy going anywhere after the session? Like, see if there are any cafes or restaurants open, maybe find somewhere we can grab some lunch?”

“Sure!” Kayla says with a grin. “Heh, I’ll have to put on some make-up and bring a change of clothes with me… it’s fine. Like we were saying last night, who doesn’t love getting dressed up for a night in or an early afternoon out, eh?”

“Certainly not me,” I giggle as I finish my breakfast and head into the bathroom to get ready for the day ahead.

45 minutes later, our taxi pulls up outside our flat and we head out, ready for the morning ahead. Rather than wear our workout gear to and from the studio, both of us have dressed up in anticipation of our date- Kayla in her preferred look of a long, clingy top, plain pencil skirt and heels, and me in a cute turtleneck, short pleated skirt and (of course) high-heeled boots. Naturally, this gets us a few comments when we arrive at the studio to discover Becca and Adeola wearing leggings and sports bras.

“Hel-lo Miss Boots!” Adeola teases me, giggling as I roll my eyes. “That’s gonna be a bit warm to rehearse in, unless you’re going straight for ‘dress rehearsal’? And that skirt of yours ain’t gonna allow much movement, Kay!”

“Hilarious,” Kayla says with a mock dramatic sigh.

“Funny girl,” I snort simultaneously. “Just for that, no virtual hugs and kisses!” I smirk as the dark-skinned girl pouts, before giggling as we relent and exchange the virtual greetings. “And for the record, we have our workout gear with us, we’re about to go and change.”

“Workout gear that’s hopefully the right size?” Becca asks as she casts a teasing grin at my girlfriend.

“Oh- that happened ONE time,” Kayla scoffs. “It’s not my fault dancewear sizes are idiotic…”

“Umm, I hope I didn’t just hear you call my dancewear idiotic, Miss Ford?” Krystie asks with a smug grin as she emerges from her office.

“…It’s the sizing that’s idiotic,” Kayla replies as her cheeks start to redden. “I normally take a size 6 dress, you see, so I went onto your shop, saw you had items in size 6, thought ‘great’, ordered them, and instead of a leotard I got a sleeping bag with holes in it.”

“…Because size 6 dancewear is more like size 14-16 in ‘normal’ sizes,” Krystie says with a sympathetic smirk. “Yeah, I never got that either, or the completely random way different companies size their pointe shoes. Though I suppose that confusion does ensure that they’re always professionally fitted, like they should be, I- I dunno, heh. Maybe just being back in this place has put me back into a ‘dance teacher extreme' mindset or something, heh.”

“Is this really the first time you’ve been back here since March?” I ask.

“Other than to clean it, yep,” Krystie replies. “First time since March that I’ll have taught students- well, ‘students’ in inverted commas, anyway!” Needless to say, I join in with my bandmates at the jeers thrown our ‘teacher’s’ way for this comment.

“My sides are splitting,” Becca snorts at her future sister-in-law. “Seriously, though, have you still got students on your books when this place does reopen?”

“And then some!” Krystie chuckles. “The waiting will still be about nine months long, heh. And that’s including the new studio in the east of the city.”

“You’re still keeping that open, then?” Adeola asks as the conversation heads into the changing room to allow Kayla and I to change into our workout gear.

“The landlord’s reasonable about rent costs during lockdown,” Krystie replies with a shrug. “And I’m charging students a small amount to stay on the books over lockdown, to access video lessons… I’m saving money on insurance as well, and I’m doing my own cleaning, so- yeah. The social aspect of lockdown has been much harder than the financial, heh.”

“Do you- do you still have any, you know, trans students on your books?” I ask hesitantly. “Now that I know Laura and Ashley have left the school…”

“Not- not yet,” Krystie replies with a smile. “There’s a girl on my waiting list called Harmony, I think she’s nine or ten. Very talented, as well. Her audition video showed her doing a character dance and she’s better than a lot of, like, cis girls her age.”

“But she’s still on the waiting list?” Kayla asks.

“That’s the referral system for you,” Krystie sighs with a shrug. “The kids already at the school tend to club together with their referrals to get their friends to the top of the queue.”

“And Harmony doesn’t have any?” I ask, blinking back a tear at the thought of yet another potentially lonely transgender girl. “Do- do we get referrals?”

“I’d- I’d kinda have to give ALL of you a referral if it worked that way, heh,” Krystie chuckles. “Don’t want to be accused to playing favourites, heh.”

“I’d be happy to use my referral for Harmony too,” Becca shrugs, smiling at me and making me bite my lip to keep from crying. “I mean, her name’s ‘Harmony’, right? So she could be a singer and a dancer, and if there’s one thing the world doesn’t have enough of, it’s Stephanie Abbotts, heh!” Needless to say, this causes the waterworks to start, even as Kayla wraps me in a much-needed hug.

“Oh, I dunno,” Krystie says with a smug grin. “I mean, I’ve already taught two ‘Stephanie Abbotts’ ballet, and the younger one is much better at it!”

“Oh- shut up,” I mumble as I pull on my leggings and sports bra. “Though I will tell Tom and Amanda you said that, heh.”

“I don’t suppose Stephi gets a referral, does she?” Kayla asks with a giggle.

“Not until you’re in the intermediate pre-pointe class,” Krystie replies, smirking at our pouts as we head through to the studio and take our marks 2 metres apart. “Okay, I just want to see what you all remember, where your muscle memory’s at, so first, we’re going to run through some steps from some old videos.” I smile as our teacher presses a button on her phone, and the studio is filled with the opening bars of our cover of ‘Heaven is a Place on Earth’.

We spend the next twenty minutes refreshing our memory- and, more importantly, our muscle memory- on steps from our old videos. I’m grateful, though, when Krystie announces a brief break, and after stretching my back, I grab a bottle of water and sit down on one of the chairs at the side of the studio.

“Steph?” I hear a familiar voice call as my eyes slowly open. “St- Steph? Oh- oh, thank god!” My eyes flutter open and I can see Kayla standing over me, her face streaked with tears and mascara as I’m lifted up. Wait, why am I being lifted? And why is Kayla standing over me? And more to the point, why is my body covered by a blanket and my face by an oxygen mask?

“Wh- wha?” I weakly mumble, slowly lifting an arm only for the paramedic to gently push it back to my side.

“Easy, easy now,” the young woman says through her extensive PPE. “You’ve taken a tumble, we're taking you to A&E at St Thomas'.” The place where mum works? I think to myself.

“I- I’ll call you when I get home, Steph,” Kayla shouts as I’m wheeled away from her. “They won’t let me in the hospital ‘cause of covid, I- I’ll call you!”

“K- Kayla…” I mumble, before drifting off again.

When I wake up, I’m laid in what is very obviously a hospital bed, with an oxygen mask on my face, a canula in my arm and numerous wires all over my torso. I’m alone in the room, but not for long as the door to the room opens and a nurse announces her entry.

“Miss… Abbott?” The nurse asks, her face almost completely obscured by PPE.

“Uhh- yeah…?” I reply, still dazed and confused. “Where, where am I?”

“Still at St Thomas', I’m afraid,” the nurse replies. “The good news is, though, we did a PCR test and you are currently negative for covid.”

“Umm, okay,” I mumble. “What- what happened?”

“According to your friends, you went to sit down and suddenly collapsed,” the nurse replies gently. “The ambulance was called after you were breathing but unresponsive for over a minute, then you kept drifting in an out of consciousness. How are you feeling now?”

“…Knackered,” I reply with a chuckle that the nurse echoes.

“I’m not surprised,” the nurse says. “You’ve been through a lot, so try to get some rest. The doctor will be in shortly to talk to you.”

“Th- thanks,” I weakly reply, laying back in my bed and trying to get comfortable as I try to rationalise exactly what’s happened, and more importantly, why it happened.

Obviously, I pushed myself too hard during our dance training. And yet… I really didn’t. We were active for less than half an hour, none of the steps we were doing were too strenuous and even so, they’re all steps I’ve done countless times before. And yet, I got tired- no, not just tired, fatigued- almost immediately. How much damage has covid done to me for that to be the case? Worse yet, how much damage has covid done to the band? If I can’t do even basic routines without collapsing in a heap, then any future tours will have to be dramatically scaled back- or even just not held at all. Assuming Heavenly Talent want to keep me in the band, anyway…

I must have eventually dozed off again, as the next thing I know I’m being gently shaken awake by a male doctor in a smart shirt, tie- and, of course, full PPE.

“Miss Abbott?” the doctor asks in a soft Indian accent. “Are you awake?”

“Umf?” I grunt as I slowly wake up. “Umm- yeah, I’m awake… What time is it?”

“Just after half past four,” the doctor replies, startling me- I’ve been asleep a LOT longer than I thought. “We’ve done a thorough examination and we haven’t discovered any severe injuries beyond a few bumps and bruises, but we are concerned as to why you passed out.”

“Yeah, well, so am I,” I sigh. “Though I don’t think there’s much of a mystery there, I assume you’ve read my chart where it says I’ve had a bad case of covid earlier in the year?”

“Well, we don’t use charts anymore, patient records are all online,” the doctor replies with a chuckle. “But I have seen that is the case, yes. And as little as we know about covid in general, we know even less about long covid, but you do match all of the symptoms for what we do know about it.” Even though this hardly comes as a surprise to me, I still feel my heart sink at this news- not least because it’ll likely have an impact on the one question I’d hoped to avoid asking.

“D- doctor,” I ask nervously. “I- I assume you’ve seen, like, the ‘big thing’ on my medical charts- online records- whatever. Big thing other than covid, I mean.”

“…I have, yes,” the doctor says quietly, making me anxious- in situations like this, I can never tell whether the doctor’s hesitance is because he wants to treat, well, ‘it’ with sensitivity- or because he secretly disapproves of me even existing… “I’m not qualified to comment on it as I’m not a gender identity expert,” not a great start, but not terrible either, I think to myself. “I can call your gender identity counsellor if you’d like and explain that you’ve been admitted?”

“Umm, please,” I mumble, still unable to gauge the doctor’s ‘leanings’ toward me- not that it matters much, as he’d still have to his job regardless, but that doesn't make me any less nervous. “Am- am I likely to come out- umm, of here, I mean- like, today?” You had to say ‘come out’, I think to myself.

“We’ll want to keep you overnight for observation,” the doctor replies. “And just in case we want to run any tests on your lungs. But assuming you continue to test negative for covid, I see no reason why you won’t be able to go home tomorrow. You will, however, have to take it easy for a while, to give your body time to adjust to your ‘new normal’.” And in any other year that phrase, ‘new normal’, would HAVE to be a dig at me. But 2020 really isn’t any ordinary year…

“Well- okay,” I say. “Am I- am I staying in this room?”

“Yes, your private medical insurance should be paying for it,” the doctor replies. “I’ll let you get some rest and check in on you in a bit.”

“O- okay,” I say, taking a deep breath and trying to get comfortable as I don’t reveal the real reason I asked about the room- specifically, if I was going to be moved to a female-only ward.

Why I’m stressing out about things like this now, I couldn’t tell you. I’ve been living full-time as a woman for five years, and while my transition hasn’t been entirely smooth- far from it, in fact- everyone I care about has unanimously accepted me as a woman. However, there are still many, too many who still see fit to criticise my daily life for… I dunno why they do it. ‘Generic bullying’ is my best guess so far, a need to try to elevate their own pathetic little lives by trying to drag someone else down. And as I’m one of the highest-profile transgender people in the UK, I’m an ‘easy target’ for them. Except… I’m really not. I’ve got friends, many friends, including girls like Jamie or Kelly who have to endure the exact same shit that I do. We all have to deal with the same small-minded, so-called ‘gender critical’ morons on an almost constant basis, and we always come out of stronger than before. Or at least, I did before covid struck.

All this time alone, all this energy that’s been drained from me as forced me to consider the questions I’ve avoided in the past. Am I still a woman if there’s no one around to see me as one? Logically, I know that the answer is ‘yes’- the internet, especially social media provides fans and supporters just as readily as it does TERFs and their ilk. But the more time I have to think about it, the more time I have to doubt whether or not that's actually true. There's the way I started- only dressing up as a challenge to myself, still living primarily as ‘Steve’ even long after I’d joined the band. There are the regular confrontations with the ‘Steve’ that lived in my head. My confrontations- fights, even- with Jamie. My indecision over what my sexuality actually is- something I still don’t think I’ve resolved, and have only ‘paused’ because of the seriousness of my relationship with Kayla. And last but not least, my ongoing dilemma regarding SRS.

The ironic thing, of course, is that if any other trans girl- or guy, even- came to me with these worries, I wouldn’t hesitate to give them the love and support that they needed- that they deserved. But when it comes to my own identity, I can’t be even remotely as sure.

My anxiety keeps me awake as I try to get some rest, only to be interrupted when the door to my room opens and I see a nurse in the doorway- but I can immediately tell, even through the PPE, that this isn’t just any nurse. Before I can even open my mouth to speak, tears start to stream down my face.

“H- hi mum,” I mumble between sobs.

“Oh, Steph…” mum sighs, clearly emotional herself. “I- I can’t stay long, technically I shouldn’t even be here, but because I sometimes work on this ward, they’ve given me the okay to just, well, check in on you… what- what happened?”

“Same thing that happened to the rest of the world,” I reply with a tired grunt. “If you mean specifically today, I- I dunno. I pushed myself too far, I- ugh. I’ll be fine when I get back home and stop wasting a bed, heh.”

“Don’t say that!” Mum chastises. “You’re not wasting a bed if you need medical help. Just because covid seems like it’s taken over the world, it doesn’t mean that every other medical condition has ceased to exist. And if you faint, or you collapse, you NEED to go to hospital.”

“Well- I guess,” I mumble.

“And I’ve been doing this for long enough that I KNOW,” mum says. “And more importantly than that, I’m your mum. So I KNOW when you need to rest up and get your strength back. And that time is now!”

“Yes, mum,” I say with a smirk as I relax back into my bed.

“And call me when you get out of here!” Mum orders.

“Will do,” I say, before resting my head into my pillow and letting out a long sigh as my mother leaves the room.

With nothing better to do for the rest of the evening, I roll over and pick my phone out of my handbag, grateful that it has a nearly full charge from having not been used much today. After logging in to the hospital’s wi-fi, I head to my Facebook page, where, unsurprisingly, I’m instantly bombarded with messages from my friends checking how I am. However, there’s one message that takes priority over the others- a message from my girlfriend that simply reads ‘call me when you can x’. With a smile, I start a video call to her, smiling widely when her concerned (and surprisingly make-up-free) face appears on my screen.

“Hey you,” I say softly, trying not to cry as she anxiously bites her lip.

“Hey,” Kayla whispers. “How- how are you feeling, Steph?”

“Knackered,” I reply with a chuckle. “I barely even remember what happened.”

“What happened is we pushed you too far, too soon,” Kayla says remorsefully. “We- that is, like, the band, we- we’ve had a chat with each other.”

“…Oh,” I mumble as I fear the worst. What a way to be both fired AND dumped, while you’re laid up in hospital…

“Yep,” Kayla says with a determined look on her face. “Me, Becca and Adeola have decided that there can be no Out of Heaven without Stephanie Abbott. Full stop. If that means we don’t tour or even record videos until you’re back on your feet, so be it. And I- I just want you home as soon as possible.”

“I- sorry?” I ask, my exhausted brain struggling to process what I was told.

“Did you really think we were just going to drop you?” Kayla asks with a snort of laughter. “We love you, Steph. I. Love. You. If they don’t want you, then they don’t want me either. And the same goes for Becca and Adeola as well. We are more, far more than just some pop group. We’re a family. So however much time you need, take it. We’ll be ready when you are.” Needless to say, tears once again stream down my face as my girlfriend smiles sympathetically, barely suppressing tears of her own.

“Oh- oh god…” I moan between sobs.

“We mean it, Steph,” Kayla insists. “I mean it. I don’t know how many times we need to remind you of this, but we’ll just keep on telling you over and over again if need be.”

“O- okay, okay,” I say, taking as deep a breath as my compromised lungs will allow. “I- I love you guys more than anything. But I- I love you most of all, Kayla. And I should be home tomorrow.”

“I’ll be waiting,” Kayla whispers emotionally. “Now get some rest! I’ll tell the girls I’ve spoken to you and you’re doing okay. I can put something on your socials as well if you want?”

“Nah, I- I’ll be okay,” I say with a smile. “I’m up for recording a video message, heh. Even if this might be the first one I’ve ever uploaded without make-up, heh. Thank god the laser treatment worked all those years ago!”

“You still look gorgeous and girly,” Kayla says. “I’ll let you go and I’ll see you tomorrow. Love you!”

“Love you too!” I say, smiling happily as the call ends. When I went through my bout with covid earlier this year, I felt like the loneliest person ever. Kayla was staying home in Southampton, Becca and Adeola were in their own homes, my brothers had either pregnant partners or newborns to worry about and even my parents were keeping safe, being back at work for the NHS. Now, though, I’ve seen the band twice in three days, I have multiple messages from my brothers waiting on my phone and I’ve even seen my mum face-to-face just a few minutes ago. Sure, I still feel like shit, but even long covid isn’t as bad as long-term loneliness.

After recording a brief message for my Instagram (basically just telling everyone that I’m okay and should be home tomorrow), I settle in for the rest of the evening, content that while I’ve had a setback for now, it’s only temporary- much like, hopefully, the setback currently experienced by the rest of the world.

As the doctor promised (and after one final covid test, obviously), I’m discharged the following morning, and after pulling back on the same outfit I wore to the dance studio yesterday- including the boots, which gets a few looks as I head through the corridors of the hospital- I find myself climbing in a taxi home. However, it’s not just any taxi, but rather the bubblegum pink taxi bought by Heavenly Talent many years ago that has caricatures of the Angels’ faces on the side- and their executive PA in the driving seat.

“Morning, girly!” Nikki says in an exaggerated version of her natural cockney accent. “Where to, love?”

“Home, as you well know,” I reply to my giggling friend. “And why are you driving the Angelmobile, anyway?”

“Family tradition,” Nikki replies. “My dad drives one of these. Well, in black, but same thing, more or less."

“…If you insist,” I say, before smiling as I sense the ‘real’ reason Nikki’s giving me a lift home. “And thanks, I do appreciate it.”

“Any time, darlin’!” Nikki chuckles, before sighing happily. “And it is good to see you’re feeling better, a lot- and I mean a LOT of the girls were panicking when you got rushed into hospital.”

“Yeah, well, panic over, I’m better now and on my home,” I reply.

“Yeah, panic won’t be over for a while, I think,” Nikki sighs sadly. “Not until we all get vaccinated, at the very least. I was looking forward to going back to Florida over the new year, looks like THAT isn’t happening anytime soon.”

“Yeah, me and Kayla were hoping to go to, having missed out on it last year,” I sigh. “How are Alexa and Jenny, anyway? Seems like forever since I last saw them.”

“Umm, I bet you’ll be able to ask them yourself, you’re bound to have a ‘get well soon’ message from either or both of them,” Nikki replies. “And it HAS been forever, or near as makes no difference, anyway.”

“Hell, it seems like forever since I last saw YOU in the flesh,” I sigh. “Well, flesh minus a Perspex screen and a face mask, anyway.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” Nikki sighs. “’Rule of six’ is tough when you’ve got more than five friends, heh.”

“Have you had Jacinta, Ophelia and the others round to your new flat yet?” I ask. “Under ‘rule of six’, anyway?”

“Not yet,” Nikki sighs sadly. “Haven’t been ANYWHERE. We were going to go to Milton Keynes last month for Sarah’s brother’s eighteenth, but because his girlfriend was there, along with his sister and his parents, it meant that if Sarah went, I couldn’t.”

“…So what happened?” I ask, frustrated at Nikki leaving me hanging like that.

“We both stayed home and joined the party virtually,” Nikki replies. “Pissed off Sarah’s stepmother no end, but she’s always had a problem with us, so whatever. We promised Karl a day out in London when everything’s open again, so that’s something at least.”

“And Karl is Sarah’s brother’s name, right?” I ask, smiling as my friend nods.

“And her stepmother is ‘the dragon’,” Nikki chuckles. “Anyway, we’re nearly here, I won’t help you with your bags ‘cause of you know what, so you stay safe, okay? And just in case Riley doesn’t get in touch with you today, you’ve had a LOT of positive messages on your social media posts.”

“Thanks,” I chuckle. “Guess I know what I’m doing for the rest of today then, heh!”

“But-“ Nikki says hesitantly. “They- they’ve not ALL been positive, just so you’re aware ahead of time.”

“…When are they ever?” I ask softly, earning what is no doubt a sympathetic smile behind my friend’s mask. “I’ll see you soon. Stay safe!”

“You too!” Nikki says as she and the Angelmobile drive away. With a sigh, I trudge up the stairs and let myself into my flat, though I’ve barely taken three steps before I find myself wrapped in a slender pair of arms and my girlfriend's lips pressed firmly against mine- though obviously, I'm not going to complain about this.

“I really, really missed you,” Kayla whispers, clearly only just keeping hold of her emotions.

“I missed you too,” I whisper. “I mean, it HAS been less than 24 hours since we last saw each other, but-“ I’m silenced as Kayla places a finger on my lip, before giving me another gentle kiss and leading me through to our living room, where everything has been laid out for me- the TV remote, a tray full of sweet treats and coffee, all of our videogame controllers and a big, warm quilt on the sofa for us to both cuddle under.

“I- I’m not an invalid, really,” I say, laughing nervously at the scene before me.

“Then consider this a treat,” Kayla says. “Seriously. I- I really do feel responsible for what happened, Steph, I-“

“You are not to blame,” I interrupt. “I pushed myself too hard, I know I did. And it- it might take me a while before I’m, you know, 100% ‘me’ again.”

“You already are 100% ‘you’,” Kayla retorts. “So what if you can’t do a dance routine right now? Big deal. It’s not like we can tour anyway. And we certainly can’t tour without the full band. All four of us.”

“…Still leaving Lauren out, then?” I ask, smirking as Kayla giggles and rolls her eyes.

“She’s still sheltering at her parents’ farm in Scotland,” Kayla reminds me. “The commute would be a bit of a pain even without covid, heh. And in fairness, so would Southampton to London. Good job my home’s right here, heh!”

“Absolutely,” I whisper, exchanging a kiss with my girlfriend before lowering myself onto our sofa, with Kayla snuggling up next to me. “And it’s always…”

“You, and me,” we sing together. “Always, ah- forever,
You, and me, always, be together,
Bah, bah-bah, bah-bah!
It was always
You, and me, always…”

“…I love that song,” Kayla whispers happily. “Actually…” I smile contentedly as Kayla grabs the remote and opens up YouTube on the TV, where we spend the next hour listening to songs from our favourite playlist.

Eventually, though, we start to feel hungry, and as Kayla leaps up to rummage through the kitchen, I grab my phone and start to scroll through my various socials, smiling as I see all the supportive comments and replies to yesterday’s video. It isn’t long, though, before I find a comment that is considerably less supportive- not as a direct reply to my post, but after I search for ‘Stephanie Abbott’ on Twitter. This is, admittedly, something I’ve been advised not to do countless times by my managers, and yet it's always impossible to resist the urge to do so.

‘Hope he wasn’t put on an all-female ward,’ the tweet reads. ‘Last thing the women there need is to catch covid AND get raped.’ Despite my best efforts, I feel my blood start to boil as I read this message. After five and a half years of Out of Heaven, not to mention countless solo appearances and endorsements I’ve made, there are still those who are so small-minded they’d make comments like this. I want nothing more than to tear into this man, to show him he’s wrong and to make him acknowledge how wrong he is, but I know that would be a waste of effort and energy- and god knows that’s in short supply for me right now. So all I do is click on ‘report tweet’ and ‘block user’- which is all the attention that scum like him and the other Glinners of the world deserve.

I do, however, amuse myself by reading some of the replies his tweet has got- not to mention the fact that the replies outnumber his ‘likes’ by a ratio of 20 to 1.

‘How sad must your life be that writing that was the highlight of your day?’ The first reply- which has over 15 times the number of likes of the original tweet- reads.

‘Does that make you feel like a big, tough man, picking on a young woman in hospital?’ Another reply reads, though the reply to THAT tweet makes me pause.

‘HE has a penis, therefore HE is male,’ the tweet reads. While I pay no attention to the motivation behind the tweet, simply giving it the ‘Glinner treatment’ of reporting and blocking it, it does bring back to mind the one topic I’d been able to avoid while in hospital- and all throughout lockdown, actually- namely, SRS.

It's not that I want to have a penis, or even like having one- far from it, in fact. It will always be a constant reminder that I’m different to other girls, no matter how much of an effort they make to include me. However, the point of the matter is that it doesn’t have to be that way. So many of my friends- Jamie, Nikki, Kelly, Jacinta, Janet, Alexa and many of the girls from Soixante-Trois- have ‘taken the plunge’. Hell, even Laura says she would have done this summer, were it not for the pandemic, and even Stuart has ‘gone the other way’- but still on the same ‘road’ as me. And yet, I feel hesitant. It’s a LOT of pain a LOT of recovery and a LOT of time off my feet- and in the last few months, those are three things I’ve had in spades.

My friends, of course, have said they’ll be fully supportive of me regardless of what I choose. They- along with the vast majority of my fans- have said that what I keep in my pants is of little to no importance when it comes to being a woman. There’ll always be people who disagree, of course, but they’ll always be in the minority- well, always shouted down by my friends and ‘real’ supporters, at least- and their opinion counts for less than nothing. And, of course, Kayla has said she’ll support me no matter what decision I make, and I have no reason to believe that she’s lying. And yet, I’m uneasy. Maybe I see myself as representing all those girls- and, of course, boys- who see SRS as unnecessary in order to live life as their true selves, I dunno. All I know is three things: that I’m still a long way from making a decision; that I’ll have the support of all my friends when I do finally decide one way or the other; and that I also have professional support, the same support that’s proven invaluable over the last few years.

Support that I avail myself of just before lunch, as Kayla goes out for a run and I set up my laptop on the coffee table, smiling when the distinguished face of my counsellor (not to mention my ‘chauffeuse’s’ mother-in-law) appears on the screen.

“Good morning, Stephanie,” Dr Phillips says with a professional smile.

“Morning,” I reply with a tired chuckle and a smile of my own. “Thanks for meeting with me ‘out of schedule’ like this.”

“It’s not a problem at all, especially after what happened yesterday,” Dr Phillips says, making me frown and blush. “How are you feeling, Stephanie?”

“…Exhausted,” I reply. “Physically AND mentally, it’s like it- it takes five times as much effort to do anything, even if it’s just something like watching TV.”

“I won’t claim to be an expert on covid, let alone long covid,” Dr Phillips says, “but what you’re saying does seem to fit everything I’ve read about the condition. However, it’s not just exhaustion I can hear in your voice, you seem- for want of a better word- frustrated as well?”

“That- that’s a good a way of describing it as anything,” I sigh. “Me and Kayla are finally in a good place, probably the best place we’ve been in months, and I end up collapsing after just 20 minutes of dancing. It’s like, I finally get my personal life sorted out and my professional life takes a knock. And I know, I know, a lot- a LOT of people’s professional lives have been affected by the pandemic, but- yeah. They at least know they can return to those lives once the pandemic’s over…”

“For the most part, yes,” Dr Phillips says in a calming voice that reminds me there are plenty of others who have it much worse than me. “And it’s only natural to be worried about your livelihood. Even one transgender person losing their job because of their gender identity is too many, and I have dealt with many who have sadly experienced just that despite the efforts of the Equality Act of 2010. Obviously, though, your career isn’t being threatened by your gender identity.”

“If anything, the opposite is true,” I chuckle. “But I- heh. I do wonder if the pandemic is, you know, jeopardising my gender identity. Not in terms of, like, not being ‘seen’ as a woman, I mean, social media has more than picked up the slack there, but- umm…” Why do I always feel so nervous when I address this topic? I think to myself. Especially when I'm talking to the one person who’ll be the most understanding and non-judgemental about it… but who is also the only person who can authorise it.

“You’re thinking of SRS again?” Dr Phillips asks gently, smiling as I nod.

“I mean, I- I’m not close to, like, deciding, but-“ I stammer, before sighing. “I mean, it’s not like a ‘yes or no’ decision, is it? Because a ‘no’ can always become a ‘yes’ later down the line, but-“

“But a ‘yes’ can’t easily become a ‘no’ if you change your mind,” Dr Phillips says softly.

“And not without detransitioning,” I sigh. “Which I don’t ever intend to do. But- yeah. It’s still complicated, and now with this long covid shit, I get the feeling it’s become even MORE complicated…”

“A large part of SRS is to be physically prepared for it,” Dr Phillips says. “Despite everything, it is still a traumatic experience- speaking from a purely physical standpoint- and it would be irresponsible for any doctor to perform or even recommend it if there is an unexpected risk factor involved.”

“Like long covid?” I ask, sighing as my counsellor nods.

“On the plus side,” Dr Phillips says, “this does mean that you don’t need to worry about making a decision regarding SRS, at least in the short-term. All you need to do is relax and concentrate on getting your strength back.”

“Yeah, well, that’s all I CAN do right now,” I sigh. “And it doesn’t really save me from, like, the stress of deciding if it’s right for me, all it does it delay it, kick the can a little further down the road.”

“But the counter argument to that is that you’re still only 24,” Dr Phillips retorts. “You might still have three quarters of your life left to live. And it won’t be long before your life as ‘Stephanie’ far outweighs your life as ‘Steve’, at least in terms of years lived. That won’t change, whether you have SRS or not.”

“I know,” I sigh. “And maybe if there was a magic wand I could wave that’d make- ugh, never mind. No point in fantasising, heh.”

“Says the woman whose job is the envy of millions of girls worldwide,” Dr Phillips teases, smiling as I giggle and roll my eyes.

“Yes, yes, okay,” I say, before sighing again. “Maybe I’m just being paranoid, I dunno. For all the fame and wealth, it doesn’t make the shit any easier to deal with.”

“Which I am more than happy to help you with,” Dr Phillips says, smiling as I try to relax back into my seat.

I know I feel selfish for my anxiety- it’s not like 2020 has been a great year for anyone thanks to the pandemic. And yet, I can’t help but feel anxious about everything that lays ahead of me. My health- both in terms of covid and SRS- my livelihood, maybe even my fame itself are all up in the air at the moment. But more importantly, my identity isn’t. SRS or not, my name is Stephanie Abbott, and I am just as much a woman as any of my bandmates- all of whom understand the difficulties I’m going through, and one of whom I love more than anything. I have my femininity. I have my friends, my family, and most of all, I have Kayla. I need to learn to be grateful for everything I have. Especially as there’s no telling how long anything will last anymore…