GOOSEBERRY
“What are you up to on Sunday, Beth?”

I pondered that one for all of two seconds, staring at my phone. She had no need for the details of why I had such an aversion to New Year’s Eve.

“Getting outside some Pinot Grigio, and probably most of a box of Quality Street, but you already know that, Taylor”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, and watching Jools Holland on the Beeb. Not fancy some excitement?”

I drew in a slow breath, wondering if cracking her egg had ever been a sensible course of action. Adult head on, woman.

“Mandy, love: remember what I said about excitement and adventure?”

She put on a sing-song child-in-school voice.

“Unpleasant things happening to someone else. Did I get that right, Miss?”

Bury that memory; keep adulting.

“Same as I told you when you first came out to me, and again when you got the referral, and AGAIN when you started on the oestrogen, and--- nothing’s changed, love. It’s still nasty out there, and getting worse”

Silence on the line. I was stupid enough to break it.

“I’ll bite, though. What’s the latest big idea?”

Her voice was a lot softer when she spoke again.

“I know you’re right, Beth. I know what you said, and I read the same news you do, but… But it’s New Year’s Eve. Again”

“And what resolution are you making?”

Another pause, another drop in her voice.

“Made my resolution four years ago, didn’t I? That I would talk to someone?”

“Yes, but you picked me, and I already knew you”

“You didn’t know ME, though”

“Suspected, though, didn’t I?”

Suddenly, she was laughing.

“Yeah, right! How was it you put it? ‘Got anything you want to tell me, Mister Taylor, or is it?’. Dumped that one on me, didn’t you? What on Earth would you have said if I hadn’t opened up?”

“Don’t really know, love. I said it at the time, you leaving your screen open at log in”

“Yeah. First new year resolution I actually kept, that”

“Mand?”

“Yeah?”

“Two questions. What would you have done if I hadn’t already been there, in the office? Not being arrogant, but trail already blazed, sort of thing?”

“Straight answer?”

“Please”

“God only knows, Beth. I really don’t… No. Not going there. You were already showing me what was possible, so I did the hint thing, and, well. Without you… Either stay locked away, or possibly, November 20th, another name. Not going there, as I said. You were there, and now I’m here, and not on that list. Second question?”

“Okay… what are you scheming?”

“Ah! Easy. Safety in numbers. Two of us down to the coast, you know where, and have a proper En Why Ee. When was your last one? You know, silly shoes, snogging random strangers?”

“I am not snogging you under any circumstances, Taylor!”

“Forget the snogging, for now, anyway. Just fancy a party and a bop. Get a room in Kemptown, stay Pink, stay safe. Start and finish at the Marly”

“Not the Marly anymore, Mand”

“Details! Charles Street will do. Say yes, Beth, or I’ll have to do it on my own”

“You seem dead set, Mandy”

Yet another pause, and I found myself starting to worry. She was back, though, and her voice was firmer.

“I made that resolution, Beth. I kept it. Like I said, first one ever. This is another one: I will not hide away anymore. Going to grab life by the… well, that would be a nice place to grab, but that’s not the important thing. Well, once again, it is, but, well. Just need someone to ride shotgun”

“I’m not that scary, Mandy, am I?”

“Not what I really meant. Look: I am going OUT out on New Year’s Eve, whatever it takes, and if I am with you, we can talk to each other, look less scared, less of a target, yeah? Please say yes! Got a two-for-one stay in the Albion”

“Not given it any thought at all, then? Would you by any chance happen to have already booked the rooms?”

The smallest of voices.

“Yes”

Before I could reply, she was gushing.

“Look, we’ve both got the day off anyway, obviously, and I know you never go out, so I just thought I’d get it sorted, so we’d be sure, I’d be sure, if you said yes, and---”

“Shush, Mandy. For a second. Please. You really want to do this, don’t you?”

“Yes. I do. I have to, Beth. My resolution, my promise to myself”

“What if it goes wrong?”

“Then at least I tried”

Oh, hell.

“Give me a day to think it over, love”

“Thanks, Beth”

“I haven’t said yes”

“I can wait”

I hung up, turning back to the two thousand piece jigsaw I had been working on for a week. The Pinot Grigio was in the fridge, and there was indeed a tub of Quality Street on a corner table, accidentally on top of another tub, of Cadbury’s Roses. I had two boxes of mince pies left, along with some samosas and sausage rolls, and…

She was going, with or without me. I knew that, just as I knew the risks if she flew solo, as well as the near certainty that we would be spending any time after that midnight with her sobbing on my shoulder as the reality of our lives slapped her in the face again. That was something I understood, even though I would never explain the ‘why’ in my case to her. Need to know. I would watch her back, as always.

And I was most definitely not going to be snogging anyone, least of all Mandy.

That, I decided, would be my own resolution for the year: watch her back. If I stayed on soft drinks, I could manage that, and as we were both off on January the second, the Grigio would keep till the evening of the first.

As I booked a train ticket online, I opened the Cadbury’s anyway, on the principle that chocolate solves more problems than it could ever cause.

---0---

I felt utterly out of place as we entered the Albion. The weather was being unkind, a strong wind driving the waves far up the shingle in rafts of white foam, and so I was in slacks and flats while Mandy was already in a skirt and low heels.

She had met me at the Gatwick station, looking me up and down with a sad eye.

“Tell me you’ve got something more glam in that bag, love! Better, nicer shoes, for starters”

“Walking around Brighton, in heels?”

“Walking a very short way in heels! Staying Pink, told you. Your height, show those legs off”

That was a sore point, for ‘my height’ was two inches over six feet without heels, so they were more than overkill. Mandy, however, seemed determined to tick every stereotype going, which matched my memories of initial transition, when my wardrobe seemed to accumulate heels rather more quickly than I could actually remember buying them. Many of them had only been worn a couple of times, but it had been a vital rite of passage in my own transition. I was a woman; I was therefore allowed to own high-heeled shoes, even if I never wore them.

I nodded to Mandy.

“Yes, I have a party frock and different shoes. In this weather, I also have fur knickers and this coat, and don’t even try and talk me out of the coat”

I paused, just long enough, before adding, “I lied about the knickers”

We took a bus from Brighton station, as the walk down to the pier is a steep one in places, and even her low heels were awkward in the wind and wet. Into the hotel, and yes, out of place indeed. The rooms were adjacent, reasonably spacious, far from modern, but it all seemed clean. I dumped my bag, looking out over the sea to the offshore windfarm’s lights, the sun already down. Time for a shower, then see what delights Mandy would deliver for the evening. Just before I started to undress, there was a tap on the door. I pulled my top back on, and called “Who is it?”

“Mandy. Got a table booked for half an hour’s time; don’t want to eat any of the stuff round here”

“Ah. Good call. Get changed after, okay?”

“Sounds like a plan. See you down there for a snifter in fifteen!”

Showering would have to wait, then. Our table was ready, and unfortunately, as I tucked into a whitebait starter, so was the bottle of Chardonnay Mandy had ordered. I would need to be really careful with my drinks later. My main course went the way of the fish, and given my nefarious intentions regarding two tubs of chocolates, I avoided a dessert. Back upstairs for the shower and change of clothing, and as I stood under the warm water, I was working through Mandy’s tells.

She had hardly been able to sit still through the meal, forever checking the time, and she was very specific about that, in regard to when we would meet at reception. I couldn’t decide whether she was excited by the anticipation or by simple terror. Either way, I could see a long evening ahead, and made a simple plea to whatever might listen that she be safe, as unwounded as possible.

My height is a real problem when it comes to legwear. Tights in my size are vanishingly hard to find, unless I want to frump it, and I can’t stand ‘hold-up’ stockings, so my only options are either bare legs or suspenders, which opens an utterly messy can of worms. As soon as anyone mentions stockings, it is seen as sexual, and all I want is to keep my legs comparatively warm and neat.

Yeah, yeah, heels, etc. No, not for any thrill; just a look I like. Sue me.

I had bought a lovely jersey dress some years before, as a ‘party’ item, in dark slaty blue with scattered sequins, but it had a cross-over front, and I had never been able to find a bra that would work with it. Party night, then, but no jumping around.

Yes, I had heels on, simple suede courts, the whole look covered over by the very long black quilted coat I was not going to leave behind, given the weather. I was down at the lobby five minutes before Mandy, standing for the simple reason that I didn’t really want to sit, given my clothing. Yes, I was feeling awkward, and putting my legs out there for the random public wasn’t something I wanted to do.

“All swaddled up, Beth?”

“All warm, love. That skirt is on the floaty side, in this wind. And how high are those heels?”

“No hips, have I? Got to distract. And four and a half inches isn’t that much. Time to move, love”

“You’re in a hurry”

“Yeah, want to make sure I get a seat, in these shoes. Come on!”

She led the way out of the Albion and across the main road, where, to my surprise, she turned right, away from Kemptown.

“Mandy?”

“Shush. Just going to stop at this shelter here”

As she passed the corner of the little hut thing, a man called out.

“You Mandy?”

Two men waiting in the shadows, one slightly tubby at around five foot nine, the other, even seated as he was, clearly a lot taller. Mandy stepped up to the shorter, her hand out.

“Brian?”

How stupid could I be? I put a hand to her shoulder.

“You have set me up, haven’t you? I think an explanation might be in order”

She looked at me, then back at ‘Brian’.

“Give us a couple of minutes, mate. Just need a word with Beth”

I held her in place.

“No. Here and now, or I walk”

She slumped, then waved at a couple of spare seats.

“Not quite what I meant when I said about getting a seat. Beth, Brian, Brian, Beth. Beth is a colleague I asked to come along. Brian is… Brian is someone I met online, love”

“This ‘online’, Mand?”

She slumped.

“A dating site, Beth, but you guessed that”

I stared hard at the man, his own companion absolutely silent, but clearly listening with all of his attention.

“A chasers’ site, Mandy?”

She shrugged.

“Sort of. Not much choice of available places for my sort, is there?”

The man, Brian, interrupted her, before she could get into a flow.

“Can I call you Beth?”

“It’s my name. Go on, Mister Chaser”

“Not a chaser, me. What they call ‘pan’. That means…”

“I know what pan means. Cut to the, ahem, chase”

He slumped into his own seat, shaking his head.

“I understand your worries. I get that. I get my own crap, because… No. I don’t chase trans women, not any more than I chase anyone else. It’s just one of those places where there’s more than just straight cis people. I’m not putting this very well, am I?”

His friend spoke up out of the darkness.

“Let me, Bri”

Brian sagged even further,

“Yeah, why not. Go on”

“Ta. I’m John. Known this one since school, so I can sort of back up what he says. He’s not an easy guy to match up with someone, and no, I am not a bloody matchmaker. Brian is also far too bloody honest for his own good”

I kept my hand on Mandy’s shoulder as I stuck my own oar into what were increasingly choppy waters.

“Please explain”

“Kickings, Beth. Bri is indeed too honest for his own good. Chats to some real--- I mean ‘cisgender’, I should know better. Chats to some cis woman, and of course he’s eager and anxious to show how nice he is, and so when he turns up for a first meeting, she isn’t there, but her men friends are. How many times, Bri?”

“Four so far”

“So far. So here he is again, woman’s trans this time, but I said no, you don’t risk another hospital trip. You here for the same reason, Beth?”

I took my hand away from Mandy and crossed my arms.

“No. I was asked to come out for New Year’s Eve, just the two of us. This plan was never mentioned”

“But you’re out to watch her back, anyway?”

“Indeed. Does it need watching?”

John laughed, and it was quite a warm sound.

“I could answer that, but Mandy Rice Davies, yes? Coincidence, I know, but no. He’s harmless to anyone except himself. That right, Bri?”

The smaller man nodded, and John in his turn patted his shoulder.

“Now, two things: I want a pint, and to get myself warmer than some bloody bus shelter affair. How about that place you like, Bri?”

“Charles Street? Suppose so”

John unfolded himself, almost having to bend under the edge of the shelter’s roof.

“Such life and soul needs a party to shine in! You’re safe, mate, or I believe so. I am going to head over and secure some seats. You follow along when you’re ready”

He strode off towards the Tap as I remained standing, arms folded, until Mandy turned to stare at me, just a hint of a smile in place.

“Could you do us a favour, love? Be nice to have a quiet chat, two of us, if we can”

I tried to glare at Brian, but he looked too hangdog for it to be really worth it.

“Fine, fine. Bodyguard convention it is, then. Do not be too long, or I will come looking”

I stalked off after the other man, my walk nowhere near as fast due to the heels, and before I had gone fifty yards, I had my hood up against the wind, half my hair blowing across my face. Cold! The Tap was lively, and I spotted John at a decent-sized table, his legs stretched out across what seemed like half a mile of floor. We had a quick exchange of hand signals, translating as him offering to get me a drink, me returning the offer, and then I was sitting down opposite him at ‘our’ table, passing him another pint of what had clearly been Guinness as I ignored my own resolution and took my first sip from a large dry white. He waited till I had put the glass down before asking what I thought.

“Seems safe enough so far”

“Aye. He’s been talking about her for weeks, Beth. Nice to finally get a chance to, you know. Vet her”

“I hadn’t been told a thing, John. Hang on; warm in here. Just need to dump the coat”

There was space by the window, and as I passed him the coat, I saw his eyes flick up and down.

“Nice dress, Beth. New?”

“Nope. Mandy insisted we get dressed up, and this was all I had suitable. Don’t normally wear heels, either”

“How tall are you?”

“Six two in bare feet”

“I’ve got four inches on you… oh, hell. That came out wrong. All piss and wind, me, but my height puts off the idiots from getting too silly. Now, are you happy to talk about your mate at all?”

“Not without her say-so. Shouldn’t be too long before they join us, though”

He barked out a deep laugh.

“You think so? They’ll already be sucking face; expect her to need some make-up repairs when they arrive. Brian and her have been… I do believe they have plans of a very firm nature. Would that cause you any problems?”

I stared at him as I weighed it up. I realised I didn’t need to know exactly what their plans were beyond the assurance they would be mutually consensual, and he read my mind.

“I know. Boring straight guy here. Don’t need to know, don’t want to. He’s my best friend, though. Always has been. Anyway, Romeo and Juliet have just come in the door and---yup, She’s off to the loo. Got any wet wipes? I know what he drinks. For Mandy?”

“Dry white as well. You want the wipes?”

“Nope. Pass them to Brian when he gets here”

John unfurled and headed to the var as Brian sat down opposite me, a trace of lipstick visible; I simply handed him the wipes, which brought a blush, which I waved away. Thirty seconds later saw Mandy dropping straight into the seat next to him, one hand dropping just as directly onto his thigh. Oh.

Before I could pass a comment, sensible or otherwise, John was back, setting out two pints of ale and, oh dear, two large whites. So much for my alcohol strategy. He looked at the other two, then shrugged at me.

“Told you so”

Mandy looked insufferably smug, and I wondered exactly how detailed her ‘resolution’ actually was. Neutrality, Elizabeth.

“Where are you two staying?”

Brian by now had an arm around Mandy’s shoulder, her hand still on his thigh.

“We took a twin room at the Travelodge on West Street. Bit of a pain, that, for John”

His friend shrugged.

“The duvet is always tucked in in those places, and I need to be able to hang my feet over the end. Gets cramped, otherwise”

Mandy knocked back her wine in one glug-and-gulp. Shit. She rose to her feet, pointing at the dance floor.

“Watch our stuff, you two? Going for a vertical boogie!”

She dragged Brian to his feet and away to the music, as I shook my head, suddenly very aware of the thigh pressed against mine. That didn’t last, for as soon as they other two were gone, John moved back to the other side of the table, and I was amused to see his eyes flicker as they went to my neckline. Not happening, but it was still a sort of compliment.

He turned out to be an easy person to chat with, especially when we moved away from Brian and Mandy and onto things like music and books, and I did manage to put the brakes on the alcohol flow for a bit. To my astonishment, he was a music teacher in Chichester, which wasn’t exactly what I saw as the standard ‘chaser’ profile. I was unsurprised to discover that Brian was a Portsmouth University librarian.

“Sorry for laughing, John, but, well, non-threats-are-us!”

He frowned at me.

“You not heard, then? Of… Conan the Librarian?”

I was drinking coke just then, and only just managed not to snort it back out as Brian and Mandy returned, Mandy looking pointedly at John.

“Shift round, mate, or get up for a bop. Either way, that’s my seat!”

She was clearly feeling the drink, so I took her elbow and steered her towards the ladies’. A quick check of the cubicles, then I turned back to her.

“Moving fast, Miss Taylor?”

“Well, I hope so! Harder harder, faster faster, yeah?”

“On a first date…”

“Beth!”

“I think---”

“Beth! Me speaking! Me, my turn. Been talking to Brian for four weeks now. First on the site, and then, well… Both got Skype, and Zoom, and Teams, and…”

“You haven’t been… On camera?”

She nodded, suddenly pink.

“We have. And…”

She turned to the mirror to do some minor repairs, but clearly to break eye contact.

“We discussed it, Bri and me. How we would… It’ll be no different than when I used to see men as a man, Beth. I know how it works, don’t I? But, well, that’s why we took rooms in different places, just in case me, or him, the real, flesh and blood us, yeah? Just in case we didn’t click. I was pretty sure, though. Got plans for later, we have. Made sure I packed the necessaries”

She drew a long breath,

“I intend to screw his brains out tonight, Beth, and I absolutely know he wants to do the same to me. For me. Whatever. So I hope you have ear plugs for later”

She paused for a few seconds, then looked back at me through the mirror.

“When I say that it’ll be no different, Beth, of course it will. Not a man, am I? Not any more. That’s my actual resolution: kick my virginity into touch, right out into the long grass. And… and I have spare stuff if you need…”

“If I need? Need what?”

“You and John, love. Don’t tell me you’re not interested”

I shook my head.

“Remember, Mandy? One of us thought she was gay, one of us knows she is”

“Thought?”

“Like you said. You played the gay man well, but you’re a straight woman. I’m the gay one”

She sighed, her stare becoming a lot more direct, before a gentle smile.

“See how the evening goes, but we, me and Bri, will be abandoning the two of you after the bongs. Bri says he’s a really nice guy, John that is, so please, Beth, please let him down nicely”

I hugged her.

“Do my best, love. You sure about this?”

She grinned happily.

“Oh, bloody hell, yes! I intend to drain him bloody dry! Come on; getting late”

On return to the table, she simply bent over and gave Brian a real toe-curler of a kiss, before pushing John and me towards the dance floor.

“Go on, you two. Enjoy yourselves, or at least pretend to”

John simply shrugged and took my arm, whispering to me as we walked towards the raised area.

“Please do NOT fill me in on details, but I will be sleeping solo tonight, won’t I? They’ve decided, haven’t they?”

I nodded.

“Oh very much so. Mandy has spoken”

He paused at the edge of the floor.

“Will she be okay?”

“She’s… let’s just say, when things were different for her, well, she should be fine”

That struck me, his worry about Mandy, rather than his friend, and then the DJ was playing some old Rolling Stones, and I was feeling the wine along with the music, and sod it. It seemed I did fancy a bop after all.

It was a Pink place, of course, so the Stones were followed by Tina Turner’s version of ‘Proud Mary’, which flowed into her earlier incarnation with that bastard she had married, as ‘Nutbush’ thumped out. John was a decent mover, but he wasn’t trying to balance on heels or stop a stray tit from popping out of his neckline. My neckline.

How many glasses?

We returned to our seats a little later, John following me as the other two passed us with broad grins, and to my near despair, there was yet another full glass of the dry white awaiting me. This time, John dropped into the seat next to me.

“John”

“Yes, Beth?”

“Please don’t get ideas. I am gay”

“So you said. Will you slap me if I say I don’t quite believe you?”

I stared hard at him, trying to read his meaning. He held a finger to my lips.

“Done a lot of reading, what with Brian’s odd orientation, as well as the three trans pupils I have had. Yes: Brian did have a sort of go at getting us together, me and him, just once, but I am actually straight, so, well. Can I be rude?”

“You haven’t been, so far”

“Well, you haven’t said, but Mandy’s getting a bit pissed, and well: you’re trans as well, aren’t you? As I said, feel free to slap me if I’m wrong”

I tried to stare him down, but he simply turned to his drink to break eye contact. Once again, sod it.

“Yes. I am. My transition was twenty years ago. And?”

“Can I ask how it went with your family? Once again, if I overstep, just say so, and I’ll drop it”

“Is this how it is with your pupils? ‘Can I ask’, every question?”

He nodded.

“We each have our ways. When you’re my height, it helps to be a bit self-effacing”

I grimaced.

“Yeah, I know all about that. One reason I rarely wear heels”

“They suit your legs”

“You noticed my legs?”

“Bloody hard not to! Why do you think I was walking behind coming back from the dance floor?”

“Ah. Anyway. Transition… Best summed up in two comments, both from my mother”

“Why do I suspect those will not have been nice ones?”

I looked him in the eyes for a while, trying to spot anything there which hinted at the usual transphobe or chaser rubbish, but there was nothing there to suggest either. Just dark brown irises, pupils dilated in the low light.

“Because you seem to be pretty perceptive, John, as far as I have seen. I was married. It didn’t survive the change. That was Mum’s first question: what was the marriage all about? She couldn’t get her head around trans people also being gay, bi, pan, whatever”

“Ah. Her second remark?”

The pain was still there, and always would be, but it surprised me just then with the savagery of its bite.

“She asked if I couldn’t have waited till she was dead”

He muttered something, and I shrugged.

“She was never accepting of anything other than the absolutely straight. Used to read the Express: enough said”

“More than enough. I think I see where you are coming from”

He looked down at the table, or my tits, or my knees, before once again meeting my eyes.

“You don’t have to placate your mother, you know”

I drained my wine, looking him in the eyes myself.

“Yup, that’s true, especially as she passed away three years ago, and here are Mandy and Brian again. Mand?”

“Yes, love?”

“Your resolution about snogging some random stranger?”

“Not a stranger, Beth, is he?”

“Nor is it just going to be snogging, from what you’ve said”

I watched Brian turn pink, but all he did was tighten the arm he already had around her waist. My thoughts weren’t quite clearing, for the wine was having an effect, but that one question was there, and she was dead, and I had indeed waited till she was dead. In vino, bloody veritas.

“Mand, get a round in. Nearly midnight”

God knows how, but with John helping, we had full glasses just before the countdown, and I raised a hand, that clarity still in place.

“Mandy, Brian, John: witness my resolution, please. Not going to let my mother run my future as well as my past. That sound okay to you all?”

John gave his friend a one-armed hug.

“I’ll explain later, mate. I’ll sort out the Travelodge. You’re going to be a dirty stop-out, aren’t you?”

Mandy giggled.

“And in, and out, and in…”

I glared at her, that new certainty not helping my sense of humour as twenty years of an utter wasteland fell onto my soul. No more, Mum.

The count started.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

John’s lips were soft and gentle, but his tongue gave a hint of how utterly different he would be later that night.

The next day, four of us dropped the Travelodge key off on our way to the station.

New year, new life.