CHAPTER 13
That was effectively the end of Abi’s crusade against me.

We healed, as, for once n my life, the scars were physical, and we got to see the CCTV footage after Mark called in a favour, and watched it at home as a group, with wine and nibbles. It was hilarious at times, Pete trying to land blows with a crutch while lying on his side, and there was a groan as my mother attacked. The girls had been right, she was bloody terrifying. I asked her how she had felt when we had a few moments alone, and she simply did her thing with the eyebrow and said “I wasn’t going to stand by a second time while my darling was hurt”, and then I crumbled, and so did she, and we had to do some repairs before we rejoined our group. They were replaying the right hook I had landed on Abi, and Pete and Mark were giving it points out of ten.

This was an extremely odd situation, if looked at from outside. A male university lecturer in women’s clothing, cuddled up to a one-legged man. The lecturer’s wife is cuddled up to another man, whom the lecturer has kissed on arrival. The mother of said male lecturer is now discussing underwear sizes with him, while they all wait for the kettle to boil for coffees.

Look at it anew, from the inside. As I lay against my lover, and my mother asked how my new things were fitting, my closest girl friend was snuggled up to her rather delightful hunk. Pity he smoked…

That is the key, that the two pictures are not congruent. A little girl went to sleep and was swallowed up, only to emerge years later. John was not me. I am not John. That is how I can look at Jane and be happy for her, not jealous. I am not her ex-husband, he never existed.

I continued on with work, even getting a cheer when I turned up for my first lecture with a black eye. I was extremely glad of my new bras, as the chicken fillets would have made my bruises extremely uncomfortable, but I did have to explain to Harriet why I had apparently shrunk. She just cackled.

“That’s us both bloody equal now, then!”

In the end, Abi and Jason/Jay pleaded guilty to assault occasioning actual bodily harm, and were sentenced to 140 hours community service each.

She did not bother turning up for her own hearing, but I did, my initial sympathy for her vanished in a haze of painkillers. Fuck her. Well, no, you know what I mean. She was immediately evicted from course, college and Hall of Residence, and I made a note to look up her (sore) Facebook page later to see what the latest fun updates might be.

“First XV campaign on hold till further notice.”

And so it went. My face took more torture, my chest slowly rose like a well-made soufflé, and Jane and I began to share more confidences. I have tried to explain this, but I now had three best friends, Pete, Mum and my wife. Of course, Dave and Sharon were still there, and Harriet was coming up on the rails, but the intimacy of old relationships trumped so much.

Six months into my recovered life I confronted Mary.

“When?”

“When you have done your life test, Lor. When did you intend starting?”

“Oh, you sod, stop teasing. This is my real life!”

“You still have to wait another six months…”

“Ah, so you admit I have had six months, then!”

Gotcha.

There was one other event on the horizon, and that was Pete’s leg. We had an appointment at the Naval Hospital at Haslar some months later, after ribs had healed, and I collared Ollie to find out how I could help. I did the collaring by the simple process of ringing Harriet’s house one Sunday morning, which should tell you all you need to know.

“Laura, just be there with him. He will be frustrated as all hell when he starts, he will hurt, there will be tears, and as he hasn’t walked for so long he will be really weak on that side. That will make him even more frustrated, and I can guarantee that at one point he will try and throw the leg at me.

“Please, just be there, it’s all we need”

So, one dreary morning he drove us out to the hospital, and if I had thought my hair removal torture, this was ten times worse. Not because it was painful to either of us, though it clearly hurt Pete, but because I had to sit and watch.

The fitting had been reasonably straightforward, it was the parallel bars that tormented him. Hauled to his feet, and pushed to stagger along the short course, Ollie cajoling him.

“No, Pete, the bars are there for stability, not support. Walk, don’t hop!”

This went on for some time, Pete getting steadily more frustrated, until he sat for a rest and started to unfasten the prosthesis. Ollie nodded at me, and I stood up.

“Peter Hall, put that back on, NOW! You have come here to learn to walk, and that is what you are going to do! I am NOT getting marred to some fucking loser in a wheelchair!”

He looked at me, and I realised he was starting to cry. I walked over and enfolded him.

“Love, that is true. Not a threat. I want you standing proud by my side, but you have to do this yourself, and for yourself, and for your dad, and for me, and for Lefty and all the others.

“Look, what we will do is try again. You have the bar on your left, and you can have my hand on the right. I am never leaving you, and that means you are not doing this alone. You have me here, you have Ollie, and if I can walk in my best fuck-mes, you can walk on this. Come on, up, my love.”

We started again, his body lurching as he tried to balance, knuckles white on the left hand bar as his right crushed mine.

“A little less squeeze, love”

“Sorry, Lor”

He was sweating by now, and Ollie brought over some towels, and a paper cup of water.

“You’re getting there, mate, you’ve got weight on it now. Can you give me five more runs?”

“Run? You are fucking kidding now, Ollie!”

“You know what I mean, Pete. Laura, you OK?”

We did five more passes through the bars, and then Ollie looked at me.

“Laura, are you ready to do the Ginger Rogers bit?”

I caught his meaning, but had to explain it to Pete.

“She complained that everyone raved about Astaire, but while she did everything he did, she had to do it backwards, in heels”

That was Ollie’s suggestion. I would walk backwards, holding Pete’s hands, while he walked without any support other than me

He was sweating again, and it was like watching Karloff as the monster, but much better looking. We managed three runs before Ollie called time, Pete getting steadier with each pass, and on the last one I just let him walk into my arms for a kiss. He was sweaty, and trembling with fatigue, and I helped him over to a seat where Ollie removed the prosthesis. Pete hugged him, one armed as the other was holding my hand. He sighed.

“Sorry mate, being a bit of a wimp today.”

“Not at all, Pete, not only do I get a lot worse, but I get paid for this. Just be glad you have this woman here for you. A lot of the lads don’t have that advantage.”

So, Mary, have I started that real life test then?