“We’re not objects!” Sophie chanted, backed by dozens of her friends and colleagues. “We’re not objects!”

“You go, girls!” A passer-by, a young woman in her early twenties, said, giving the picket line a thumbs up as she walked past them and into the vast concourse of Heathrow airport. Nevertheless, Sophie still felt uneasy.

It wasn’t due to the fact that she was stood alongside her friends wearing a smart blouse, a straight pencil skirt and high-heeled shoes. If anything, her clothing acted as a source of comfort to Sophie, despite the heat of the June sun shining down on her. It wasn’t even due to the fact that in the ten days since the start of the strike, over a third of the original strikers had crossed the picket line and returned to work. And it wasn’t even due to the fact that Sophie had received no wages in the previous ten days, or had even the remotest contact with management. What caused Sophie the most unease was one simple question: ‘Am I doing the right thing?’

Sophie had been incensed when she’d heard of Rachel’s attack. She’d been so riled up, so angry that she hadn’t hesitated to go along with Amelie and Ellen in blaming the airline for the attack and joining their union. The fact that the majority of her friends and colleagues also joined the union, and the continued silence from management seemed to justify her anger- initially, at least.

As time went on, Sophie found her resolve wavering more and more. The more she thought about it, the more she realised that there was very little the airline could have done to prevent Rachel’s attack. The attacker- who had been formally charged and would stand trial in the UK- would’ve found his way into the galley some way or another, even if the doors were locked or CCTV was installed, or if she wore tights instead of stockings, or lower heels or a skirt that was less tight. Striking wasn’t going to undo Rachel’s attack. It likely wouldn't even prevent the next one, even if the union’s demands were met and security and safety on the planes was improved. There were times when Sophie felt that the only person who would actually benefit from the strike was Amelie, in furthering her feud with her father.

However, whenever she felt uneasy about continuing the strike, Sophie’s resolve was bolstered by the sheer number of friends that still supported the strike, the union, and Sophie herself. She was still one of the girls, and the other women looked to her for leadership just as much as they did with Ellen or Amelie. Sophie just wished she could provide the leadership they needed- and she wished she could silence the niggling voice in the back of her head that told her that she didn’t belong, either as a union member or as ‘Sophie’.

Ten days earlier, Sophie had strode into Alana's office as a cool, confident woman, both outwardly and inwardly. She had felt every bit as female as Amy or Hayley, or Ellen, Amelie or Rachel- or even Alana herself. Sophie had been confident enough to tell her boss off for patronising not just her or her transgendered friends, but womankind as a whole with her speech on how the dress code was 'doing her a favour'. But that confidence quickly wavered when Sophie went from speaking to her manager one to one to representing her union, and womankind as a whole, to the entire world. She knew that there were people following the strike who would never accept her or any of her transgendered friends as women, and even worse, people who might accept Amy or Hayley, but never Sophie herself- and Sophie was forced to concede that had 'James' been following the strike as an outsider who had never experienced life as 'Sophie', 'he' might have fallen into that latter category. For the first time in a long while, Sophie began to doubt whether or not 'Sophie' had any place in the world- or in her life...

“I’m going to get something to eat,” Sophie said to the girls stood next to her. “Any of you guys want anything?”

“Yeah, I’m going to go in a bit too,” Amy replied. “But aren’t you going to stick around for the camera crew? They’re going to be here any second…”

“Yeah, I- I might not…” Sophie mumbled, grimacing as her ginger haired flatmate groaned and rolled her eyes. “What?”

“You really don’t like taking credit for your work, do you?” Amy asked, smirking as Sophie rolled her eyes. “First the book, now this… You have helped a lot of people, Soph. Take some pride!”

“Yeah- well, it’s not really that easy,” Sophie sighed. “If I appear on TV, even local TV, there’s every chance my parents will end up seeing my- well, THIS face.”

“So?” Amy shrugged. “You said your parents know all about ‘Sophie’, even if they do think you’re only doing it for the job, right?”

“Yeah, but-“ Sophie said, before sighing. “They’ve never actually seen THIS face before. Not even in photos.” Sophie grimaced as her flatmate let out another groan.

“You know they’re going to have to eventually, right?” Amy asked. “Unless you plan on going through your whole life hiding in the shadows?”

“Yes, yes, okay!” Sophie snapped, before sighing. “Ugh, can- can we just not talk about this right now, please?”

“Okay, I’m only trying to help,” Amy said. “But you know I’m telling the truth.”

“Maybe,” Sophie said. “If- when, umm, when I do, you know, tell them, would- would y-“

“Yes, of course I’ll go with you!” Amy said, a wide grin spreading across her face as she shared a hug with her flatmate. “As long as you DON’T tell them I’m your girlfriend.”

“You wish,” Sophie snorted, before sighing as a news van pulled up a short distance away and began unloading camera equipment.

“…Go and get us some lunch,” Amy said with a pretend tired chuckle. Sophie grinned as she walked away, though deep down, she knew her friend was right- there was no way she’d be able to hide ‘Sophie’ from her parents forever. The only way would be to make ‘Sophie’ a thing of the past, and that was a price she was unwilling to pay. Or at least, a price she'd previously thought she was unwilling to pay…

Sophie returned from the nearby café roughly twenty minutes later with a bag full of baguettes and salads, but her heart sank when she saw that the camera crew were still present and speaking to her friends. Sophie hoped that she could sneak back into the crowd without being noticed, but as she approached, Amy and Hayley immediately waved her over to where the news crew were stood with their cameras and their microphones, making Sophie curse silently.

“Umm… Hi…” Sophie said, her cheeks reddening as the cameras pointed toward her.

“Hello,” the reporter said with a professional smile. “We understand that you’re one of the ringleaders of the union, is that correct?” Sophie grimaced at the use of the word ‘ringleader’- her training in journalism meant she knew that when putting together an article, whether in print or on camera, the choice of words is always the most important thing. A 'leader' is a person of nobility, a person to be admired and respected, like an army general or royalty. A 'ringleader', however, is someone who acts in the shadows, coerces rather than encourages, is sinister rather than noble. Two can play at this game, Sophie thought to herself.

“I’m a spokesperson,” Sophie replied stoically. You’re not going to trap me, Sophie thought defiantly.

“Do you have any comment on the continued disruption being caused by your strike?” The reporter asked, and Sophie tried her hardest not to smirk as she realised that the reporter clearly wanted to play a game, but had no idea who she was playing with.

“Management’s ongoing refusal to cooperate with us is disappointing,” Sophie replied. “Our requests for better working conditions are reasonable, and it is only with great reluctance that we take this necessary action.”

“And what do you have to say to the passengers whose journeys are being postponed or cancelled by your strike?” The reporter asked. I didn’t realise the UK even broadcast Fox News, Sophie thought to herself as she narrowly avoided rolling her eyes.

“I would ask them to be please be patient,” Sophie replied. “We don’t want to have to take this action, but to protect the safety of our colleagues, we must continue until management are willing to meet with us.”

“Thank you for your time,” the reporter said, and while she showed no outward emotion, Sophie knew that inside, she had to be fuming at her replies. Sophie maintained a professional smile until the news crew had packed away, before letting out a long sigh and staring angrily at her friends.

“Seriously, guys?” Sophie hissed. “What did I literally just say about not wanting to speak to reporters?”

“We’re sorry, okay?” Amy replied with an exasperated sigh. “They showed up wanting to speak to someone in charge, and as Amelie and Ellen are in Manchester today…”

“And we- we were kinda nervous ourselves about speaking to reporters,” Hayley mumbled. “And we know you are too, but, like, you’re a journalist, you know the right things to say…” Like I just did, Sophie thought to herself with a grimace.

“Well- yeah, I guess,” Sophie sighed. “Let’s just hope my parents don’t see it, heh.”

“When are you next going to see them?” Hayley asked.

“Tomorrow,” Sophie replied. “Assuming Alana or the others inside there don’t decide to come out here and talk to us?”

“So… tomorrow it is, then,” Amy said with a tired chuckle as Sophie handed out their lunches, before returning to their picket line.

Sophie, Amy and Hayley remained at the picket line until mid-afternoon, when all the women present, satisfied that their message had been heard, dispersed and headed back to their respective homes. As she rode the tube, however, Sophie couldn’t help but fidget uncomfortably not just because of the day's events, but because of what awaited her the following day. This discomfort didn’t go unnoticed by her flatmates, who both flanked Sophie on the short walk back from the tube station to their home.

“Hey,” Hayley said softly. “You okay?”

“Hmm?” Sophie replied, before shrugging. “Yeah, I guess…”

“Really, though?” Amy asked.

“…Okay, maybe not,” Sophie sighed.

“Yeah…” Hayley grimaced. “We- we’re sorry about the interview, again, we- we just thought-“

“Honestly, it’s okay,” Sophie chuckled. “On this occasion I can, you know, ‘take one for the team’. And I can’t think of a better team to, well, ‘take one’ for than Team ASH, hehe!”

“Depending on what you’re ‘taking’,” Amy teased, giggling as Sophie rolled her eyes at her.

“Like I said before, you wish,” Sophie retorted. “It- ugh. It’s my parents I’m more concerned about. Like, you know, it’s becoming harder and harder to keep ‘Sophie’ away from ‘James’s parents.”

“…So don’t,” Amy shrugged.

“That’s not always an option, though,” Hayley reminded her ginger-haired friend, who grimaced at her own insensitivity.

“Okay, so maybe it isn’t,” Amy conceded. “And- yes, I’m sorry if that sounded a bit insensitive, but- but you know you’re only delaying the inevitable, right? I mean- well…”

“Yeah, I know,” Sophie sighed. “And I honestly do know, you know? It’s just- ugh. I want to do this on my own terms. And I want to be prepared in case- well, in case of the worst-case scenario.”

“I get that,” Amy whispered. “And we will ALWAYS support you, Soph. No matter what, right?”

“Team ASH forever!” Hayley cheered, bringing the smile back to Sophie’s face as the three of them returned to their apartment. As Sophie headed to her bedroom to change, though, a wave of guilt washed over her as she realised that however stressed out she was about her parents, her problems were trivial compared to those of her friends.

Sophie frowned as she gazed over at the stripped, unclaimed bed in the corner of the room that used to belong to Rachel Lyscombe, but which hadn’t been slept in in weeks. Following her attack, Rachel had temporarily stayed at her parents’ home, but as the days went on, that arrangement gradually became permanent. The combination of both the attack and the disciplinary measures she’d been subjected to made Sophie doubt that Rachel would ever return to the airline, and made Sophie fear that Rachel might never again be a regular part of her life. Sophie tried to put such pessimistic thoughts to the back of her mind, but she was forced to concede that if she was in Rachel’s position, she would likely do the same- and she could very easily have found herself in Rachel’s position. As she removed her make-up and changed into a comfortable long t-shirt and leggings, Sophie couldn’t help but muse that ‘James’ would never have been in the position that Rachel was- or ‘Sophie’ could potentially have been…

“Hey, Miss Connelly!” Amy teased as Sophie returned to the living room, briefly putting a smile back onto the brown-haired woman’s face. “Feeling any better?”

“Meh, maybe a little,” Sophie shrugged. “Still missing Rach, though.”

“Yeah, me too,” Hayley sighed. “Not just ‘cause it makes me the youngest in the flat again, heh.”

“She is signed off sick for at least another month,” Amy said. “Doubt she’ll be back that quick, though. Heh, doubt WE’LL be back that quick…”

“How- how are everyone’s savings, anyway?” Sophie asked hesitantly, dreading the answers to her question.

“Been better,” Amy shrugged. “My- my child support’s due on Saturday, though, and it is Jade's birthday later in the month too. I am seeing her and her mother tomorrow, though, hopefully we can, you know, work something out…”

“Yeah, I’ve got direct debits too,” Hayley sighed. “And I need to get a present for Alicia as well, it was her birthday a couple of weeks ago, and with everything that’s been going on…”

“Yeah,” Sophie whispered. “She- she’s been going into work, hasn’t she?”

“Who, Alicia?” Hayley asked. “Yep, she joined the union, paid her dues, but just- just went into work as normal.”

“She’s always seemed a bit odd to me,” Amy mused, before shrugging. “Ah well. We were never going to get EVERYONE joining the strike.”

“Yeah, true, I guess,” Sophie sighed. “And I’ll be honest, I- I’m starting to feel a bit, you know, skint…”

“I think we all are,” Amy sighed. “I think that’s the plan- wait for us to all run out of money and come back with our tails between our legs. Then probably, I dunno, make us dress as Playboy bunnies on flights or something.”

“…That could be fun,” Hayley shrugged, earning a smirk from her two friends.

“Oh, definitely,” Amy said. “For a party, or maybe a hen night, but NOT while I’m trying to serve drinks on a plane and trying to keep horny businessmen away from my arse.” Sophie and Hayley both nodded quietly as they contemplated the unpleasant thought.

“Well, we- we just need to stand our ground,” Sophie said. “Show the airline that we won’t be pushed around anymore, right?”

“Right!” Amy and Hayley cheered simultaneously.

“Even if I now really, really want to have a costume party where we dress up as bunny girls,” Amy chuckled. “Which we can’t really afford right now.”

“Well- when the strike ends, we can celebrate,” Hayley shrugged. “And as it was partly Amelie’s idea, she can pay for the costumes, heh! She can afford it, right, Soph?”

“Hmm?” Sophie replied. “Oh, umm, yeah, I reckon she’d be up for it. Dunno that I’d, you know, ‘fit’ a costume like that, heh.”

“Oh, come on, why not?” Amy asked.

“Because it’s a strapless bodysuit that’s designed to make you spill out of it,” Sophie replied. “And I don’t have anything to, you know, ‘spill’…”

“Oh, please,” Amy snorted. “Firstly, there are things we can do about that. Secondly, there are things YOU can do about it. And thirdly, who cares? If you want to be girly, and gorgeous, and dress in a bunny costume, why shouldn’t you?”

“Exactly,” Hayley said with a smug grin. “And you enjoyed the Hooters costumes we wore on my birthday, didn’t you?”

“…Yes,” Sophie replied, blushing as her friends both giggled. “Okay, so maybe the bunny party will be fun. I just- ugh, I dunno. Thinking too much about seeing my parents tomorrow, if they freak out at the thought of me wearing even this, god knows how they’d react to me in a costume like THAT.”

“Well, they definitely wouldn’t need to know about THAT,” Amy said. “Soph, you really need to get it into your head that what you wear, what you call yourself and how you live is none of your parents’ business.”

“If only it was that easy,” Sophie sighed as she relaxed back into her chair, wondering what discussion would be harder- telling her parents about ‘Sophie’ or telling her friends about her growing uncertainty about being ‘Sophie’.

Before the strike, Sophie had told herself that even if she no longer worked for the airline, ‘Sophie’ would still be a major part of her life, as would her friends, both those who work or formerly worked for the airline and the many others she’d made as ‘Sophie’. She’d even entertained the possibility for fully transitioning and making ‘James’ a thing of the past. However, even after just a week away from the airline, Sophie found that she was a lot less certain about her future. Whether it was due to stress about the increased likelihood of her parents finding out about ‘Sophie’, she couldn’t say- all she knew was that the thought of dressing up as a Playboy Bunny made Sophie more nervous than excited, and she didn’t dare tell her friends that…

Meanwhile, 150 miles north-west of London, another member of Soixante-Trois Airlines’s cabin crew tried to relax in her family home as she and her fiancée filled her mother in about the events of the previous few days. However, as she spoke, Ellen grew more and more nervous- not just about whether or not she'd have a job waiting for her when she returned to London, but whether or not her fiancée would have a family waiting for her if she ever returned to Paris.

“Now then, union girls,” Mrs Briggs said as she placed two mugs of hot, sweet tea in front of her daughter and her fiancée. “Other than the strike, how have things been these last few weeks? Seems like ages since you were both up here.”

“Well, that's just another advantage of the strike,” Ellen chuckled. “I actually get to come back home for a bit, heh.”

“But sadly, not for very long,” Amelie said. “After all, our leader of the union has responsibilities!”

“Yes, she does,” Mrs Briggs said. “And I’m glad to see she’s taking those responsibilities seriously at least some of the time! I was starting to worry that you were taking after your older sibling a little TOO much.”

“Oh, come on, that’s hardly fair,” Ellen retorted. “Natalie’s working really hard at her degree, you can tell she’s serious about achieving her ambition.”

“Britain’s first genderfluid MP,” Mrs Briggs chuckled with a proud smile. “Well, as long as she wears a red rosette, I know I’ll vote for her, so will plenty more.”

“As shall the two of us,” Amelie said with a smile.

“I didn’t know you could even vote in our elections?” Mrs Briggs asked.

“It is something I have looked at,” Amelie replied. “As I am to marry a British citizen, in Britain, I looked on the website of your government and-“

“-And that’s probably enough politics for now!” Ellen chuckled. “Including talking about the S-T-R-I-K-E.”

“Good,” Mrs Briggs said. “Because I’d like to talk about the W-E-D-D-I-N-G instead!” The older women grinned as the two younger women both giggled excitedly. “Did you say you wanted to get married in England, Amelie?”

“Oui,” Amelie replied. “Though it is that we would have one ceremony in England and one in France, as did Natalie and Zoe.”

“But probably England first,” Ellen said, before grinning and raising her voice as she heard the front door to the house open and close. “Though I’m not sure who’s going to be my maid of honour yet, or if either of my sisters are going to be bridesmaids…”

“Oh- shut up,” Sasha mumbled as she entered the living room and dropped herself into the chair furthest away from her sister.

“Hello to you too, sis,” Ellen teased, smirking as her sister rolled her eyes at her.

“Girls, don’t, not when we have company,” Mrs Briggs cautioned.

“Sorry, mum,” Ellen and Sasha both mumbled as Amelie grinned.

“Arguments in my family were not finished so easily,” the Frenchwoman said with a happy, yet at the same time sad smile. “My older brothers and sister would not listen to my mother so easily as she was to them, umm…”

“Their stepmother,” Ellen whispered softly.

“That’s part of why I never remarried,” Mrs Briggs said. “If any man didn’t get along with any of you four, he’d have been out of this house faster than one of your planes!”

“And speaking of guys,” Ellen teased her younger sister, “when are we going to meet this new fella of yours?”

“Soon, honestly,” Sasha replied bashfully. “He’s still getting settled in Manchester, don’t want to, like, ‘overload’ him too soon by bringing him round here…”

“No offence taken,” Mrs Briggs snorted. “And I certainly don’t mean any offence by this either, but it will make a change for one of my children to be in, you know, a non-LGBT relationship. Again, no offence intended.”

“Tch, straight people,” Amelie dramatically scoffed, before smiling. “It is okay. All that is important is that my future sister-in-law is with a person, man or woman, who makes her happy. As if she is to be unhappy, I shall have words with this man!”

“And I’ll have words with his leftovers,” Ellen said as she squeezed her fiancée’s hand, earning grins from her mother and sister.

“Yeah, well, that’s the most important thing,” Mrs Briggs said. “Being happy. If you two are happiest together, and if Matthew is happiest wearing a dress and calling himself ‘Natalie’, and if Sasha’s happiest with this- what’s his name, Kevin?”

“Kurt,” Sasha said.

“This Kurt fella,” Mrs Briggs continued, “then why should I or anyone else stick our noses in where it doesn’t belong?”

“I can think of many people who would wish to have parents such as you,” Amelie said with a smile. “Including me.”

“Well, come December, you will,” Mrs Briggs said. “Tough as far as I’m concerned, you’re already one of my girls.”

“Thank you,” Amelie whispered.

“So, then,” Sasha asked. “What’s happening with this strike?” The young woman giggled as the other three women in the room playfully jeered at her, though secretly, Amelie’s thoughts were still on the friends of hers who didn’t enjoy such a close relationship with their parents- and there was one of her friends in particular who was in her thoughts.

Sophie sighed as she stared at her reflection in her full-length mirror. She’d shed her casual clothes in favour of the loose shorts and tank top that she preferred to wear to bed, her hair was hanging loose and unkempt and her face had been scrubbed clean of make-up, allowing the 5 o’clock shadow underneath to start to show through. As she looked at her reflection, Sophie tried to make a note of all the things she saw. She saw ‘Sophie. She also saw ‘James’. She saw a flight attendant. She also saw a trade union activist. And a journalist. And a writer. A woman. A man. Daughter. Son. Fake daughter. Fake son. Fake woman. Fake man. Not a woman or a man at all, but something different- something Sophie didn’t know the word for, and that was what frustrated her more than anything else.

During her research for her second book, Sophie had interviewed many of her friends who had suffered from gender identity dysphoria, listening to their stories of how they’d look at their reflection and be convinced that what they saw was inherently, fundamentally wrong. They would look at the image of a man- or in some cases a woman- and see the exact opposite of what they felt they should see. Sophie had believed that if she truly felt transgendered, she’d be able to look in the mirror and see the same thing, or if she was truly cisgender, she’d see the opposite of what her friends saw. However, Sophie felt that she was neither transgender nor cisgender, she was somewhere in-between the two, and even though what she saw in the mirror was a mixture of man and woman, it still looked somehow wrong to Sophie.

What frustrated Sophie the most, though, was that the more time passed, the less certain Sophie became about her gender identity, when for all of her friends, the opposite seemed to be true. As she drifted off, Sophie wondered whether she would ever feel comfortable in her own skin again…

Hayley was the first of the flat’s residents to get up the following morning, taking care not to wake her still-sleeping roommate as she headed through to the bathroom for a quick shower before picking out an outfit for the day.

Even though she’d been living full-time as a woman for almost two years and transitioning for 14 months, Hayley still felt a thrill every time she opened her wardrobe and surveyed the treasures contained within. When she’d first become ‘Hayley’, she’d moved to London with one suitcase and a carrier bag full of clothes and precious few other possessions. Over the course of her employment with the airline, Hayley hadn’t just expanded her wardrobe, or increased her jewellery or make-up collection, but she’d made an actual home for herself. Her side of her bedroom was covered in items deeply personal to her- photos of happy times with her friends, mementos from the many parties and nights out she’d been on, and a large collection of books, among many other things. In the living room was her Xbox One X along with many games and DVDs and even more books- all of which Hayley earned, all of which was paid for by her wages from the airline. Which put Hayley in an impossible position.

On the one hand, she didn’t entirely enjoy her job. The passengers were frequently rude and disrespectful, especially those who questioned her ‘real’ gender. Even though she’d been taking oestrogen for fourteen months- another thing Hayley had had to earn- there were parts of her body she couldn't hide, such as her Adam’s apple, her 5' 9" frame, and other parts of her anatomy she would be only too happy to see the back of. The uniform, while exciting at first, soon became frustrating and uncomfortable to Hayley; and as her wardrobe expanded, the excitement provided by the uniform became less and less. And the long hours she worked only seemed to make things worse.

On the other hand, though, Hayley earned more money in her first month with the airline than she had doing any other job, ever. Enough to afford her first month of rent, several shopping trips- thanks to the airline’s generous clothing allowance- with money left over to build up her savings, savings that were already dwindling after ten days away from work. And the sad fact was that no matter what job she worked in, transphobia wouldn’t be far away. Hayley hadn’t just faced harassment at work, but on nights out, shopping trips, or even when simply walking on the street. And worst of all, she’d faced rejection from her own family.

When Hayley came out to her family, their immediate response was to reject her, to throw her away like she was a piece of trash, and for the first few months, Hayley felt like trash and believed she WAS trash. Over the two years that followed, Hayley had slowly regained her confidence, thanks to her counsellor, her friends, and, in no small part, to her employer. Sure, the uniforms were impractical and uncomfortable, and management’s policies were often draconian, but one thing was always true- Hayley was treated exactly the same as any other woman who worked for the airline. And that was a gift that money simply couldn’t buy. Hayley wanted to go back to work. But at the same time, she didn’t want to upset her friends- especially not the flatmate she’d only just got to know before she’d been so cruelly attacked. Even though they weren’t as close to each other as either of them were to Amy or Sophie, Rachel was still Hayley’s friend, and the last thing Hayley wanted to do was offend her. But at the same time, Hayley didn’t want to be skint, either…

Hayley took a deep breath as she picked out her outfit for the day. If she’d been on a flight, she would usually have worn a smart pencil dress with stilettos and the mandatory underwear (or lingerie, as Hayley secretly referred to it) and make-up. Today, however, Hayley dressed smart, but formal. A comfortable bra and pair of briefs. Translucent black tights. A plain-coloured long-sleeved top. A short black pencil skirt. Ballerina flats. Modest make-up. And absolutely no trace of a corset.

Satisfied with her look, Hayley quietly left the flat and headed to the nearby tube station for the familiar trip to Heathrow airport. Hayley deliberately avoided the small, but still loud picket outside the main entrance to the airport and headed to one of the staff entrances, using her pass to let herself in while taking a deep breath as she made the short walk to the nondescript but still imposing door. Hayley steeled herself before politely knocking on the door, hoping and praying that she had the strength for the confrontation she knew was to come.

“Come in,” Alana said, her expression remaining stoic as she saw Hayley enter her room dressed in her comparatively casual attire. “Oh, hello Hayley. Are you here representing the union?”

“Not today, no,” Hayley said, sitting down and taking a deep breath. “I wish to return to work. I am prepared to work today, in fact.”

“I see,” Alana said. “Under the circumstances, I shall ignore the violation of the dress code, provided you’re, well, wearing the appropriate underwear.”

“I’m wearing a bra, a pair of briefs and a pair of tights,” Hayley replied. “That’s appropriate for a 21-year-old woman, isn’t it?”

“Hayley,” Alana sighed. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate the fact that you want to work, I do, but- but the dress code is rigid. Go home and change, if you come back dressed appropriately, I’ll find you a flight.”

“I AM dressed appropriately,” Hayley said firmly. “The dress code is also why a lot of us are out there rather than in here or on a plane.”

“That’s as maybe,” Alana said. “But rules are rules.”

“Rules can change,” Hayley said, before frowning. “Sophie told me that when you met with her, before the start of the strike, you told her that girls like us- like me, her Amy and all the other transgendered employees- should be grateful to get the chance to wear clothes like the uniform. I hope, over the last ten days, you’ve come to realise just how offensive that was. I don’t dress up to get some kind of thrill out of it. Maybe at first, I did, but today, I dressed like this because I am a woman. End of story. I used to respect the airline for treating all of us girls the same. Was I wrong to do so?”

“…Will you go home and change into proper commuting attire or not?” Alana asked.

“I’ll change into my uniform, but nothing else,” Hayley replied.

“Then I’m afraid we have no work for you today,” Alana said.

“…Fine,” Hayley said. “I’ll see you when you’re willing to be reasonable.” The 21-year-old woman took a deep breath to compose herself as she left the office, but after taking a few steps down the corridor, she let out a long groan. She’d been able to be defiant for now, but her savings weren’t going to last forever. Fortunately, though, there was one person Hayley could always rely on to take her mind off of any stress.

‘Hey dad,’ Hayley typed into her text messaging app. ‘Looks like I was right, I’ll be free today after all.’

A short while after Hayley left the house, her roommate rose from her slumber and headed through to the bathroom to relieve herself and take her own oestrogen pill. As Amy felt the hormone flow through her blood, she mused on the choice many of her fellow women took when they started oestrogen- the choice to never have children of their own. Oestrogen eventually rendered all transwomen infertile, and even though there existed the option of freezing sperm for use at a later date, it was an expensive option. However, for many transwomen, becoming parents was a very low priority when they began their transition. For Amy, though, the decision had been made for her long before she even took her first oestrogen pill.

Six years earlier, almost to the day, Amy- or as she was known at the time, ‘Andy’ had become a father to a little girl named Jade, despite the fact that they were only 17 themselves. At first, despite no longer being in a relationship with Jade’s mother, ‘Andy’ had been deeply involved in the infant’s life, working hard to provide for her and always being there when Jade needed them. All that changed, however, on ‘Andy’s 21st birthday- the day that ‘Amy’ came into the world.

Amy had hoped that she could just pick up from where she left off with her daughter, that she could simply explain to the 3-year-old that her father was now a woman and carry on with life as normal. Jade’s mother, however, had other ideas.

For over twelve months, Amy had no access to her daughter. When she was finally allowed to see her again, Amy was introduced as ‘Auntie Amy’, her father’s sister, and it was explained to Jade that her father had had to move away. At first, Jade took it in her stride, and gradually developed a bond with ‘Auntie Amy’, but as the years went on, the little girl began to miss her father- and Amy grew increasingly desperate to tell her the truth. However, the girl's mother made it clear to Amy that if she ever did tell Jade the truth, she would never see her again, leaving the transwoman increasingly desperate- not least because Jade’s sixth birthday was mere days away, and she wouldn’t be able to spend it with her. Nonetheless, Amy was determined to enjoy the day she did have with her daughter, and after showering and applying her make-up, Amy pulled on a floaty knee-length sundress, followed by a pair of strappy sandals with a 1.5” heel. Amy completed her look by tying her long flame-coloured hair back into a smart ponytail, before sighing at the sight of her reflection. She was undoubtedly a beautiful woman. Over two years of oestrogen had also given her soft skin and a slender but still curvaceous body. When combined with her comparatively short height of 5’ 4”, her long, flame-coloured hair and androgynous facial features, Amy had the look of a young woman who could easily be the mother of a girl like Jade. She just wished that she could be allowed to be her father, despite the circumstances…

After a short tube ride to St. Pancras station, and another train ride south-east, Amy soon found herself in her hometown of Sittingbourne, letting herself into her parents’ home and dropping her full, heavy carrier bags in the hallway.

“Hi!” Amy called out. “Anyone home?”

“Amy!” The young woman’s mother replied enthusiastically, opening her arms for a hug that her daughter was only too happy to provide. “I thought we weren’t going to see you until later?”

“Well, it’s not like I don’t have a lot of free time on my hands right now,” Amy said with a heavy sigh. “And, you know, I wanted to see you before we go and see Jade.”

“Of course,” Mrs Harris whispered. “I take it those bags are all for her?”

“Yep,” Amy replied. “Even if I don’t have a lot of free money right now…”

“I’ve been following your strike on the news,” Mrs Harris said softly as she led her daughter to the living room. “I understand why you feel you need to do it, but lesson one of being a parent is-“

“You can’t put your own needs first anymore,” Amy interrupted. “I know. Even though it’s a fact that if I did put my own needs second, I wouldn’t be sat here right now wearing a dress.”

“Well, maybe not,” Mrs Harris conceded. “Do you- do you think you’d ever have come out if we hadn’t, well, ‘pushed’ you?”

“…I dunno, maybe?” Amy sighed. “I mean, now that I have, I’m never going back. Ever. But that first step- well, yeah.”

“Well it is obvious you’re so much happier, the longer you live as a woman,” Mrs Harris said. “Anybody who knows you can see that.”

“It’s just a pity I can’t be a woman and a father at the same time,” Amy sighed. “I keep thinking about how I’m eventually going to tell Jade, how old she’ll be when I tell her, how angry she’ll be that I’ve lied to her for so long, or even, you know, how angry she’ll be at her mother, if she blames her for me lying to her for so long."

“You can’t keep obsessing over the worst-case scenarios,” Mrs Harris said softly. “It’s not like Jade’s stupid, after all. She’s a bright girl for her age, I’m sure she’ll understand. If that ex-girlfriend of yours ever lets her, anyway.”

“Well- true,” Amy sighed.

“Though I would have to say that, being her grandma and all!” Mrs Harris said with a proud chuckle.

“So you’ve forgiven me for making you a grandmother at the age of 44, then?” Amy teased, smiling as her mother rolled her eyes and sighed at her.

“I wouldn’t trade Jade for anything,” Mrs Harris replied. “Or you.”

“Aww, mum…” Amy mumbled as her cheeks started to redden.

“Though your father and I are still wondering if you’re EVER going to settle down with a nice young woman,” Mrs Harris said, smirking as her daughter rolled her eyes at her.

“I’m hardly going to settle down when I’m only 23 and my job involves jetting all over Europe at weird hours of the morning,” Amy retorted. “Well… It did, anyway. Either way, ‘settling down’ isn’t really a priority right now, you know?”

“I was engaged to your father when I was 23,” Mrs Harris retorted. “Either way, you need to have someone you can be with when times are hard, like this strike of yours.”

“I’ve got my friends,” Amy shrugged. “I’ve got loads of friends, actually.”

“Especially those two girls you live with?” Mrs Harris asked.

“Well, three girls,” Amy corrected her mother. “Well, okay, two girls right now, it should be three girls, and, well, it might be three girls again, but- ugh. Complicated situation.”

“I bet,” Mrs Harris said softly.

“And as well as friends…” Amy said, “I’ve always got you and dad as well. And that’s a lot more than can be said for a lot of my friends.”

“I remember you saying,” Mrs Harris sighed. “I wish I could knock some sense into some of these so-called ‘parents’.”

“Yep, so do I,” Amy said. “Though I can think of at least one case where the daughter also needs a little bit of sense knocking into them…”

Sophie let out a grunt as she woke up long after her friends had left the flat. She sighed as she padded through to the bathroom, making a point of not shaving as she showered and removed the colourful polish that had covered her fingernails and toenails for the previous few days. After drying her hair, she returned to her bedroom, where she examined her reflection in her mirror.

Standing before Sophie was the reflection of a young man. A skinny, not particularly tall, androgynous young man with slicked-back shoulder-length hair, but a man nonetheless. And yet, as ‘James’ examined his reflection more closely, he couldn’t help but see ‘Sophie’ in every aspect of ‘his’ face. Even though he was presenting as a man, he saw ‘Sophie’s unquestionably feminine lips, he saw her cheekbones, her eyebrows...

Even as James examined the rest of his body, he saw ‘Sophie’ in everything. His smooth, hairless skin. His narrowed waist and comparatively widened hips. Even his chest, while otherwise flat, seemed to have ‘Sophie’s’ shape to it. The only part of his body that was unquestionably not ‘Sophie’s’ was hidden away under ‘James’s’ underwear- and even there, James wasn't 100% sure.

The previous evening, ‘Sophie’ had looked into her mirror and hadn’t known what she’d seen. However, when ‘James’ looked into the same mirror, he was just as confused. All of the ‘mask’ had been stripped away- the clothes, the hair, the make-up, everything- and yet what was left wasn’t 100% ‘James’, just as what he saw the previous evening wasn’t 100% ‘Sophie’. What she saw in the mirror was still a mixture of ‘man’ and ‘woman’- and it still looked wrong to James.

The young man frowned as he pulled an old pair of jeans and a plain t-shirt out of one of his drawers- the only drawer than contained any of ‘James’s’ clothes- before slipping on a pair of old walking boots- ‘James’s’ only remaining footwear- and making a mental note NOT to grab a handbag as he left the flat.

As he walked through the streets of London to the nearby tube station, James mused as always on how anonymous he was. Despite his longer than usual hair (for a man, anyway), no one looked at him twice. He was a young man with light stubble wearing casual clothes- nothing out of the ordinary. And yet, James felt even more uneasy than when he made the same journey as ‘Sophie’. Sure, ‘Sophie’ attracted some disapproving looks from those who thought they saw a boy underneath all the make-up, and from those men who either didn't see any trace of 'James' or didn't care if they did, but ‘Sophie’ always took those incidents as proof that she was, indeed, a woman after all. As ‘James’ walked through London, he didn’t know what he was…

“Hi, it’s me,” James called out as he let himself into his parents’ home, consciously forcing himself to use his supposed ‘natural’ voice rather than ‘Sophie’s’ softer tones.

“Hello James!” The young man’s father said with a smile as he greeted his son with a firm, manly handshake. “How have things been recently?”

“Meh, the same as usual, I guess,” James shrugged. “Well, apart from, well, you know…”

“Yes,” Mr Connolly mumbled as he led his son through to the living room. “Well, at least you’re dressed properly today.”

“…I was thinking more about the strike?” James said. “I mean, you have been following it on the news, haven’t you?”

“Bits of it,” Mr Connolly replied. “Whenever it comes on the news we tend not to watch, in case we- in case we see…”

“Me?” James asked.

“The girl you’re pretending to be,” Mr Connolly replied darkly. “You know, the one good thing about this strike is that you could spend more time as the real you, as much as time as you want, in fact.”

“Well, I- I’m here, aren’t I?” James asked.

“For the first time in over a week,” Mr Connolly replied. “And I get that it’s not always easy, what with having to, well, keep up appearances around your flatmates-“

“My friends,” James interrupted.

“Well, quite,” Mr Connolly mumbled. “But if they were true friends, as you claim they are, they would understand you need to be who you really are, wouldn’t they?” And if you were real parents, you’d understand too, James self-pityingly thought to himself.

“Please trust that I do know what I’m doing,” James whispered, his cheeks starting to flush as his father smiled sympathetically.

“We do, of course,” Mr Connolly said. “You’re your own man. But we’re still your parents, and we do worry about you. Anyway, let’s not worry about all THAT. Have you decided what you’re going to do for your birthday next month? Assuming you’re back at your fake job by then, anyway.” And there’s that ‘fake’ word again, James thought to himself.

“Haven’t decided yet,” James replied with a shrug. “It’ll depend on shifts, and what Amy and Hayley are doing, I suppose.”

“Who are Amy and Hayley?” Mr Connolly asked. “Your flatmates?”

“Umm, yeah, I’m sure I’ve told you about them before,” James replied defensively- something his father immediately picked up on as a smile spread across the older man’s face.

“Ah, everything’s beginning to make a bit more sense now,” Mr Connolly teased. “Is there another reason you’re sticking around Amy or Hayley? Or both, even?”

“…I don’t know what you mean?” James replied.

“Of course you don’t,” Mr Connolly chuckled, before a serious look came across his face. “These girls, they aren’t- umm, aren’t-“ Like me? James thought to himself, before his eyes widened as he suddenly realised what his father was implying. Okay, James thought. If this’ll make life easier, I can roll with this…

“…It’s Amy,” James said, biting his lip as he immediately felt guilty for his lie. “And she- she’s, well, post-op. So no- well, you know…”

“Ah,” Mr Connolly said with a grin. “And as she’s, well…”

“Transgender?” James said.

“Well, yes,” Mr Connolly mumbled. “She- umm, he? She?”

“She,” James said.

“Well, she’d have no problem with you, well, pretending, right?” Mr Connolly asked. “I mean, they’re into that sort of thing, right?”

“Let’s- can we, umm, can we change the subject, please?” James asked awkwardly.

“Right, right,” Mr Connolly chuckled. “Don’t want to talk about THAT with your old man, I get it!”

“Yeah,” James said as he finally started to relax.

“I am really looking forward to meeting this ‘Amy’, though!” Mr Connolly said as James grimaced, realising he may have just solved one problem by creating an even bigger one…

Amy sighed heavily as she disembarked the train at St Pancras station and made her way through the crowds. Her time with her daughter had gone as it always had- Jade had been excited to see her grandparents and her ‘Auntie Amy’, had promised not to open her presents until her birthday and had asked how her daddy was. And, as always, Jade’s mother had warned Amy not to tell Jade the truth, meaning that Jade had gone away disappointed to not have any contact with her ‘daddy’, and Amy had gone away frustrated at having to keep up the charade and frustrated that it would likely be months before she saw her daughter again. Amy was, however, confident that things could always improve- proof of which was waiting for her outside a coffee shop near her flat.

“Hi Amy!” Hayley said with a grin as the ginger-haired girl approached her table. “Dad, this is Amy, my roommate. Amy, this is Denise, my- well, my father.”

“It’s so nice to finally meet you!” Amy gushed as she exchanged air kisses with the older transwoman. “Hayley’s talked about you a lot.”

“Likewise!” Denise giggled. “I’d hoped that we’d get to meet some day. After all, we- we do have a couple of things in common.”

“Well- yeah, that’s true,” Amy sighed. “And to answer your next inevitable question, Hayley, yes, I’m okay, and so is Jade. And none the wiser about, well, the truth.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Denise said softly.

“Well, it could be worse,” Amy sighed. “I at least have a relationship with both my parents and my daughter. There are a lot of people who can’t, well, claim that… Sorry…”

“No, it’s okay,” Denise sighed.

“Just because things aren’t perfect for us doesn’t mean you have to pretend they are for you,” Hayley said softly.

“Yeah, but I don’t need to boast about it, either,” Amy sighed.

“I didn’t see it as boasting,” Denise shrugged. “If anything, it’s encouraging, you know? I’ve got one child back. If I follow your example, I might get more.”

“Well- okay, I guess,” Amy chuckled. “Are- umm, if you don’t mind me asking, anyway, are- are either of your parents still alive?”

“No,” Denise whispered. “Both passed away in 2011, one year before- well, one year ‘before’.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Amy said softly.

“And I know what you want to ask but are too polite to,” Denise said softly. “And the answer is yes, I did wait until they’d passed away before transitioning.”

“I don’t know that I’d have been able to wait that long, heh,” Amy chuckled.

“As well you shouldn’t,” Denise said. “No girl should, not really.”

“Or boy,” Hayley said quietly. “You know, if they’re going, like, the other way?”

“Absolutely,” Denise said, before grimacing. “How- how’s your friend Rachel? Hayley told me about what happened, and- well, parental instincts and all that…”

“Yeah,” Amy whispered. “We’ve not heard from her in a while, we- we’re kinda giving her some space, you know?”

“Understandable,” Denise said.

“But she knows we’re here if she needs us,” Hayley said. “Same goes for all our friends, if they need us or we need them.”

“Absolutely,” Amy said. “Though I- I’m sorry if that sounds like another boast, heh.”

“No, not at all,” Denise said. “As long as you don’t mind having an older friend?”

“Mind?” Amy chuckled. “I’d insist on it, hehe! Just a pity the airline’s too ageist to have you as a flight attendant with us, heh!”

“Well, I’d love to,” Denise said, “but I kinda don’t have the right qualifications. And I don’t speak a foreign language. And I probably wouldn’t fit in the uniform anymore, heh. Much as I’d love to try!”

“Hehe!” Amy giggled. “What is it you currently do for a living, Denise?”

“I’m a freelance computer programmer,” Denise replied. “I also do a bit of web design, debugging, that sort of thing.”

“Ah, now THAT’s cool,” Amy chuckled.

“We always had the best stuff on our home computers when we were growing up,” Hayley said. “Dad would always find these obscure programs that were really fun to fiddle around with. I never really got the hang of programming myself, though.”

“Well, as I’ve told you many times, it’s never too late to learn,” Denise told her daughter. “That goes for both of you, especially if your strike goes on for much longer.”

“Well, fingers crossed it won’t,” Amy said as a guilty look spread across Hayley’s face. “…Hayley? You okay?”

“Ugh, yes AND no,” Hayley sighed. “I- I nearly went to work today.”

“…Ah,” Amy said. “Well, it’s your choice, just because you’re in the union, it doesn’t mean you HAVE to strike.”

“Yeah, but I- I kinda feel, you know, like I’m letting Rachel down…” Hayley mumbled, tears starting to trickle from her eyes as she spoke.

“Hey, hey it’s okay,” Denise whispered as she leaned in to give her daughter a gentle hug. “You need to eat, and to eat you need to work, right? I’m sure your friend would’ve understood.”

“Definitely,” Amy said softly. “God knows it’s not like I haven’t felt the same way at times, heh. What stopped you?”

“Alana did, actually,” Hayley said, chuckling and regaining her composure. “I went in dressed like this, was told to go home and change and, well, only did one of those things, heh.”

“That’s my girl,” Denise said with a proud grin. “This whole ‘commuting attire’ thing sounds silly, anyway. Treating you like you’re schoolchildren or something.”

“Meh, they pay the wages, they get to set the rules,” Hayley shrugged.

“And that’s why we needed the union,” Amy said. “So we have at least some say in things. But oh well. I think soon, it might be time to start looking for other work.”

“Just as long as you two stay friends,” Denise said. “What you’ve got is too special to simply throw away, you and the other girl, what was her name again?”

“Sophie,” Amy said. “And yes, we’re not planning on going our separate ways any time soon. Well, the two of us aren’t, anyway…”

The three women spent the next hour talking about their work, their families and their lives in general, before Denise had to depart to catch her train back home. With the evening rush hour looming, Amy and Hayley also decided to head home, both tired from the day’s activities but happy at the chance to spend time with their families. Amy and Hayley both expected their flat to be empty when they returned home, thinking that their flatmate would’ve taken the opportunity to spend as much time as possible with their parents. However, when they eventually returned home, they were in for a big surprise.

“Hey you two!” Sophie giggled as she skipped over to her friends and greeted them each with a gentle hug. “Good day today?”

“Umm, yeah, not bad thanks,” Amy replied. “You?”

“Meh, it was okay,” Sophie shrugged. “Happy to be home now, heh!”

“How did things go with your parents?” Hayley asked, grimacing as Sophie paused and her smile faded.

“…Okay, I guess,” Sophie shrugged, grimacing herself as she gazed at Amy. “But like I said, I’m happier to be home now.”

“Yep, I can kinda tell,” Amy said. “You started dinner, or shall we get a Deliveroo?”

“Meh, it’s Friday, don’t think any of us can be arsed to cook,” Sophie replied.

“Though it’s not like any of us are flush with cash either,” Hayley reminded her friend.

“I- I’ll pay,” Sophie offered. “I did have my eye on a couple of new swimsuits, but I suppose I can live with just one, heh!”

“If you’re sure?” Hayley asked.

“’Course I am,” Sophie giggled. “Besides, it’s not like I ever actually go to the beach, heh.”

“Well- okay then,” Amy said as a look of concern spread across her face. “Seriously though Sophie, are you okay? You seemed all, you know, stressed yesterday, and now you’re, well-“

“’Me’?” Sophie asked. “Honestly, I’m good. Guess I was just stressed out about my parents, that’s all.”

“Well- if you’re sure that’s all,” Amy said.

“Positive,” Sophie said with a smile, even though inside, she felt guilty about having to lie to her friends.

By the time she’d left her parents’ house, Sophie’s mind had been scrambled. She’d weaved such a web of lies for her parents that she hadn’t known what to believe herself- whether she was really ‘James’, but pretending to be ‘Sophie’ to keep up appearances for her flatmates, or whether she was really ‘Sophie’ and pretending to be ‘James’ for her parents’ sake, or a mixture of the two- and even then, Sophie had no idea what the mixture was. All she knew was that a few minutes after she’d left her parents’ home, it was like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She’d rushed home and immediately shaved off not just the stubble on her face, but any and all unsightly body hair, before applying a light layer of make-up and changing into a soft cotton tank top and a new skater skirt she’d bought the previous month. As she looked at her reflection in her mirror, Sophie mused on how little things had changed from the morning or the night before- she saw ‘Sophie’, but she still saw traces of ‘James’ peering through the make-up. The difference, however, was that it didn’t seem wrong to Sophie- on the contrary, as she looked at her reflection, for the first time in a long while, everything seemed right, but that still frustrated Sophie.

She knew that the conflict with her parents was the source of her stress. She knew that anxiety about the meeting was what caused her inner conflict, and putting the meeting behind her was what caused the stress to seemingly instantly disappear. She was bigendered, both male and female, and she’d long since come to terms with that, as had her friends. Sophie just wished it could’ve been just as easy with her family- and that she could’ve explained things to them without inadvertently making life even more awkward for herself…

“Do you know when you’re going to go and see your parents next?” Amy asked Sophie as the three women sat down to eat their meal.

“Dunno yet,” Sophie replied. “Do you guys know yet when you’ll next see your families?”

“Not yet,” Hayley replied. “If by ‘family’ you mean ‘father’, anyway.”

“Ah- yeah, sorry…” Sophie grimaced.

“Meh, it’s not like you two have it so much easier than I do,” Hayley shrugged.

“True, but we do all have each other,” Amy said with a grin as Sophie started to fidget. “I’m guessing you’re no closer to sorting things out with your parents though, am I right, Soph?”

“Well- yes and no,” Sophie mumbled in reply.

“Meh, well, next time you see them, if you want help finally sorting things out with them, our offer’s always on the table, right?” Amy asked, making Sophie smile as Hayley nodded in agreement.

“Thanks,” Sophie said. “Though, umm, about that…”

“…Yes?” Amy asked.

“I, umm, well, my- my father kinda- kinda jumped to a conclusion today,” Sophie said.

“Right…?” Amy asked as Hayley started to snigger.

“He- he assumed that the only reason I’m, well, staying as Sophie is- is because I- I said I had a girlfriend,” Sophie said, her cheeks reddening as Hayley burst into fits of laughter and a deep frown spread across Amy’s face.

“…You said I was your girlfriend, didn’t you?” Amy asked in a clipped voice, her frown deepening as Sophie nodded.

“I- I’m sorry, okay?” Sophie sighed. “I- I just kinda panicked, and-“

“Thanks,” Amy sighed as Hayley’s laughter intensified.

“Oh, come on,” Hayley said. “It’s perfect, right? Now you two actually have an excuse, right? Amy and Sophie sitting in a tree, F-U-C-“

“K-Y-O-U,” Amy interrupted. “…Okay, fine, I can go along with it just once, as long as you do set them straight next time you see them, okay?”

“I kinda- kinda also said that you were post-op,” Sophie mumbled, her cheeks reddening as Hayley roared with laughter again.

“Oh great,” Amy sighed. “So in addition to fawning over you, I’m going to have to cross my legs the whole time as well?”

“Sorry…” Sophie mumbled.

“No-ugh, no, it’s okay…” Amy sighed. “Coming out is the hardest thing to do, and just ‘cause your circumstances are- well, not the same as either of us two, it doesn’t mean you’ll have it any easier. But you do know that the more you lie to your parents, the harder you’ll make everything, right?”

“Yes, yes I know,” Sophie moaned.

“And it’s kinda odd, you know?” Hayley mused. “And- and I really don’t mean this in a bad way, but- but you’re so proactive when it comes to things like the book, or the union, but you’re so- well, you really struggle when it comes to your personal life, you know?”

“It’s always hardest when something affects you personally,” Amy said.

“Makes me wonder, you know?” Sophie asked. “If I handled things with the airline and the book so easily, was- was I ever truly one of the girls?”

“Yes,” Amy replied without hesitation.

“Absolutely,” Hayley said, smiling as a solitary tear formed in the corner of Sophie’s eye.

“Thanks, you guys,” Sophie whispered.

“We are Team ASH,” Amy said confidently. “And that’ll never change. No matter how many times you tell your parents that we’re having it off.”

“Well- thanks,” Sophie chuckled.

“Speaking of ‘the girls’,” Hayley said, “it’s just gone 6 o’clock, want to put on the news to see if we’re on it again?”

“Sure,” Amy shrugged, switching on the television and relaxing back onto the sofa with her two flatmates.

About fifteen minutes later, though, the three women received a shock when one of their colleagues appeared on screen- the last person the trio expected to appear.

“My name is Rachel Lyscombe,” the young blonde woman said in a shaky voice. “And I worked for Soixante-Trois Airlines up until I- I was attacked by a passenger during a flight.”

“Thank you for agreeing to sit down with us,” the interviewer, who was also a young woman, said softly. “I understand this cannot be an easy thing to talk about.”

“No,” Rachel whispered. “But now is the time to talk about it.”

“Wow,” Amy whispered as she remained transfixed by the television. “I would NEVER be that brave.”

“Can you tell us about the company’s reaction during the following few days?” The interviewer asked.

“They just wanted to sweep it under the carpet,” Rachel replied. “I get that I’m not allowed to name my attacker for legal reasons, but he was a big client of the airline’s, and they seemed more upset at his arrest than they did my attack.”

“And I understand you were subject to disciplinary action yourself in the days following the attack, is that correct?” The interviewer asked.

“That’s right,” Rachel replied. “While I was off work, recovering from the- the attack, they called me in to serve me with a written warning for violating the airline’s dress code.”

“Kaboom,” Sophie said, earning confused frowns from her flatmates as the interview continued.

“Why have you chosen to break your silence now?” The interviewer asked.

“Because I don’t want anyone else to have to go through what I went through,” Rachel replied, her voice quivering with emotion. “The strike isn’t about money. It’s about keeping the airline’s employees safe, which is something they seem to have no interest in.”

“We contacted Soixante-Trois Airlines, but they have so far declined to comment on the interview,” the news anchor said before moving onto the next article, leaving the three flatmates in stunned silence.

“…’Kaboom’?” Amy asked. “Really?”

“That interview will end the strike in our favour,” Sophie said confidently. “Trust me on that.”

“I’ll ask how in a bit,” Amy said, “but given we work for an airline, ‘kaboom’ really isn’t a sound we want to hear!”

“Ah- fair enough,” Sophie chuckled. “…And to answer your next question, it’s a question of demographics.”

“Okay then…” Hayley said uncertainly.

“It’s a simple and sad fact,” Sophie explained, “that people care more about what happens to others when it happens to people who look like them. A lot of people who’ve opposed the strike see the airline as ‘the transgender airline’, and since they’re not transgender, they simply don’t care. Seeing a blonde, blue eyed, young middle-class cisgender woman as a victim? THAT will play on people’s emotions, guaranteed. It’s one of the first things you learn about journalism- how to manipulate people’s emotions.”

“…Why do I feel that the whole ‘trans pride movement’ has just been set back, like, fifty years?” Amy asked with a sad frown.

“Probably because we weren’t that far ‘forward’ to begin with,” Hayley sighed. “But you’ve got to admit, Sophie IS right.”

“Oh, I’m not denying that,” Amy said. “I’m not THAT divorced from reality. It’s just- ugh. Some days, you know? It feels like we’re NEVER going to be accepted.”

“Yeah, I know what that feels like,” Sophie sighed sadly, smiling as Amy gave her a gentle hug. “But, you know? At least we’re going to win THIS fight, at least.”

“WE are,” Hayley said with a smile as she joined in the hug. “We- we should call Rachel as well, see how she is… That can’t have been pleasant for her.”

“And just ‘cause she’s cisgender and we’re not, it doesn’t mean we shouldn’t care about her,” Amy said firmly.

“Absolutely,” Sophie said as Hayley took out her phone and dialled their friend’s number, before switching the phone onto speakerphone and placing it on the coffee table.

“Hi Hayley!” The youthful voice of Rachel Lyscombe said, answering the phone after just 2 rings. “I take it you were watching, then?”

“Hi, yeah, we were,” Hayley replied. “I’m here with Amy and Sophie, you’re on speaker, is that okay?”

“Of course it is!” Rachel chuckled. “You know it’s always great to talk to all of you, I have been missing the flat a bit.”

“Do- do you think you’ll be moving back in?” Sophie asked hesitantly.

“I… doubt it,” Rachel replied with a sigh. “Especially as I’m almost certainly going to be out of a job. No way are the airline going to take me back after THAT interview. I doubt I’ll even want to go back.”

“That’s perfectly understandable,” Amy said softly. “Though we will miss you a lot.”

“Really a lot,” Sophie said softly.

“Well, you’ll get your bedroom back at least, right?” Rachel said in a teasing voice that earned a sad chuckle from Sophie.

“Anyway,” Amy said, “we were all thinking how br-“

“Don’t- please don’t say ‘brave’,” Rachel interrupted. “’Cause if you think of me as ‘brave’ then you’re thinking of me as a victim, and I absolutely, ABSOLUTELY do not want to be a victim. Ever.”

“…Sorry,” Amy mumbled.

“Apology accepted,” Rachel said softly. “What girls like you do, fighting every day to be the ‘real you’? THAT’s brave.”

“Well- I guess…” Sophie mumbled as she remembered her meeting with her parents, and how ‘brave’ was the last thing she felt.

“But really, you girls don’t need to worry about me,” Rachel said. “I’m probably going to see if I can get into uni in September on clearing, I’ve got a pretty good English A-level so, well, yeah. I’ll probably still live at home, though.”

“Sensible,” Amy said.

“Not really,” Rachel retorted. “If I stay in London it’ll make it easier for me to go on nights out with you girls, hehe! Assuming I’m invited, of course?”

“Consider yourself permanently invited,” Sophie said warmly. “You and Lucas.”

“Yeah, we- we’re kinda on a bit of a break right now,” Rachel said with a sad sigh. “After- well, ‘after’, I- I’m kinda detoxing from men for a bit.”

“Sensible again,” Amy said softly. “To change the subject again, though, Sophie, she- she kinda thinks you might have just ended the strike. In our favour, like.”

“I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t part of the plan,” Rachel said softly. “But the real reason I did the interview is that I- I just didn’t want to be silent anymore. I mean, yes, I don’t want to be the ‘face of sexual assault’ either, but I- ugh, I dunno. I just couldn’t carry on the way things were, I just had to do SOMETHING.”

“Well, either way, you’ve got infinite respect from us for it,” Sophie said. “And if you ever need anything, we’re just a phone call away.”

“Thanks,” Rachel said.

“Have you spoken to Ellen or Amelie yet?” Amy asked.

“Not yet,” Rachel replied. “I’ll probably have a voicemail waiting for me when this call ends, heh. Probably have loads waiting for me.”

“We won’t tie up your line any longer, then,” Hayley said. “Take care of yourself, Rach. Remember, we’re here whenever you need us.”

“24/7,” Sophie confirmed.

“Thanks,” Rachel whispered. “I’ll talk to you all later. Stay strong.”

“You too,” Hayley said as she ended the call, before all three women relaxed back onto the sofa. “…Okay then, I think we’d better leave our phones switched on, we might get a phone call tomorrow morning, heh!”

“Or even tonight,” Sophie mused as she prayed that Rachel’s example would finally end the stalemate caused by the strike.

The three women went to bed later that evening having not received any phone calls, but the following morning at just after 7am, Sophie was woken from her sleep by her phone ringing, and when she saw the caller ID, a wide smile spread across her face.

“Hello?” Sophie asked as she answered the phone, trying her hardest not to sound weak or tired.

“Hi Sophie, it’s Gemma from work,” the woman on the other end of the line replied. “Would you be able to come in for a meeting at 9am today?”

“I can be there,” Sophie replied, her smile widening as the call ended and she got out of bed, quietly padding through to the shower in case her flatmates hadn’t received the same invitation.

45 minutes later, Sophie was showered, dressed and ready for the morning ahead of her. Anticipating what the meeting might entail, Sophie had dressed professionally in a smart knee-length black pencil skirt- but not a tight one. She wore shoes with a heel, but a 3” thick heel rather than a 4” stiletto. She wore a smart, pressed white blouse, modest make-up and minimal jewellery, and underneath her clothing she wore a plain black bra and briefs set- her bra enhancing what she didn't have and her briefs tucking away what she did have without any of the usual discomfort caused by the usual underwear mandated by the airline. And she felt just as feminine, just as beautiful and just as confident as she did when wearing her uniform- more so, in fact. When Sophie gazed in her mirror on her way out of her bedroom, she didn’t see a conflicted young woman, or even worse, a conflicted young man- she saw herself. Sophie AND James, but mostly Sophie- the same woman who her friends and colleagues trusted and loved, and who, deep in her heart, truly was one of the girls. Sophie just wished she could be as confident all of the time…

“Hey Sophie!” Ellen said in her distinctive Manchester accent as Sophie approached her outside the airline’s staff entrance. “You got the call too, then?”

“Yep,” Sophie replied. “Hopefully NOW they’ll be in a mood to talk.”

“Fingers crossed,” Ellen whispered.

“Did- did Amelie see the interview, then?” Sophie asked.

“Yep,” Ellen replied, making Sophie fidget as she carefully thought about how to word her next question.

“And is- is she hoping the strike will end too?” Sophie asked, biting her lip as Ellen frowned.

“…She hopes her father will start treating us a little better,” Ellen replied. “’Cause she doesn’t work for the airline herself anymore, she isn’t as- well, as dependent on things, even if her dad is paying for our flat and- well, yeah…”

“Yeah, I’d rather not get in the middle of a family argument,” Sophie sighed.

“Not much choice when I AM family, heh,” Ellen replied. “Now come on, let’s see what Alana has to say, whether she’s finally going to see sense or if she’s going to TREBLE down on things.”

“Oh- for god’s sake, still?” Sophie moaned as her friend and colleague grinned wickedly.

“Oh, come on, it’s been a great year for English football,” Ellen retorted. “City win the domestic TREBLE, Liverpool and Spurs reach the Champions League final, Arsenal and Chelsea reach the Europa League final, and United get to remember how they used to be a good team twenty years ago.”

“Yes, yes, okay…” Sophie moaned, though secretly, she was glad for the distraction- every step that took her closer to her manager’s office made her legs tremble more and more…

Sophie’s nerves didn’t get any better when she entered her manager’s office to discover that Alana was not there- in her place was another young woman in her mid-thirties, and alongside her was a very familiar middle-aged man with a stern expression on his face.

“G- good morning,” Sophie said nervously. “Bonjour, Monsieur Masson.”

“Bonjour,” M. Masson replied in a stoic voice. “Bonjour, Ellen.”

“Bonjour, beau-père,” Ellen said, trying not to grin as the older man fidgeted.

“Thank you both for coming in at short notice,” the young woman sat in Alana’s seat said in a light French accent. “My name is Yvette Ferrand, and I work in conflict resolution and negotiations for Soixante-Trois Industries. Monsieur Masson has asked me to speak on behalf of himself and the company to resolve the situation and return you and your union to work as soon as possible.”

“Are you willing to listen to our demands?” Ellen asked, trying not to flinch under the stare of her billionaire future father-in-law.

“We are, and we believe we have reached a compromise,” Yvette replied. “First, your demands about the dress code. As I am sure you are aware, the dress code was designed to convey a professional image and evoke memories of air travel in the 1960s, when Soixante-Trois Industries was founded. However, we accept that the practicality of the uniform can be bad. As such, we shall be permitting lower heels on flights, but no lower than 5 centimetres. There shall also be no restrictions on underwear, beyond that hosiery must be worn on flights at all times. Whether that is stockings or pantyhose is for the individual choice of the flight attendant. We shall also be re-fitting all uniforms over the next few months so as to allow freer movement.”

“…This is acceptable,” Ellen said. “About the commuting attire-“

“With the commuting attire,” Yvette interrupted, “you will be expected to look smart on the way into work, as you shall be representing the airline. However, the relaxing of the uniform dress code shall apply to the commuting attire. The only way we would be willing to remove the commuting attire dress code would be to also remove the clothing allowance from your wages.”

“I think I can sell this to the union,” Ellen said. “Have you read our demands about security on aircraft?” Or in other words, Sophie thought to herself, did you see Rachel’s interview last night?

“We have,” Yvette replied. “Additional CCTV will be installed on all of our aircraft over the following few months. All complaints of unacceptable passenger behaviour shall be taken seriously, and those found to be repeat or serious offenders shall receive permanent bans from our aircraft, regardless of how much income they bring. You must understand that these changes cannot come overnight. It takes time to install CCTV, and it takes time to alter uniforms. But we are committed to ensuring that Soixante-Trois Airlines is a positive place to work for all of our employees. ALL of them.” Bollocks, Sophie thought to herself. You just don’t want any more negative publicity after the interview. However, Sophie was forced to concede that regardless of how or why it was achieved, it was still a win nonetheless.

“I believe I can sell all of these improvements to the union,” Ellen said. “We shall vote tonight, and if the vote is passed, we can be back at work as early as tomorrow.”

“This is good news,” Yvette said with a smile. “I believe this addresses all of your concerns. I shall let you speak to your friends. If you have your phones with you I shall give you my contact number. I shall be contactable all day, please call me when you have made a decision.”

“We will,” Ellen said softly as she and Sophie rose from their chairs. However, there was one further thing that was troubling Sophie.

“Where-“ Sophie asked hesitantly. “Umm, if you don’t mind me asking, where- where is Alana? I know she doesn’t normally work weekends, but-“

“She is no longer employed by Soixante-Trois Industries,” M. Masson replied bluntly, making Sophie start to tremble.

“I- I’m sorry?” Sophie asked softly.

“She has had her employment terminated,” M. Masson said. “For her failure to manage the situation.” Bullshit, Sophie thought to herself. You needed a scapegoat. Sophie’s insides started to churn as she realised that her actions had just cost a woman her livelihood.

“I- I see,” Sophie whispered.

“A replacement will be in place by the end of the week,” M. Masson clarified. “Now you may leave.” Sophie bit her lip as she and Ellen silently left the office, before letting out a long, pained sigh once they were out of earshot of the office.

“What’s the problem?” Ellen asked. “That was a major win!”

“Yeah, but we just cost Alana her job,” Sophie sighed.

“So?” Ellen shrugged, anger slowly seeping into her voice. “She were a crap manager, Soph. Had her nose stuck so far up Masson’s arse she couldn’t see or didn’t care what was happening to the rest of us! Not that the next one’ll be any better, but at least now that we’re a proper union, she’ll take us seriously, you know?”

“Well, yeah, but still…” Sophie moaned.

“Can’t make an omelette without breaking some eggs,” Ellen said bluntly. “And rather Alana than Rachel again, right?”

“Well- yeah…” Sophie said. “And, well, maybe the new manager will actually give me some shifts, heh.”

“That’s more like it!” Ellen giggled as she and Sophie left the airport, though deep down inside, Sophie felt more uncomfortable than ever. As she travelled home, though, Sophie realised that her discomfort stemmed not from costing her manager her job, but costing a fellow woman her job. All of a sudden, despite her stress, ‘James’ felt further away than ever… And yet Sophie knew that all it would take was the mere mention of her parents for all that to change.

That night, the union voted to accept the airline’s compromise, and the vast majority of the airline’s flight attendants, including Amy and Hayley, returned to work the following day, with Sophie’s first shift back being the following Tuesday. Sophie couldn’t help but smile as she pushed her trolley up and down the plane’s cabin, her feet no longer aching in her more sensible shoes, her waist unconstrained and her legs encased in a pair of black tights that still felt comfortable despite the heat- and Sophie still felt beautiful and effortlessly feminine despite the comparatively relaxed dress code.

The following Friday, the new manager of the airline’s London hub was announced, and virtually every stewardess employed by the airline breathed a sigh of relief when the manager was revealed to be none other than Marie Renou, who many of the stewardesses had met at the wedding of Natalie and Zoe- Marie's younger sister. The airline's employees were almost unanimously confident that Marie would be more concerned with their wellbeing then her predecessor was, and were eager to work with someone some of them even considered to be a friend.

However, while Sophie was confident that Marie would at least be a more understanding manager than Alana, she was also nervous about what the future would bring. After all, she was still writing her second book, which would undoubtedly bring her into conflict with the airline’s management, Marie included- even though she contributed to Sophie’s first book. And while things had improved at the airline, Sophie was no closer to resolving the issues with her parents- just as Amy was no closer to resolving the issues with her daughter, and Rachel's employment with the airline had ended for good.

However, one of the women living in the flat received a glimmer of hope when she returned home from her flight to Berlin and switched her phone back on to find a voicemail waiting for her.

“Hi Harry,” the voice of Hayley’s older sister Lucy said. “I saw you on the news the other week and just wanted to say hi and see how you were. Call me when you get this if you want to chat.” Hayley smiled as she listened to the voicemail over and over. It wasn’t perfect- Lucy had used Hayley’s deadname, after all- but it was a step in the right direction, and proof to Hayley that maybe, just maybe, things were going to get better after all. Hayley just hoped that her friends could feel the same sense of optimism that she did…