Chapter 1
It’s funny, you know, the things that stick in your mind. They ought to do a University Study on earworms. My grandmother was always singing or humming “I am strong, I’m invincible,” until the day she dropped dead. My mother had ‘Hotel California’ embedded in her brain. I didn’t listen to the radio at lot. Probably a good thing as having odd lines of ‘gangsta rap’ lyrics in your brain in later life would be like a living hell.
I had a mixture of songs that would pop into my head, most of them from visiting shops where they seem to still be living in the sixties, from the music they played. One thing that I do remember, a re-occurring ‘brain worm,’ is an advertisement that I never saw. Against the other events, this may sound like pure frippery. To me, though, it had an important place in my life, in my development, in my relationships, and in my very being.
I was born in the last year of the last century, in the Maternity Wing of the Derriford Hospital, Plymouth. My birth was nothing unusual, and my life followed that same path for many years. My parents christened me Tristan Arnold Southby. My mother was Margaret, and my father was George. I expect that they thought that by giving me an aspirational name, they would have a successful child. I think that, for the most part, I disappointed them.
They had a commercial flower nursery, southeast of the city, where they grew blooms for sale in the Flower Market. It did, I have to say, develop into a good business as I grew up, but not one that I had an interest in. Not that I was crap at looking after flowers. Where I lived, I was getting a rent reduction for looking after the garden. My address was a share of a house near the corner of Stadden Park Road and Goosewell Road, Plymstock. It was a good-sized yard with a greenhouse and some raised beds for vegetables.
How did I end up there, I hear you ask. It happened when I passed my exams, but my father refused me when I asked to go on to tertiary studies. He wanted me beside him in the family business. It was “Work with me or walk out!” So, I walked out. I had seen it coming and had already organised my departure. I had some savings from birthday and Christmas gifts, and a job to go to at The Broadway Shopping Centre.
The job had come about from some artwork that I had created for a competition that one of the fashion shops had. My design was so good they passed it on to their Head Office and I had been paid a small sum for the rights to use the design. The Centre Management employed me on a casual basis to design sales banners, event logos, and the like. Anything that needed a graphic designer, I was the man on the spot, with a small workshop to create my masterpieces. It wasn’t full-time work, though.
I had always been good at drawing, and my art marks were good enough for further education to be an artist, but my father called it all ‘arty-farty’, and nothing that a red-blooded boy should have anything to do with. So, there I was, living with some school friends, growing ‘smokeable’ plants in the glass house, along with vegetables from the raised beds. I had cleared some of the glasshouse to give me room for an easel, and had cleaned the windows, inside and out, to improve the light, for both my work and the weed.
I know that you’re hanging out to find out what my ‘brain worm’ is. Well, while I was at school, I had logged on to sites which taught the basics of graphic design online. I had also looked at a few sites that delved into the history of advertising. There was one advert, which had been in print and on the television in the previous century. It was adapted from a poem by Longfellow.
There was a little girl, Who had a little curl, Right in the middle of her forehead.
When she was good, She was very good indeed, But when she was bad, she was horrid.
It was for a long-forgotten hair product, for beating unruly hair, and replaced the words with ‘There was a girl, who had a little curl, right in the middle of her ponytail’. It was mentioned because of the poetic cadence of the words, a lesson for advertising writers to think about.
It hit me like a ton of bricks when I was fourteen. I had been typical for a boy of that age, but it made a connection, along with my love of looking at girls to see how they dressed, and my hatred of contact sports. I looked at the line, and wondered what it would be like to have curly hair, rather than the straight hair that I usually wore down past my ears.
Naturally, I hid the notion deep inside, acting as I normally did but thinking odd thoughts when I was in bed. It remained as hidden part of me while I was at school, and still remained while I was living with guys who had known me for years. It was galling to be away from home but still with this nagging feeling that I wasn’t complete. I had never tried to see what would scratch that itch; I didn’t know if I was gay, trans, or just strange.
I had looked at the internet and found a site that had trans stories and became an avid reader. It only fuelled my feelings of not being the person I wanted to be. The problem with a lot of the stories was that a boy was forced to dress up and became a model-worthy girl instantly. I knew that this was impossible, but, hey, they were only fictional, weren’t they?
I kept in touch with my mother. She would text me when she was going to The Broadway to do some shopping and I’d fire up my aged Ford to go and sit with her in one of the food outlets. She had a secret of her own that she kept from my father, a love of chicken nuggets. She was supportive of me, and always asked if I was all right for money. Actually, I was usually good. The signage work may be spasmodic but did pay well.
I painted scenes of Plymouth while I was in the greenhouse and sold them at the Plymouth Market on Saturdays. I was in a group that had one of the stalls. Two did potteries, one did macrame hangings, another did knitted baby clothes, and there were about another half a dozen who would join us when they had created enough stock.
We clubbed together to pay the site fee, with some using the site for all weekend, but always left space for me on Saturdays. I usually painted three or four small pictures during the week, and they sold well. I had a deal with a frame maker, and only paid for frames after I had sold the painting.
All in all, I was cruising along, hiding my feelings but making my own way in the world. I wasn’t making a fortune, but I wasn’t starving. One Monday, I was creating a banner for a fruit and vegetable store that was opening up in the shopping centre, when a quite elegant woman walked into my little workshop.
“Sorry to bother you, I’m looking for Tristan Southby.”
“That’s me. What can I help you with?”
“I’m from the Head Office of Hook and Hokem, the company that you did that competition picture for. It was well noted, and your name came up when we wanted to create a new advertising campaign. Our usual people have become far too repetitious with their offerings, so we decided to try someone new. Someone like yourself.”
“That would be interesting. The competition was with swimwear, will that be what I’ll be doing?”
“It’s a whole range, a complete wardrobe of women’s clothing. We will need you to come to live near the Head Office, it will be several months of creative work, over every season. If it works, I have been authorised to tell you that it would be a permanent placement, as long as your imagination keeps coming up with new ideas.”
“Where will I be living?”
“We will put you with some of our staff, they share a big house and there’s a spare room at the moment. If you say you’ll come in with us, I’ll tell them not to get anyone else in.”
“Whereabouts is the Head Office, may I ask?”
“It’s in Southampton. We have a warehouse at West Quay, and we import a lot of stock, so have to be very careful with what we order. Too much stock wastes money, too little and we miss out on sales. The actual office is in a block of offices on Portland Terrace, and the house is on the corner of Cossack Green and Winton Street. It’s a walk of about five hundred yards from the house to the office. You’ll have a drafting board to create with, and the final product will be finished by a printer.”
“Is there space for my easel? I like to finish some of the ideas in colour, and also dabble in paintings which I sell at the local market.”
“That’s lovely! The room where you’ll work is quite large, as it used to be home to fifteen typists when the building was designed. If you’re any good, there’s a well-respected gallery which holds about half a dozen showings a year. Several well-known artists had their first outings there. It’s about as far from the house as the office, to the north.”
“Will I be able to see everything before I commit?”
“I would be worried if you didn’t ask for that. I’m going back there on Wednesday if you want to ride with me. Will you be finished with this job by then?”
I gave her my address to be picked up. She said to pack for four or five days, as she would drop me back on her way to a store in Exeter on the following Monday. I finished the job I was on, got my money and packed a bag with enough for a week. I rang my mother to tell her what I was going to be doing for a few days, and she congratulated me on making a serious move forward. I told the guys that I would be back in a week and showed them which of the plants were ready for harvest. I didn’t smoke the stuff, and I wasn’t sure if any of them did, so I expect that they augmented their income with it.
I was waiting, my bag at my feet, when she turned up. When I said that it was a nice car, she just said that it was leased by the company. On our way out of Plymouth, I found out that her name was Marilyn. She asked me about my background and laughed when I told her the family business that I had walked away from.
“My father wanted me to be a baker in the family bakery. I understand exactly what made you do what you did.”
We stopped at a services on the way, for a bite to eat. When we arrived at Southampton, I realised how much bigger it was against Plymouth. She took me to the house first and parked in the back. I carried my bag up to the top floor, where I put the bag on a bed, in a nice room with ensuite. We left the car where it was and made the walk to the Head Office. It was a nice stroll, some of it with park around us.
The Head Office was in a large redbrick building. It was upstairs and she led me into the office, where it was populated by some girls, all dressed well. They all said hello, and we went to a door at the back, and into what would be my workplace. It was large, with a computer on a desk, with a big screen. There was a draft board, and enough space for an easel, with nice light from the large windows. I thought it was great, so started asking about hours, payments, and the stuff of reality.
It was close to knocking off time by now, so we left with the girls, and started walking back towards the house. On the way, I found out that Sally, Gloria, Judith, and Monica were the ones I would be sharing the house with. It was so close to one of the stories I had read, it made me wonder just what I was letting myself in for.
As we walked, the girls told me what a fantastic area we were in, with plenty of eating places in a good walk, and several night clubs close by. If I was into soccer, the main stadium was only about five hundred yards, or so, to the east of the house. I was going to be allowed to stay with them until Marilyn took me back to Plymouth. When I came back, I would have to pay my share, which I found out was only a little more than what I was paying now. At the house, Marilyn left in her car, leaving me with the four girls.
They sat me in the kitchen and laid down the ground rules. No smoking, no girlfriends in my room, no loud music. They said that they also followed the rules, but with no boyfriends. The lounge area was able to be booked, should one want to entertain, and the kitchen was the common room and had to be kept tidy. My room and my ensuite were mine to keep clean. I was told, up front, that Gloria and Judith were a couple, and had the biggest bedroom with a double bed. Sally was on the same floor, at the back, and Monica was on the top floor with me, her room overlooking the front.
They asked me if I had a car because none of them did. I owned up to a dilapidated Ford. Their ages varied, Gloria and Judith were a good five years older than me, with Gloria being the Office Manager. Monica was the youngest, only a few months older than me, and had only been working in the office for about six months. I was told to go to my room and tidy up, because we were all going off to the ‘Angel’ for a meal.
The ’Angel’ turned out to be less than a five-minute walk and a good pub. I bought a round, and we ordered our meals. It was very different to be out with four girls and I stayed quiet as their conversation swirled around boys, girls, clothes, and shoes. They gave me some information about the styles I might be creating artwork for. A lot of other boys and girls stopped by to say hello and get introduced to me. I would never remember all their names.
I’m not a drinker, so refused to take part in another round. It may have been a test, because we left after we had finished our meals, without another round being bought. Back at the house, I put my things away and pulled out my sketchbook. I had been storing pictures of them in my mind, so sat on the bed and started sketching. I have a problem when I sketch; I lose track of time. I was startled when there was a knock on my door. I called out “Come in” and Monica poked her head in.
“Are you all right, Tristan? I saw the light on and it’s pretty late.”
“Sorry. I get carried away when I sketch. My mother used to call it my artistic white-out.”
“Can I have a look?”
I said she could, and she came into my room and sat on my bed, looking at my drawings. I suddenly realised that there was a girl, sitting on my bed, in a nightie and dressing gown, something that had never happened since the last time my mother had tucked me in.
“These are very good. Do you paint as well?”
“Yes, I do. I didn’t mean to be up so late. It’s just that I store up pictures in my mind and need to get them on paper while they’re fresh. Being with the four of you was a feast of visions.”
“You’ve certainly captured our likenesses well. I love the one of me. If you did a small painting of that, I’d buy it to give to my mother for her birthday. We do have a strong bond and I know she misses me.”
“I’d have to take the job and stay here to do that.”
“Tristan, you know that you’re going to take the job. You are a nice boy, and you have all the fine qualities of a proper gentleman. You’re certainly a talented artist. You’ll fit in with us well. You will begin to love being here, we have a bit of fun, and we know a lot of people. The others have told me that they moonlight as helpers when the big art gallery has a show, they may be able to sweet-talk the owner into putting some of yours on the walls. Now, you need your sleep, so put this away and get yourself to bed. We’ll wake you up at six, so that you can join us in our jog in the park. You do have sneakers, I hope.”
When she left me, I made ready for bed and had a surprisingly good sleep, only being woken by my phone alarm playing the ‘Valkyries’. I had loved watching ‘Apocalypse Now’ when I was smaller. It was amazingly good at getting me awake. I had track pants and a sweatshirt, with my socks and sneakers on, when there was a knock on my door. I opened it to see Monica, similarly dressed.
“Good, you’re dressed. We run before breakfast, then get ready for work. We start at nine.”
When we got downstairs, the others were in the kitchen, taking water bottles from the fridge. I was given one and we left the house to go into the park, which I was told was Palmerstone Park. At first, I was concentrating on getting into a rhythm, and then looking around at the park in the early morning light. We had turned back towards where we had come in, when I finally looked more closely at the girls in front of me. They were loping along effortlessly, their pert butts, and their ponytails, swinging with the effort. I stopped dead.
“Aaaarrggghh!”
They all stopped and looked at me.
“Are you all right, Tristan? Have you sprained anything?”
“No, girls. It’s not physical. It’s mental.”
“Come on, tell us all about it. They say that a problem shared is a problem halved. Was it seeing us, this morning, that reminded you of an old love?”
I stood and tried to pluck up the courage to bare my very soul. We started walking back towards the house when I told them my biggest secret.
“It’s something I saw years ago when I was looking at historical examples of advertising. There was an advert which spoke about a girl with a curl, right in the middle of her ponytail. I haven’t thought about it in weeks, but, when I saw you all, with your ponytails swinging from side to side, it came back to me.”
“So, what is it that causes you so much angst?”
“Because it was an advert about straightening curly hair, and I’ve always had straight hair. It made me think what it would be like to have curly hair and made me question who I was.”
“So, who are you?”
“I’m a crazy, mixed-up, boy. I haven’t had a proper girlfriend, I don’t get on with macho boys, and I paint pictures which always have pretty girls in summer dresses in.”
“He does do good drawings, I looked at his sketchbook last night.”
“He’s here one day and you’ve already seen his etchings, Monica!”
“That’s all that happened, Gloria. It was late and his light was on. He remained fully dressed.”
We had got to the house, and it was decided that we would discuss this more once we had showered and dressed for the office. I was told to bring my sketchbook down with me.
When we were sitting at the kitchen table, they looked at my drawings of them, making nice comments. Gloria looked at it carefully.
“Tristan. I wondered about Marilyn bringing you here. I’m the only one who remembers the last graphic artist we had. Grumpy old bastard, if ever there was one. After he left, we went to an agency. The problem is that they think that we’re just a cash cow. I’ll show you some of their work today, and you’ll see for yourself. Today, and tomorrow, I’ll give you the pictures that our supplier has sent in advance. If you can make those look good, Marilyn is certain to give you the job, and I know we’ll pitch you as deserving better money.”
“That’s very good of you. You hardly know me.”
“I could see you doing something this morning that was hard for you, and impossible for the majority of men. You opened yourself to us, just like women do. It was very brave of you, as well as being very trusting, seeing that you’ve only just met us. We’ll get on, Tristan, never fear.”
We walked into the office. On the way, Sally walked beside me.
“About your hair. I spent a little time in a salon, and I can see that your hair is a bit uncared for. I expect that you use body wash on it.”
“I do.”
“There’s a Superdrug store a few minutes from the office. We’ll go there during the lunch break and get you something better to use. It does need some extra care.”
That morning, Gloria showed me the work that the agency had done, then gave me the folder with the designs in for the new range, the autumn ones would be first. In the back room, I sat at the desk and looked at them. The agency had become lazy, just copying the original supplier pictures, and spacing them out on the previous campaign adverts. If you looked closely, you could pick out the original crease lines from the paperwork.
I turned on the computer, the scanner, and the big sheet printer. I scanned the supplier pictures to a new file which I called ‘autumn’ and made small changes to improve the looks. Then I printed every design on the big sheet printer, big enough to go on the drafting board as a picture big enough to turn into a dress being worn.
I had brought my pencil box and sketchbook with me, so set about adding human details, legs with shoes to suit, arms with slender hands with rings on, and the neck and head, using my sketches from last night as a guide. I had finished two by the time Marilyn came in to tell me it was lunch time. She looked at the design I had on the drafting board.
“Now, that is impressive, Tristan. Are you intent of giving every design a human form?”
“Well, yes. It gives the buyer an idea of what it looks like when it’s worn. I’ve tidied up the original picture and added the rest.”
“That’s Monica. You have captured her youthfulness well.”
I picked up the other one I had finished and showed it to her.
“That’s Gloria at her sassiest! You have the youth range and the mid-twenties there, in a nutshell. How will you go for the other age ranges?”
“I’ll see them in the shops or in the street and remember them to sketch later.”
“You keep this up, and I won’t want you to go home on Monday. Anyway, the girls go out to a café for lunch, get yourself out there and enjoy a break.”
Marianne Gregory © 2024
Chapter 2
I followed the girls to the café on a shopping mall called Above Bar Street. It wasn’t very far, and had everything you would need, especially banks. There was a branch of the one I used, just five minutes from the office.
We all had a light lunch, with me following the girls to try the salad. It would not have been a good look if I had ordered a burger. I did note the range that they had, for when I was here on my own. There! I was already thinking about being here for real.
Sally took me into Superdrug where we looked at the range of shampoos, with her having a feel of my hair before choosing a shampoo and a separate conditioner for me to buy. I joined the girls walking along, window shopping, before we went back to work. That afternoon, I finished three more pictures. I liked them. They were bigger versions of the sort of girls I had put into my Plymouth pictures, which some buyers had declared made them more real.
Marilyn got me to take the five into the other office before knocking off time, and there were a lot of smiles when they looked at them. Every one of the five were featured, wearing appropriate dresses, and looking happy. Gloria said it for the rest.
“That’s the basis of the campaign, right there. Change the faces and it’ll be a hit. They have a life that the agency doesn’t even know about.”
Marilyn smiled.
“Why change the faces? You four can be our models. It’s not as if we have fashion displays, the shops organise those in their local area. The catalogue only goes out to the franchisees to distribute and get them ordering. I know that we do a national campaign in the magazines, but these will stand alone, without needing to employ models and a photographer. It’s a win-win.”
“If it’s going to save us money, boss; we think that if Tristan is our one-man advertising department, he needs to be paid well.”
“I’ll take that on board when we discuss his employment contract. Let’s see what he does with other designs tomorrow. I’ll be taking him back to Plymouth on Monday. Hopefully, he’ll come back to us the following weekend. This weekend, though, I’ll leave it to you to show him the sights and make him want to live here.”
That night, we were back at the ‘Angel’ for our meal. I would certainly need a good wage if I was going to eat out every day. I had a look in the kitchen and there wasn’t much evidence of cooking beyond breakfast, and that was mainly cornflakes. I wondered what sort of upbringing they had. Before we went out, I had a shower and used the new hair products. My hair did feel better, and Sally told me that it would get better, but wouldn’t happen overnight.
When we got back, we sat at the kitchen table with hot chocolates and I sketched some of the people I had seen in the pub, now I was comfortable enough to look around. Friday was similar to Thursday. We had our morning run and then got ready for work, with my hair feeling less stringy after the second washing. During the day, I produce eight more large pictures of the designs, now adding the random faces I had seen since I arrived.
That evening, the girls told me to wear the best things I had bought with me as we were going to a night club, to let our hair down after a busy week. I had brought something better with me, so joined the girls to go to the ‘Angel’ for our evening meal. I was getting used to the place now and was trying out things on the menu that I would never have thought I would eat. I wondered if it was a sign that Southampton was going to change me.
We spent longer there than before. I was told that it was because we didn’t have to work in the morning, and, besides, the night club didn’t open until ten. I was usually in bed by that time, so wondered if I would enjoy it. We nursed our drinks and were joined by others until there was a good dozen of us, mainly girls, but a few guys who were very smartly dressed, if a bit more colourful than I had been used to.
At ten, I was asked to put in two pounds for the minibus that was coming to take us to the night club. I had discovered that it was under five hundred yards away, but the girls were not going to walk there in the heels they were now wearing. I sat next to Monica, and she gave me advance warning of where we were going.
“The club is a gay bar. It’s where Gloria and Judith spend a lot of time on weekends. It’s very safe and a community. I don’t mind it, as there’s no groping unless asked for, there’s dancing and a well-stocked bar. It doesn’t close until five, so expect to sleep in tomorrow.”
When we arrived at ‘The Edge and The Box’, we went in. It was well laid out and very tastefully decorated. I had expected vivid colours and naked people on the walls. The only thing that made me laugh was on the chalk board. It said, ‘I didn’t choose to be gay, I just got lucky’. That made me wonder if I really was in the right place.
We had a few drinks and I danced with all the girls, and, oddly, with a few guys joining us, especially the ones that had come with us from the ‘Angel’. I allowed myself to accept that I was here, that I didn’t need to leave, and that I couldn’t because I hadn’t been given a key to the house. With the others, I drank a little and danced a lot, grooving to the DJ.
About three in the morning, Sally and Monica told me that they were leaving and if I wanted to walk with them. They had bought sneakers in their shoulder bags and said that the other two would be here until closing time. I followed them out and we strolled back to the house, with one on each arm. The night air chased away all of the drink, and we talked about the campaign, my art, and their likes and dislikes. I had become a ‘like’ for both of them, with my willingness to follow their lead and not act like an ape.
When we got to the house, we said goodnight in the kitchen and both girls gave me a hug before I went up to my bed. They were right, I slept until nearly midday, laying there, and thinking about the last couple of days before I went to shower. I had been so far out of my comfort zone it wasn’t funny. I had been able to use my artistic skills in a way that was appreciated. The more I thought about things, the more I wanted to work here and live with the girls. I thought about last night’s hugs, and realised that they were between friends, and friends were something that had been missing in my life.
Saturday afternoon, we all went to Above Bar Street and through the shopping arcade to the West Quay Shopping centre. It was a huge place, and we had a late lunch at an Italian café. As we walked around, we arrived at the ‘Hook and Hokem’ store. Gloria pulled me in and introduced me to the lady who owned the franchise.
“Josie, this is Tristan Southby. He won the competition a year or two back for the bikini campaign.”
“That was a great picture, Tristan. Didn’t think much of the words, though. ‘Fit to be tied!’ It was stupid.”
“I didn’t write that, Josie. When I saw that they were all ribbon tied bikinis, my words on the artwork was ‘If it’s a Hokem, you don’t have to hook’em.’ I never saw the final artwork.”
She laughed so hard that she had to sit down on one of the seats next to the changing rooms.
“Please tell me that you’ll be doing work for us in the future. We need a kick in the bum to keep our market position. As it is, the stock is usually in the low-price range, and that gives us volume, if not a lot of profit. Are you signed on yet?”
“No, I’m just here to see and be seen. I’m being taken back to Plymouth on Monday.”
“Just for giving me a good laugh, lad, anything you buy today will be at company discount.”
I looked around.
“I don’t wear women’s clothes.”
“Take a better look. There are things over in the corner that are unisex. I’m sure the girls will help you pick something out, if only to remember your visit to God’s own city.”
The four took me aside and pored over the selection. I couldn’t see myself in the silk shirts, but there was a few pairs of jeans that caught my eye. I walked out with a bag which contained a black pair and a purple pair, the last for other nights at the night club. I worried that they had embroidery on the back pockets and the pockets weren’t big enough to hold more than a credit card, but the girls declared that they did something for me. What that was, I may find out when I wore them.
We all went to the cinema, where I sat through a rom-com. All the girls were using tissues when it ended, and I had to admit that my eyes were moist as well. A stop at a fast-food joint for a combined tea and supper, and we walked back to the house. We talked about the film, and Sally and Monica spoke about the hunky male star, with the other two discussing the female characters. Me, I was dissecting the fashions in my mind. After the last couple of days, I was starting to wonder if I could be a fashion designer.
Sunday morning, Gloria told me to put my good things on, as she had been texted the message that Marilyn was going to pick me up at eleven. I went up and showered, dressing in what I had worn Friday night. Just after eleven, Marilyn turned up and I got in the car. As she drove us north, she gave me a potted history of the company.
“We’re going to have lunch with Robert Hook and his wife, Rita. There are nice people. They are the sole owners of Hook Holdings, the real head office. Hook and Hokem is a part of the holding company, and all the stores are owned by franchisees, with us supplying the stock and organising the national advertising. There are about forty shops around the country, so we do deal in quite large volumes of product. The company started in Southampton, as a small shop selling sailor’s clothing in the early nineteen hundreds. Silas Hook was English and Hervey Hokem was an American. They opened up a few stores along the coast before the first war, when Hokem went back to America. Silas had a son, Henry, who expanded the number of stores. His son, Robert, saw that owning all those stores cost a lot of money and embraced the franchise model we have today, selling the actual real estate of the original stores to the franchisees on a very long-term loan.”
“I met Josie, in North Quay, yesterday. If she’s an example of the owners, the group should do well. I never met the owner in Plymouth.”
It was a straight-forward drive to the house, staying on the A27 and turning onto the A33 until we reached the outskirts of North Baddesley. The house was close to the first one we came to. She parked and we were hardly out of the car when a lady came out to greet us. She and Marilyn had a hug and cheek kiss.
“Hello, you must be Tristan, I’m Rita. My husband is inside, looking after lunch. He’s a much better cook than I am.”
We were led inside the house, and I shook hands with “Call me Robert, no standing on ceremony here”. He turned out to be an excellent cook, and it was a lovely meal. I offered to help with the washing up and got to load their dishwasher after he had rinsed the plates.
The discussion was all about current world news, until we were sitting in their lounge with coffee and a cheese platter. That’s when Robert started asking me direct questions.
“What do you think about coming to work for us?”
“I think it will be good. From what I’ve seen, and done, so far, it makes me happy to be using my skills as they should be used.”
“What do you think of living with the girls?”
“It’s been fun. They’ve taken me out of my comfort zone but with total support. I do have to wonder if they’ve ever learned to cook. This has been the first home cooked meal I’ve had since Tuesday.”
“Do you cook?”
“I have looked after myself since I left home. It’s simple things but I’ve had more fast food in the last few days than a month in Plymouth. My mother loves chicken nuggets, and that’s where we meet up.”
“Will you miss Plymouth?”
“I don’t know. It would be leaving for good before I know that.”
“What did you think of the agency campaign?”
“Lazy. They copied the previous supplier pictures and just printed them. If you look closely, you can see the crease lines that they didn’t bother to remove.”
“Marilyn has sent me pictures of what you did in two days. You did what our old graphics man would do in two weeks. I really like the idea of having the office girls as the models. Have you thought about drawing a feminised version of yourself in the collection?”
“No. It would be a laugh, though, wouldn’t it?”
“Tell me, have you had any thoughts about what words you would use in the print adverts?”
“Actually, I have. It may be a step too far for you. I’ve had a brain-worm for years. Do you know the Longfellow poem about the girl with a curl?”
“When she was good, she was very, very good, and when she was bad, she was horrid.”
“That’s the one. I came across it used in a very old advert for hair care, and the curl was in the middle of her ponytail. I was looking through the pictures that the supplier sent, and there is quite a large section of cocktail dresses and clubbing wear.”
“That’s something new for us. We want to move away from the everyday things and see if we can lift the margins.”
“Well, I thought that the beginning of the catalogue, also the start of the campaign, could have the line ‘There was a girl with a curl, it hung past her ear like a token. When she was good, she always wore Hook, and when she had fun, she wore Hokem’.”
He looked at me, then at his wife. Marilyn had an amused look on her face, waiting for the result of my jingle. Robert started laughing. When he stopped, he looked at Marilyn.
“Whatever you’re thinking of paying this lad, add another twenty percent. He has just captured the very essence of what we want to do. Tristan, your competition artwork was the basis of our summer swimwear campaign in a previous year. The agency didn’t like the words you had used, they thought they were too American. They changed them after we had signed off on the printing. I had a good look at the invoice they sent. They tried to charge us for the wording, and the artwork. We refused to pay until those amounts were removed. The thing was only resolved a few months ago. This is why we started to think of alternatives, and I’m very glad we did.”
We stopped talking to pass around the cheese and crackers.
“You’re very quiet, my darling. What do you think of things?”
“I think Tristan should be on the payroll if he wants to come back. One thing we don’t want is him working for our competition.”
“I agree. Tristan, will you work for us, here in Southampton?”
“I will, Robert. I’m glad that you’ve listened to me, having only been looking at what you do for two days.”
“Your two days has saved us weeks in going around in circles. Marilyn, can you organise it please. You can put him down as having started last Thursday. I’m looking forward to seeing what you come up with next. I expect that the girls will be happy.”
After some more talk, we left to return to the house. Marilyn was in thought for much of the way, something I was glad of. I had just committed myself to a full-time job. I would have to tell my old chums I was moving out. The moving wouldn’t take much, as I didn’t have a lot to carry. I would have to see the market site partners to tell them I wasn’t coming back. I only had a few pictures that were completed, so would take them with me and put them on the wall of my room. I didn’t know how my mother would take it.
When Marilyn did talk, she was all sense.
“You will have to talk to the girls tonight, about when you pay your share of the house. They also split utility accounts. There’s no landline so you’re confined to your own mobile. I’ll drop you off at your old place tomorrow. Can you try to get back here inside a week, so we can start getting serious about the campaign. It would be good if we have the winter range ready to be printed when the autumn one goes out. I’ll need to book magazine and newspaper space. Oh! And it looks like you’ll be eating out again tonight. I need to leave around seven, tomorrow, so don’t pack everything you brought with you, just your essentials. The rest will be safe in your room.”
The evening, I wore the black jeans, and needed a bumbag to carry my wallet and phone.
The girls were glad that I was coming back, and they all gave me a hug as I came out to get in the car the next morning. I was starting to appreciate the feeling of belonging that a simple hug could bring. We stopped at the services for a bite to eat and arrived at my old home a little after two. She wasn’t able to pull into the drive because of a police car that was parked there, next to mine.
I got out and grabbed my bag. Instead of driving off, Marilyn got out as well.
“Is this usual, Tristan?”
“No. I wonder what’s up. The others should all be at work. I wonder if one of them has had an accident.”
I opened the door and walked in, Marilyn behind me. I had only got a couple of feet when a policeman stepped out of the communal lounge.
“And who may you be?”
“I’m Tristan Southby. I live here in one of the rooms. Can you tell me what’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong, my lad, is that we caught your housemates selling a large quantity of cannabis in the town centre, Saturday night, and they’re all banged up in the station, awaiting trial. What do you know about that?”
“I knew that they grew it, but I thought that it was for their own use. I used the greenhouse as my studio; my easel should be in there.”
“We wondered what that was for. Why were you away?”
“I’ve been in Southampton about a job. This lady took me there and brought me back today. I just need to load my car and I’ll be leaving; I hope.”
“Can you corroborate that, madam?”
“I do. Tristan will start working with the Head Office of Hook and Hokem as soon as he gets back to Southampton. Do you have anything you need him for?”
“I will need to run this past the Inspector, but his friends all said that he’s just a tenant, and not involved. We did search your room, lad. You do travel light, don’t you?”
“I haven’t had much opportunity to collect much. If I can collect my stuff, I can be out of here this afternoon. I can go and stay with my parents if I have to.”
“All right. You will need to drop into the station to give a blood sample, to make sure you aren’t a user. Other than that, collect your things and pack your car. You won’t mind if I supervise?”
Marilyn gave the policeman her card and told him that she could be back this way later in the week if there was anything they wanted to have confirmed. But, for now, she needed to be in Bude tonight. He told her not to speed and she gave me a hug, told me to get in touch if I was having any trouble, and got into her car and left.
I unlocked my car and started it to make sure it was still running. Then I found my easel, lying in the dirt, no doubt knocked over as they emptied the greenhouse of the weed. I put it in the car, then went to my room and packed everything I owned into what bags I had, with the policeman looking over my shoulder. When I pulled my finished pictures out from under the bed, he commented that he had seen them at the market and congratulated me on my skill.
When I had everything, I drove to the market, where the others on the site were starting to pack up. I told them that I was leaving and would not be attending the site on Saturdays. I was surprised when the pottery lady gave me a hug and told me that I would be missed. After that, I went to the shopping centre to tell them that I had quit, and to pick up the brushes and other bits and pieces that I had used for my work there. As I was just a casual, they couldn’t say no to my leaving. After that, I called my mother.
When the phone was answered, it was my father, who told me that she had come into the city to go shopping. I knew where she would be, and sure enough, she was sitting there with her bucket of nuggets. I sat down at the table.
“There you are. I looked in your workshop and didn’t see you. I tried ringing but got no answer. I was about to call the police to see if they had you. Where have you been?”
I told her that I had been in Southampton, as I had told her, and that I was now the graphic artist for Hook and Hokem, full time, and that I would be sharing a house with four others. She was happy for me. I asked her if I could stay for a night or two because my old address was now a crime scene. She told me that her sister was in my old room for a few weeks. I don’t think the comment about the crime scene sunk in. In the end, we hugged, and she kissed my cheek, telling me to grasp the opportunity with both hands. I watched her walk away, to drive home, then went to another food outlet to get something that wasn’t a lot if spiced batter.
The police station was open all day, so, after I had eaten, I went there to go in and give my blood. The Inspector asked most of the same questions, took my details, and told me that they would be in touch should they want to talk to me some more. I asked about my old school mates and was told that a couple would likely get off with a fine but would now have a criminal record. He did say that two of them were already in the system as juvenile offenders, so they might have to spend a couple of months inside.
I had done everything that I had to do, and in record time. All I needed was somewhere to lay my head, so I went and topped up the car and drove back towards Southampton, stopping at the first place I saw with a vacancy sign lit up.
I could afford a night in a hotel, and they would have a filling breakfast. Tomorrow, I would be back with the girls. I knew that it will be hard work, and they will take me further out of my comfort zone, but I knew, in the end, that it was the pathway to knowing the real person that I knew lived deep within me.
Marianne Gregory © 2024
Chapter 3
I called Marilyn the next morning, before I left the motel. She told me that there was a car park on Portland Terrace, not far from the office, and to park there if I got to Southampton before the office closed. She would contact Gloria to get another key cut for the house and the office for me. I took my time going east, my car wasn’t as swift as Marilyn’s.
I used the GPS on my phone to guide me to the car park, then locked up to walk the short distance to the office. When I walked in, I was mobbed by the girls, who all wanted to know why I was back so early. I told them about the police and the fact that my old home wasn’t available to me anymore. I mentioned that I had my easel and some pictures in the car, and both Monica and Sally volunteered to help me bring them up to the work room.
I carried one picture and the easel, while they carried a picture each. Both thought that they were nice. I explained that they were designed to be sold at a market, to the tourists, which was why they looked like picture postcards. The ladies in summer dresses appealed to them, as it did to many of the purchasers.
In the office, we put the easel up and I put one of the pictures on it, leaning the other two against the wall. Now I had them here, I didn’t want to hang them in the house, as they were a throwback to a past version of me. I was still trying to work out what the present version of me was going to be.
Gloria gave me the keys and told me about the code for the alarm system in the office. I told them that I would see them when they got home and went back to the car to find my way to the house. There, I unloaded everything and took it all up to my room. I knew that I would start working hard in the morning, but tonight I felt as if I had arrived home again. Just a few nights here and it felt right. I changed into my running gear and went out for a run in the park, catching up with the girls as they were walking home and walking with them.
That evening we went to the ‘Angel’ and I finally caught on to the system. Because they were all watching their weight, they only ordered child serves, which dropped the meal price. It was allowed because they were very regular regulars, and I was added to the list when the management was told that I was now working with them and would be there when they were. Mind you, when the meals did come out, I think that there must be a little more than what a child would have.
I started creating the autumn catalogue, with Gloria telling me that the six of us would be the sole models for the drawings, and that I had to create a feminine version of me as one of the models. I thought that it was a funny way to go about things but didn’t want to upset my employers. I had to rework some of the ones I had done last week, but that was no problem. Every picture had the head with a curl hanging past the ear. It became a link to the whole range.
It took another three weeks before the autumn catalogue was ready to be approved, and I needed to start on the winter one. By that time, I had been paid, as we were paid fortnightly, and had stayed late some afternoons to work on a couple of canvases I had bought. There was the one of Monica that she asked for, but it was a full-length picture of her from the party dress section of the catalogue, without the curl. She offered me money for it, but I gave it to her.
The other picture was one that would never leave the work room. It was my version of a feminine me, also from the catalogue, as close to my own features as I could make it. It was the me that I had wondered about; the me with curly hair and a smile. The girls would often tell me that I could be just like her, but it never went any further than that. My hair, though, once straight, and lank, now had body and bounce, which I was told made me look like a pop star. Which one, they never told me.
The catalogue was printed and sent to the shops. The next time we went to West Quay shops, Josie gave me a big hug and a smacker on the cheek, much to the enjoyment of the others. She asked me why I wasn’t in a dress, so I told her that the catalogue was artistic licence. She told us that she had loved it, and the new range, and didn’t mind moving the shop around for the launch. Gloria offered our services to help, as the moves were done on a Sunday. With my next pay, I had a little bonus for the catalogue, which we were told had been well received by everyone.
I started on the winter catalogue, being instructed that the models would all have the curl again. I thought hard about keeping the momentum going for the colder weather. The winter range had a big selection of winter coats. I came up with, ‘There was a girl with a curl, she shivered when winter did open. When she was in, she wore Hook with a grin. When she went out, she wore Hokem’.
As there was a good break between this campaign and the spring one, Robert loaned me a car to drive, with a boot full of the catalogues, a company credit card, and a list of all the shops. It was to be my introduction to the franchisees. The shops were mainly in the southern part of the country, having started out in all the harbour towns. A lot of them were along the coast, with the others stretched out between Liverpool and Boston, the newest ones being in inland towns. In Plymouth, I went to see my parents so that they could take in the newer version of me. I gave Mum a catalogue and pointed out the feminised version of me. Dad just called me a poofter and went out to cut flowers. When I heard him start up the weed trimmer, I wondered if he was a little stressed.
I spent most of a month travelling, and it was a great experience. A lot of my visits were positive, and others offered ideas, which I noted for Marilyn. She, of course, saw everyone a couple of times during the year. During that time, I found out that every shop bought from our stock, then was responsible for selling off unsold stock in sales. Then I was back at work, seeing the likely spring products for the first time.
On my travels, I had taken pictures of the places I had visited, often pointed to the scenic views by the shop owners. I had intended to use the pictures as the basis of some landscapes. What happened, was that the spring catalogue was forty pictures of the places where our shops were located, with the girls with curls dressed in the spring outfits, very much like my Plymouth pictures. Each picture had the six of us and was captioned with the location and the address of the shop. The words for that one was, ‘The girl with the curl went tripping, in Hokem and Hook she was skipping.’ By this time, the shops had been evenly divided into Hook and Hokem sides, so I thought it would be an idea to reverse the names.
Robert approved, wholeheartedly, and I was told that the summer range would be in two separate catalogues, one each for the Hook and Hokem ranges, as there had been a lot of interest in the Hokem lines, even with a price difference. I was also instructed that this catalogue should include a photo of each of the actual models, as there had been questions about the six that showed up every time. That was a shock to me. When I had been asked about the six models during my trip, I had just said that they were girls who worked in Head Office. Most picked Marilyn, but nobody had seen the rest in person, except Josie.
I think that it may have been Josie who had suggested it to Rita, when she was in the store. Either way, it put me on the spot. By this time, I had been living with the girls for nearly a year, and we had become good friends. I had been to the gay club, more than once, and had even worn my purple jeans, along with a dark purple top that the girls had bought me for Christmas, which drew no comments, other than how good they made me look. I had come to think that the new version of me was settled.
In the new year, the old Ford was getting very hard to start, so I sold it to a wrecker and put a deposit on a second-hand Ford Galaxy people mover. It allowed the five of us to go anywhere we wanted and had the extra space if I was going to move my easel and canvases around. I had the vague notion that I may go on an artistic road trip one day.
When the summer catalogue was to be started, the file of the offered products arrived, and Gloria organised the photos. I was all for taking them in the office, but the consensus was that we do it properly. Sally and Monica went first, with me being told that the pictures were only head and shoulders, taken at a local studio. They came back with great hair and fully made up. The next day it was Judith and Marilyn. The third day it was to be me and Gloria. I had worn a good shirt and washed my hair, thinking that this was enough. They could always photoshop me to look more like the catalogue pictures.
We went to the salon first. The girl asked us what I needed, and Gloria showed her the latest catalogue, pointing out a picture from the Hokem range, with my look-alike in a cocktail dress and jewels.
“This is what we’re after, the same sort of make-over that you gave the other four. The full works, without the single curl.”
They sat me in a chair and covered me from the shoulders down, the proceeded to do their best to transform me. I know that I had done that painting of a feminine me, but that wasn’t possible in real life, was it?
We were there two hours and when I saw Gloria, I thought it was two hours well spent. When I saw myself, I was truly amazed. They had, indeed, recreated my picture in the catalogue. I had been waxed on the face, had my eyebrows shaped, been given earring studs in new holes, and made up. It was my hair that almost made me cry. I was no longer a straight-haired guy – from the neck up I was all girl, with a full head of curls.
We went straight from there to the studio, where I was given a girls top to replace my shirt, and we were photographed from many angles. I didn’t mind that part, I found it quite restful. It was when we were going to go back to the office which caused me to ask Gloria the question that was on my mind.
“Gloria, this is a very strange situation for me. I’ve done this to fulfil my duty to the company, and I know that the pictures will go in the next catalogue. Right now, though, I look female from the neck up. Are we going back to the salon to have all this removed?”
“Tristan. What you have done is difficult to change back. The holes in your ears will take months to heal up, you now have plumped lips, your eyebrows are definitely a woman’s, and they gave you a perm, so your hair will be curly for the duration. It will be easier if we transform the rest of you to suit. The salon is expecting you back, and Josie had donated a complete outfit for you. She told us that you’ve been on the fence long enough, it’s time you found out life’s like on this side. The way you are with us, you’re more than halfway there.”
I stood there for a moment. This could have been the pivot point in those stories I had read. I had thought, at the time, that this sort of transformation was impossible. Today I had seen myself in a mirror, and also seen the pictures that had been taken. I had two choices, try to carry on as I had been, but looking totally silly; or go all the way and see where it leads.
“You win, Gloria, let’s do it.”
“I think it’s you who will be the winner. We had a talk about this yesterday, and we think that you should be called Trixie.”
So, we were back in the salon, where they worked below the neck, and it wasn’t much fun. The thing that surprised me most was that the running and eating properly had given me a waist that was almost the same size as the girls. No wonder those Hook jeans fitted better. By the time I was having a mani-ped, Gloria was back with a couple of bags. There was more than a dress there, and I learned just what those writers had described when it came to shapewear and underwear. By the time the dress and shoes went on, I had the idea that this had been carefully planned.
I was allowed some time, walking around the salon, before we left to return to the office, me now carrying a bag with my old clothes in, as well as another bag with products that had been used on me, with instruction sheets. We needed to walk along Above Bar Street, and I fully expected laughter and derision. What I was confronted with, though, was lustful looks from guys in the street as we strolled along. We stopped at the café we usually had lunch at, and I was called ‘miss’ and ‘luv’.
“This is a test, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Trixie, and you’re passing in more ways than one. In your time living with us you have absorbed the way we talk, the way we walk, and a lot of other things. The way you automatically swept your dress as you sat down for one. Admit it, this is what you were really thinking that first day you poured your soul out to us in the park. You’ve wanted to be a woman for years, it’s just that you were too scared to try it.”
“I suppose that’s why I painted that picture of me as a woman.”
“That was the big clue. There’s something you should know. Robert is planning something totally new for Hook and Hokem. He wants us to model, in the autumn outfits, at a fashion show. There will be just the six of us, bringing the next catalogue to life. I think that he wants future ones to be part drawings and part photos. So, prepare yourself for a newer version of you, one that may keep you this side of the fence.”
“I’m not sure, Gloria, but I’ll give it a try. I never thought that you could transform a guy into a girl, but, today, it happened to me. I’ll do my best not to make a fool of myself. It must be lunch time, here come the others.”
When they came in, there were squeals, hugs, and cheek kisses. With me adding my own input. We sat and had our lunch, with me now feeling that I wasn’t insulting my gender by eating a salad. When we finished, we walked back to the office, with me carrying the bag of my old clothes into my room. I got a mirror and set it up beside my painting to compare my present look with what I had painted. There were triplets in the room, me, my reflection, and the painting. It was uncanny.
That afternoon, I started on the summer catalogues. I did the usual scanning and printing of all the products and did quick pencil drawings on every one of them over the next two weeks. I would find the picture that fitted the aspect later and add it. The first day, I worked in the dress I had been given. On weekends I went shopping with the girls and I ended up with a whole new wardrobe, all from Josie, who gave me discount on the discount, for being a big customer. I had a range of skirts and tops and had been to the Edge and Box fully dressed, where the only comment I got was from one of the usual guys, who said, “About time!”
As five girls, we started to go to other venues, and it was then that I was subjected to groping when dancing. I wasn’t sure if I was angry when a particularly handsome guy was dancing with me. I was embracing the life of a girl, encouraged by the others. I didn’t get to snogging, it wasn’t my thing, but Sally sometimes came home the next day. A few times, Monica and I went to pop shows together, and we were like a couple of sisters.
The photos were in the two catalogues, on the bottom of double pages where every outfit had the one girl featured, with the names. That made ten pages in each catalogue, plus another ten without the picture at the bottom. It wasn’t long after that when we started getting fan mail addressed to the office. That was an outcome that nobody had expected. Every time one came for me, Gloria would make a big thing of it, and I had to read it out loud. Some got quite explicit, and we often were sitting with tears running down our faces from laughing.
I had thought that when I had a holiday, I would go off for a painting trip, but, when it came around, I spent two weeks in the back room, painting pictures from sketches that I had drawn over the past few months. I had seen likely pictures when we had all been out clubbing, with pictures of bodies gyrating, in vivid colours. They resembled cubism in appearance but were realistic representations. At the end of that time, I had nearly thirty paintings that I didn’t have a market for.
Gloria told me not to worry, and on my first day back working on the autumn catalogue, I was visited by Henry Morrison, the guy from the big gallery not far from the house. When Gloria introduced us, she told him that Trixie had been producing our new catalogues and had developed the advertising thread that we now had.
He looked at the pictures I had produced, while I worked on my proper job. He commented on the painting of me as remarkably life-like, and the three paintings I had brought from Plymouth as ‘deliciously naive’. I did explain that I had been selling them in a market in Plymouth to tourists, which was why they only had initials on the bottom corner, where my current output were all signed ‘Trixie’.
He was enraptured by the current pictures, loving how I had captured the movement, but included the details of the outfits, which he thought was from my professional experience. He wanted all of them for his gallery, with his framer choosing the right frames. That evening, after work, I brought the Ford around to the front door, and a couple of the girls helped me carry the pictures down to it. On the Saturday, I went to the gallery rear entrance, and they were unloaded.
I said a thoughtful goodbye to them as I drove back to the house. The showing would be in three weeks, and the five of us would be helping out. I had been living full-time as Trixie for close to two months, and had no problems with it, other than the time it took getting ready to leave the house. The curls had stayed in, just needing a brushing to fluff up, and my skin was improving with the moisturising regime I now followed. I thought, sometimes, about going home to visit my parents on a weekend but had the idea that it may force my father to cut flowers with a chainsaw.
That autumn held a number of firsts for me. It was my first showing, and it went very well. The five of us were in cocktail dresses and bejewelled with bling from the market. The crowd was appreciative, and I was surprised to see Robert and Rita there, with Rita telling me that I was too talented to be working at a day job. I think they bought a couple of pictures, including my self-portrait. I was surprised that my Plymouth pictures sold, if at a lower price than the others, but still ten times what I had been selling them for in the market.
During the drinking and talking, I found myself with Robert and Henry, with Henry wondering what I would do for another showing. Robert offered him the forty originals of the scenic pages from the previous catalogue, which were now in a storeroom. They were, of course, the property of the company, and I was amazed when Robert vowed to split any profit with me.
The showing was a success, with me receiving a substantial cheque some weeks later. Everything had sold, and Henry wanted me to start on some more pictures. He asked me to repeat the Plymouth ones with Southampton views, but bigger. I wasn’t sure I could do it, so told him that it may take a while to produce a show’s worth. He said that it would be for the next summer, so I had plenty of time.
Another thing that happened during our time at the showing, was that a local press photographer was present, and he took pictures of the five of us, as well as individual pictures. He took one of me, beside my self-portrait, which appeared in the review of my works, describing me as a ‘remarkable young lady, a talented artist, and creator of the new range of Hook and Hokem catalogues.’
That one was cut out, framed, and hung in the office for everyone to look at. I put a copy in an envelope, sending it to my mother. She answered with a short letter to tell me that she was going to come to Southampton at Christmas and wanted to know where she could stay. That was going to be interesting, especially when she called me Trixie and her darling daughter. I didn’t expect Dad to be with her. The closest hotel to the house was the Premier Inn. It would be just a short stroll if there wasn’t a railway line in the way, but there was a footbridge. In fact, if she had a room on our side of the hotel, I would be able to send her morse code messages with my bedroom light.
Another momentous event was the fashion show. It was hard work for all of us, slightly harder for me as I needed to walk graciously in heels. I did have good, and heartless, teachers. It was held in the Quay West shops, outside Josie’s shop, where we were to change. It was a Saturday, and we gave two shows, one in the morning and one in the afternoon. All the clothes were from the catalogue, and we mainly wore the ones we had modelled in it. The press was there, as was the local TV station for one session, and we could see ourselves as others saw us, that evening on the news.
That event had far-reaching ramifications. We had a visit from a modelling agency the week after, wanting to sign us all up. Marilyn wasn’t interested, having her family to care for. Gloria and Judith were keenish. Sally and Monica were ready to sign that day and dragged me into the conversation. In the end, the three of us were signed on the proviso that it would not cut into our day jobs.
Marianne Gregory © 2024
Chapter 4
For me, the main effort was going into the winter catalogue. I went traditional for this, with coloured balls, holly leaves, and snow drifts in the coats and jackets section. The interior outfits had warming fires, Christmas trees and decorations. All six of us were featured, this time mixed up on the pages.
About half were photos, and the rest drawings. The major difference was that some of us had a professional photographer, and were paid, which was why there were only half as many photos of us, compared to the others, who had their pictures taken in the studio down the road.
I knew that Robert wouldn’t be happy, having to pay the agency, but when the catalogue went to the shops, there were many complaints about the difference in numbers. It appeared that our franchisees wanted more input for their fees. It was easy to see the difference in picture quality, lighting, and poses. Robert was going to have to take a deep breath and send us all to the professional in future.
When push came to shove, it was Rita that persuaded him to cough up. Marilyn told me that since I had been with the company, the sales were on an upward slope, and the Hokem range was bringing in a better profit to the shops and the holding company. The bottom line showed that the business could afford the extra cost with each season.
That meant that the spring catalogue would be mainly photos of us, with the others being signed to the agency so that they had the better pictures taken, whether they liked it or not. We closed the office for two weeks between before Christmas and after New Year. In the house, we had got each other presents, with it the first year I had been given earrings.
Mum had let me know that she was booked into the Premier, and her likely arrival time. I rugged up and walked to the hotel to wait for her. The odd thing was that the receptionist was a convert to the Hokem range and recognised me straight away. That led to me being given a hot coffee and a cake while I waited. When I told them who I was waiting for, they upgraded the room, and she had the full service when she arrived.
I saw her car pull up outside, so went out to meet her. I was beaten to her car by a couple of young lads, one helped her get out, offering to carry her bags, while the other told her that the car would be parked for her, and the keys delivered to her room. I just stood back, smiling, until she allowed the bags to be carried into the hotel.
“Even in that winter jacket you look lovely, Trixie. Come on and give your mother a hug.”
We hugged and cheek kissed, and I led her into the hotel and up to reception. There, it was all professionalism.
“Good afternoon, Mrs Southby. We have put you in one of our Star Rooms. Each one is themed with a film star décor. You are in the Monroe room. The boys will carry your bags up; you don’t need to tip them as it is all part of the service. If you and Trixie want to have afternoon tea first, that is complimentary and in the bistro. The door is card operated, and here is your card.”
We made our way to the bistro, where she was fortified with two cups of tea and some cupcakes. I had the tea but stayed off the cakes as I was watching my weight. We had a quiet talk and she told me that my father was slowly coming around to the fact that, on the face of it, he now had a daughter. She said that he almost blew his boiler when he saw the photo of me with my new name.
I told her about my successful showing and showed her some pictures on my phone, then told her about the modelling. She wanted to know what the guys I was house sharing with thought of my transformation, so I had to tell her that I had been living with four girls since I had arrived. After we had gone to her room and she put her things away, we walked to the footbridge and then the short distance to the house.
The girls welcomed her in and made a fuss of her, telling her that she should be happy to have such a talented child. I introduced them and told Mum what they did in the office. Gloria was the office manager and helped Judith who kept the books. Sally and Monica did the stock ordering and arranged deliveries to the shops. I told her that Marilyn, who she would meet, was the franchisee co-ordinator and placed the adverts in the magazines.
We then all put our coats on and walked to the ‘Angel’ for dinner. She was amazed at how friendly everyone was, with all of us well known by the management and the customers. She said that she didn’t eat a lot at her age, so she was included in the child serves. I was picking up the bill for tonight, and it was lovely, with Mum really getting to know my colleagues.
When she asked us what we usually did for entertainment, we couldn’t tell her that we went to a gay bar a lot, so Monica suggested the ‘Joiners’, where the two of us had been several times. We went back to the house, where I opened up the car that she hadn’t seen before, and I drove us the short distance to the ‘Joiners’. She managed to endure the live music until ten, so we all got back into the Galaxy, and I took her back to the hotel, telling her that I would pick her up at eleven, because we were having a lunch. After that, we dropped Gloria and Judith at the Edge and Box and the three of us went back to the house for a hot chocolate before bed.
We were booked for lunch at Cosmo, a buffet and all you can eat. They were open because of the cruise ships in the docks, with a steady influx of customers. The lunch was hosted by Robert and Josie, as a thank you for our hard work during the year. Gloria and Judith had to be roused to get ready after just six hours sleep, and we all piled into the Galaxy to get Mum. Monica, being the smallest, was the one in the back row.
At the restaurant, we found the right table and sat down, with Mum being introduced to the others that she hadn’t met. I knew that she would go for the endless supply of chicken nuggets, but she did try some of the other things that the rest of us were having.
“You’ve come a long way with food, Trixie. I remember the days that you lived on chips.”
“I remember the days when all we had in the kitchen was potatoes from the back garden, before the flower business took off.”
Josie sat next to Mum and regaled her with how much I had done for the company. After the dinner, she took us into West Quay and opened up her shop for Mum to pick something, ‘as a gift from me to thank you for giving us Trixie’. I took the others back to the house and then took Mum on a scenic drive around the city. We hardly stopped talking the whole afternoon. I hadn’t talked to her so much, or so frankly, when I was younger. I admitted that I always wondered what it would be like to be a girl. She wanted to see where I worked, so we left the Galaxy in the car park and walked the short distance to the office.
I took her up and opened the office, showing her the main room.
“The four girls work in here; Marilyn has her own office. There’s a toilet and a kitchen, and I work through here.”
I opened the door and she saw my workplace for the first time. I told her how I would scan the pictures we were sent, and then print them off in a larger size to add the human features. I pulled a tube out of my little storeroom and showed her one of the originals from an earlier catalogue. I went and made a pot of tea, and she sat in my chair while I put a fresh canvas on the easel and started painting. As I did this, we talked some more.
“Are you really happy here?”
“Yes, Mum. I’ve been able to discover the me that was hidden inside.”
“What was it that tipped you over?”
“I had a doubt since I was about thirteen, but it was the orders that we would be photographed for that catalogue which pushed me. I was made up for a head and shoulders picture, but I couldn’t work as Tristan with pierced ears and a perm, so I took the option to try the rest. It was incredibly easy, in the end, and I’ve embraced it ever since.”
“How are you with money?”
“I’m good. I’m paid well, but wonder if I’ve engineered my own redundancy, if we go to just photos in the next catalogue. The three pictures that I used to sell at the market for fifty pounds, were sold here at the gallery for five hundred each. I had a collection of nearly thirty pictures in the showing and they went for between fifteen hundred to two thousand each. That painting of me that was in the newspaper clipping, was bought by Robert for two and a half. I had enough from that one event to pay off the Ford, buy lots of clothes, and give me a good bank balance. The only money that was taken off the sales was the commissions and the frame costs.”
“What about boys?”
“No interest. I’m still a virgin and want to concentrate on my career. I have girls who are friends, and I have some boys who I’m friendly with. Some that I can dance with when we’re out. I go out more than I’ve ever done before; the only meal that’s been produced in the house kitchen has been breakfast and the odd sandwich since the day I arrived.”
We were quiet for a while, just happy to be in each other’s company, while I painted. I created an imaginary picture of the two of us, side by side, with the background of the flower fields in Plymouth, with my father in the background, cutting flowers. I did the background and our clothing quickly, almost impressionist, but took a lot of care with our facial features. We spoke about the situation at home as I worked. It took me two hours, and she was very patient with me.
When I had put ‘Trixie’ on the bottom corner and stood back to see to the brushes, she stood and came to look at what I had created. She burst into tears, and I had to hold her as she sobbed.
“Your father always called you ‘arty-farty’. If you had gone to college to study art, you couldn’t be any better. This is beautiful, created from nothing while we talked.”
“This will be dry before you go home, and we’ll put it in a bag for you to take. Maybe, it will allow Dad to accept me for who I am, not as who I used to be. I’ll ask for a few days off at Easter, if there’s space for me to lay my head.”
“This is the best Christmas present I’ve ever been given. There will be your old room for you. Do you want it redecorated?”
“No, Mum. Just gather up any old clothes and toys and take them to the op-shop, if you haven’t done that already. I don’t need a girly décor to feel right, my room in the house is totally neutral.”
I locked up and we went to the car, going back to her hotel where we had dinner. By the time I left her, we had hugged more often than we had in eighteen years. I picked her up the next day and took her into Portsmouth. She had said that she wanted to see the Overlord Embroidery, so we went to the D-Day Museum, where we spent a few hours, looking at the exhibits, especially the embroidered panels that told the story of the day. It was a modern version of the Bayeux Tapestry. We lunched at the café, and I took her up the river edge to park in Broad Street.
We strolled the promenade along the old City Wall, looked at the Round Tower, and had an early dinner in the old Black Horse Tavern. The whole day was good for both of us. She had taken me to Plymouth Hoe when I was ten, and we had spent that day looking at the historic sites. Today allowed us to both separate the Trixie I am now from the Tristan I was then.
She was going home the next day, so we went back to park near the office. She sat in the car while I bagged the now-dry painting. When we got to the hotel, I put it in her car. We went into the hotel and the receptionist called me over to her counter. She had a new magazine which had a full-page advert for Hokem. It was a photo of me, in a cocktail dress of red and green, standing with my arm resting on the mantlepiece of a log fire. When the photo had been taken, I had to stand with my arm up, drawing the fire and detail in afterwards. She wanted me to sign it for her. I asked her if I could buy another copy, and she found one in the office.
I signed hers, ‘To Janet, the best receptionist in Southampton, from Trixie’. I took the other one and signed it, ‘To the best parents in the world, from your loving Trixie’. I had hugs from both of the recipients, with Mum tearing up again. She went off to the lift and I turned to Janet, paying for Mum’s stay, including breakfast tomorrow. I drove back to the house and went to bed with a happy smile on my face. I was a new me, but I still had my Mum.
I spent the rest of holiday in my workroom painting. It was restful and quite productive. I was doing pictures of local scenes, as requested, with people in them looking much better than the reality. We were back to normal, with evenings in the ‘Angel’, and I went with the others to the January sales. It was an interesting experience, with my sketchbook benefiting in the evenings with visions from the hectic scenes in the shops.
For the first time, Robert had talked to our suppliers and asked for an advance shipment of one of everything for the spring catalogue, in the range of sizes that fitted the six of us. This would allow us to have the photos done, against a green screen, with me filling in the page with background and text. It actually made my job harder as we approached the print deadline but gave me more time to create earlier on.
One of the jobs I did have to do was to make sure all the autumn originals were undamaged and to sign them on the bottom corner as, ‘A Trixie original for Hook and Hokem’. They went to the gallery for framing and a speciality showing in spring. When the show catalogue had been printed, Robert sent a copy to every one of the franchisees. I had been pencilled in for an autumn showing and was slowly putting together a collection.
We spent most of a week being made-up and photographed. I had asked that we have four of each outfit, encompassing a hundred and eighty-degree arc, so that I could pick the best ones to fit the pages. With the two separate catalogues, we had close to sixty pages to work with. I had created some backgrounds, and when we received the digital images, I dropped the ones I wanted onto the backgrounds and printed the originals for the printer. This time, I saved every complete page onto the computer. I sent the two files to Robert to approve, before sending both the computer files and the hard copies to the printer.
All the girls were excited about this issue. We were there, in all our glory, in full colour. No more drawings. I was now only providing the backgrounds. It was a bit of a release, as it allowed me to think about my own pictures. And this is what I started to do.
When Robert had approved the two catalogues with a lovely email, the girls started to organise the orders for the shops so that we could order them in time for the season launch. We also asked for the summer range to be sent, one of each in the same range of sizes. I did learn that we had three warehouses. Ours covered the south coast, one in East London covered the centre of the country, and one in Manchester covered the northern area.
I tried to continue with my paintings on weekends, but Monica and me were advised of a location shoot for the summer advertising campaign for the Isle of Wight. When we got the news of that, Monica got me into the salon to have my penis hidden under a skin fold, so that I could wear a bikini. It would also be good for our own swimwear pages. I had to have a smile when I thought of the competition picture I had produced, never thinking that I would be modelling one myself.
I did go home over Easter for a week. It was interesting to see Dad fight his stiff-necked feelings to give me the first hug. Once the ice had been broken and we had sat and talked, he came to realise that I was much the same child, but looking closer to how I had acted when I was younger. I slept in my old room, now with more colourful bedlinen. I helped with the cooking, and I went out to visit my old stamping ground.
In the years I had been away, not much had changed. I drove past my old share house, seeing a brand-new BMW in the driveway, so my old pals weren’t living there, unless they had started dealing Class A’s without being collared. The Broadway was much the same. Of course, I had visited the shop when I did my introductory trip. I was recognised as soon as I walked through the door and the owner took me for lunch, asking about the next catalogue. Before I went back, I went into the Market, but the usual crowd were no longer on the site. It was now a smallgoods stand, and I bought some ham to take home for sandwiches.
The visit allowed me to move on, with almost everything I had been involved in after I left home consigned to history. I reconnected with my father, even helping him out in the fields. That gave me some visions that I sketched in my room. They would be suitable anywhere. When I got back to Southampton, I joined Monica for the stay on the Isle of Wight. We did have to wear bikinis, but my new look groin and false breasts were good enough to fool everyone, with most of the pictures long shots of us cavorting on a beach. We both had to take unpaid leave to be there, but it paid off later when we received our fee.
Back in the office, we were starting to get the products for summer, and I needed to think of a theme. I had my sketches of flowers, so I went out into the parks and sketched every different flower I could. Queens Park was a good one, with lots of smaller flowers in the borders, and Watts Park was another. Our usual running place, Palmerstone Park, had another good range of flowers, as well as flowering shrubs and blossom trees.
I decided on the rose, the hydrangea, daffodil, tulip, Calla lily, and the Peruvian lily. The last weren’t seen very often in parks, but Dad grew them in greenhouses to help them through the winter. Each of us would be shown on a page with our flower as the theme. I put it to Gloria, and she liked it for a summer collection.
Once again, we had sixty pages over two catalogues. Each of us had five pages in each catalogue. I did some preliminary work on the background before the clothes arrived. We were back into the studio, with it getting easier every time we went in. The other three were now happy with the way things worked out, as the shoots were a nice bonus in our pay packages.
With the digital images, and my background designs, it was a lot quicker to produce something for approval. When that had come through and I had sent the files and the hard copy to the printers. Robert sent a message for me to come to his house for a discussion. I dressed well, expecting bad news. I was welcomed in, and Rita had laid out a morning tea.
“Trixie, you are sensible enough to know that the catalogues do not take as long as they used to. It’s down to you that they now look better than they ever were. They have more pages, and the shops are experiencing a higher interest to see the new ones, with many having advance orders based on the photos. That never happened with the old issues. This gives you some free time.”
“I understand, Robert.”
“I can see by your face that you think I’m going to tell you that you don’t have a job. You couldn’t be further from the truth. I have spoken to a lot of the franchisees, and they want you to visit their shops and paint a mural for them, based on their location. The catalogue with the local scenes created a lot of phone calls telling me how good it was. When we have new ranges in, I’ll need you in the office to model and produce the catalogue. Other times, you’ll be paid the usual rate as you travel around the shops. What do you think?’
“That’s very good of you, Robert. It will be great to do that. I can be called back as needed. Can I use my car, as it’s big enough to carry my paints and luggage.”
“We’ll give you a debit card for fuel and hotels, and I expect that the shop owners will be taking you out for meals. Try not to spend more than a week anywhere. I know that you can produce a good-sized picture in that time. Don’t make them too detailed but make them local.”
“Understood. I will send pictures as I complete them. I’ll go anticlockwise, starting here and finishing in Bournemouth. I should be able to get a lot of new ideas for my own paintings.”
“I believe that the showing of the forty catalogue originals is in June. I’ll get Gloria to let you know the exact dates, and you can wind up what you’re doing and come back to attend that. You can get away as soon as you are ready. It should be a good thing for the company as a whole.”
I drove back to the office deep in thought. I had never done anything as big as a mural, but, there again, it’s just the name of a picture painted directly on a wall, so it can be as big as it needed to be. I would have to talk to an artist supplier to find out what the best preparation and paints would be.
As I was going to start with the West Quay shop, I went to see Josie. She showed me where she wanted the picture, over the counter. The fact that she already knew about it confirmed that she had been one of the instigators. As we spoke, I pulled out my sketchbook and wrote down a list that all of the shops would need to be told, starting with, ‘Decide where you want your picture and clear a space under it.’
I added, for me, ‘Get a drop sheet to carry’, and ‘Get a step ladder.’
I asked her what she wanted in the picture, a local scene, perhaps?
“Trixie, this is where the company started. Not this actual shop, the original was somewhere close, near the harbour, but I want this picture to reflect our standing in history. I want you to paint you six girls who have lifted our business out of the doldrums, with me in the middle. Then I want the words, ‘Number One’ on top, and ‘Head Office’ on the bottom.”
“That will be quite a big picture, with seven figures. It may tend to dominate the wall.”
“Dominate! I love it. Today, Southampton, tomorrow the world!”
Marianne Gregory © 2024
Chapter 5
We both had a laugh, and I added another note, ‘Get signwriting stuff’. I did a rough calculation based on the size of the figures and told her how much wall needed to be cleared.
When I left her, I went to the hardware store and bought a drop sheet and a stepladder, putting them in the car and then going to the artist supplies shop. There, I bought six canvases that I could work on while I was away, as well as a signwriters stick and the correct brushes. I asked about painting on walls an bought a range of colours in a long-lasting paint. Seeing that Josie wanted writing, I also took a set of letter stencils in upper and lower case. I could lightly pencil the outline and fill in the letters.
I was moving into a new way of working. I started on the mural for Josie, and that was finished well inside a week. It had been a good learning curve, doing the sign writing for the first time, and having to stand on a stepladder to paint. I had a couple of moments before catching myself from stepping back to take in the picture. When I had finished it, Josie organised a ‘Mural Special’ on the Saturday, where she cut a ribbon and had racks of left-over items at ridiculous prices.
We all attended, and it attracted a big crowd, with all six of us signing catalogues for the punters, as well as the mural with a texta. I came away with some additions to my own wardrobe, one being something I had been wearing in the catalogue.
I had learned a lot, which went into the email I sent to the owner of the Portsmouth shop where I would start the mural on the Monday. Robert had taken a picture of us all with Josie, and had sent it to all the other shops, telling them that I would be going anticlockwise around the country and that they would be notified before I arrive. He supplied me with my own laptop and an email address so that the owners could contact me directly with their thoughts on the subject matter.
After the Portsmouth job was finished, we had the autumn catalogue to produce, with the now-usual modelling and production of the artwork. As before, it was smooth, and we were ready and printed well before the start of the season. The gallery showing was successful, with the gallery taking on-line orders prior to the opening, with a dozen of our shops buying their page. The rest were bought by visitors. I bought the one which had me in the dress I was wearing to the gallery. That was one which I wanted on my wall at the house.
My next shop was Brighton, not one of the original outlets. They wanted a depiction of the “Pavilion” in the background with the owners in the foreground. The Portsmouth shop had wanted the “Victory” on theirs and had supplied a postcard of a painting of it at sea. I was learning new skills on the job, as I had never painted a ship or a building before.
I had that one finished and moved on to Hastings, before going home for the showing of my own works at the gallery. Henry had looked at them all and had declared that I was getting better, adding another thousand to the prices. I had the support of the girls and we all glammed up for the occasion. I was now able to afford some real jewellery for this and felt very glamorous as I talked to the gallery clients. Once again, nearly everything sold, so I would be expecting another windfall.
One thing that was unexpected was that Sally met up with a nice guy. He was the son of one of the council members, and had just completed his studies in IT. He came into the office and helped us upgrade the systems, knowing what the new programs could do better. Before the end of the year, she moved out of the house and moved in with him in his apartment.
The rest of us decided that we could maintain our costs with just the four of us, so there was a bit more room to play around in. Her room was bigger than the ones on the upper floor, so Monica moved down, leaving me with the two rooms on the top floor. I didn’t mind putting in extra to use the extra space to relocate my easel and work in progress.
Before the end of the year, we had produced a winter catalogue, and I had been to Folkstone and Dover, and we had been photographed for the spring catalogue, now working weeks ahead of what we used to. The suppliers were happy to come to the party as it gave them a longer time for the full production. We closed the office for two weeks over the Christmas and New Year, enjoying the time off.
This year, for the first time, I told the others that we were going to have a Christmas dinner at home. Monica had some skills, and I had some as well, so we clubbed together to buy in what we were going to serve and cooked the meal while the other two sat in the lounge. It was a successful event and we threatened to do it again, sometime. We joined the crowd at the ‘Angel’ as usual for the other meals.
Monica and I took a few days to go over to the Isle of Wight, staying in the hotel where we had stayed for the shoot. We were welcomed in and told that our summer campaign for the Island had been very well received. We spent those days just sightseeing, often in pouring rain, but it was away from work, so we didn’t care.
In January, I completed the murals for Canterbury and Chatham, as well as finishing the spring catalogue. There was a lot on the media about a bad flue strain that was starting to kill more and more people, especially older ones. Robert called us to the office for a meeting. He was wise enough to know that a pandemic would lead to a big loss of sales, and the rumours about lockdowns had him spooked. Sally had been looking at the internet since moving and said that a lot of other outlets had websites, showing us a few on her computer.
Robert was now used to how the business had changed, and understood that we needed better online presence, getting Sally’s boyfriend in to give us a website and training all of us in its usage. The three warehouses were told to upgrade and be ready for more small deliveries, with our carriers getting the same message. Between us, we designed our web pages and the payment system. All payments would come to a new account marked ‘Home Office’, with the shops getting credited with payments from sales within their area, so that they wouldn’t miss out. I spent a lot of time loading the system with the digital images.
I believe that we were thought crazy by some of the shop owners, but we were vindicated when the first lock-down was announced at the end of March. The shops all had to close, but we carried on selling online. It actually made more work for us as the office became the control room of the Hook and Hokem empire, from ordering to the sales. The four of us went into the office in our running outfits, in pairs, as that was allowed. Sally wasn’t far away so able to work. Marilyn couldn’t get in, so took half-pay leave.
We loaded up selected pictures from the spring catalogue, with a ‘New!’ against them and a special price. They had been ordered and some had arrived in the warehouses. It was a surprise as the orders came in, with a lot of people from all over the country having nothing to do but browse the internet. Josie was able to come in to help out where she could.
We kept Marilyn and Robert abreast of what was happening. As the lockdown eased in May, Marilyn came back to work and was brought up to speed with the system. Unfortunately, during that first wave, we lost three shops with the deaths of the franchise owners. Ipswich, Boston and Torquay, all new outlets that had opened in the last five years. As the premises were owned by the franchise, and the stock had all been paid for, they had auctions to clear and the shops were put on the market.
I had no time to paint anything. As soon as restrictions eased in the May to June, we had the summer outfits delivered and arranged the photoshoot with the studio. It was good to get out and about, and it took four days to complete the shoot. This time, Robert decided that we had done our last printed catalogue and would just upload the new line directly on the site, taking off all the previous autumn pictures.
We had another lock-down at the end of October to the beginning of December. We kept selling and the website was able to be used by every shop. The biggest thing that we learned was that we could now keep good stocktake records and knew more of what we were selling. We lost more shops in that period, with Rotherham, Ilfracombe, and Salisbury being recent additions, so we had nothing that we needed to do. Pembroke was one of the older ones, so Robert still had money owed to him, and the premises were auctioned for him to be paid out.
Throughout most of the year, Monica and I shopped and cooked for the four of us, we did go out when we could, but the two of us made sure the others ate their vegetables. I kept in touch with my parents and was happy that they had stayed at home and avoided getting the virus.
I was getting ready to start painting murals again when we had the next big lock-down in January, which lasted until May, another tough time for us, but we were able to work through it as before. This time, though, we lost more shops, Shrewsbury. Bideford, and Yeovil were recent additions, but Penzance had to be auctioned off. With a quarter of the stores closing, it affected the franchise fees, but we were selling close to the same volume. The thing was that the balance of the ‘Home Office’ account was growing, with sales in the closed store areas remaining with us, along with the sales from places where there had never been a store.
The five of us had carried the company as much as we could, and as things improved, we all needed a rest. One of the side-effects of the whole affair was that the workroom was being filled with extra staff to keep up with the online orders and allocating them to the correct warehouse for shipment. We also started to get returns, which needed a whole new system to handle. I was, as far as the internal work was considered, redundant. Robert had decided to use the modelling agency more for the photos, seeing that it didn’t cost him anymore and we were not out of the office for days. Some of the new girls could load the website with the images, and the site was now finished with my input with the artwork.
He hosted a lunch for the five of us and thanked us for saving the company from ruin. We would each get a week off, on full pay, to rest up, helped with each of us getting an envelope. Mine contained a cheque for two thousand pounds. I didn’t ask what the others got, but, by some smiles, it was around the same. I spent my week at the house, painting, and then I was going to be back on the road to do the rest of the murals, now just nineteen to go.
On the Sunday, I was loading up the car with the paints and other things when I got a phone call. It was from the manager of the modelling agency.
“Trixie, I see that you girls aren’t coming in to model for the next season. Can you tell me what’s happening?”
“We’ve been taken off that job. With the company now selling online, it was thought that it needed professionals. Print catalogues are now history.”
“That means that the artwork I bought will now become a collector’s item?”
“I suppose so. Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“Yes, there is. Are you going to be anywhere near London soon?”
“I’m just packing the car now. My shop mural painting had to take a break, and I’m heading off to complete the circuit. My next shop that is still open is in Millwall, then I’m at Holborn, before going into Essex. After that, I’m likely to be away for three to four months before finishing in Bournemouth.”
“Excellent. I will text you an address and contact number to call when you’re in London. A colleague of mine has been looking at your website and is taken by your looks. I know that you’re still a guy underneath, but she doesn’t, so you should take some time off to rectify the situation.”
“I’ll think about it, thank you.”
I ended the call and contemplated the conversation. That night I asked the girls about hormones and, when I left the next morning, I had several boxes of birth control pills, given to me by Gloria and Judith, who had no reason to need them.
I found the Millwall shop and unloaded my things. The owners were glad to see me and happy with the increased online advertising, as they were starting to get a lot of new custom. They wanted the Millenium Dome in the background, and I unloaded, laid the drop sheet and cleaned the space before leaving them to find the hotel I was going to stay at. I was going to take a lot more care with the murals, as I was likely to be looking for another job when I had finished.
I worked through the Tuesday and Wednesday, finishing it on Thursday morning. They wanted me to come in on the Saturday for the ‘Mural Sale’, so I cleaned up, packed the car, and went to the hotel. I rang the number I had been given and was asked to go and see them that afternoon.
It was a modelling agency, several times bigger than the one in Southampton, and I was welcomed in. I had been able to shower and dress better than my painting outfit and thought that I was reasonably presented. I wasn’t a patch on the girl on reception, or the others in the office. I doubted that any of them had even heard of Hook and Hokem.
The lady that I talked to, Yvonne Harrington, as we sat in easy chairs in her office, wanted to know about me, and how I had become a model. She had a couple of pictures from the website in a folder. I had to explain that it was because I was the graphic artist for the company, and it had been decided that all of the models would be the six of us that worked in the office.
“So, none of these had ever modelled before?”
“That’s right, only Sally and Monica were keen, but Gloria, Judith, and Marilyn were pulled in later.”
She called up the website and I had to point out the other five.
“The agency in Southampton will be providing the future models. We have far too much to do in the office to be off for several days in a studio.”
“You’re telling me that the six of you run the company?”
“Yes, the stores are run by franchisees, so there’s a coordinator, an office manager, an accountant, two that do stock control, and me. I started there to produce printed catalogues, but they’ve finished now we’re online.”
“So, why are you in London?”
“I’m painting murals in every store, well, every store that’s still open. I’ve just finished the one in Millwall, with them having a sale on Saturday. Tomorrow, I have to start one in Holborn, which is a bigger shop, so I expect that they will want a bigger picture. Then, I’m off to Essex and around the country. I think that I’ll be finished sometime around November.”
“Have you painted anything else?”
“Oh, yes. I started painting scenes of Plymouth to sell to the tourists. Since I’ve been in Southampton, I’ve had two shows in a gallery, with everything sold. There was another of forty originals of catalogue pages I had produced, a couple of years ago.”
“Do you have any photos?”
I pulled my phone out. Did I have any photos!!! I opened the file from the first show, which included my self-portrait. She worked through them, so I opened the second show, which she also looked at.
“You, young lady, are extremely talented, and lost to the world down there. If I offer you modelling jobs, would you be able to paint more, for sale here in London?”
“That would depend on where I can live. I share with three others at the moment and it’s quite reasonable. I do have some savings but would need a good income to live. I can’t start until I’ve fulfilled my work at Hook and Hokem, that wouldn’t go down well with me.”
“Well said. I can assure you that your talents will be used here. We have a graphics department that produces story boards for fashion shows and other posters. Come with me, I’ll show you, if I can find my way there, I haven’t bothered them in a year or so.”
She led me through the maze of corridors until we walked into a large room with four drawing boards, desks, and a couple of big printers. I looked around, seeing one older woman at a drawing board, one, quite stern-looking, sitting at a desk looking at a screen, and another young girl at the last drawing board. She was looking at us with wide eyes. Perhaps she had never seen her boss before.
She put her pencil down and walked towards us.
“Trixie? My God, you’re Trixie!”
She hugged me and the stern woman came over to us.
“Janice! Stop mauling Miss Harrington’s guest.”
Yvonne held up her hand.
“It’s all right, Wilma. Let Janice speak. Tell me, Janice, how did you know this is Trixie Southby?”
As Janice was trying to gather her thoughts, I was looking at the Hastings original for the catalogue that was on the wall behind her desk.
“Did you buy that when it was for sale in the gallery in Southampton?”
“My mother got it for me, for Christmas. She owns the Hastings store, and she thought that I would appreciate it. I started wanting to work in fashion when I was still at school. We went to Plymouth for a holiday, and I saw a painting in the market there. It was cheap, but I loved it, with all the girls in their summer dresses. I’ve kept every issue of the catalogue since the first. ‘Girl with a Curl’ one. I thought they were brilliant. Mum would bring them home. I’ve got the full set up to Covid in my desk.”
Yvonne wanted to see them, and the two them looked at the catalogues. Wilma stood beside me and spoke softly.
“So, you’re the Trixie that Janice has been raving about.”
“That’s me. Sorry I’ve upset the normal day in here. It’s a nice set-up. I had the same set-up in Southampton. It’s now pushed into a corner and the room is filled with desks and girls working on computers.”
“Are you here to work for us?”
“That’s up in the air. I was asked to come and talk about modelling. The artist bit came up in conversation, and here I am.”
Yvonne and Janice turned to us. Yvonne held up the catalogues.
“How much of these is your work?”
“I did the ‘Girl with the Curl’ one first, including the drawings. The dresses were taken from the suppliers pictures. I did all of the graphics up to the time we went to the website, then I did the website design. All the jingles are mine, as well. With that poster on the wall, I had visited all forty stores, and you have two catalogues there with the forty different locations.”
Janice giggled.
“I told you she was brilliant, Wilma. Now we’ve looked at the catalogues I can see her there in every single one. She is my hero, but it’s still that first painting that got me into fashion.”
“Fifty pounds at the Plymouth Market. Plymouth scene and girls in summer dresses. Signature is T.S?”
“T.S. Yes. Oh! Trixie Southby, of course!”
“That was my early efforts, Janice. It kept the wolf from the door. You’ll be happy to know that the last three of those Plymouth pictures sold for five hundred each at that gallery.”
Yvonne took charge and sent the others back to their desks, ushering me out of the room and back to her office, where we sat down again.
“Well, that was enlightening. That Janice is a clever girl, I had a sneak look at what she was working on. I should be looking into the back offices more often. Now, what do we do about you?”
“What do you want to do?”
“What I want is to give you a retainer, so that when you finish what you have to do, you will come back here and work in the dual roles that you did with Hook. If you can give me a list of where you’ll be until then, I’ll contact you if anything comes up that’s close by. I’ll try to make it weekends.”
I gave her my full contact details and the list of shops I still had to go to. I reminded her about the sale at Millwall on Saturday, as well as a likely one at Holborn the Saturday after. Before I left, I asked her if there was a good GP nearby that I might be able to see. She pulled a card out of her drawer and gave it to me.
“This one sees our girls. Tell him I sent you and you should be able to get in.”
I thanked her and she saw me out, via the cashier where I signed for five hundred, as a retainer, repayable if I go to work anywhere else. The doctor was not far away, so I walked there and asked for an appointment, telling the receptionist where I had come from. She asked me to wait. A half an hour later, I was sat in the doctor’s office.
“What can I do for you, young lady?”
“I’ve been asked to work with the modelling agency, but there’s something I need to have happen before I start. I need to have gender reassignment surgery, as I’m still a boy under this dress.”
“How long have you been passing?”
“About two years. I had wondered about my feelings, but it was a situation where I needed to be female to pose for a fashion picture. I’ve dressed ever since and have been in a lot of fashion shoots for a dress shop catalogue.”
“Are you on any hormones?”
“I started taking birth control pills a week or so ago.”
“Right! Stop taking those. Go behind the screen and strip to your undies. I’ll call in the nurse when you’re ready. We’ll take some blood and check you over. Are those falsies glued on?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have any itching under them?”
“No.”
I went and undressed while he added me to his computer. When I was ready, I had to lie on the bed as the nurse came in. He checked me over; the nurse took blood and a mouth swab.
“Are you in the city for long?”
“Until next weekend, then I’m taking a trip around the country for my work. I can come back almost any time if I have to.”
When he was finished, the nurse brought in a tray with a couple of syringes on.
“This is where we start if you want to carry on. These are a fast acting and a slow acting hormone. If you let me use them, I’ll see you in a month and then refer you on to a specialist. After that, it doesn’t take long to have the operation.”
He added my home address and email address to the phone number I had already given. Then I had to bare my butt and he gave me the hormones. I was on my way.
Marianne Gregory © 2024
Chapter 6
Before I left the doctor, I made an appointment for the following Friday to get my results. I would have to hang around for the opening sale if all the others were anything to go by. I went back to the hotel and had dinner there. I had an early night but didn’t sleep quickly. I kept wondering if I had done the right things today.
The more I thought about the agency, the more I wondered about just what I would do there. Would I just be a graphic artist with the occasional modelling. Whatever happened, I would have enough time to paint, as long as I had somewhere to paint in. With the gender thing, I wanted to see if I could get this finished while I was on the road. I still had three weeks of holiday up my sleeve.
On Friday, I got started at the Holborn mural. I was right as it was a big shop, and they had a big wall. They wanted a London scene that included the Tower and the Tower Bridge. I laid out the drop sheet, set up the stepladder, cleaned the wall, and then finished early to go and see if I could get a new perspective on the scene.
It took a while, and I did find something that I thought would work. I took a picture of the bridge from the opposite bank and downstream. I was going to paint the scene of the tower looking through the bridge. I walked across the bridge and took another picture in the same line; I would need be to elevate the point of view to get them in, but I thought it was doable. I sketched it out several times, that evening, before I was happy with it. The mural would take most of the week.
On Saturday, I was at the Millwall shop and surprised to see Yvonne and Janice. Janice gave me a hug to make sure it was really me, and Yvonne just smiled.
“I can’t wait to see what you’ve done here. Janice showed me a picture from Hastings. The Battle scene in the background was good, and I could see where she got her looks with the picture of her mother. I’ve been looking at the website with her catalogue in front of me. You really do nail the likenesses. That Monica is a lovely girl.”
The event went well, with Janice buying a few items. It wasn’t Yvonne’s thing, but she did look closely at the Hokem racks. I went to lunch with Janice, and she told me a lot about working in the agency. She had brought her collection of catalogues with her, and I signed them all. She asked me what I was doing on Sunday and offered to show me some of the sights. In the afternoon, I went back to Holborn and started to sketch the picture that was wanted before they shut.
The Holborn shop was a new one on me. I hadn’t had time for a good look when I had been there before. Not only did it sell our products, but it also had a shoe, a lingerie, and an accessory range. Sunday, Janice came to the hotel, and we took a taxi to our destination. She had asked me what I wanted to see, and I had said parks, so that’s what we did. I had my sketchbook and she had hers, so we spent our time sketching flowers and shrubs. She was good, and I told her so.
I found out that the older lady in the room was up for retirement late in the year, so there would be a place for me there. I still wasn’t sure that I would be happy producing story boards for fashion shows and shoots, even though Janice told me it was very steady work.
During the next week, I worked on the mural, finishing on Friday morning, to give me time to be at my appointment. When I was in his surgery again, he sat me down.
“Miss Southby. I have the results of your tests, and they make interesting reading. Tell me, do you masturbate?”
“No, I’ve never felt the need. I never had the night accidents that some of my friends spoke about either.”
“That fits your blood results. You have very low testosterone levels, but, on the other hand, the estrogen levels aren’t higher than you see with a normal male. It should be better for you now we have the injections starting to make a difference. How are your feelings about other boys and girls?”
“I don’t have passionate feelings for either. I have both boy and girl friends, and I feel more bonded with girls, but it’s a sort of sister feeling.”
“We’ll see you again in another three weeks, taking more blood again to see how you’re absorbing the hormones. Hopefully, it will show that you are producing some of your own, now we’ve given it a kick start. After that, I’ll give you the contact details of the gender specialist. She’ll give you the details of the surgeon and the places he operates. Do you have any preference on where you want it done? Some of his clinics do charge, but they’re the ones that provide the best service.”
“I think that I’ll be somewhere between the Midlands and Bristol by the time that comes around. You are being very kind.”
“You’re not the first transgender patient that’s sat in that chair. I see all the girls from the agency. It must be all the good food and exercise that keeps them all so healthy. That’s a good thing, as it allows me to play golf on the weekend.”
He gave me a booster jab and I went back to the hotel. Saturday was the unveiling, and then I would be going north. I went back to the hotel and packed everything up except the outfit for Saturday. Hopefully, the opening would be finished by early afternoon, and I could be on my way. I had booked the hotel in Colchester for that night. The shop had been advised that I would be there Monday morning. Perhaps I could have a day off on Sunday. The Saturday morning had me out of the room and settled up with the company card. I wondered about the cost of this all, I expect that the shops would be picking up some of the expense, at least.
The unveiling was good, and the picture was well thought of. It had been harder fitting in all the owners family and staff than the Tower picture. Yvonne was there and took me to lunch. When we parted, she gave me a hug, telling me that she would be in touch. I left London and headed into Essex, arriving at the hotel in time for dinner. That evening, I sent the two mural pictures to the office and told them where I was now.
Sunday was good. The shop had, of course, wanted the castle in the picture, so I went there and wandered around, taking pictures. I went into the Castle Museum and looked at the artifacts. Who would have guessed that the Romans had non-stick pottery! I made some sketches for myself, and just relaxed.
Monday, I was at the shop early. The mural they had chosen wasn’t all that big, and I finished it up on Tuesday afternoon, contacting Harwich that I would be there on Wednesday, mid-morning. I kept myself very much to myself and had dinner alone. I was packed and out of the hotel as soon as I had eaten the breakfast, arriving in Harwich to unload my drop sheet, ladder, and paints.
These owners just wanted a picture of themselves and the staff, so I sketched their faces and set to work. I had it finished by Thursday afternoon and was in Lowestoft Thursday evening. That mural was to be just the owner and the one salesgirl, so it was finished by Friday afternoon. They wanted me to stay for the sale on Saturday. I checked out of the hotel on Saturday morning, sent the two mural pictures to the office, and was in Norwich on Saturday night.
I explored on Sunday, getting a tourist map at the hotel and wandering around, taking pictures and sketching. Monday morning, I was hard at work on their picture. They wanted Norwich Castle in the picture, so it was lucky I already had a useable sketch to work to. That one was finished on Wednesday, and I was packed up and ready to leave on Thursday morning. I sent the picture to the office and got a ‘well done, all look good’ message from Marilyn with a note that there were new pictures on the website. I looked it up and saw that it was all doing well, and that they had added a feature with the latest pictures. If you held your pointer over the picture, you saw the reverse view. All the models were now from the agency.
Thursday, all I did was check out and drive to my next shop, which was in Sheffield. I went to the shop on Friday morning and prepared the space, getting what they wanted in the picture and giving me a photo to work to. Their two daughters were keen netball players, so one side of the mural was them in their outfits, while the other side was the owners. I was told that the daughters helped out in the shop and would be taking over the running in a few years.
I worked through Friday and Saturday, finishing it on the following Monday. On Sunday, I was taken to the netball game to see the daughters play and had dinner with the family. I booked my next hotel, in Manchester, for Monday night. Manchester was another large shop with other products, and that one took me all the rest of the week, staying for the sale on the Saturday. They included their other lines in the sale, and I came away with some new nighties.
I checked out of the hotel on Sunday and travelled to Liverpool, another large shop. I started that on Monday morning and finished it on Wednesday evening. Thursday morning, I checked out of the hotel and drove to London, filling the petrol tank and booking into a hotel using my own card. Friday, I had my appointment with the doctor.
“Miss Southby, here for us to suck your blood again. This won’t take long. I’ll email you if there are any problems. Where are you on your artistic travels?”
“I’ve just finished a shop in Liverpool and drove down yesterday. I’ll be going back to Birmingham to take up the thread again.”
“So, if I send you to see someone in Oxford in two weeks, you’ll be able to fit that in?”
“Give me the time and the place and I’ll be there.”
He took the blood and asked me about any different feelings I may be having. When I told him that I was getting itchy under the breasts, he said, ‘Excellent’, and told me to make sure that when I went to the appointment in Oxford, I had my penis free, and no breasts stuck on. He rang the clinic, and I was given an appointment for the Thursday.
I stayed in my hotel in London until Sunday morning, when I drove north again to the hotel in Birmingham. In the evening, I sent the Sheffield, Manchester, and Liverpool pictures to the office, with a message that I will be applying for three weeks holiday and would let them know the dates later.
Monday, I was in the shop in Birmingham, finishing that one Wednesday lunchtime. I had checked out on Wednesday morning, so was in Coventry Wednesday afternoon to set up. That one was finished Friday afternoon, and I was expected to hang around for the sale.
I checked out on Saturday and was in Swansea before evening. Once again, I wandered the town and added to my collection of sketches. The shop wasn’t large, so it was easy to have the mural finished by Tuesday afternoon. On Wednesday, I drove to Oxford and checked into a hotel, one that had an in-house salon. I had an appointment for Thursday morning, to have the penis freed and the breasts removed, with a hairdo to follow. I had been letting the perm grow out and the hormones had seemed to accelerate the growth. I went to my appointment with ringlets. I wanted to return to my normal hair as my time as the girl with a curl was past.
The specialist who I saw was very good and very thorough. I was weighed, measured, asked lots of questions and had to give more blood, as well as a urine sample. She sat me down and made sure that I knew what I was letting myself in for. She had the results from the doctor in London to compare, including the ones from the last blood he had taken.
“Trixie. The results from the first and second samples are excellent. You have taken up the hormones well, and it does look as if your body has made its decision for you. You have noticeable nubs on your chest, so I suggest that you stop glueing the formes on. I’ll refer you to the surgeon by email, right now. If you drop in, tomorrow, I should have a time and a place for you. I suggest that you allow two to three weeks for the full procedure. You won’t need any throat surgery as your voice is delightful as it is. Are you able to pay if there is any extra cost?”
“That’s not a problem, I do have some savings. Will you be able to tell me that cost, tomorrow. I do want to be able to go back to my job after three weeks, so some time in recouperation would be good.”
“That is always my recommendation. Although you can go back to work, there’s no sex for a month after that.”
I went back to the hotel and then walked from there into the university precinct, adding to my sketchbook and having to buy a new one. I checked out on Friday morning and went to see when I was to be operated on. I was looking forward to it, yet a little afraid of going through it with no supporters around me.
I was going under the knife in a clinic near Bath, on the Monday week, ten days away. She told me the cost that I would have to pay, up front, for the extras that I wanted, and it was well within my budget. I would have to check in on the Sunday, and would be released on the Sunday, three weeks later.
That afternoon, I drove to Cardiff, letting them know that I would be with them on Monday morning. Sunday, I walked the rejuvenated parts of Cardiff and sketched some more. Monday, I emailed the office that I would start my holiday on the Friday evening, coming back on the Monday in three weeks. I also sent the mural pictures up to date. On Monday and Tuesday, I finished that mural, and I didn’t have to go far for the next one in Bristol.
That was another of the early shops, an older building in the shopping area. They wanted the Clifton Bridge above the picture of the owner and staff. It took me until Friday night to finish it and sent the picture to the office. I stayed for the sale, checked out of the hotel on Sunday morning and drove to the clinic.
Over the next three weeks I subjected myself to the surgeon, who I met on Monday morning before I was sent into dreamland. I was on pain medication until Thursday, and then the stiches all came out the following Monday. I was told that it was an unqualified success, and the catheter and drains were removed after the stiches. After that, I had to learn how to pee properly, how to use an interesting little device to keep my new crevice open, and to stop looking at myself in a mirror every time I saw one.
They had given me a good pair of breasts, and the bruising was starting to fade by the time I left the clinic. I was walking well, having been doing laps of the clinic in my jogging gear, and everyone thought that I was ready to be a model once more, with some of the nurses having recognised me.
I was released on the Sunday, and went to check into the hotel in Bude, where the next shop was. From Bude, it was down to Newquay, Falmouth, and then to Plymouth, where I stayed in a hotel but visited my parents. I was in Plymouth for a week, mainly because the mural was expected to show the Hoe, as well as the staff. They didn’t have a real idea of what the scene should be, so I gave them an historical picture of Drake playing bowls with a galleon on the sea behind them. It was a good job I had started with the ‘Victory’. My mother came in to see me while I was painting, and we had almost every lunch together.
It was odd when I first went to my old home. Mum took one look at me.
“You’ve done something! You’re growing the perm out, I can see, but you’re different. Have you met a boy?”
“No Mum. No boy. I have had changes that will enable me to make one happy. It took three weeks in a clinic and the bruises are still fading. I’m all girl, but without a womb.”
“That doesn’t make you not a woman, I haven’t had one for twenty years, I had to have an operation after I had you.”
We hugged, woman to woman for the first time. Dad was remarkably good about it. I suppose that now being a physically correct female overcame his feelings that I was masquerading. When I finished and we had the, now obligatory, sale, I moved on to the last leg of my travels.
Exeter, Weymouth, and Bournemouth were the last stops of the circuit. When I arrived back in Southampton, I found that my time away had changed a lot of things. Monica had left to take up modelling full time. Gloria and Judith were now working for Amazon in their warehouse in Rochdale. My things that I had left in my room were now all in store in the West Quay warehouse, and the house was now home to five of the new girls.
Marilyn was apologetic but gave me one last job to do. We had been so successful with the online business; we had two new shops being set up. One was in Edinburgh, the other in Grimsby. Stock was on its way, and I was going to help them paint the places, add the murals, and talk to them about the product lines. She gave me an envelope with my pay details up to six weeks after today. I could take my time and use up the final employment or go a bit quicker and take a little bonus. It wasn’t the way I wanted to go out, but that seemed to be the swan song as far as I was concerned. At least I still had a good nest egg from my painting sales.
I claimed my remaining things from the warehouse and filled the Galaxy. It was lucky that I hadn’t had time for painting canvases while I was away. Then I rang Yvonne to tell her that I would be available in about three weeks. I asked her about accommodation and that I had a car full of my things. She told me to hang on. When she came back, she said that Janice was in a share house and one of the girls had left a week ago. She gave me the address and I said that I was leaving Southampton now, so should be in London in three to four hours, depending on the traffic.
I suppose that I had seen it coming, months before. My modelling for the company had been usurped by professionals, my graphic artistry was no longer needed now the website was running. I was sure that each and every one of the others had reacted to change in the dynamics with the new staff. It wasn’t a family any longer, it had become a player in online sales, which needed a different mindset.
I couldn’t feel too bad. Robert had paid me as I went around the country, with fuel and accommodation. I had done what I was sent out to do. The only niggle was that he had not given me a heads-up with the finality of it. Never mind, I was my own woman now, and even if I didn’t have a job, I could start painting in earnest.
When I arrived at the address that the GPS had led me to, Janice came out and gave me a hug.
“Welcome! It worked out perfectly. When Yvonne asked me about a place for you, the rooms here had just been cleared out. I’m afraid that you’ll have to buy some furniture. A bed and side-table for one. The room does have a built-in wardrobe and an ensuite.”
She showed me the room, which wasn’t quite empty, as there was a vanity on a side wall. I could see that there was room for a double, if not a queen bed, and an easy chair would fit. An upright chair in front of the vanity wouldn’t go amiss. Janice grinned and showed me a second room which would be mine. The previous tenant must have used it as a dressing room, as there were a couple of clothes racks. It was, however facing south and had a decent light from the window.
She told me what I would be paying, which was somewhat higher than I had been used to; but this is London, after all. Payment was by electronic transfer, so I deposited enough to cover the next six weeks. Hopefully, I would be back before that. I unloaded my things, with the easel and blank canvases into the small room, and then we went online to see about getting the furniture. I realised that Robert hadn’t asked for the laptop he had given me before my travels. There was a place we found, about fifteen minutes’ drive away, so we went there, and I picked what I wanted, paying for it to be delivered. Janice said that she would take some time off to be there if I left her with the key.
We had a hug and she told me to take care, and then I was off to Grimsby, stopping at Cambridge for the night. The new store was in a state of some chaos, so I was able to sort them out with the usual placement of stock while I started on their mural. They wanted a box of herrings in one top corner, so I needed to look up what they looked like.
After I finished the mural, I helped them finish the shop painting. They already had a signwriter do the name on the front. We got it together in time for an opening sale on the Saturday, and then I was heading for Edinburgh. The shop turned out to be a new tenancy in the Newkirkgate Shopping Centre, very similar in footprint to the one in the Broadway in Plymouth.
They were much further ahead with the preparations, having counter and the transaction infrastructure already in place. When I knocked on the door, I was told that they were closed, so had to explain that I was from Head Office to paint their mural. It seemed that this was the first that they’d heard of it, so I had to show them pictures of the ones that I had already done. They let me bring in the drop sheet, ladder, and my box of paints, but wanted me to give them time to think about what they wanted in the picture.
I told them that I would be back in the morning and went off to get something to eat before going back to the hotel. I could hazard a guess that they would want a scene with the castle.
Marianne Gregory © 2024
Chapter 7
When I went back to the shop, I found out that they had originally been living in Queensferry, right next to the Forth Bridge, so wanted that to be in the picture, along with the family of four. Fair enough. They had a postcard of the bridge that I could use to copy, as well as a family snap.
I took my time with this one. The family were nice and invited me to their home for dinners after we had been in the shop all day. The bridge was very fiddly to do and took the use of my signwriters stick to be steady enough. The family was easier, and I had it done in three days, finishing at about the same time they had set up. That was the Thursday, so I used a water washable paint to write the ‘Grand Opening sale this Saturday’ on the front window.
I helped them during the opening sale, which went well. Some of the women who came into the shop recognised me as one of the models on the website, which meant that I instantly became a celebrity, with the local newspaper covering the opening, I was photographed with the owners for the report. When we shut the shop, we went to a local pub for a meal and a few drinks.
I stayed in Edinburgh for a few more days, sightseeing. It was all new to me, a different county, even. Being so close, and now on my own time, I went further north to see Loch Ness, but didn’t see the monster. What I did do was take some photos so I could paint the scenery later, adding a monster or two.
I went south through Glasgow and the Lake District, taking pictures and sketching as I went. I even stopped off at Blackpool for a couple of nights, just to say I’d been there. Being winter it was cold, but not as cold as the Highlands had been. After that I went back to London, a lot of the way on the M6.
When I got to the house, it was the Saturday. I had called Janice as I was heading south, so she was ready for me when I arrived. The house was larger than many in the local streets and had space in the front for a car. Most of the street was taken up by the NHS Health Centre next door. Janice told me that I could claim the space as the only one with a car had been the one who had moved out. I unloaded the car, looked at the new furniture in my room, and we went out to get new bedlinen, including a quilt cover, seeing that the house was only heated by hot water pipes and wall radiators, which needed the fire to be on all day long. Janice told me that they usually didn’t bother, because the other two girls working full time, and if you light the fire when you get home, the house wasn’t warm until you were about to go to bed. I had a heater from the previous room, so would use that instead.
Janice gave me a note from Yvonne, which told me to cool my heels until the middle of January, if I could. She would find me casual jobs if I needed it, but I would be on the books then. It was now late October, and I had some money in the bank, so asked Janice to tell her that I would spend the time painting. I had a head full of visions and a sketchbook full of ideas.
I re-arranged the two rooms on Sunday, erecting the easel by the window and putting a blank canvas on it, and talking to Janice and the other girls. They were Tracey and Jemma, who both worked in an office in the city. Both were university graduates with degrees in finance. They were very interested in my reputation as an artist. I think that Janice had been talking me up.
Monday, I was alone in the house with a full stomach; these girls believed on a working girl breakfast. I sat down and made a list of things that I had to do. Now that I had a home address, I needed to contact the doctor to get an appointment for a follow up. The surgeon had told me that I could contact him if I was having any problems but would need to be checked over when I had settled. I rang the surgery and made an appointment for Wednesday morning.
One thing that I also needed from him was a confirmation of successful change of gender. I will need to get a new licence for the car and have my government records changed. I thought that it might be nice to get my first passport as a female. I rang Mum to tell her where I now was and that everything was good, in spite of losing the job. Then I put Roberts’ fuel card and debit card in an envelope, wrapped in notepaper, addressed it to the office, care of Marilyn, and added my new address on the back.
The agency was in an office building on St. Martin’s Le Grand, not far from the Old Bailey, and the doctor was in rooms just along the street, so I planned to go and see Yvonne when I went to see the doctor. The closest tube station was St. Paul’s, with the nearest one to me being at Tottenham Hale, a walk from the house. I put my jogging outfit on and walked to the Tottenham Hale Retail Park to find a post box and to check out the stores. I was pleased to see a Lidl store, and even a Food Bank where I could get bulk supplies if I wanted.
From there, I went to over to the tube station and then crossed the road onto Hale Road and the entrance to the Down Lane Park, where I had a long walk. There seemed to be a lot of building work going on, mostly apartment buildings and offices. At the top of the park, I crossed Ashley Road to walk back alongside Watermead Way, as far as Burdock Road, where I turned and crossed the park again and walked back towards the house along Park View Road. It was a nice area, and I was starting to like it.
Before I went back, I dropped into Lidl and got my own supplies. There was a big fridge in the kitchen, and a shelf for me in the pantry, so I went back to Tynemouth Road with a couple of bags. What I had found out was that these girls were more normal than the previous house. They may go out on Saturday nights, but I would be eating in more often. There was a roster, with each of us cooking on the first four days of the week, take-away on Friday and open slather on the weekend. My cooking day was Thursday, but while I stayed inside, I needed to have my lunches.
That afternoon, I stood next to the blank canvas and wondered what I would do as a first painting of the new Trixie. Over the past few months I had painted flowers, sailing ships, bridges, castles, and even herrings. I decided that I would start with something very different. I dredged my memory, looked at pictures on my phone, and started to paint a landscape. It was from a picture I took at Loch Ness, with the green cliffs and the dark water.
When the others came home, we all helped Tracey prepare dinner. They wanted to know what I had got up to, so I told them about my walk. I found out that if we were going out, there was a place that I had passed on my walk called the ‘Volunteer’. Other than that, there were several good places on High Road, with the closest being the ‘Post Bar’ where they had live music. Tracey was a simple, but good, cook. If the others were up to scratch, I would be able to hold my own, after all the cooking that Monica and I did during the lockdowns,
Tuesday, I finished my painting. It was a straight-forward landscape of Loch Ness, as I had seen it. The only difference between real life and the picture was that I had used a very small brush and a magnifying glass to add a vee of a wake, with a tiny periscope at its point. I called it ‘Up Scope’ but anyone just looking at it would think that it looked like Nessie. I set up a second canvas to work on a second version of the same picture. I was going to do it in a different light and have a tiny woman floating on her back with her boobs in a black bikini looking like two black humps. That one I would call ‘Bessie’. I know that it was childish, but I felt that I had to get past this before doing more serious work.
I needed more canvases and found a nearby frame supplier that was a walk away. I went to see them, and they were happy to get in canvases for me to pick up, so I ordered ten in the size I had been using, plus half a dozen smaller ones, suitable for personal pictures. They asked me how many paintings I had finished, so I told them about the early ones in Plymouth and the two showings that had sold out in Southampton. I explained that I was just starting again after the Covid times. They told me that I would get a good deal if I brought mine in for framing.
Wednesday, I took the tube into the city, and went to see the nice doctor.
“Hello, Trixie. I believe that you are now ‘Totally Trixie’. How are you getting on.
“I think that it’s good. I don’t feel as if I’m playacting, and everyone who I see thinks that I’ve always been a woman. I don’t have to stop myself declaring my manhood.”
“Oh, come on. From the way that you walked in here the first time, there was never any time you would do that and get away with it.”
“I suppose you’re right, although I reserve the right to see a second opinion. You said that I may need a check up to make sure that everything is still as it should be.”
“Right. Undress, fully this time and put the gown on. I’ll get the nurse in, and we’ll give you the once-over. After that, we’ll take blood and urine to make sure.”
After the two of them had checked me over and I calmed down after a man had used forceps to open my new passage, the nurse took the blood, and I was given a plastic bottle to go and pee in. When I had redressed, I asked him about the procedure to get all my paperwork altered.
“That’s easy to start, but you need patience to see the end of it. I’ll give you a letter and all the forms you will need to get the name change and the birth certificate edited. After that, you just send off your applications to the various bodies. Most of the forms are available online. I’ll also give you a prescription for birth control pills. They are more to keep you in a cycle like other women than actually stopping you have a baby or a period. The hormones help. If you start to sprout a beard, come back and I’ll give you another couple of jabs.”
I had to wait until the paperwork had been written, then put it in my bag and went along the road to the agency. When I got in to see Yvonne, she gave me a hug.
“Welcome back, Trixie. I believe that you’ve been to the four corners of the country since I last saw you. How are you?”
“Better for having somewhere to call home. When I got back to Southampton, the other girls had moved on, and the share house had a full group of new girls living in it. All the things that I had left were in the company warehouse, in boxes.”
“That wasn’t nice. Why did the others leave?”
“We were victims of our own success. The website produced so much business that it needed more staff, and staff that had experience in that kind of work. Monica is working full-time with the agency down there, and the other two used their experience, adding their new knowledge, to score jobs in the Amazon warehouse. My place had been totally wiped out by the website.”
“Are you able to get through to the next year?”
“Yes, I can paint to keep myself occupied. I haven’t done anything but murals for a couple of years. I have done one picture, and it was nice concentrating on a canvas. I seem to have moved on with subject matter, and I’m not sure how well they’ll be accepted.”
“You will get an invitation to our Christmas Party. Janice will give it to you. We go full glam for it, and the media sometimes cover it to see if there’s any talent that they haven’t met. Janice will be given two cards, with one for you, from a good dress shop, who will give you discount. Before you come to see us in January, get a passport if you don’t have one. Your first job may be in a warmer climate, as the job is a spring collection.”
When I left her, I walked to the Blank Street Coffee and sat, thinking about things, before going over the road to the tube station and working the system back to Tottenham Hale, then back to the house. I spent the afternoon working on the second Loch Ness picture. When I had finished the bit of fun, I had a whole range of pictures in my mind to work on.
On Friday, I put the two Nessie pictures in the car and went to the framers. They had called to say that my new canvases had arrived. When I walked in with my two pictures, they had a close look and declared that they were nice. I chose the frames I wanted and paid for the canvases, putting them in the car to take home. I put one of the smaller canvases on the easel and sketched the outlines in soft pencil, repeating the procedure with the other three. These were going to be special, and not for sale.
Instead of take-away on Friday, we all walked to the ‘Volunteer’ where I asked for the child serve as I was on a diet and got a serve which may have satisfied a six-year-old. The others went out on Saturday, to hit the shops, something I could now do any time. I had a walk in the park and then got serious with my four pictures. Sunday, Janice and I went into the city to visit art galleries.
I painted on Monday and Tuesday. Wednesday the framer rang to tell me my pictures were ready, so I took the car to pick them up. The manager grinned when I walked in.
“Trixie! We just thought those two pictures were simple landscapes until we had them on the bench for framing. It was then that we saw the jokes. They are really both very clever. That was what a gallery owner said when he came in to collect some frames. He left his card and wants you to go and talk to him.”
I paid their account and put the two pictures in the car, both nicely protected in bubble wrap, and looked at the card. The gallery wasn’t very far away, in Highgate, so I rang the number. The gentleman who answered remembered the pictures and asked me to come and see him. I drove there and parked, going in and introducing myself.
“Miss Southby. I saw those two pictures that you had left for framing, and I thought that the hidden meanings were wonderful. I would like to have them on my wall, upstairs, on consignment. Down here is all moderns and abstract, but we display more serious work upstairs. Do you have them with you?”
“I do. If I leave them here, what sort of money would I expect if they sell?”
“With the clients we have, I would think that you should get between fifteen hundred and two thousand. Do you have any more?”
“Not yet, I’ve only just settled after painting murals in shops around the country, so I didn’t have time for my own work.”
“Tell me, are there any of those murals in London?’
“There are three close by, all are in Hook and Hokem dress shops, with the closest being Holborn, Millwall, and Chatham.”
“How many did you do?”
“I did every one of their shops, which now numbers around thirty. They are all pictures that the owners wanted. I did bridges, castles, ships, and even herrings for the Grimsby shop.”
“I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll have a look at the murals. Then, if you’ve sold through a gallery before, I’ll talk to them. Then I’ll put a selling price on the two you have. Can you get me more landscapes before the end of November? I tend to sell that sort of picture for Christmas presents, some like to look forward to a sunny summer.”
“You want landscapes or beauty spot scenes that scream summer?”
“Can you do that sort of thing? I know it’s commercial and not art, but they do sell at this time of year.”
“Can I do it? I cut my teeth doing just that sort of picture. I’ll have another ten for you before the end of November.”
I gave him the name and contact of the gallery in Southampton, then went to the car to bring in the two pictures. He gave me a receipt for them, took my contact details and said that he would be in touch, also telling me not to bother with getting future ones framed, as he had his own expert to do that.
I drove home and went back to work on my special project. When I had finished the four, smaller, pictures, I set them aside and worked through November on my summer scenes. I now had a wealth of photos, sketches, and memories of the places I had seen, and they almost fell out of me onto the canvas. All of them featured pretty girls in summer dresses, and now also handsome men in shorts.
The girls were intrigued with how hard I was working. The two that worked in finance understood when I told them that I was painting for an order, and that they would bring me in between ten and twenty thousand before Christmas, if they all sold. Janice caught the bug and started her own painting, buying an easel to set up in her own room.
As I was working, I was amazed at how quick I had become since I last did this sort of thing. It didn’t affect the quality, and I made sure the dresses were up to the standard that had encouraged Janice to get into fashion. I showed her each one as it was finished, and she loved them.
In the second week of November, the gallery owner got back to me and told me that my two Loch Ness paintings had sold, with me getting four thousand for the pair. I told him that I would see him the following week, with the ones that he wanted. When I finished the last of the ten, I started on another for my own room, taking a lot more care with it. I took the four small ones to the framers and chose good frames for them. The manager told me that they deserved them and asked me if I could paint a small picture of him and his family, if he gave me a photo to work from.
I took the ten paintings to the gallery, all wrapped in bubble, and he looked at every one as I was carrying them in.
“This is exactly what I wanted. They’re all good. The Southampton gallery sent me pictures of the three that they sold for five hundred each. They were primitive compared to these.”
“I have had five years and a lot of painting between then and now. I was selling the early ones for fifty each at the market when I was a teenager. Did you have a look at any of the murals?”
“I certainly have, I spoke to the manager at Holborn, who was full of praise at what you had produced in only a few days. You are a real talent and I’m happy to be introducing you to the clientele here in London.”
“That’s very kind of you. I’ll start working on some different subjects to bring you after Christmas. I may be busy after the middle of January as I’ve been told that I’m likely to be overseas on a fashion shoot.”
“Painting?”
“No, posing. I’ve done a bit of modelling for those dress shops I did the murals for, when I was working in their office as a graphic designer.”
While I was there, I gave him an account number that I had set up as Trixie Southby, which only I could transfer from, but he was able to deposit. He paid in the four thousand before I left the gallery.
I was going to slow down for the rest of the year. I had gone through all my applications, and now had a new birth certificate duplicate, a driving licence, a passport, and had changed my Tristan bank account to a Trixie one. I had been back to the doctor, who declared that I was as hale and hearty as the next girl. I had spoken to my mother a few times and promised to be home for Christmas.
I worked on two pictures in December, the one for the framer from the photo, and a larger one that I was determined I would hang in my bedroom. I even went to the B&Q store at the Hale and bought some hanging wire and hooks. I delivered the framer’s picture two weeks before Christmas and he was very happy with it. When he asked what I wanted, I just told him that I would be happy with free framing until I had spent a thousand. I gave him the large picture that I wanted framing and he thought that it was wonderful.
The Christmas party for the agency was a lot of fun. Janice had brought home the invitations and the card for the dress shop. We went there, together, and spent more than we should, but we both looked like supermodels in the dresses and heels. Mine was something that I could never have carried off before the operations, and we had to go to a shop that sold faux fur to get coats to wear over them. I bought Janice hers for her birthday, whenever that may be.
At the party, we looked like the other glamorous models in the room, being picked out as new talent by the photographers. I told Janice to say nothing about being in the back office. Our attention was noticed by Yvonne, who took us both aside to tell us how proud she was that we worked for the agency. When she was asked about us, she told the reporter that we were both her secret weapons, to be unleashed for the public gaze during a photo shoot in January.
When I picked up my painting from the framers, I carefully hung it in the bedroom, where I could see it every morning. I gave the other girls my Christmas presents before I left. They were obviously paintings, and Tracey asked if I minded if she opened hers. I nodded, and she opened it to reveal a portrait of her, as I had grown to see her, as a strong and beautiful young woman with the world at her feet.
Jemma opened hers, to see a similar painting of herself. When Janice looked at hers, she burst into tears. I had painted her as I thought she would look like with a little salon work. It showed her exactly as she looked like at the agency party.
The fourth small picture was a self-portrait of the new me which I was going to give to my mother for Christmas. On the day I left to go home for the holiday, I packed my bag and looked at the one I had done for my wall. It was next to the catalogue picture I had bought, and was a picture of Gloria, Judith, me, Monica, and Sally, as I remembered us on the first day that I had told anyone my secret. We were all in our jogging outfits, in the park, with me in the middle. I had straight hair and no make-up, but I still looked like a tomboy. That day was the first day on the journey that had brought me here. They do say that every journey begins with the first step, and that was the day that I had taken a leap of faith, on the way to becoming a ‘Girl with a Curl’.
Marianne Gregory © 2024