“YOU A GEEZER, OR WHAT?”
Volume control wasn’t his strong suit, evidently. Thankfully, the bus was already there, so I stepped on as if he hadn’t spoken, eructated, puked, whatever. Good start to the day.
Usual start to the day.
Said bus was full of schoolkids, but then it would be, being a school bus. Down through the town, past the station, and then the hard left at the roundabout. Another day of fulfilling endeavour about to start.
At least the kettle was still warm in the staff room, and I was soon getting outside a coffee, trying to ignore half the gossip while doing my best to hear the more interesting stuff. It was often the first heads-up I would get of a potential work problem, usually preceded by a sly look my way before the new pearl would be diverged.
Nothing that morning, as we were all officially fixated on the school’s Magical Mystery Employee event in two days’ time. The Comp had been running the scheme for three years now, and it was a little repetitive, despite the fact that our ‘audience’ was necessarily in a state of flux as children came, got bigger and then either left at the appropriate age or were excluded or locked up, the little treasures. The format is a simple one: we gather together a group of adult workers, in casual clothing, and each is assigned a group of pupils for a version of ‘Twenty Questions’, or rather ‘What’s My Line?’
The adult participants remained mostly the same, though, so the day always ended up with most of the year, boys as well as girls, clustered round the air ambulance pilot. We’d thank the other players, feed them some tea and biscuits, and then try and peel the fans away from said pilot.
The day continued in its usual way as I attempted to impart sufficient knowledge of physics and chemistry to allow them to understand how, for example, a thermite bomb worked without actually delivering the expertise necessary for its construction.
That was the job of Mr Harris and his crew in Metalwork.
My first degree was in physics, and I found the idea of a blanket ‘science’ topic a little awkward. A quarter of my working week was spent teaching physics, proper, untainted-by-messy-stuff PHYSICS, in the local sixth form college, so I got some relief.
I once read on social media that the only real science is physics. Chemistry is a smelly approximation of real science, while biology is a wet, smelly and messy approximation. I can’t argue with that, but others did, and the thread had deteriorated into claims that maths is the only pure science, while other posters shouted about engineering, sometimes literally, as in all caps. Happy memories; I came back to the thread several times, with popcorn.
Back to the staffroom as I gathered up my bundle of marked work and headed into the jungle. I had Pegasus 3 for my first session, and they were usually fine. The afternoon, however, would bring the joys of Centaurus 4 and the use of Bunsen burners. That class was probably the primary future local source of pipe bombers, as well as containing one or two of the pupils most likely to try and misgender me to my face, usually for a dare.
Yes, the house names are all aero-engines. We all live and work next to a major airport, so it follows, but I am forever grateful they stuck with the products of Bristol and Rolls-Royce rather than including Napier. Houses named after birds, rivers, Greek myth and astronomy were fine. Having some named after offensive weapons like daggers and sabres might have given the little treasures ideas other than those I was employed to deliver.
Several hours later, and I was home, sitting on a patio chair with a teapot and mug in front of me, e-reader in my hand and the latest Chrissy Morris offering coming from my portable CD player and its earbuds. It was only early May, but the sun was out and warm enough for a spaghetti strap top and dithering over whether I should swap the tea for a jug of iced lemon squash. Two working days left for the week.
I was shocked awake by a hand on my arm, nearly knocking my tea flying as I realised I had been fast asleep. It was my gardener, Jules. I tugged out the earbuds, realising the music had been looping, and outside sounds rushed in.
“Sorry, Gemma, but you were fast asleep. I called you from the gate, but zilch. Hard day?”
I felt the side of the pot, and it was barely warm. I had really been out of it.
“They’re all hard ones, Jules. Like working in a sewage farm: turds arrive, get processed, depart for the wider world, only to be replaced by fresh ones. Sort of different same shit, different day. Yes, I know that’s mangled, but you know what I mean. I’m a scientist, not an English teacher. Got the acid burns in my lab coat sleeve an evryfink”
She laughed out loud.
“I always say dog drool on my shoes, but I don’t think I’m quite as, er, is ‘manic’ a bad word?”
“Told you: don’t teach English. You okay for Friday?”
“Um, yes, but that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Sort of”
“How sort of sort of?”
“Got room for another Mysteron?”
I rose and headed for the kitchen, after doing the ‘Tea?’ thing with my hands and getting a nod. On with the kettle, and then the questions.
“What does she do?”
“Estate agent, for, er, his sins”
“His?”
Was that a blush? From Juliet? Pull your horns in, Miss Babbage.
“Grab a mug and a seat; I’ll bring the tea once it’s made”
She had that hesitation about her I had seen so often in pupils who felt that they had a problem they really needed to share, but couldn’t get out easily. It was usually something silly, like not doing a bit of homework, but there had been a few bullying cases I had encountered over the years, and then that case from Court Lodge, and a loving mother now doing three years on the nonce wing at Downview. Gently now, Gem.
I set the pot under its cosy onto the little plastic table and myself into my chair before smiling at Jules.
“If you need to talk about something, safe pair of ears here. If you can’t, still a safe space. Estate agent?”
She slumped a little, the blush rather more obvious, her voice low.
“Yeah. You probably remember him. Brian Copley”
“Bloody hell! Is he still, you know, um…”
“Good looking? Oh god, yes”
“How did you run into him? He… Jules, if I had been, you know, right bits, I’d have been tripping him up and falling down in front screaming ‘Take me now Bri!’. How did you rope him in? Forget that: first question stands”
She looked away for a second.
“Dog walking, initially. Then he needed a gardener”
“Ah. That really takes me back, woman. Nothing like a school… girl crush to rattle the old memory cage. Wasn’t he with that Layla Travers tart? Or was it Hannah bloody Sillitoe, that curly-haired slut?”
Oh. Old memories opening old wounds. Horns in, Babbage.
“Sorry, Jules. Bad memories”
“Got many of the same ones, love. Not nearly as well healed as we thought, are we?”
“Yeah. Anyway, moving on. Yes, we have a space for Friday, and I will let the others know to add an extra table in the assembly hall. Got good locks for the bike? You’ll need them at our place”
“Won’t be a problem”
“Okay then. When you see Brian, give him my lust, or rather not, but if you catch me drooling, please wipe my chin”
That brought a laugh, as well as another blush, so I asked her as gently as I could, “You still have the hots for him, then?”
She nodded, sharply, but with an odd smile.
“Who’s he seeing now, Jules? Last I heard, it was someone from the airport, Customs or something”
“Yup. One of their dog handlers, which is where his dog came from. Retired drugs dog”
I found myself laughing at the thought of the hound leading her to specific sorts of mushrooms, and had to explain. Jules laughed far more easily, shaking her head.
“You know me better than that, Gem. Anyway, got some St George’s in the pannier for you, along with some wood blewits. And a parasol”
“Oh, ta muchly! That’ll improve tonight’s dinner no end. Oh, and Brian? Still with the Cusser woman?”
“No. She buggered off, and not in a nice way”
“Ah. Who’s he seeing now?”
Her blush was vivid, and her voice was very faint, but I could still hear the word “Me”
Oh. My mouth opened and shut a few times as different replies offered themselves in turn, but all I could actually het out was “How?”
Her eyes were moist, unsurprisingly, but there was still a smile.
“Short version is that I met him and his dog, he needed our services. Saw his garden, and that needed MY services. Along came a bit of nastiness, which me and my boss, well, we helped sort it. He then asked me for drinks and a bite to eat”
“Does he, you know, KNOW?”
She just nodded. Like blood from a stone, this.
“When did he find out? Before or after---no. Forget that part of the question”
“Before asking me out, Gem. He ran into Hannah”
“Hannah as in Hannah-the-slut?”
“The same one”
“That cow has three of her brats at my school”
“Yeah, well, she saw me walking his dog and asked him if the rumours had been true. About being gay. Told him who I was”
“Cow!”
“Already agreed that”
“Still bears saying. How did he take it? And how did you find out what she’d said, anyway?”
“Bri told me. He… Brian Copley is a very, very deep man, and he said he’d been falling for me already, and when she said what she said, he sort of gave himself the Spanish Inquisition”
“Nobody expects the---”
“Yes. We all know that one. Anyway, we had the discussion in his back garden with the dog on his lap”
“And?”
“Then we each got rather drunk and he ordered too much pizza. Had some for breakfast the next day”
“You didn’t…?”
She shook her head, slowly.
“No. Spare bed”
There was a short pause before she added, “That time, anyway”
What was left of my professional teacher head kicked in.
“Are you all right, Jules? In yourself?”
She looked up at me, and the pain in her eyes was all too clear.
“I don’t know, Gem. I do know I love him. Think I always have done, right through school. Remember when he got that shiner?”
I did, far too well.
“Hannah again, shouting about ‘standing up for the fairy’, the way I remember it”
“That’s it. He was never nasty to me, never snide. Never up his own arse about being bloody gorgeous. Rare man, Brian”
“Oh indeed. I am just so glad I managed to hide who I was until I got to Uni. They’d have killed me, the sods”
“Oh indeed. Did their best for me, or to me, rather. We, us, Brian and me, well, we are off to the New Forest for a week’s camping and dog walking. One tent only. Dog bed in the porch”
Suddenly, her blush redoubled.
“I know what you want to ask, Gem, and the answer is, well, we’re both Thomas Tarts, and the answer is ‘bloody amazingly well’. If you take my meaning”
“You’ve?”
“We’ve. Yes. End of subject. I won’t need the locks, good or bad, because Bri will be driving me. He has some evening work, and so the morning’s his own, and Poochini’s is treating it as working hours in my case. Now, I am off to collect three dogs, give them a romp, and then… see what this night will bring”
I realised she was trying to be cocky, but like all teachers, I could smell the fear in her, so I reached out to take her hand.
“What are you frightened of, Jules?”
The smile was a thin one.
“Waking up, Gem. Either of us”
Friday morning came the way it usually did, far too late in the week. I managed a bus trip without added audio, and after assembly shepherded a flock of teenagers as they laid out the tables ready for our start at ten thirty.
I was still shaken by the scene with Jules, and the vast depths of her fear. I couldn’t quite see it as she did, because I was someone that fitted the lived reality of trans women rather than the usual fictional stereotype of ‘small, pretty’. I couldn’t feel all of her fear because she was in a place I had never been permitted to enter. No pain, no gain, and as I had never gained, I had avoided at least some of the pain.
Sod that. She had been smiling when she had left my place that evening; just stand by her, ready to catch her if she fell and pray that she wouldn’t.
Place markers. I set out the A3 sheets, each bearing the first name of a Mysteron: Caroline, Anne, Merry, Daniel, Mo H, Mo K, Juliet and so on, before calling over one of the admin staff?
“Sorry, Trace, but we’ve got another Mysteron for today. Name’s Brian C. Could you do me a place marker, please? Ta!”
Ten fifteen, and the chumps, Mysterons, were gathered in a classroom. I did the Official Welcome And Thank You speech, spotting Brian next to Jules, and oh dear me he was still one for my private naughtiness gallery. The one that I would play on the backs of my closed eyelids when I needed to see if Mister Thomas’ work still, well, worked.
Not now, Babbage.
“If you’d like to follow me to the Hall, each of you will find their name on a table surrounded by our little treasures and hope for our future prosperity, et cetera. I do understand that you will get questions that can’t be answered exactly with ‘yes’ or ‘no’, so we do accept an occasional ‘not exactly’ and the like, but please do your best not to lead the kids. This is a critical thinking and deduction exercise. Above all, though, just enjoy yourselves. We have tea, biscuits and home made cake for you. When I say ‘home made’, I actually mean from our domestic science classes, but as I have tested it, you’ll be fine”
Mo Khan, our pilot, asked how I had tested it, exactly, so I gave him the truthful answer.
“Same way I do every year, Mo: ate some. See the spaces on the plates?”
We entered the hall with some laughter, and my Mysterons headed out for the game before the Head made the plenary announcement, as my teacher training had described ‘Telling everyone’.
One thing I had drummed into my charges was etiquette in questioning. Each pupil, starting at their Mysteron’s right, would ask a question, moving right each time until all had tried, then back to pupil one. Every ten minutes, the Head would tell the groups to move forward one table and start on a new victim. It avoided the place turning into a noisy hellscape of shouting, which was something we reserved for the staff room.
Along with other teachers, I cruised the tables, listening to a few of the questions, pleasantly surprised and/or pleased by the sharpness of some and unsurprised by several coming from those pupils with rather deeper educational needs than their peers.
To Mo K: “Do you have to travel in your work?” (“Yes”)
To Simon Jenkins: “Do you work in an office?” (“Not exactly”)
To Caroline Nelson: “Do you wear a uniform?” (“Yes”)
To Merry Jenkins: “Do you like Linkin Park?” (“How do you link a park?”)
That one might need a little prod, as I could see no relevance to the question, but I would let Merry’s answer go, as I could still see no relevance to the question. Finally, the call came for ‘Time!’ and we began the process of delivering the answers after collecting all the team sheets. I walked around with the roving mike as each of our guests revealed their role in life, starting with Mo Khan. The Head was chuckling as he read the answers submitted.
“Mo, there have been some wonderful suggestions here. You are suspected to be a Formula One driver, a Ryan Air pilot, a paramedic and a train conductor. Want to reveal?”
Mo took the mike from me.
“Paramedic is actually quite close, as I am one of the pilots for the Air Ambulance”
Some of the kids squealed, and I heard a murmur of ‘I bloody TOLD you all’, but that stopped once I had turned on my well-known Babbage Glare. The Head was already on the next one.
“Merry Jenkins. Estate agent, undertaker, cleaner, pro musician and one I assume came through local knowledge, and that is ‘Vicar’s wife’. Your reveal?”
She laughed, true to her name.
“Parish clerk. And vicar’s wife, so cleaner as well”
Brian got a number of proposals, apart from Juliet’s, of course, one of which was ‘farmer’, which deeply puzzled me. Juliet also got that one, which actually made sense in her case, while among the other and stranger suggestions was that Caroline Nelson was an Army officer rather than a saleswoman in a duty-free shop, and Annie Johnson, our cycling police sergeant, was a fast food delivery driver.
I left the Head to gather together the various wash-up sessions for the pupils and led the Mysterons to our classroom cum sanctuary before Mo was completely swamped by worshippers, storing up one boy’s question about Chinese helicopter pilots for later retribution, and set the mingle-gossip machine going with a cheery “Undertaker, Merry? Got any embalming fluid to hand? I’m a bit dry”
They were soon nattering freely, helped by the fact that half of them knew each other rather well, especially Mr and Mrs Vicar. I tried to make myself hang back, but in the end I had to say hello to him.
“Brian. Thanks for coming. Gemma Babbage. I got handed this job as a sort of junior hand. Not THAT junior anymore, but some of our teachers are a bit senior, if you get my drift”
He was older, naturally, but the smile was still there, and that slim athleticism, and I had to remember that he was now off market and down, woman.
He smiled that smile back at me.
“Who made the cake, Miss Babbage?”
“Gemma, please. Our fourth form domestic science pupils. Not so much a moveable feast as a variable one, I’m afraid, or at least inconsistent”
“Um, yeah. I normally expect a Victoria sponge to be a little, well, taller”
“And lighter? Fluffier?”
A sharp nod, followed by a glance at Jules.
“My friend here did warn me the food might be a bit, er, immovable. She was being polite”
“Jules is almost always polite, in my experience, except when she talks about BHDs”
His grin was even nicer than his smile.
“Bloody Handbag Dogs? Yes. She’s already taught me that one”
That was a positive tell if ever I heard one. He cocked his head slightly before asking, “How do you know Juliet here?”
Here it came.
“I was at school here. Year above yours”
“I don’t remember you…”
The mental cogs trying to mesh were almost audible, never mind visible in his expression. I wasn’t going to enlighten him unless I absolutely had to, of course.
“Different surname now. Long story. Anyway: did you enjoy today?”
“Sort of. Some of your kids are a bit earnest. Others, well, not as engaged as they might be”
I nodded, head tilted slightly for that ‘slightly sarcy’ effect.
“Well, they are getting out of formal classes for a couple of hours doing this, so yes, they will see it as a lark. The others, hopefully, get a little bit of insight into structured questioning and deduction. Our fluffies like that idea”
“Fluffies?”
“History, geography, that sort of thing. Current curriculum has moved away from dates and kings and 1066; more concerned now with teaching about bias, conscious and unconscious”
“Is that what you teach?”
Jules snorted, so I gave her a micro-Paddington.
“I teach science, and my background is physics, so bias there is something on a spinning object”
I found myself grinning.
“The internet may be full of cats, but it also abounds in bovine ordure. Mr Newton handles biology, so at least I am spared the Young Earth Creationist drivel”
He laughed, and casually laid one arm across my friend’s shoulders for a gentle hug.
“Jules did say you could be a little direct. I see she undersold you”
He took another glance at her, then tried a slightly different smile, one with a nervous twitch.
“She might slap me for this… I… It would be nice to get to know each other’s friends. I’m a little out of that loop, with, well, my circumstances. It’s getting warmer, and I have a very well-kept garden--- yes, Jules, I know it didn’t use to be. It is now, and that’s what matters. Tradition, well: are you a vegan, or anything like that?”
“Well, I try not to eat anything that’s still moving, if that’s what you mean. Why?”
“Barbie season. We’re off to the New Forest in a few days, with the hound, so I can get some practice in. It would be nice to find a weekend when we’re all free, as in us and our friends. Few drinks and some burnt crispy bits”
He was still twitching but his arm remained about her shoulder, and hers had slipped around his waist. In a much quieter voice, he murmured, “Starting a new relationship, Gem. Bloody awkward. Don’t want to be too pushy, don’t want to look like I’m hiding the fact we’re together”
Juliet smirked slightly at the word ‘pushy’, the harlot, but she still looked worried. I took my own risk and reached for his spare hand with both of mine.
“Jules has told me about how you met. I also know that you met the former Miss Sillitoe”
“Ah. Hannah”
“We called her Hannah-the-slut”
His eyes widened.
“Really? We, the boys that is, we had other names for her. I assume you know… I am guessing that you know Jules properly, as in of old”
I just nodded, wondering where exactly he was going with the subject.
“Well, I haven’t met any of her friends before you, apart from her boss”
“Mrs T. Yes. Formidable woman”
“Yes, she is. But employer-employee dynamics are a little different”
I looked at Jules, and she was wincing, and I was fully aware of the reason. Time to bite the bullet.
“Jules tells me you’re working this evening. How late?”
“Till seven”
“Well, this conversation is getting rather too personal for this time and place. Where would be best to grab a drink, a bite and a proper talk later this evening?”
He looked a little worried at that, but he was still thinking.
“Driving?”
I shrugged, and put the full bitch in.
“I assume Jules has no dirty stop out issues. I can use the train”
“Right. Jules… um, you okay staying at mine?”
The expression that lit her face was wonderful, and I needed no translation. His next words, though, took it to another level entirely.
“gemma, we have a spare bed, if that would work. I anticipate we might need more than a bottle of Coke each to get a handle on this one”
I watched the expressions dance over her face, realising how much the ‘O’ and ‘W’ words meant to her, poor girl.
“I’m in Salfords, as Jules probably told you, so train will work well if you’re in Horley. There’s a bus stop as well. Where are you based?”
“Top end of Lumley Road”
“Ah. Several buses go past there”
He reeled off some suggestions, all of which I was aware of, although my own choice was usually the number twenty. I was a little puzzled by his knowledge, as he was a driver, like most estate bloody agents, but I assumed it was all part of the toolkit for potential sales.
“Where to, then?”
“Mill House? Not exactly a beer swiller’s place, on a Friday evening. And we can eat there as well”
He was looking at his watch, so I took that as an excuse to agree to a meeting at seven thirty, and then the two of them were away for their respective duties. I was working through a selection of possible answers to possible questions, wondering where exactly he was going, when there was a cough behind me, which had come from our cycling copper.
“They courting then, Gem?”
“Short answer? Trying to, I think. I am not sure if Brian really knows exactly where his head is on that score”
She nodded a few times, rather emphatically.
“How well I know that particular game, aye? How long has he known her?”
“About eighteen years at least. We were all at school together”
This time, it was a slow shake of her head.
“No, Gemma. How long has he known Juliet, rather than, you know?”
“Ah. Just a few weeks, I believe”
“Take a walk?”
Her serious head was clearly in place, so I called over to Tom Newton.
“Izzy? Going for a natter with Annie here. Can you sort out the rest of our Mysterons while I’m gone?”
He replied in a deep, deep voice, “I am not Captain Black… yeah, okay”
We didn’t end up at the bike sheds, but by the cricket nets, where Annie turned her serious knob to eleven.
“Does he live in my manor or in Surrey?”
“Surrey. Salfords”
“Damn. How much does he know about her? Any history between them?”
“Oh, not sure if they had met in junior school, but I don’t think so. They were both in the year below mine, which is why I guessed eighteen or nineteen years. Jules had a lot of problems with bullies, and her father was one of those idiots who think that all you have to do is smack a bully and they’ll stop”
“It can work, if it’s done the right way”
I stared at her, channelling that Peruvian bear, until she wilted.
“Yeah, okay. What happened?”
“She did smack one of them, proper punch from what I heard. So he called his mates over and they beat nine colours of shit out of her. I lost touch for a few years a bit later, as I was off to Uni, but that was the pattern of her life”
“And this Brian? Where was he, back then?”
I shook my head.
“Not that sure, Annie. He was never a bully, not like that. Jules spoke about him, but, well, she’s got the adoration goggles on right now. She sort of suggested she’s always had them in place, far as he’s concerned. He was…”
I looked off across the playing fields for some certainty, but it hadn’t answered the register.
“He was a popular lad with the girls, Annie”
“He’s very attractive, aye?”
“Bit young for you, and you’re married”
“Not what I meant. Was he a shagger?”
“No, not really. He went out with a couple of girls, and that was it. Several others claimed they’d been with him, though. One of them claimed they were doing the dirty together, really graphic descriptions. You had one of her brats in today’s session”
“How many has she got?”
“Five cooked, one in the oven. Three at this school. She left at sixteen, first one already showing. Anyway, that’s Brian. The fecund Earthmother, though: he had a really amazing black eye once, did Brian, and she was shouting about how he had been ‘standing up for the fairy’, as she put it”
“Meaning Juliet?”
“Indeed. She’s involved herself again, though. Clocked Jules walking Brian’s dog, put two and two together and, for the first time in her life, got four. Asked Brian if he was gay, seeing that fairy, and so on. Outed Jules”
“Arsebollocks. And? How did he take it?”
“Well, you saw them just now? Not exactly social distancing”
“I saw. Brought back some memories, that did. And now?”
“Ah, yet again. Three of us are off for a bite and a drink tonight. He wants to meet her friends, introduce her to his own, but I think he is wobbling a bit. I am dreading second thoughts. Happens to a lot of trans women, whether or not they’re straight”
“I get you. My Eric, bless him, he took a while to get his head straight, but he’s never turned away since he did. Anyway, got your phone? I’ll give you my mobile number, just in case. I’m off this weekend”
“You not out tonight, if you’re working?”
“Nope. Dinner party on Saturday though. Caroline’s bloke is back from his latest work trip, so we’re having a proper gathering at the Woodruffs’. Which will involve both ale and wine. Tonight’s our healthy eating and sobriety one. And no, my number’s for advice, not calling out the cops. Wrong county”
I started to lead the way back to the main building, and she put a hand to my arm.
“Personal question, I suppose, but when did you realise Jules was on our bus rather than being, well, a fairy?”
“You’ll laugh… we were both on the same ward at the Nuffield, after each seeing Mister Thomas. With me being off at Uni, then teacher training, and her working all hours to pay the rent, we hadn’t met up in years. We celebrate our fannyversaries together each year now”
I looked for her reaction, and she blushed, murmuring “Thailand”.
A shake of her head and a smile, overtaken by an even deeper blush, which left me asking myself rhetorically which particular thought had triggered the red. My envy bit hard right then. Three bloody happily married trans women, and Juliet.
And then me.
I saw her off with the rest of her cohort, and then headed to the lab for some lessons on why playing with sodium is a Bad idea.
I spent a while in a hot bath when I got home, before the usual session of standing at the wardrobe in my bra and knickers wondering exactly what to wear before settling on a dark blue shift dress and flat sandals. Cardy for later, and a small rucksack of overnight necessities, and I was ready for the bus. I don’t use much makeup, so it was a simple matter of toothbrush, deodorant, nighty and spare knickers along with some ear plugs. I really didn’t want to risk hearing the two of them, if, well. Especially after my earlier thoughts.
The bus was, of course, fifteen minutes late, but I was eventually being trundled north, as far as the little dip which marked the old ford over the Sal, where I stepped off and crossed the road to the pub. Jules was already there, in a dress I hadn’t seen before, and bloody heels, rather than her usual jeans and T-shirt. Trying hard, obviously, but I kept my counsel, simply getting us a couple of drinks while we waited.
“Nice dress, Jules. Not seen it before: when did you get it?”
A blush to rival those of Annie.
“This afternoon. And the shoes”
At eight o’clock, I was preparing to call it a night, new dress or not, and get her home, but then Brian arrived, looking flustered.
“Sorry, sorry, sorry, ladies. Bloody awkward customer. Couldn’t get them to sod off. All Colombo on me”
Juliet looked puzzled, so I did the squint and ‘just-one-more-question’ bit, and she still didn’t get it. My talents are wasted on some folk. Brian disappeared for another couple of minutes to refresh our drinks and get his own, before settling down next to Juliet, after which he simply said, “Nice dress”, and kissed her very, very sweetly.
I felt my heart lurch.
They smiled at each other, and before they could dissolve I passed them a menu.
Conversation essentially stopped during the meal itself, or at least serious topics were put on hold, as Brian recounted some of the more soul-deadening parts of that evening’s job. I waited until Juliet had gone to visit the ladies’ before asking the most important of my questions.
“Why are we here, Brian? Really?”
He looked across at Jules’ rear as she tried to strut her heels, or at least not fall off them.
“Straight to the point?”
“While my best friend’s away, yes”
He slumped.
“You’ll have heard what Hannah had to say to me”
“Jules told me, yes”
“I didn’t tell her everything she said”
“Oh. And?”
He took a very long and slow breath.
“What has Jules told you about my ex?”
“Almost nothing”
“Well, hold that thought, and I’ll explain when Jules is back. It’ll make sense of this next bit. Hannah said I obviously couldn’t keep hold of a real woman, so I was going after a plastic one cause I think they’ll be desperate and thus an easy target”
Oh shit.
“She said other stuff as well, about dropping Juliet as soon as I met someone else, and so on”
“And your answer was?”
“I asked her if she was an example of one of these ‘real women’ and reminded her I’d given her an answer when we were at school”
“Which was?”
“Something about barge poles and last girl on Earth”
“She got to you, though”
“She did. Asking myself if she was right and… Here she comes. Please help me avoid stuffing this up, Gemma. Please”
“My friend comes first, Brian, but I’ll try”
“Thanks. Hi, Jules: just about to talk about Suky”
“Cow. Sorry, Gemma”
“No worries, love. Go ahead, Bri”
“Jules said she’s given you some of the details, so here’s the short bit. We were living together. Things got bad. She kicked me out of the house2
I asked, “Whose house?”
“Mine. I had to do some rewiring”
Jules set her hand on his, and they laced fingers.
“Suky had him living in the garden shed. That’s what he rewired”
“I see. How long for?”
He turned his hand over so he could hold hers properly.
“Two months, Gemma, before she emptied our saving account and cleared off. There’s more, but much of a muchness. Going over it would add nothing important, but it would really ruin the evening. Back to what I was asking about, and, well… Jules?”
“Yes?”
“Social life has been hold for me since---”
“Cow”
“Yes, exactly. I want to change that, like I said. A chance to…”
I suddenly realised how nervous he was, and decided to break in before he broke up.
“No, Brian. Not a chance to do it right and make up for last time, okay? Both of you leave your freight in the goods yard, to absolutely strain a metaphor. Doesn’t matter what you brought to the last party, just what you bring to this one, so draw a line, move on, et cetera. What friends are you looking to bring to this burnt meat and undercooked chicken extravaganza?”
“Um, some lads from Uni, and a couple of colleagues. Who do you have?”
I knew exactly what Juliet was about to do, poor lonesome me, et fucking cetera again, so I kept my smile bright.
“Funnily enough, many of them were at the event today. The police woman, girl from the duty free, Mr and Mrs Vicar, a few more. Will they do?”
Juliet had the sense to keep her gob shut, at least until we were finally back at Brian’s and he was in the bathroom disposing of his used beer.
“Gemma, those people are not my friends!”
“They will be. And don’t argue: Annie is already on your case. I get the impression she has seen a lot of crap, so it’s gift horses for now”
She was still muttering.
“I don’t have friends”
“Yes you do. You just don’t know them that well, or at all. Anyway, what am I?”
“Well, you, yes”
“Then just bloody trust me. That’s him on the stairs”
I did need my ear plugs that night.
Breakfast was more than a little awkward, Jules sneaking little glances at me before ducking her head whenever I caught her gaze. I assumed it was a mixture of smugness and shame, like that song about him knowing that she knew that he knew and so on. The two of them had shared some intimate moments, occasionally with most of the county from what I’d heard prior to inserting my little foam plugs, and she knew that I did, indeed, know. In an instant, my traitor mind came up with ‘Not so much kiss and tell as shag and scream’, but I think I managed to hide the smirk, and to be sure, I covered it with words.
“You working today, Jules?”
“Got a couple of gardens in Smallfield. Nothing big; just a mow and a hedge trim”
“Brian?”
He jerked awake, poor dear.
“Oh, two viewings, but not till eleven thirty, for the first one. I could run you into Horley, if you want”
“That would be sweet. Thank you. Metrobus is a bit shit, to be honest”
He nodded, a quirk to his lips emphasising his agreement. I decided to push things.
“When… Suky?”
“Suky, yes. Susan Karen”
“Bloody stupid name. Like Suella. Anyway, just a guess? Car as well as house? Why you know the bus schedules so well?”
He just nodded, and my hatred for someone I had never met ramped up another notch.
“Cow, but we’ve already established that. At least, at bloody last, rather, you’re seeing someone sensible. Jules is not a car person”
“I drive a van, Gem”
“Yes, Jules, because towing the hounds with a bike would look silly, like a canine starry-gazey pie”
That brought a little snort of laughter from her man, as I was trying to think of him, so not wasted.
“Brian, yes, a lift would be great, assuming that Miss Unmotorised here is fine with the ride over to Smallfield”
“It’s how I travel, Gem”
“And if god had intended that, he would never have created Carl Benz. Thanks, Bri, a lift would be great. Got a shitload of marking to do. Soonest started, et cetera”
A fun aspect of teaching is that the work extends well beyond ‘school hours’. Joy, most definitely deep.
The ride home was a little tense, probably because we each had so much we needed to say, but couldn’t. We did arrange a provisional date for the meat cremation session, but apart from a couple of weak probes about my identity, that was it. I suppose his manly inquisitiveness was a little handicapped following repeated overnight deliveries to Jules, but never mind, and no, no, not at all envious, not me. Both Saturday and Sunday drifted past without a message from Jules, before Monday was on me. That was one of my sixth form days, when I got to teach Proper Physics to students who actually wanted to learn. I was on my lunch break between two sessions on gravity and both sorts of relativity when my mobile went. Oh: my head teacher in the Comp.
“Hello?”
“Gemma! How is it going in the lab today?”
“Not in the lab, Ryan. It’s purely book and brain work today. Introducing them to relativity”
“My head hurts already. Would you be able to drop in here one you’re done there?”
“Anything I should know?”
He paused for a moment, before sighing and dropping the bomb.
“Yes, I believe so. We have a complaint from a parent”
“Oh deep, deep joy. Substantiated?”
“I can’t say, but I do believe it may come down to optics. Do you have a likely ETA?”
“Probably about four, I’m afraid”
“Don’t be. I will have cake, and not from the Domestic Science class”
We both hung up, and I was left trying to work out what I had done. Even as an adult, a ‘See me’ from one’s head drives an immediate surge of guilt, whatever the circumstances. I don’t think I was that convincing when I tried to get the concepts of ‘τ’, and its linked factors of length, mass and time, across to a small group of seventeen year olds.
Onto the bus, and down to the Comp, but at least I didn’t have to do the ‘stand and wait’ at the Head’s office, as I had called him as I entered. The promised cake turned out to be from Waitrose, so most definitely a step up from Friday’s offering. I took the hint and his mug, and made a couple of brews in the staffroom before taking one of the two ‘comfy chairs’, once again thinking of the Spanish Inquisition. Ryan passed me a sheet of lined paper, clearly torn from a spiral-bound notepad.
“Have a read, Gemma”
I ignored that advice, and went straight to the signature: Mrs H McBride.
Oh for fuck’s sake. I started again, this time at the beginning. Once more, OFFS. I read it through twice more, just in case some subtle nuance had escaped me. As there was no nuance anywhere, subtle or otherwise, I was wasting my time. And the spelling was individual.
In summary, I was conspiring to groom her children into being perverts by packing the Mysterons with trannies. And Mohammeds: why had we invited two Mohammeds?
“How many trans people were in the group, Gemma?”
A little wobble on breaching confidence, and then I gave him the honest answer, the one he already knew.
“Three, Ryan. Out of eight. Bit disproportionate, but I did it in a hurry”
“That is not what she says, in person”
“Sorry?”
“She rang up to confirm I’d received her letter”
“And?”
“Hazel told me who was calling, so I switched the recorder on before answering. She’s a charmer. How do you know her?”
“Ah, year below me at school. This school”
“Right… here’s the call”
He set the recorder playing, and it was even worse than the letter. In essence, an event that should have included role models reflecting British society and values had featured two Muslimics, four trannies and two fairies, and could and should have included people like her and her husband, and what was we gonna do about it coz the papers would be interested, and that Mister Cabbage, et cetera.
“Hannah hasn’t changed, then. Apart from in her dress size. Strategy?”
“I have some ideas, but one thing I am going to do is seek legal advice, obviously. This letter, with the phone call, is well into ‘inciting hatred’ territory”
I sipped my tea for a while, as I thought things through.
“Want me to give Annie a ring? She may have a good steer on that one, given what the press tried to do to her when she came out. Or would you prefer to do so?”
He shook his head.
“Better coming from you, Gem. And would you mind doing a round of calls, give all our Mysterons a heads-up?”
“Absolutely”
“I already have some ideas, but will await what you might find for us. One thing I will promise is that this isn’t going to be a damage limitation exercise, but a fight back. Let’s keep each other posted. Sorry to keep you here after hours, but I thought this one needed an immediate response, or at least a strategy chat”
Once I was behind my own front door, I started sending out texts to my crew of mysterious strangers, the first to respond being Mo Khan.
‘Fucking racist bitch! I know who to leave at the scene next time’
I also got two separate phone calls in quick order, and both of them offered almost exactly the same solution. How curious.
I didn’t see the Happy Couple for a week, of course, as they were off camping with intent and I was preparing for the Summer break, which actually has a lot of associated work that goes unseen by outsiders, such as preparing the next academic year’s class list for the new intake. And there was a barbecue.
If Hannah-the-slut thought the Mysterons had been a little OTT on the trans front, the barbie day turned that knob to twelve. All of our Mysterons were there, plus their families, along with a lesbian family from Brighton, and the Woodruffs, as well as a few of Brian’s colleagues and their own spouses and offspring. The weather was amazing, and when I pointed out to Caroline and Annie that they had essentially given me the same suggestion, both Steph Woodruff and Cheryl, Brian’s boss, burst out laughing.
I had dressed up the complaint as largely racist, out of respect for confidence and privacy, but the answer was growing.
“Let me see if we are on the same page here. Caroline: you have a sort of contact with the Guardian, that right?”
A nod and a grin.
“And Steph? You still have contacts with the BBC?”
Her own smile was disturbingly toothy.
“Not just me, Gemma. Simon has his own links, through the Music Day stuff”
“Right… and Cheryl: local papers?”
“It’s where we advertise, love”
“Okayyyyyyy…and Annie: your friend in Wales?”
“Her sort of sister, aye? Her other half is actually a stringer for the Grauniad. I think he will be very receptive to the idea. I just need to get some proper advice on what we can legally include”
Caroline’s bloke was looking a little lost.
“Surely, if we each give our permission to the newspaper people, then there should be no difficulties?”
Annie was shaking her head, as her husband chuckled in understanding.
“Pablo, it’s not what we are willing to have published about us, it’s what we can say about—that name again, Gemma?”
Juliet answered for me.
“Hannah-the-slut. Hannah McBride”
“Thanks, Jules. Gem, I am not just thinking of a puff piece on each of us, me and my gong and stuff, but a full-on ‘we still have dinosaurs in this country’ attack. Anyone got any really unflattering pictures of her?”
Brian laughed at that one.
“I still have an old class photo, and she’s in that, but Jules? How does she get the brats to and from school?”
I knew that one.
“She walks the younger two, Bri. Eldest has a different approach to the concept of compulsory attendance”
“Right. Who does your security cameras?”
Steph’s turn to smirk.
“Please, Miss! I know! And I live next door to them”
I do love it when a plan starts to come together. We agreed a rough agenda, and I headed off to the kitchen for another cold one and some more of my vegetable shishkebabs, which were amazingly popular that afternoon. One of Brian’s mates, a bulky man called Norm, was preparing some lamb chops, and we exchanged the obligatory smile and nod as I opened the fridge.
“Gemma, isn’t it?”
“Yes”
“Ta. Norman. Norm. Missed a lot of the intros; got here late”
“I don’t think we’re in danger of famine, especially the size of cool bag you have there”
“Ha! Lot of me to feed, as you can see. How do you know Brian?”
“I’m a friend of Juliet. And I was at school with him”
“So was I. Don’t remember you, though”
Shit.
“Different year. Then I went off to Portsmouth for university”
“Yeah. I was the year above his. Juliet’s…”
He paused for a few minutes, before looking me directly in the eyes.
“It really suits her, Gemma. I heard, obviously, about her. Hannah-the-harlot’s been spreading it all through the town. How is Juliet handling the crap?”
“How do you see her, Norm?”
“Honestly? She seems happy, and Brian bloody well is. I warned him off that bunny boiler from the airport, but would he listen? Anyway, he’s almost singing in the office, I hear. Bit of Young Lurve brightens the work experience… Ah”
He put down the lamb and turned to face me rather than the worktop.
“Been a bloody long time, and Juliet’s not the only one who’s changed, is she? It’s… I don’t want to be rude, and I am told that using a former name is about the rudest thing I can do”
Oh sodding hell. Most of the kids seemed to have worked me out, if not down to my actual deadname. Why should adults be any different?
“What name are you remembering, Norm?”
“Danny. Danny Soames”
My afternoon started to crash and burn, and he noticed, stepping forward and hugging me in that dirty-hands-in-the-air way.
“No, Gemma. If Brian can manage, so can other people. Wipe your eyes, then go and put those skewers on to cook, and come back for this lamb? I have some other stuff to prepare"
As I left the kitchen, he called out again.
“Oh, I think I’ve worked out why you chose your surname. Bring a smile back, please”
I took the skewers out as instructed. Leaving them to be slathered with gloop and slapped onto the grill, and then stood for a few seconds to put my thoughts in order. There was something about him, something off, that didn’t match the Norman Rossiter I remembered from that school. The lad I had known had been one of the rugby crowd, exactly the people I had spent so much energy in avoiding., and their behaviour could never have been fairly described as ‘accommodating’ or ‘inclusive’, unless it was a matter of intersectional hatred. The Venn diagram of their world had been a classic double circle: ‘Us’ and ‘every lesser being’. That second circle could just as easily be labelled ‘targets’.
Sod it. He was here as a guest, and I was, after all, just another one. I turned and headed back to the kitchen for the lamb, adjusting my expression as ordered.
“Smile brought., along with my own questions, as we both clearly remember each other”
He was doing something with feta, spices and foil, but he gave me his own smile over his shoulder.
“Go ahead. And with you, well, you hid well, Who you are, that is. Nice to see you being honest with yourself and the world”
Definitely not the attitude I remembered from the egg chasers.
“What did you do after sixth form? I mean, as I said, I was at Pompey, doing Physics”
Slow down, woman. He smiled again.
“Me? I went off to Loughborough, to do mechanical engineering, along with a lot of sport, he says to nobody’s surprise”
His face twisted a little as he said that, so I pushed.
“What happened, Norm?”
“Ah, someone didn’t like the way I played. Stamped the back of my knee after a tackle. Bit sort of buggered my leg. End of rugby career, in essence, so I had to find a real job. Ended up in structural stress analysis, for Thales”
“What? In Manor Royal?”
“That’s the one. They’ve moved now, so I’m working with a design office in Crawley. We do all sorts, from F1 cars to bridges. Pays the bills”
“Can I ask a question?”
“Another one?”
“More personal, okay? Not a threatening one”
“Go ahead. I’ll tell you if it is too personal”
“Okay. Given… Jules and me, we weren’t mates at school. I was so deep in hiding I was like wallpaper, but Jules, well, she was the one with the crosshairs on her back. ‘Kick the shit out of me’ sort of thing. Her main readers were from the rugby set. That included you”
“I think the question’s implicit in the statement, to try and be flash and pompous. I had more than a few differences with what you call the rugby set. Want to take that lamb out? I’ll still be here”
Not quite a ‘change the subject’, but I did as asked, along with a couple of foil parcels. When I returned, he was doing something to some chicken breasts. How much food had he brought?
“Gemma… I had my differences, as I was saying. What I don’t want…”
He put the chicken down, rinsed his hands and turned to face me, leaning back against the worktop.
“Look, this day is supposed to be for Jules and Bri, right? Mix and mingle a few friends, dig out the awkward photos, all that sort of thing. She’s head over heels, isn’t she?”
Keeping confidence was out the window, as I simply nodded. His smile was oddly sad.
“Thought so. How long has she, you know?”
“Fancied him? I suspect since she first saw him”
“Awkward. Anyway, he is a good-looking lad, so can’t blame her”
“Yes, but there’s more to it. She, well, me and her, we can both speak to this. He never, ever joined in with the shit she was getting, and then there was that day when he got the black eye”
“Sorry?”
“He came in with a black eye, from one of the rugbyanderthals”
Norman was looking more than a little off.
“Explain, please”
“Hannah-the-slut told us”
“Hannah with the curly hair and the margarine legs?”
“That’s the one. Said Bri had been defending what she called ‘the fairy’, and pointed at Jules”
“I see. She always was thicker than a constipated pig’s shit. Sorry to spoil the story, but that wasn’t over Jules. Brian did stick up for her, but that shiner was for other reasons”
He took a few slow breaths, then looked up again, or rather down, given his height.
“I will be kipping on the sofa tonight, as Bri tells me his spare bed is occupied. I assume that will be you. Could we please finish this discussion later, once we have fewer people about?”
Another slow breath.
“I have outed you, if only to myself. Lots to discuss; I would prefer some peace to do it in, if that’s okay. Now, I do believe Brian’s lover could do with a smile. Take these butterfly peri-peri breasts with you, and I’ll be out with the shish kofte skewers in a couple of minutes”
I was surprised at the sudden shutdown, but did as I was asked, realising as I delivered it all that I hadn’t actually tasted anything thus far. I filled a paper plate with a mixture of my veggie kebabs and several of Norm’s offerings before tossing a chop bone to a suitably ecstatic Diesel. Jules was in her now-usual position, joined at the hip to Brian, as a number of people asked them all the usual questions, so I ambled over, nibbling on the contents of one of Norm’s foil parcels—OOH! That’s nice!
Brian smiled at me, which was almost as nice, and Jules grinned.
“We have a couple more guests on their way. Gem. The people who do the security system. Oh dear how sad never mind!”
Brian snorted.
“Just hope we’ve got enough bloody food”
I did my best theatrical shrug.
“I wouldn’t worry. I suspect that cool bag Norm has is bottomless. Tried some of his feta? Nomtastic. Normtastic? Anyway, where are we with The Plot?”
Jules brightened up, giving Brian a hug that I suspected involved a squeeze of his backside, but then, who was I to judge? She was glowing with joy, and he was most certainly not pulling away. Brian was the one laughing, however.
“Well, apart from the camera people, Annie and Steph have each spoken to someone called Phil in South Wales, and he said he will speak to someone called Paula, and, and, and. Nobody’s guaranteeing anything, but if, well, someone said about making needlework as fine as possible when stitching someone up. Can’t argue with that!”
I couldn’t, in any way, but I was still wondering why Norm had pulled back on his comments about Hannah-whichever. Something felt rather off.
The afternoon proceeded in a manner that could be described as predictable only if you knew the people involved, especially when Annie, Steph and others produced a variety of musical implements and began implementing. I don’t think anyone cared about the style—it was happy, and more than competently played, and alcohol had been consumed. The camera people were a rather tweedy and elderly couple, but they had also brought supplies, in their case a variety of petits fours, fives and sixes, as well as even more booze.
Oh: and a couple of discs for later viewing.
Brian was a little anxious about that one.
“Don’t we need her permission, Naomi?”
Mrs Security had a surprisingly sharklike smile.
“Not only does the school have appropriate signage about our cameras, but it’s a place accessible by the general public. As such, there is no legal presumption of privacy. In short, no we sodding don’t”
Caroline was also grinning, in a remarkably similar manner.
“And we have another angle, folks. My beloved husband here has just spoken to some German friends with connections. They just need the right approach agreed”
Jules was the one to grunt her incomprehension, and the taller woman shrugged.
“It can either be ‘look what bigots they are in the UK’ or ‘sad racist bigot tries to undermine inclusion initiative’. I think we need a go/no go from the Head”
I held up a hand, breaking that rule about never volunteering. Then again, what Hannah had said about me in that phone call effectively made it more like being drafted than stepping forward.
“I’ll see him on Monday, but I’m pretty sure it’ll be the second option.. Mo? And Mo? Why the smirks?”
Our pilot was yet another channelling ‘Jaws’ that day.
“Oh, just setting something else up. I know where she lives”
Annie simply said, “And?”, which produced an even wider grin.
“And I have a mate from the Islamic Centre near the outlet shop. He has a corner shop. It’s not on a corner, but you take my meaning. And HIS mate, Mehmet, he runs the name-your-fast-food place next door. My own bloody flying monkeys are ready to soar, folks, once the press stuff is out”
I realised that Norm had actually joined us, standing just behind me, only announcing his presence with a hearty laugh.
“Any of you really spooks? This is like I imagine MI5 or whatever. Why weren’t you this capable when we were all at school?”
Jules looked him in the eye, smile gone.
“Not only were most of this lot at different schools, but some of us had other issues that sort of took all our attention”
Oh: of course. Rugby set; Norm wasn’t going to be on her list of happy memories. I needed a word with her at some point, but I could understand her reaction. She clearly remembered him in greater detail than myself. Brian whispered something to her, and then, to my delight, kissed her gently on the cheek. She reached up to stroke his cheek, then almost whispered a ‘sorry’ to Norm. I felt his hand drop onto my shoulder; a quick squeeze and away.
“Gem here has given me some background, Juliet, so no need. Entire ocean under the bridge since then, okay? Now, I’ve done a shitload of preparation here, so don’t mind me while I pig out for a bit”
He strolled off to the barbie, a bottle of beer in hand, to begin loading a plate, as a couple of Brian’s neighbours called very hinting greetings over opposite fences, and our numbers grew even more as the evening came on.
It had to end, of course, and various ‘designated drivers’ and non-drinkers began to gather their passengers as others helped to put the remaining food and drink away and stack dirty dishes in the sink and washer. Steph looked wistfully at the lawn.
“We do this next time at our place, Gem. With tents. Speaking of which, are you coming to the music event this year, at St Nick’s? Oh, and Merry tells me her hubby gas a sermon ready to go as well”
To my own astonishment, I burst out laughing.
“It’s like Norm said, love: bloody MI5”
“Well, I always say that if you intend to stitch someone up, ensure the needlework is competent and bloody thorough. We’re off, but keep us in the loop once things are running”
A hug, and gone, repeated until there were only four of us left. Brian started making a round of tea as Jules brought down some bedding for Norm, which told me exactly how much of a free run she had in the house. We sat and sipped, and I fought back my urge to giggle at her clock-watching: ‘is it time to go upstairs for a shag yet, or will these two think we’re sex mad?’ Eventually, I simply told the two of them that I knew my way, and still had tea in my mug, and they were gone. I felt some of my tension leave me as I turned to the big man.
“So, Norm. It’s later, now”
He nodded, a little unhappily.
“Right. It was… something you said earlier, okay? I missed a bit out. I was working for Thales, remember?”
“Yeah, and they moved, so you found work in Crawley”
“Not quite. I moved with them, cause I was married to another employee. Came back here when the marriage didn’t work out”
“You want to talk about why, or should we move on?”
“Ah, easier to explain. Adultery. Shagging another man, another colleague”
“Was it the cliché thing? She ended up with the house and labradoodle?”
“He got the house, yes, but paid me for my half”
What the actual fuck?
“Not a good look, Gem, a wide open gob. I suppose that’s the important point here, and it’s actually quite funny. Brian was indeed very vocal in defending Jules, and he got a lot of shit for it, but that black eye had nothing to do with her. Hannah got that completely wrong, as wrong as her claims about shagging him. I’m the fairy he was defending”
I, me, the one with the rapid-fire gob, it was still hanging open, so I hauled it shut by pure force of will, and sought the right words, hoping to avoid the reflex “Didn’t think you were a queer”. I may be ‘queer’ myself by most people’s definition, but I had to learn about homophobia. I’m as straight as they come, in every double meaning of that word, and the idea of two men together had always been a bit ‘ick’ to my younger self. I know full well how wrong those thought are, so did my best to make it ‘were’, but my hindbrain still kicks in at inappropriate moments.
Shit.
“I didn’t realise… that why the rugbyanderthals got nasty?”
He nodded.
“I’m no Alfie, Gem”
“Who’s Alfie?”
“Gareth Thomas, Welsh player. Absolute legend. Came out as gay after living a double life for years”
Suddenly, he was laughing, so I simply smiled until he had finished, or at least slowed down a bit.
“Share?”
“Oh, just the usual. Press got hold of the rumours and started doorstepping his teammates. ‘Are you shocked?’, et cetera. They all gave the same reply: they’d always known, what difference did it make, and what business was it of the reporter? It’s the other thing, my imagination, yeah? They usually do the ‘we’re breaking this story whatever; you can help us shape it, or take the consequences’ threat. I just imagine them trying that line on a number of people the size of Alun Wyn Jones or Ken Owens”
“Again, who?”
He shook his head, a little sadly.
“Wales and Lions rugby forwards, Gem. Just think ‘very, VERY big and equally hard men’, okay?”
My face must have betrayed me again, for his voice softened.
“What’s up?”
Bloody tears. They weren’t falling, but they were pricking my eyes.
“Sorry, Norm. It’s just, well, that bit about helping the press out or taking the consequences. I know what that’s like?”
“Really? When? Oh hell. Come here”
I let him wrap me up, as the tears ignored all my orders and dripped into his shirt, a solid lump in my throat stopping my words for half a minute, until I managed to swallow it down.
“You said you had an idea why I chose my name. What was it?”
He drew his breath in slowly, my head rising with his chest.
“After Charles Babbage, if I have it right. Difference engine”
“That’s it. I was also thinking of the French word for a computer, an ordinateur. Gives me a sense of integrating, putting things in the right order. That’s what I was doing, in essence. I couldn’t really afford to relocate, fresh start with a GRC, live in stealth. Oh, that’s a Gender Recognition Certificate. So I had a word with my old Head, and he was happy to become my new Head, if you get me. Then the Daily Heil came knocking, same old shit, trying to do a Lucy Meadows on me. She was… She was another teacher who didn’t make it. All thanks to an arsehole reporter I call Littledick”
“What did the school say?”
“Oh, Ryan was clear. ‘And? So what? This is private property. Fuck off and don’t come back’. I don’t think he actually said the last bit, but it’s what he meant. That was not quite what he said to the reptiles, anyway”
“And to you?”
“Oh, ‘Haven’t you got a class to go to?’ followed by ‘Unless you need to take some time off,; if you do, I’ll cover’. Sound man. Rag still ran the story, of course”
I could feel his nod, as his arms opened so that I could sit up again.
“He was always straight with me, Gem. He knew what I was, especially after Brian got smacked by that twat Tubby Mansell”
“Norm?”
“Why am I anticipating a loaded question? Go on”
“Did you fancy Brian as well?”
“Um, sort of, but there was always that little obstacle of him being absolutely straight. What about you?”
“Oh god, didn’t every girl? I just had three problems with that idea, though. I was absolutely in the closet, and I believe—no. I know I was successful at that bit, unlike Jules. Then there’s your bit about him being straight, so, you know, man in a dress worries”
I paused, soaking in the absurdity, until he broke the silence again.
“Third reason?”
“Oh, easy. He’s a little bit weedy for me. I like a bit of bulk; I think most trans women do, or at least the straight ones. Helps with the dysphoria, I suppose”
“Steph and Annie don’t seem to need bulk”
“Yeah, but they’re both weird. I mean, they’re musicians; it goes with the territory. With me, well, it was a bit academic. I fancied him, but if he had been a decent size, I’d have been worse than bloody Hannah, and even less successful. Awake enough for a little life history?”
He nodded, settling back into the settee.
“I said I was at Portsmouth. Once I was through my A-levels, and my place was sorted, I did the name change thing and let them know. I went there as myself from day one. A few boundary issues, but I kept myself to myself. Nobody needed to know, unless, if you get my drift. Same when I got back here. Took a year off, once my parents had their new place in God’s Waiting Room. Bexhill. Saw Mr Thomas near Brighton for the final fiddling, and that’s where I ran into Jules again, in the recovery ward. It was like Blue Peter, ‘here’s a fanny I prepared earlier’. Oh”
I pointed up at the ceiling, as a rhythmic creak quietly started.
“Speak of the devil. Mr Thomas was a very good surgeon, or so Jules tells me, and that’s her opinion you can hear”
He grinned.
“Sounds like it’s Brian’s as well, Gem. And I’m not going to ask yours”
“Norm?”
“Still here”
“I have to ask, though I shouldn’t. Me. Me, as I was when you didn’t know me, that is. Did…?”
“Did I fancy you, or rather ‘him’? No, sorry, but that sounds nasty. I, well, I fancy people for who they are. I saw a really silly word for it once, ‘sapiosexual’, about being fixated on the mind alone, but that’s not true in my case. I still need a nice smile, nice bum, usual sordid stuff. You were so locked away I couldn’t have connected. At least I know why, now. Anyway, I am now wishing I had brought some ear plugs”
“I’ve got some spare ones if you want”
“Please. Do they get vocal?”
“No idea. I put the plugs in as soon as I shut the bedroom door. There are some things woman was not meant to know”
“Nor man, I would guess”
I passed him a spare pair of ear plugs, and as I rose to head upstairs, I got another hug. Unfortunately, as I closed the bedroom door, Norm’s question was answered by both of our hosts in turn. I hoped my new friend had got his ears blocked in time. Note to self: remind Jules about ladylike language.
I didn’t go to sleep straight away, but, well… it was very, very intense, and unusually quick from start to finish.
We all went our separate ways after breakfast, and I noticed Jules casting sheepish glances towards Norm as she ate: ‘Sorry for making those very explicit demands right overhead as you were trying to sleep’. My unspoken plea to him was ‘please tell me that wasn’t you on the stairs to the loo just as I was finishing things off’. Things best unheard, other things best unsaid.
The Plot took more shape over the next few days, until we had a bundle neatly lined up and ready to go. Naomi and Ryan had both made the minor point that if we wanted Hannah prosecuted, we would effectively screw that by our actions, but Annie and Steph had pointed out quite reasonably that as our Independent Police and Crime Commissioner was not exactly a fan of the trans community, we couldn’t expect any action. Ryan rang, spoke to a copper without revealing any names, and got the expected negative answer, so our decks were clear.
The photo Naomi had produced for us was a classic. Hannah looked even wider than she really was, with the added bonuses of having a cigarette in her mouth and a hand raised ready to slap her younger child, the eleven-year-old. Then ‘Paula’ in Cardiff had an article in the Guardian about our Mysteron project, and how one racist bigot had complained. She was described as their ‘insight correspondent’, which puzzled me until I followed the link to her first book, which cost me a lot of sleep. Her mucker Phil had run it all past a set of press lawyers in case it could be defamatory, and he summed it up neatly in a Teams meeting with Annie and several more of us.
“They said it can’t be defamatory because it’s true, there’s evidence it’s true, she’s signed some of said evidence, and there’s a tape of her giving us even more evidence, so go out and shit all over her and give Annie a hug for old times”
Simon had done his usual puff piece for the upcoming Music Day event with BBC local radio, adding in comments about how the event was needed even more, referring to Hannah merely as a local bigot and reminding people of where that could lead, especially with reference to a particular grave in St Nick’s yard.
Caroline’s husband Pablo had an article coming out in a German newspaper about Best British Gammons and their incessant bigotry, and Phil, yet again, had managed to get the Independent interested in that story, and then, bless him, with the help of Mrs T, had a couple of the local rags ready to syndicate both of the nationals’ stories. Ryan, Mo Khan and myself had been interviewed, with the added bonus that because it wasn’t the Heil, none of us had to be photographed wearing a blue dress and court heels.
I have got a number of blue dresses, plus several pairs of heels bought when a complete new wardrobe was still an amazing thing, but I don’t think that applied to either Mo or Ryan. You never know, though. Mo, however, with or without dress or heels, was poised. Both his cousin the shopkeeper and Mehmet the Kebab/pizza/chips man took both of the local rags, left on the tables for sit-down customers in the case of the latter. Mo was chuckling when he told us about the cherry on his little bit of info.
“Oh, it’s Mehmet’s idea, bit like his kebabs: ‘You want salad on top? Chili sauce?’ He asked if it would be OK to stick the article up in his window, with a caption like ‘You’re not welcome if we aren’t’. And if Munshi next door just happened to see it, you know… I think we are cooking on gas here, people”
It was a nerve-wracking couple of weeks before it all hit, because we had to let the German article drop first, so that the Indy could pick it up. It came out on a Monday, the Guardian article dropped two days later, the Friday editions of our two locals carried their own versions, and that was indeed that little bit of added value, as Mo told us at our celebratory barbie the very next day, at Steph’s place in Charlwood, where we got to meet Phil, Paula and their other halves Kim and Paul, who’d driven over on Friday evening.
Paul and Paula? Oh dear. On the other hand, I had read her book, so I knew the background.
There were multiple spare beds across two big houses, as well as several tents, and an abundance of finger food plus an even greater input from Chez Norm. There was even a visiting family of Annie and Steph’s friends from Dover, who also had a dog; Bri and Jules had brought Diesel, purely in the sense of fairness and not just bone disposal, and the two hounds really hit it off. We started with a Plot meeting in Steph’s conservatory, where Mo gave us the aforesaid cherry, interrupted by frequent heckling.
“Oh, you should have been there! I wish I had been! Apparently, Friday night is their piss and chips night, where one of them picks up a bulk load of food from Mehmet’s while the other fills a trolley bag with beer and tart fuel—Sorry? WKD, Bacardi Breezer, brightly coloured fluids, that sort of crap. Oh? Right! ‘Slut fuel’ it is, then. Anyway, Ritchie McBride goes into the Grill to pick up the bulk order of a balanced diet, while Hannah heads into Munshi’s for the booze. Mehmet and his boys look at Ritchie, and point to the sign in the window, and of course they’re all sharpening their knives for the doner and the lamb chunks on the shish.
“So Mehmet says ‘Imam said some things at prayers today, Ritchie. About what your Missus thinks of Muslims. Door. Out. Don’t come back’, and next door, Munshi’s saying the same thing to Hannah, with his brother and two cousins along to help stack shelves, close-knit family, so on and so forth. May I offer a toast? Yes, it’s lemonade, sod that you are. To a well-hatched and well-delivered Plot!”
Brian was doubled up with laughter, Jules slapping, or rubbing, or maybe caressing his back, and she called out how she wished she could have been there to witness it. Mo smirked, holding up an envelope.
“Well, you can be, sort of. Both boys have given me copies of their security camera discs, and for some rather important reasons both come with sound. Yes, Naomi, you could have, but this way was quicker. Got a player, Steph?”
She had, so we gathered before it, and the afternoon got even better.
Brian sat up sharply at one point.
“Did she just smash that bottle?”
“Yup. Munshi made two copies of the disc. Police have the other one. All together now? Oh dear how sad never mind!”
I was floating after that double cherry. I had always suspected that the person who had outed me to the Heil might have been the slut, but I had never had enough proof. I still didn’t have any, of course, but I really felt that this could serve as my own revenge, by proxy. I took a walk out into the huge garden for a quiet moment, as stresses I hadn’t realised had been there for at least a decade suddenly unwound, and the wall I had been pushing against became an open door.
My tears were not far behind, nor was the arm that settled over my shoulders.
“I seem to ask this a lot, but are you okay?”
“Not sure, Norm. Just realised how much of my life I’ve been in, I don’t know. That thing on aircraft?”
“Brace position?”
“Yeah, that’s it. Locked and rigid, waiting for the crash. Today… It’s not over, never will be, I think, but, well, bully’s been smacked one, and this time it’s the bully who doesn’t have back-up. I’m just… Just wobbling a bit. Surprised at myself, I suppose. Suddenly realising how much stress I’ve been carrying”
“Stress is my job, Gem. Got my own, outside of work as well as the pro stuff. Been a busy few weeks with all this”
His arm was still there, and it felt nice, that little touch of human contact.
“Do you mind if I…?”
“Feel free, Gem”
I settled into his hug, slipping an arm around his waist, and it was like the most comforting blanket in the world, as I realised why so many women take gay men as really close friends. No threats, no complications, just comfort.
He settled his own head against mine, and we stood watching planes approach the airport, no need for words for at least a quarter of an hour, until he spoke.
“Gem?”
“Umhum?”
“I need to say something. I think you might have misunderstood what I said at Bri’s place”
“Oh. What have I said?”
“Not you. You think I’m gay, don’t you?”
I lifted my head so I could see his face.
“I’m confused now. I think I assumed that ‘gay’ might apply to a man who fancies men, marries one and then divorces him, and fancies my best friend’s man. Men who fancy et cetera men stylee gay”
He chuckled.
“The way those two moon over each other, I think that might end up as ‘husband’ in the very near”
“Really?”
“She’s head over, he’s besotted, and they are bloody well suited. And I think…”
He was blushing suddenly.
“I didn’t get those ear plugs in quickly enough, and then, well, both of them, oh dear. I wonder what the other campers must have thought, when they went to the New forest”
I settled back against him, and he sighed, squeezing my shoulder.
“I’m not gay, Gem. I’m bi. That’s… This is embarrassing as all hell, but I’ve started, so I need to get this bit out. That night, I was a coward. I wanted… If I say something wrong, please understand how I mean it, and why, and I will change the subject. I had to go to the loo”
Oh shit. It had been him on the stairs. I felt my own face burning.
“And?”
“I could hear”
“They were loud”
“Not them”
“Ah. Sorry. I do have my own needs, you know, so if it offends you that I---”
“Shush, Gem. You have no need to apologise. I was the coward, not you”
“Norm, how were you a coward? I’m lost”
“I… I wanted to knock on your door”
Shit.
“You wanted to knock on my door? Why?”
He tilted his head back, eyes screwed shut.
“Typical drunk silliness, Gem. I was going to ask if you needed another hand, or could I offer you something else?”
“Fuck!”
“Er, yeah, basically”
He looked back down at me, trying to smile.
“If I’ve overstepped, I’m sorry, but I have my own stress limits. I’ll leave you alone now, if you want”
The answer was out of my mouth before I could pull it back.
“I don’t want. I mean, I do want, but not for you to let go. You said you didn’t fancy me”
“I didn’t fancy Danny, because I didn’t know him”
“Nobody did, Norm. I couldn’t really let him out to play, could I?”
“I understand. But I am getting to know you, and what I am discovering is… You’re a very deep woman. And I’d really like to… oh shit. That’s almost as bad as the drunk one”
“Sorry?”
“I was about to say something stupid, that would have sounded wrong, and it’s not what I meant”
“Would it have been about plumbing my depths?
“Er, yeah?”
“But you meant ‘get to know me’, didn’t you?”
He nodded sharply, so I moved around and slipped my hands up to wrap around the back of his neck.
“Well, Norm, that would be wonderful”
I felt the nerves hit me, along with the shakes, and he wrapped both arms around me until they quit.
“Sorry, Norm, but I have my own desires and, well, you said you heard. I… I have never, um, had my depths plumbed. If…”
He kissed me, just like that, and it was soft, and it was sweet, and we have never, ever, looked back.
All that work I put into choosing a new surname! We double-barrelled them both, in the end.