.
Marcy as Marc is now known has found acceptance at school and especially with her best friend Pol and her parents who treat her like a girl.
Where necessary or possibly helpful to some, there are notes at the end on word usage.
The following day Pol and Marcy went to school reluctantly. Both usually attentive and good pupils who enjoyed school, they were reprimanded a number of times for lack of attention. All day their minds had been on the fair and Pol’s mum’s promise to assist with make up that evening. Pol’s mum worked in the make up and hairdressing department of the local regional television station. Glad when school was over, they hurried back to Pol’s. As was their practice, they did their homework as soon as they arrived back.
“Marce, you any idea where Lourenço Marques(1) is?”
“Never heard of it. Why?”
“It’s question seventeen.”
“Sounds like South America to me, Brazil probably. I’m only on question thirteen.”
“Ok. That sounds good. It’ll take ages to turn the computer on, so I’ll go with Brazil.” If their homeworks were not to their usual standard they were prepared to live with the consequences. They had things on their minds.
They helped Pol’s mum prepare moussaka and made dolmades for dinner, both of them enjoyed cooking. When her husband arrived home, Mrs. Munro said, “Marcy, there’s a couple of bottles of Retsina chilling in the fridge. They’ve got corks, not screw tops. I’ve left a cork screw by the fridge. Open one please. Pauline, fetch four white wine flutes from the small china cabinet please and put them on the table.”
Marcy had never tasted Retsina before. Pol explained, “It tastes like pine trees smell, a bit like loo cleaner, but drinkable. It’s nice,” which made them all laugh.
The Munros always dressed for dinner, and Marcy thought Pol’s dad who was a tall, big man always looked magnificent in his kilt. Professor Munro suggested to Marcy, “Those school clothes are hardly appropriate for a family friend dining here are they, Lassie? Go with Pol and change. Surprise us with something pretty that you feel good in.” The girls returned both wearing one of what Pol referred to as her big frocks.(2) Mrs. Munro smiled in approval, and her husband said, “That’s much better.” Marcy always dressed for dinner thereafter and loved the sense of freedom it gave her.
Pol was right concerning the Retsina, and Marcy enjoyed the unfamiliar meal. The frock and the wine made her feel very much a part of the family, and when Pol’s dad asked, “Are you enjoying yourself, Lassie?
Marcy replied, “Yes, thank you. I’ve had something similar made with minced(7) beef wrapped in cabbage leaves a few times, but I’ve never tasted vine leaves before. I do like them, and the wine is like nothing I’ve ever tasted before, but the resin taste is good with the lamb and the dryness of the wine goes well with mince which is a little fatty.”
Pol’s dad, who, as a result of that remark, considered Marcy to have a rather better appreciation of food and drink than most for someone of any age, said, “Aye, you’re right, Lassie,(2a) I suspect they use all the fatty bits up in mince to make sure they sell it. I like it, but I can only take it twice a year.”
They had baklava, bought from a local delicatessen, for dessert, though encouraged by Pol’s mum they all drowned it in double cream, “I have no idea whether the Greeks or the Turks eat it with cream or not,” she had said. “And I don’t care.”
“I like it with cream, Love,” Pol’s dad said as he finished his meal, before going back to his study.
“I know Dad loves me and Mum, but I think you’re the first person I ever met whom he likes, Marce. What do you think, Mum?”
Her mum thought for a second or two and smiling said, “You could be right, Pauline, but with your dad it’s hard to tell.”
The girls had organised their clothes, jewellery, handbags(3) and purses(4) for the following morning and were discussing scent. Neither used scent often, nor much of it, but though both were advocates of Chanel their tastes differed. Marcy only ever wore the Chanel No 5 her mum had given her for Christmas at her request, but Pol thought it old fashioned. “Mum wears it, Marce!”
“Yeah, mine does too. So what? I like it.” Pol kept a variety of scents on her dressing table, and had decided to wear Coco Mademoiselle which Marce liked, but not enough to wish to wear it.
When Pol’s mum came in to the bedroom she said, “Make up! I’m not leaving it to you two to make a spectacle of yourselves, if I’m going to be pointed out as your mum, and Denise is a perfectionist.” Mrs. Munro went to her bedroom and pulled back a massive case on wheels which had handles on each end. She cleared the top of one of Pol’s chests of drawers and indicated to Pol to lift one end whilst she lifted the other. As they lifted it onto the cleared chest it seemed to Marcy to be bulky rather than heavy, and as Pol’s mum opened it six cantilever drawers on each side rose up and separated.
The case contained more make up, of every possible colour, hue, shade and type, than Marcy thought could be found in an online store, though Pol’s mum had described it as her mobile emergency touch up kit. The following couple of hours were enjoyable for all of them. Pol tried things on her mum which her mum had never considered for herself before, but the light green eye shadow with a trace of golden glitter with her hazel eyes did look attractive, and she decided she would go for it tomorrow. Pol, who had had her mum’s help before, went for her usual blue which enhanced her deep blue eyes and a pale red lipstick, which Marcy and her mum agreed made her look sexy without looking like a tramp.
For Marcy, Pol’s mum produced a box of false nail kits, “Marcy, the only way we can do anything with your nails is using these.” She put a little cream on Marcy’s raw and bitten finger ends which soothed them, and making sure there was no cream on Marcy’s nails to hinder the glue found a set to fit what remained of her mangled finger nails. She then proceeded to glue, file and paint them. Whilst they were drying she painted Pol’s nails before returning to Marcy’s make up. She tried a number of styles on Marcy, all of which looked good to Marcy, but none looked good enough to her. “Ok is not acceptable, Marcy.”
They were considering what next to try when Pol said, “Mum, I’ve got an idea.”
Mrs. Munro having temporarily run out of ideas said cautiously, “Ok. What are you thinking of, Pauline?”
“Toned down Goth, Mum. Deep red, not black, lipstick with pale, not white, blusher, a bit of mascara and a hint of dark green eye shadow which will match Marcy’s eyes and go with her hair and outfit. Nail polish to match the lippy,(8) and she’ll look brilliant.”
Pol’s mum nodded and said, “I can see it. It may just work, we’ll give it a try, Pauline.” After twenty-five minutes, and several adjustments to tone down the contrasts, along with a darker nail polish, Pol and her mum had Marcy’s make up completed to their satisfaction, and Marcy was allowed to look in a mirror.
She looked stunning and, holding the tears back to prevent making a mess of the wonderful mascara, said, “I’ve never imagined looking that pretty. Thank you.”
Pol’s mum said, “The mascara is waterproof, so you can cry if you want. It’s a tough business being a woman, Marcy, as you’ll both learn when you get up at five tomorrow to put your face paint on. I’ll see you then.” She left the pair to wash and go to bed ready for a very early start the following day.
Pol and Marcy awoke excited at half past four long before the alarm clock went off. The first thing Marcy did was gaze in wonder, yet again, at her wonderful nails. They were chatting in bed of shoes when Mrs. Munro, still in her dressing gown and slippers, came in with a tray which barely had room on it for three cups of tea, a plate of buttered toast and the saucers which were atop the plates.
On seeing Marcy sitting up with the embroidered teddy bear visible on her nightie she said, “There’s a similar nightie with embroidered kittens on too. I bought the two together.” Mrs. Munro sat on Marcy’s bed, and the three of them drank tea and ate toast chatting of the fair. Mrs. Munro took the tray away saying, “I’ll leave you to get washed and dressed whilst I do the same and cook breakfast for your dad, Pauline. It doesn’t matter at what time he gets up, Pauline’s dad always eats a cooked breakfast, Marcy. Bacon, fried eggs and mushrooms this morning. Would you like some? Your mum will be here in quarter of an hour. I’ve explained to her about Pauline’s dad. I’ll be back to help with make up in a bit.”
Marcy shuddered at the idea of eating fried anything never mind eggs at that time in the morning and replied, “No, thank you. I’d like another cup of tea before we leave though, if that’s ok?”
“I suspect we’ll all want one,” she replied.
They had finished dressing and were making a start on Pauline’s make up when both their mums came back to help. Dressed and made up, they went downstairs to be told by Pol’s dad, “Lovely, the four of you. Unfortunately none of my colleagues with wives and daughters are here to eat their hearts out, but never mind. I shall be ready when you are.”
As he left Mrs. Munro’s eyebrows lifted and she said, “You are going to have to sleep over more often, Marcy. That’s the first time since I met your dad nearly twenty years ago I have ever heard him give any leeway regarding time to any one.”
The last comment was directed at Pol who said, “I love Dad, Mum, but why do you if he’s so difficult?”
“Because, despite his problems, he’s a good man, but I suppose mostly because he loves me, which considering how much cleverer than I he is I have never understood.” Marcy a bit embarrassed by what had just been said went to collect her bag(5) and was followed by Pol. Her mum and Pol’s just smiled.
The trip to Thulstone was boring, and Marcy and Pauline slept most of the way, their mums chatted and Pol’s dad, never much of a conversationalist, drove and silently counted things.
Their blue tickets, most were red, allowed them access to the area behind the catwalk itself, and Pol’s dad, who’d been waved through with the others, wasn’t bothered at all by the numerous scantily dressed young models wandering amongst the catwalk crew in nothing more than their underwear, and some of them not even in that, before the shew started, and he merely remarked, “They must be paid a lot for getting so cold,” before saying, “I’ll be back at four when it’s over. I’m going to the library before that solid looking young man checking tickets throws me out. And before you ask, I’m meeting Leo Winmarleigh in the library and he’s taking me for a pie and a pint at the Duke of Wellington for lunch, so I shall be fed and watered.”
Pol’s mum had been worried her husband wouldn’t think to eat, but Leo was a fellow academic, though at Edinburgh, and he’d introduced her husband to her at a faculty party which John had been obliged to attend when both men were at Manchester. Leo, like most of the mathematicians she’d met over the years through her husband, was a little eccentric but pretty normal compared with John, and John would be happy in his company. So relieved of worry concerning him she kissed him goodbye and said, “Enjoy your day, Love.”
After a quick make up and hair repair, at one of what seemed to be the hundreds of mirrors available for just that purpose, and a cup of tea with a buttered scone(9) still hot out of the oven, they still had twenty minutes to go before the shew started, and they all needed a loo which created their first problem. Their mums were philosophical, and Pol’s mum said, “There’s a queue a mile long for the disabled loo, and it can’t be the gents’(10) dressed like that, Marcy, so it has to be the ladies’,(11) but for God’s sake sit down, and use loo paper, ok? You got a packet of tissues in your bag just in case?”
Marcy, not meeting Mrs. Munro’s eyes said, “Yes, and I understand.” Just before the shew started, the mums told their offspring to disappear till lunch as they would no doubt be impossible to keep up with.
The catwalk shew lasted till lunch, and it was in Pol’s words, “Abso-bloody-lutely a-bloody-mazing! Did you see what some of those undies cost, Marce‽ And that was just what the shops pay for buying in quantity!”
“I know, but didn’t those plus size models look fabulous and the older models too! I reckon the one wearing the jonquil,(12) silk corset must have been at least fifty.”
Pol laughed and said, “Fifty-six. It says so in the catalogue. I can’t even imagine getting to be that old never mind looking that good when I get there.”
They met with their mums for lunch, and the subsequent visit to the ladies’ required no comment. They spent the afternoon looking at the trade stalls, collecting glossy literature and taking more photos. Her mum and Marcy had been introduced to Denise, Mrs. Munro’s friend who had given her the tickets, as Julia Harman and her daughter Marcy, a school friend of Pauline’s. Denise looked hard at Marcy and said, “Love the look. It’s the genuine article isn’t it? You can always tell vintage silk. Real quality. NU2U?”
“Weork street market. Two ninety-nine I think. The man had loads on the pre-loved rail, but most of it was rubbish, though Pol got a blouse that’s pretty.”
“It’s lovely. Don’t ever let anyone try to dictate fashion to you on the basis of price or label. Of far more importance is taste and that outfit looks fantastic on you. The petticoats give the frock just the right amount of volume for your figure. The frock suits your hair and complexion perfectly. Your shoes are perfect. The shape of the toes draws the eye away from the height of the heels and that they have no platform gives the impression that you and not your shoes are providing the height, and I love the combination of the silk and the steel buckles. You put it together perfectly, the bag, the jewellery and the make up too. The No 5 is perfect, and unlike most of those of your age you obviously appreciate that less is more. I take it you know the spray it with an atomiser into the air and walk through it trick. That tiny gold wristwatch is perfect for someone as petite as you, so tell me as one petite girl to another is that really all you in the frock?”
Marcy laught and said, “The frock was the size it was, so I did need a little help to fill it. I’m hoping it won’t be too long before I don’t.”
“Good girl! It’s what we all do you know. If we ain’t got what it takes we get help. You’d be amazed at the sales of breast forms for girls who need a bit more on occasion, and the trans market is huge. The whole cosmetics industry, which is worth billions, is just girls buying a bit of help.” Denise had jokingly asked the slim pair, “So how long do you think it will be before I have the pair of you on the catwalk then?”
It was a tired but happy pair of youngsters who slept their way back in the people carrier.
The following day Marcy, with Pol looking over her shoulder, went on eBay looking at breast forms. “Wow, Marce! I could do with some of that myself. They look so real. Just think what we could wear with girls(13) like that!”
Paidin and Sean O’Reilly were cousins and enthusiastic anglers. Sean described his dad as a complete fishing nutter. Often the pair went fishing with Sean’s dad and a group of boys, and just after Christmas his dad had suggested that if they could get a large enough group together to hire a minibus at an affordable price each they could go fishing at Wildgeese reservoir for rainbows and probably make a few quid each on the day. He explained, the hatchery next to the reservoir had just taken over the management of the water and were running it differently. It was to be a members only fishing water, but all members would legally be shareholders in the hatchery which meant they would be catching their own fish and so not subject to a lot of the usual regulations.
Membership was to be two hundred pounds a year, but for anyone who was prepared to put in two long days maintaining paths, scrub strimming and the like the membership fee would be waived. That way the hatchery would not have to pay the expensive landscaping and maintenance contractors. Whilst members were maintaining the site they could camp with their families on the extensive land surrounding the reservoir banks. Fishing would cost a hundred pounds a day, and Mr. O’Reilly explained there was no limit on the catch since the hatchery stocked their own water, though the minimum and maximum sizes that could be taken were initially to be larger and smaller respectively than was normal even for completely enclosed waters such as Wildgeese.
Paidin, who was a friend of Marcy and Pol, had suggested they went on the trip over the Easter weekend. They’d be camping and spending two days maintaining the place and the third fishing. Pol refused point blank, but Marcy was intrigued and she and Llyr shared the one hundred pound rod fee. Marcy was hooked! She was good at fishing and though Llyr never bothered again Marcy went with the boys at every opportunity. It wasn’t long before she was poaching for coneys on the fells with the cousins and their friends and when they took up the recently introduced sport of competitive knife throwing at targets she joined the club with them too.
Just after Easter Marcy and her mum went to London to see Mrs. Yeomans the consultant. Marcy decided to take the photo’s and to dress in the outfit she’d worn to Thulstone. The consultation took over two hours and was to Marcy and her mum’s surprise a very brief physical examination followed by a lengthy and intensive grilling.
However, Mrs. Yeomans concluded with, “Well, Marcy, without doubt you are behaving and thinking as a girl at the moment. That can, however, change, but I doubt it will in your case, for your female personality and friendships with girls are well integrated with and unaffected by your enjoyment of the activities you pursue with your male friends. The blood tests indicate puberty isn’t even on your horizon, so nothing is lost by leaving things as they are for the moment. I shall keep a close eye on the blood results, which I now want monthly, and if you like you can send me pictures of happy times, whether in a frock or your school clothes. I’d appreciate some photos of you fishing and rabbiting with the boys too, for they would be helpful to other girls in your situation who are bothered by their interests in what they perceive to be non-female activities.
“We are all different, but what is important is to enjoy being whom we are. I was born a female in a female body, and my interest from early girlhood in steam engines doesn’t alter or threaten that. It’s just part of me and it’s how I met my husband. That’s us on the footplate in that picture there. It was taken on our honeymoon. As soon as anything changes regarding the blood tests I’ll wish to see you, but other than that I’ll see you in six months. Your choice of clothes and underwear and the breast forms too is entirely appropriate for a girl of your age, as is your unusual interest in fishing, and you look lovely. Are you following the progress of the hormone prescription bill in the media?”
“Yes. I know it’s just become one step nearer to becoming law, but sixteen still seems a long way away.”
“I know, but it will arrive faster than you think. One day you’ll look back and wonder where the time all went. The reception people will make your next routine appointment and give you all the contact details where you can send pictures and anything else you like to me. You are doing very well. You look lovely in all the photos, and your dress sense, make up and jewellery are immaculate. I wish I were as confident as you in heels. I wouldn’t even risk trying on a pair like those you’re wearing never mind walking in them.”
Outside Marcy’s mum asked, “Happy?”
“Very, specially by what Mrs. Yeomans said regarding fishing, cos(14) I was a bit worried telling her in case she said that meant I couldn’t really be a girl. I would have thought a woman being interested in steam engines was a bit weird before today, but she was right we are all different. I thought that was really cool of her going on a steam train enthusiasts course on her honeymoon.”
Notes on Word Usage
1 Lourenço Marques, renamed Maputo in 1976 is the capital of Moçambique, a country on the west coast of Africa. Like Brazil it’s official language is Portuguese.
2 Frock, a dress as opposed to a skirt and blouse combination.
2a Lassie, girl. Often used as a form of address as here by Scots. Lass is more commonly used in the same way by the northern English.
3 Handbag in UK, purse in US. In US a wallet goes in your purse.
4 Purse in in UK, wallet in US. In UK a purse goes in your handbag.
5 Bag also used by women in UK for their handbag.
6 Telt, told. Widely used in northern England. Similarly selt, sold,
7 Minced, ground, as in meat.
8 Lippy, used thusly slang for lipstick.
9 Scone, a small unsweetened or lightly sweetened biscuit-like cake made from flour, fat, and milk and sometimes having added dried fruit or grated cheese.
10 Gents’, in US men’s restroom.
11 Ladies’, in US women’s restroom.
12 Jonquil, a pale yellow. It is the colour of the centre of the jonquil, a Mediterranean daffodil like flower.
13 Girls, used thusly by girls to indicate breasts.
14 Cos, because.
Ch 4 Macy’s mother and her headmistress discuss trans issues.
