Too Little, Too Late? 56

Printer-friendly version

CHAPTER 56
William shot off home, and the rest of us went up to London in the end. I mean, it had to be done. It was cold, but clear, and I decided that if we were to give Mam a chance to see ‘the sights’ she wouldn’t appreciate a lot of walking, and so I splashed out on one of the bus tours. These allow you to hop on and hop off at any part of the route, so as long as where you want to go is on the same circuit they function as a sort of bus pass for the day. There was also a ride in an open-plan boat, past the White Tower, with a skipper who informed us that the “Emergency exits are---well, wherever you like, really”

That day made it very clear to me how close the older pair had become, and while he was away in the gents’ at some Covent Garden café where we had stopped for a “proper cuppa” I asked.

She just smiled. “Lass, I am too old for that silliness, aye? But, just, well, having somebody warm to cuddle, someone that warms the heart as well, like…ach shite, you know exactly what I mean, you two, aye?”

And ‘lass’ it was, too. Something had clicked in me, and each day I was away from work I was myself. No longer just round the house, or out with friends, I was Jill. Jill in the street, in the supermarket, in the corner shop and almost everywhere else. The only places that I was submerged were the bank and at work. I sometimes felt the stares, especially when the beard shadow was most obvious, but there was so much life in what I was now living that I almost floated above the nastiness that may have bubbled beneath.

I had chosen flat boots over leggings for the day, with a long tunic over the problem area, and a seriously warm fleece jacket, though not as warming as my companions. We did the rounds, listened to the inaccurate descriptions from the tour guide (when did Trafalgar move to the Med?) and just enjoyed being out together. Fossy was still relaxed, and every now and again I caught Jim looking at him, and his face would soften. He caught my own stare once, and gave me the slightest of smiles, but a real one. So much damage. Such healing.

That seemed to be the key, really. His brother had suffered so long alone, and what he had been slowly dying inside for was that simple, vital phrase “I know”.

“So what are you doing on Monday?”

Larinda’s voice cut through my dreaming.

“What do you mean?”

“Work, love. This is all fine and good, yeah, out with us, but you are going to have to think about the next step. You’re sort of half-in, half-out, and you’ll stuff up walking tightropes. You can’t just walk in like that, can you?”

Rachel nodded. “No way. Leggings don’t cut it in the office, nor at the traders. You need some sharper stuff, girl”

Neil laughed. “Aye, there goes the credit card. Did you plan on eating for the next six months?”

Larinda looked hard at her. “Are you suggesting that she just goes in like that? No warnings? No preparation?”

Mam chipped in. “For what it’s worth, I haven’t seen her happier in years. This explains so much, that right, Raafie?”

“Aye, ah owe. How, Jill, de ye hev a sort of office day, like? When ye divvent gan off te see some business, like? Be better deein’ it that way, aye?”

Rachel was nodding energetically. “Spot on, Raafie. Jill, when’s your next office day? What have you got booked for tomorrow?”

“Er…it is an office day”

Oh shit. “Rach, yourself, aye?”

“Couple of bailiff runs in the afternoon, not a thing in the morning. Fuck it---sorry, Norma. Go for it, girl! Jump, splash, get it done, yeah? Look, Larinda, what are your plans for lunch? Get her in, get her out, watch her back?”

My lover had real concern in her eyes, and I think she saw how hard the idea had grabbed me. To lose the Robskin, as James called it, to be myself always, out, visible. I felt my legs trembling. Think, girl.

“Rach, help me out here, aye? Who do we have to watch?”

“Dunno…Look, with Alec on board, there’s sod all they can do to you based on the change, yeah? It’s not going to be the lads, bunch of pussies, I think, but a couple of the girls might cow up a bit. Shit, got an idea…”

We finished our round of sights with a round of shopping, and for the first time in my life I was in Liberty’s trying on bloody shoes and other delights rather than trying to guess my size over the net. We had tea in their café, as the boys sighed in frustration at the lack of husband chairs and I assured them that I was almost shopped out.

“Just one more thing, from round the corner, aye?”

Rachel’s idea: a small voice recorder with a decent-sized memory, and small enough to fit in my bra. We made our way back to Victoria by tube, and Mam just murmured as she sank into the seat on the train “Any chance of some proper food tonight?”

She can be adventurous, and she is amazingly accepting for such a conventional woman, but her tastes in food have always been truly British. Overcooked meat and vegetables boiled to mush. We ended up in a carvery, and it wasn’t till the very end, as two old people sighed happily, that I realised how simple their pleasures were. Plain food, filling meals, and company. That was a quiet night, much earlier to bed, and in the morning we reassembled at the airport for our farewells. Rachel and Jim made quite a scene of it, and his brother was surprisingly emotional as they left for security. He nearly broke my ribs in a hug, and whispered some broken words about how much he had done to me and Neil, how much he had to set right, and that set me off.

“Don’t be so bloody stupid, John. This is now, this is us, and we are different people, aye? Now bugger off home, and just promise…promise you’ll be back, aye?”

“Promise. Got to go”
They were off, then. I’m a girl; crying’s allowed.

It was a damper morning, and I wore the long coat that I had found in, of all places, the local supermarket, over a plain cream buttoned blouse and a dark tailored skirt to mid-calf. Black court shoes with a moderate heel, a long cardigan in beige, and simple nude tights. As dressed down as possible, the only irritation being the hard lump under my left tit. Larinda had laid out the clothes the night before, settling on the simple elegance that she loved, and I had made sure the recorder was fully charged before setting out. No bike, not today. I winced as the damp started to mark the sides of my shoes, and realised that there is a world of difference between wearing nice things around the house and exposing them to the delights of the immaculately swept footpaths of Redhill. And rain.

Rachel was waiting just round the corner from the office. It was almost enough to make me laugh out loud, as her posture changed on seeing me. Head back, arms folded, this was the Rachel I had known for so long, and it was odd how I had never realised how insecure she had been. Tits out, head up, look-at-me-you-wankers-and-despair, that had always been the impression men took away from her. It had never been true, though; what her pose meant was “I’m frightened, and I’ll bite”. Jim, though…he had seen to her core. I just prayed for them, that if it ever fell apart, the distance would save it from being too painful to bear.

“Morning, pet! Miserable weather, ruining my shoes!”

“Get used to it, girl. Looking good–Larinda’s done good stuff with the face”

“Er, oy, that was me, you bitch!”

She grinned. “Yeah, yeah, don’t get touchy. I’ve got enough crap in my bag to do any repairs”

Her voice softened. “Was odd, last night. Sort of getting used to him in the mornings…what’s that song? Wreckless Eric?”

“ ‘Whole Wide World’? Aye, I see what you mean.. Early days yet, Rach”

She sighed deeply. “Yeah, Jill. Look, it’s not just the shagging, right? There’s a lot more to him, to us, than that”

“But the shagging’s Ok?”

“It’s…I keep forgetting, you’ll never know, will you? Let’s just say it works for me. Got the secret squirrel thing?”

I nudged a breast. “In here”

“Turn it on, then. Ready for your close up, Mr De Mille…”

Heels on the lobby floor. The swipe of a key card into our accommodation. Muffled sound of those same heels on the carpet tiles along to my own room. Door open, handbag on desk. Key in the drawer as the PC warms up. Eyes down and focused on the task in hand. A cough.

“Can I ask who the hell you---oh fuck me!”

up
105 users have voted.
If you liked this post, you can leave a comment and/or a kudos! Click the "Thumbs Up!" button above to leave a Kudos

Comments

That terrifying 'first time'

The thumping heart, the sagging stomach, the treacherous bladder; oo-oh yes. No amount of careful preparation can avoid this very real event ... the first time!

I usually circumvent such issues by telling people bluntly that I'm 'trans' and ask them not to be too surprised if they see me out and about and they recognise me. (There's not much chance of my passing and recognition sometimes comes after the realisation that I'm probably not a woman.) Fortunately I'm by no means a macho man and most of my work collegues felt unthreatened by me. I told the women first (after my line manager,) but I left the men to find out anyway they could. I didn't actually dress at work but my lengthening hair and my budding breasts were something of a give-away under my shirt.

This was my very last job before I retired, I'd already been over forty years at sea and never once 'come out' as captain. (Talk about suppressing it!!!)

Anyway I'm over all that now. Retired and free to do as I want and I need.

I love the way you explore and develop relationships Steph. Your stories are always about the relationships and the issues surrounding us tee-girls but that's what makes them so readable and entertaining, not to mention informative.

Another good-un.

XZXX.

Bev.

bev_1.jpg

Thank you

I try to build my characters, because I look to write character-driven stories rather then 'events'. What I look for is their voice. Obviously, I do 'recycle' a lot of real life.

Diving into work with no

Diving into work with no warning to most of them is quite a leap. I hope it works out for Jill, and the recorder catches the problem folks being stupid.

preparation

Well, she is as prepared as she can be. I had it easier in this one way, I started this job in a skirt, so there was no shock when I changed.

DogSig.png

No surprise, I suppose?

Andrea Lena's picture

...she sort of expected some jaws would drop, and not seeing the face, we don't yet know what expression accompanied the words. We can hope that the surprise is coupled with a soft laugh and a maybe a smile? Either way, she's taken a huge step forward, and she has support for whatever happens. Thanks, Steph, for giving us folks who live and breathe and hope and dream.

  

To be alive is to be vulnerable. Madeleine L'Engle
Love, Andrea Lena

Thank you Steph,

Why I like your stories is that your characters are so real and believable.
You are very good at it and it gives your stories more credence.Reality is
your forte and you make my day.

ALISON

Depends Who's Asking

joannebarbarella's picture

Is it someone sympathetic or someone hostile? The moment of truth is going to come when it's a choice of which loo to use. Then reality really rushes up and punches you in the gut.

Steph, you are definitely our queen of Reality TG,

Joanne

Juggling

Been working out plot elements on my other story, so this one may take a few days before it is explained/resolved. Or not...

This one had me a-shake

Podracer's picture

Really. We tune in to the players, and ride along. This moment was looming, and a pivotal one it is. I hope Jill's deodorant is holding because mine would not have.
I've gotten a little used to some of the endings that Steph the cliffhanger queen has dropped on us, and this could almost have passed as a story end could it not? Reading this a couple of years late of course I know it wasn't and am glad of it too.

"Reach for the sun."