Cold Feet 24

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CHAPTER 24
Enid was down late that evening, and to no great surprise from anyone settled herself into the attic. I had to blink at that one. I had been quite a fan of H.P. Lovecraft as a child, and attic rooms normally involved semi-batrachian half-breeds, or amorphous creatures of darkness from beyond….well, mothers-in-law.

Alice had offered her a share of her bed, which made me blink again, but Enid simply smiled. “You snore, dear, and besides, people will talk.”

In the morning she looked at me and Tony. “The doctor thought we must be, but we aren’t, you know. It’s just that since my Tony, your dad, went, I have had nobody really to talk to.”

Tony started to apologise.

“No, it’s not that, you are both always here for me, and there’s Jim, but it’s nice sometimes to just natter with someone from the same background, and Alice and I are of an age. We even had crushes on the same singers when we were young, can you believe that?”

Enid leant forward, while Alice mock-whistled, nonchalantly. “Did you know she has ALL of Peter Noone’s recordings? Even videos of his films?”

I had to start laughing at that one. The thought of these two in some theatre in their youth, screaming with excitement at a pop group, got me giggling, up to the point where I realised Alice had never been allowed to do anything like that. She had simply done what she could in private, and I understood where the knitting came from.

She is perceptive, is Alice. She guessed my thoughts. ”Yes, Sar, that’s why I knit. I sew as well, in fact Jessica is one of mine. I couldn’t really walk into a shop and buy her, could I? Enid and I have been looking at sewing patterns, and I do believe we will be making some nicer clothes for me.”

“Oh, you sod, Alice, I was hoping I had my Christmas presents sorted!”

“There’s always underwear….” She was blushing slightly.

“Anyway, there is no way I am going to try and feed this crowd breakfast, my name isn’t Delia. Joss Bay it is, and breakfast at the Digby!”

With Enid’s and Steve’s cars, there was enough room for four adults and four secured children to be driven up the coast. I wanted more, though, and with just a little persuasion Tony got her out, his Norvin. If I had had the relevant parts, I am sure I would have been getting rather moist as he carefully set the spark, turned on the fuel and came off the ground to hammer down the kick start. Then again. And again.

Pause to breathe…and then up, down, and bang she was running, that odd warbling rumble that a 50 degree V-twin makes, and I wriggled into the tiny back seat between Tony and the tail fairing, hands on his hips, and he gave me the usual instruction not to try and ride it. Up Castle Hill, the vibrations doing things to my stomach, and then really cranked over around the double roundabouts for the Sandwich road. She was running like a watch, and as we passed the cars I am sure that it wasn’t only Steve and Arris who were jealous. I wondered if I could persuade Tony to have a pint or two, so I could ride it back….

Joss Bay is a little stretch of sand near Broadstairs, with chalk stacks, clean sand, and ‘smugglers’ caves’. A scruffy pub overlooks the beach, and they do breakfasts, so we descended en masse and commandeered what seemed like half their restaurant. I looked down to the beach; the tide was receding, so no safety problems, and there were oystercatchers and fulmars, and a couple of sanderling, like wind up toys as they dashed in and out of the receding and advancing waves.

Breakfast was more than adequate, and we set off down the narrow cut behind the pub. Steve and Arris went climbing round the caves with the children, while Tony and I skimmed pebbles over the water.

You know, it was only then that I realised that Alice was out as herself. With a headscarf over her hair, she was walking arm-in-arm with Enid just like any other pair of mature ladies out at the coast with their family.

They really had become fast friends, and it brought home to me how lonely Enid must be, at home in Harwich with a big house and an empty bed. Despite the doctor’s mistaken assumption, there was clearly nothing of that kind between the two, they had just clicked as best friends.

I started to giggle, imagining the two of them in some teenage girl ritual of swearing BFFEAE, and of course Tony asked, and I had to explain, and his laughter echoed off the cliff.

We made our way back tired and happy, flushed from the November wind, and the miserable bastard still wouldn’t let me do the riding. One day I’d have to sneak his handcuffs out and fasten him to the bed…but then I’d probably just get distracted by that and forget exactly why I had tied him down. I noticed that all four kids were using “aunty” and “nana”, and neither of our older ladies objected. This was how life should be: acceptance, affection, the joys of the young being shared with those who went before. Alice was looking thoughtful.

Back at home, she did her usual trick of disappearing into the kitchen to make hot drinks, and she seemed rather quiet. I gave her a squeeze.

“Are you all right, dear?”

“Just thinking, my love”

“Penny for them?”

“This has been such a good day, and so easy for me to do. But that is with all of my friends and, dare I say it, family around me”

“It is your family, if you want it, Alice. Aunties are family.”

“It’s just that I never, ever dared hope that I could ever have anything like this. Please don’t get this wrong, you have been wonderful to me, but it is Enid who has made the real difference. Such a true friend, and I so wish I had had someone like her so much earlier.”

“I know, Alice. I had Elaine, and Becky and Jo…”

That was a little too much for me, and I got a little weepy, having to explain why to Alice, and she joined me. Tony stuck his head in to see where his cuppa was, and so we were joined by Arris and Enid.

The more I saw of the real Alice, the more I knew what she was, and as I mourned her wasted years my own desert came back to me. There was no way either of us could go back and put that right, but from now on I would do my best to seize life by the scruff and shake it. Alice was clearly thinking along similar lines.

“Girls, I have been thinking. I do believe Sar understands where I am coming from, but this is it. I have had enough of loneliness, I have had enough of tears. I have told too many lies, to myself and to others. It stops.

“The more I am allowed to be like this, the harder I find it to pretend I am something else. I need to break out of the lies.

“I intend to go full time as myself. There will be problems, there will be nastiness, but I know where my friends are and I know they are with me. Assuming my therapist doesn’t throw a tantrum, I would like your help in coming out at work and in the rest of my life”

She grinned ruefully. “There’s a joke in itself. I am already out in the rest of my life, because that is who you are”

That was not unexpected, to be honest. Joss Bay had shown her to be happy n public, as long as she had support. What happened outside the comfort zone might be different.

“Alice, you know we are there for you. Talk to her first, see what she says. I need you happy and whole, you have some serious babysitting to do in January!”

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A few days later, I waited with ‘Alan’ outside her therapist’s door.

“Remember, love, I am not here to speak for you, just to show support”

We entered when called, and I saw a short dumpy little woman with a crown of hair, rather resembling Miriam Margolyes. She was called Astrid, and after explaining who I was I left them to their discussion. When it came to timing, I couldn’t resist it, however.

“I will be needing Alice’s help in January, so it would be nice if she was stressed as little as possible. I have to spend some time n hospital, surgery.”

Astrid nodded. “I see. Women’s things?”

I started to laugh at that, it was really just too funny. “Yes, literally. Penectomy and vaginoplasty are definitely women’s things!”

“Bugger me backwards!”

There is always something satisfying in getting one over a shrink. We went into more detail, and Astrid spent a lot of the time just nodding.

“I see now where the strength of your support comes from, Alice. You are a very lucky woman. Yes, woman; as I said on our first meeting, I was concerned more with where you fitted on the cline of types than whether you were an attention seeker or delusional.

“Now, if you feel that you have enough support to do so, I am more than happy for you to change roles, but be aware that there is no way I will be writing you prescriptions until you have had a much more exacting examination. You two of all people should understand that.”

She turned to her computer terminal and began typing, then printed off a letter.

“This is a note explaining to anyone who needs to know that you are a transwoman in transition. It may be necessary, and you will need to send a copy to your employers for a start.

“Alice, just promise me one thing: be careful!”

http://uk-shore.com/photos/kent/jossbay00011l.jpg

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Comments

Breaking new ground?

Not exactly in general but perhaps for you and you're succeeding. I mean introducing a transgendered character who isn't the slight, feminine male often the subject of TG fiction. Alan/Alice is a totally different kettle of fish even from Mel in your tragic Uniform story. I'm assuming the Alice barely 'passes' and is therefore benefiting from her being surrounded by loving friends. It may not be quite so easy if (when!) she decides to live her life at work too because then she'll be amongst people who may not be quite sympathetic. I'm looking forward to reading how you deal with that.

A Norvin will be quite a heavy beast though the featherbed frame isn't as high off the ground saddle-wise as some modern machines. I picture Sar as being relatively slight but perhaps I'm wrong. Did Tony squeeze the V twin into the frame himself? We need to know if he has oil under his fingernails :) However an old friend of mine tells me she used to ride one of the bigger BMW flat twins and she was so small that she had to flick out the prop stand with her foot as she came to a halt. She couldn't support it herself. My old Earles fork BMWs (R50, R60, R69s) had a low seat height and would be much more appropriate for lady riders LOL

Robi

Norvin

Tony used a bottle jack himself to very slightly spread the bottom frame rals. That allows the bottom of the HRD to drop further down and lower the centre of gravity. Vincents were actually quite liight for what they were. It's running into a Dominator gearbox,with Dunstall Decibel 'silencers',the ones with the little cluster of tubes in the centre, with a Velocette Venom Thruxton seat retailored to take away the cut-out for the old blow-job carb. Polished aluminum tank, with a ventilated twin-leadng-shoe front brake, and clp-on bars.

BMWs: spring loaded sde stands,oh dear.

The best way to visualise how Alice looks is to theink of Roy Barraclough. Just younger.....
Of my heroines, Sarah and Laura are slight, Sar largely because she started her transition in her late teens.Steph is 5'10 and a wiry,hard-hittng rugby loose forward, certanly not over-endowed with curves when she starts. Mel was a second-row rugby forward...... in types, I see Mel looking like alighter-coloured Martin Corry, Sarah (quite deliberately) as a Suzi Quatro wannabe, and Laura as something like Imogen Stubbs.
Alice: http://domain813466.sites.fasthosts.com/PAT/images/RoyBarrac...
Mel (with dfferent hair) http://img.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2007/09_01/MartinCorry_468x...
Sarah: http://www.openmusic.ru/articles-respond-events/0359-suzi_qu...
Laura: http://www.flickr.com/photos/themanbookerprizes/3573315330/

I have picked photos that may be less than flattering, quite deliberately.
Edit to add: the bloke in this pic looks nothing like Geoff, but having googled "tall redhead", this should at least give some flavour of how I see Steph. Just imagine her nose bent. http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/6/61/Den...

I liked this reply.

Hi Cyclist.

You definitely get inside your characters if you can accord them this degree of similarity to real people.
Quite remarkable and it explains why you write such good material.
#
Thanks for the entertainment.

Bev.
Growing old disgracefully.

bev_1.jpg

Characters

Bev, much of my characters are from in me, as is or should be obvious, rather than me in them! They are all personal to me,and to be honest, I fnd myself thinking differently as I switch between the two stories I am writng. I hope I am able to make it apparent, but Sarah is a lot harder-edged than Laura, a lot, lot rougher on the outside and more cynical inside.
Alice and Steph are the two I feel for, though. Sounds silly, I know, but writng Mel broke my heart, as she came from friends, some of whom are dead.

Edited to add: who else for Lucinda Evans than Patricia Hodge? It's an eyebrow thing.
http://i.telegraph.co.uk/telegraph/multimedia/archive/01374/...

Norvin

I never owned either a Norton or a Vincent (half or full) but Vincents were popular amongst the cafe racers when I lived in Welwyn Garden City just a few miles south of Stevenage. At the time I had a 1953 BSA C11 250cc which was about 4 years old then and very unreliable; as an impecunious youth, I got to be quite adept with a set of spanners LOL. In fact one of my 21st birthday presents from an uncle was a set of good quality socket spanners, which are still in my workshop. I could on and on and ... but I don't want to bore your readers.

Thanks for the links to your characters' alter egos. It helps a lot.

Robi

Faces

I hope you understand, these are faces I looked for to match the images in my head, rather than the other way around. I keep seeing my people in the street, lol.
Robi,I had a T110 Triton.

Cold Feet 24

Alice will need their support as she continues.

    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine
    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine

Thanks for the images too,

Podracer's picture

though some of the links have atrophied over time. I make a visual to go along when I get drawn properly into a tale, including characters and room layouts and I've probably said before that they fade in over the text and replace it.
ramble..
There's a Vincent in our village, I haven't seen him out on it yet though. Being a shorthouse I find taller bikes a bit of a stretch, especially if there is a steep camber to dab down to (sorry Brian, didn't notice the gutter), and a wideline frame a bit uncomfy but I guess this might depend on the upholstery? Most café racers seem to have a bit of flat alloy or glass with a minimal pad.
A lad let me have a run up and down on his f/b with an ex-sidecar race Commando engine in it, on holiday in The Island. Sort of thing that gives a lifetime recurring smile.

"Reach for the sun."