CHAPTER 39
I didn’t have a clue how to deal with the situation. Not a single one; I wasn’t exactly the world’s expert on relationships, with my history. Before I could pull together some stupid attempt at advice, Kim gave me a squeeze and a twisted little smile.

“Don’t worry about me, Deb. Really, don’t. Ruth has my back at work, so you don’t need to worry. And, well, I’m not going matchmaking for you, so you can bin any worries on that side”

She laid her head on my breast, hugging me tightly for a couple of seconds.

“We can dream though, us girls. Can’t we?”

I squeezed her back, and she chuckled.

“Anyway, got two new girls to sort, and I think there’ll be more. I’ll send a word to Sparky, and then you and me, we go and get another set of bunks. Cathy’s already planning bloody soft furnishings, pillowcase and sheet sets. Why does she have to be so bloody girly?”

I pulled my head back, and she lifted hers as we shared a grin, and the words came to both of us simultaneously.

“Because she CAN, now!”

Another hug, and back in with smiles for the new friends.

Sparky waited until we had the second set of bunks before doing the honours, spending a couple of nights in his usual place outside, which astonished Maisie, Emma and Rachel, even after Kim had explained his aversion with the pithy phrase “Burning ships and jammed hatches”, which even left me shuddering. I made sure to top up his account at the café he was using, and as the weather closed in once more, I put another cheque behind the counter for him, as I knew now how many people he was himself supporting. The tea runs were split now, as I parked up in Splott first for the working girls before moving on to one of the areas favoured by rough sleepers, as the press called them.

I had other words, some of which I used aloud, but the image that sat in my mind was tied up with ‘wrack’. These people were the jetsam of society, thrown away rather than lost, the mixed wreckage and debris left by the tide as it ebbs, left high and dry by a country that didn’t seem to give a shit about them.

‘Dry’? Not in Wales, not as Winter started to settle onto our backs again. I started to keep any old polythene sheets, anything left in the wagon after I had dropped a load, to hand out to those that might want a little improvement to their shelter, and Kim started bringing soup. It turned into a savage season for us, Sparky reporting more than a few deaths of the lost and lonely, found cold under a pile of old cardboard or curled up and stiff in an alley.

I didn’t make the girls come out with us, but after Nell had dropped a few hints, and Kim had shared her own story, they became more than willing. Their engagement became even firmer when Posh brought us news of another girl sleeping in bushes out by St Catherine’s Park and foraging in bins near the Newport Road fast food outlets.

I fought back the flashbacks, and with Kim’s help I collected Kylie, who was originally from Newport. Heidi found us Chloe a fortnight later, and then Christmas was upon us. Everything was moving so much faster as I aged, but it kept its freshness because of the company I was keeping.

It was all so new to them, although Nell and Kim did play the ‘old hand at this’ card so far that I felt they would end up being slapped by Cathy for their smugness. The smiles stayed in place, though, as stories were shared and compared, which was something that left me feeling like an outsider at times.

I had never really connected with other transgender women, as some of the press called us then, nor transsexuals, as the officials did. I had lived almost all of my life as myself, despite needing a little help from Mr Simmonds, and had never had trouble from others about that. Plenty of abuse about being a gyppo, or a greaser biker bitch, but all of my life since my escape had been in what I was now hearing called ‘stealth’. For my girls, it was a completely different matter, and I did my best to share in their delight at meeting others who completely understood them, for the first time in each of their lives. They each came from a different background, but there were common features many of them shared. Not all of them had run away from home, but enough had. Not all had found fathers or other men paying too much attention to them, but it wasn’t rare. Cathy, it seemed, was the really lucky one, in that the home she had been referred to actually cared about its charges.

I had more flashbacks after that realisation.

So we had our Christmas with Marlene, after introducing the newer and nervous girls to Graham and Malcolm, who borrowed a spare room above Harry’s place for their stay, as the House was getting a little busy. What an evening that was.

“Debbie?”

“Yes, Chloe?”

“That IS a man behind the bar, isn’t it?”

“That’s Marlene. This is her place. Why do you ask?”

“There was another one, when I went to the ladies’. He was in a dress”

“What was he doing?”

“Um, mascara and lippy”

“No problem, then”

“Yeah, but what if he, you know, what if he wasn’t really like us, but just, like, dressing up?”

“Can you see him now?”

She pointed through an archway to the dancefloor.

“He’s dancing, over there, near Malcolm and Graham”

“Dancing with anyone else?”

“Yeah, some man in tight jeans and no shirt”

I patted her hand.

“Think it through, then. If they are drooling over some bloke’s bare chest, are they someone for you to worry about?”

“Er…”

She suddenly laughed, shaking her head.

“Sorry, Debbie. Just taking a while to get my head around all this. Bit sort of new to me. Anyway, better question: how do they walk in those shoes, never mind dance?”

I gave her a one-armed hug, just as Marlene brought me the drinks I had ordered.

“Lots of fucking practice and a shitload of frozen peas, darling”

Chloe looked up, and a long way up, as she was herself in flat ballet pumps.

“Frozen peas?”

“Sprained fucking ankles. And when we are dressed. It’s a bit fucking rude to callus ‘he’, OK?”

Marlene beamed a brilliant, scarlet-lipped smile at me.

“You been breeding these little girls, Deb?”

“No, love. Just a girl-magnet, me”

“Pity you’re straight, then. What’s your name, kiddo?”

“Um, Chloe”

“Right. Second lesson”

She handed Chloe a card, and her next words confirmed my guess.

“This is my phone number. Your friends have got it. I live over the place, and there’s a separate door to the stairs to my flat, with a doorbell. If this old bag ever lets you out into the wild, and you meet any shit in town, anyone starts following you, or getting nasty, you come here or you ring me. No arguments. Yes? Yeah, you with the nose ring. Tell me what fucking drinks you want or fuck off away from the bar, and if you want Guinness, order it first this time!”

If Chloe found the Smugglers a new experience, it was nothing compared to the New Year party at the clubhouse. I found history repeating itself, however, as each new friend was effectively adopted by my longer-term residents, especially when it came to their choice of party clothing. Nell was the real surprise; as Maisie chose her original dress for the night, teamed with a new pair of heels, not needing cold-weather kit as I was taking us all in the van, Miss Beige turned out in an incredibly short skirt and very long heeled boots. My jaw dropped as I looked over at the other girls, who were all in T-shirt and jeans, Cathy and Kim with their rally badges on display. Kim was grinning, but Nell was crimson. I raised my eyebrows to the blushing girl.

“What?”

In a very small voice, she muttered something about Kim taking the piss.

“These clothes are hers, Debbie. She said everyone was going to get all glammed up…”

I turned the eyebrows onto Kim.

“So I led. Anyway, too late to change now”

Nell started to protest, and Kim raised a hand to silence her.

“Answer me a couple of questions. Just say yes or no. And you look good, by the way. What do the rest of you think?”

There was a quick rush of agreement, and Maisie raised a hand.

“Don’t know what she’s worried about. I know I’ve got good legs, but hers, well. Don’t know why she always hides them under those drippy skirts and that. I say she looks good. I vote she stays like that and knocks the boys dead!”

As Nell blushed even harder, Kim took her hands.

“Do you want to look good, not for anyone else, but just for you?”

“Yes…”

“Do you believe me when I say you look good?”

“Um, not really”

“Maisie agrees with me. And so do all the others”

“Well…”

“I put a bag of your other clothes in the van, love, just in case. But stay like that, for me, just for the start. You can always change later. Deal?”

A hesitant nod, but still a nod, was Nell’s reply. Kim looked around the others, and brought out her grin once again.

“That’s settled then. If the rest of you don’t know what to expect, me and Nell, this one with the killer legs, we’ll explain the rules on the way there, but there’s nowhere, not anywhere, that’ll be safer for us. And don’t get too pissed”

Maisie turned to me.

“How pissed is too pissed, Debbie?”

Kim coughed.

“Me talking, girl, not her. How pissed is too pissed? We’ll find out tomorrow morning. New day, new year, new life, and probably a new pack of aspirin!”