by Sam Michaels
George gulped her mouthful of tea and laughed. ‘I get what you’re saying, Gran, but they do have some uses.’
‘Like what? Name one.’
‘Having babies,’ George answered.
‘Well, yes, but apart from that?’
‘Security,’ George said, deep in thought and twiddling her mother’s wedding ring.
‘Security… You’ve got to be kidding me!’
‘No, Gran, I ain’t. I reckon if I’d had a husband to look out for me, Billy wouldn’t have tried to kill me.’
‘But you’re tougher than most men I know.’
‘Probably, but there’s only one of me, so do you see what I mean?’ George asked. She hadn’t realised it herself before now, but she’d be much safer with a man in her life.
‘Yes, I see, but he’d have to be special to win your heart.’
‘Maybe,’ George answered, ‘Or maybe just big and strong,’ she added, and winked at her gran.
The magazine was open on George’s lap, and she noticed her gran squinting across the room from her armchair to look at it.
‘My eyes ain’t what they used to be, but from here, that woman looks just like your mother.’
George picked up the magazine and studied the model. She was beautiful. ‘Really?’ she asked.
Dulcie got up from her chair and leaned over George’s shoulder.
‘Yes, she’s taller than your mum and her hair is shorter, but she’s the double of her. Your mum was a stunner, just like you. I love my Jack, but I never understood what she saw in him. I mean, he’s lovely, at times, but I think he fell out of the ugly tree and hit every one of the branches on the way down.’
George looked closer at the model. She was striking, with dark make-up that made her eyes jump out from the page. ‘I bet she’d have no problem getting herself a husband.’
‘No, and neither would you,’ her gran said.
George wasn’t convinced. ‘If I looked like her, I wouldn’t!’
‘That’s my point, love, you do look like her. You just need a little help to enhance it.’
George screwed up her face quizzically.
‘Take them fancy clothes off her and wipe away her make-up, and honestly, that could be you splashed across that magazine.’
George had never really paid much attention to her appearance. She’d become accustomed to acting and dressing like a man – it was all she’d ever known. It had never occurred to her that she could be beautiful. ‘Do you really think so, Gran?’
‘Yes, I know so. Tell you what, it’s Sunday, so Aileen will be next door visiting her mum. How about I have a word with Mary and see if Aileen will pop in here and make your face up for you?’
‘Oh, I dunno, Gran,’ George said.
‘Go on, it’ll be fun. And what have you got to lose? If you don’t like it, you can wash it off.’
George nodded, though she didn’t think it sounded much like fun. If anything, it sounded more like pure bloody torture. Still, if she was going to bag herself a man, then it was about time she made herself look more like a woman.
It was ten minutes later when George heard her gran return and by the sound of it, Aileen and Mary were with her.
‘Hello, George. Your gran tells me you’re feeling much better and fancy a bit of glamming up. Well, you’ve got the best person for the job here. My Aileen does all the top stars, don’t you, darling?’ Mary said proudly.
‘Pack it in, Ma,’ Aileen said, and pulled an exasperated face.
George looked Aileen up and down. She didn’t look much like her mother. Mary had bright red curly hair, as did Mary’s four other girls. Even Mary’s husband had strawberry blond hair. They all had the same green eyes too and a sprinkling of orange freckles. Aileen stood out as different. Her hair and eyes were chocolate brown, and her skin was much darker. Jack had always joked that Aileen looked like the rag and bone man, and now George could see it too.
‘Do you have any cosmetics, George?’ Aileen asked. Her accent was soft, not like her mother’s thick Northern Irish twang.
‘No,’ George answered.
She liked Aileen, though considering they’d lived next door to each other their whole lives, she didn’t know her very well. Aileen was only a few years older, but they’d never really played together growing up. Aileen had always been a girlie girl and liked dolls and clothes, where George had preferred to get dirty and play with toy guns.
‘Not to worry. I always carry mine with me. You’re not that different in skin tone to me, so I’m sure mine will suit you.’
George realised they were all staring at her and she suddenly felt clammy.
‘Don’t look so nervous.’ Mary laughed. ‘She’s going to make you look a treat. Come on, Dulcie, let’s have a cuppa and leave them to get on with it.’
George relaxed and felt better without all eyes on her, and Aileen got to work.
‘You know, I hear all sorts in the salon and apparently, it’s very fashionable in Paris to be a lesbian.’
‘Is it?’ George asked, wondering why Aileen was talking about women who love women as men do.
‘Yes, they say there are women in Paris who have taken to wearing men’s clothes and openly hold hands with their female lovers.’
‘I’m not a lesbian, if that’s what you’re getting at.’
‘Really? So why have you always dressed like a man?’
‘I don’t know, it’s how me dad raised me.’
‘Haven’t you ever wanted to wear a skirt?’
‘Yeah, when I was younger, sometimes.’
‘Don’t talk now and keep still. I don’t want to poke your eye out.’
Nearly an hour later, Aileen handed George a mirror. ‘There you go, you look stunning. I wish I had your eyes – you’re so lucky.’
George took the mirror and slowly lifted it to her face. She gasped at her reflection. ‘Is that really me?’ she asked.
‘Yes, George, it’s you. Who’d have thought it?’
‘I… I… Wow, Aileen. It feels a bit weird, but I love it! I look…’
‘Beautiful,’ Dulcie said. She’d walked into the room and had tears in her eyes at the sight of her granddaughter.
Mary followed in behind Dulcie. When she saw George, her eyes widened, and she gushed, ‘Jesus Christ, George, you look amazing, like an angel sent from heaven from the good Lord above.’
‘Blimey, it’s only a bit of make-up and a new hairdo,’ George said, feeling embarrassed at all the attention.
‘But it makes all the difference,’ Dulcie sniffed. ‘We’ll have to get you some nice dresses to go with your new look.’
‘Will you be keeping it?’ Aileen asked.
‘Yes, I think I will,’ George answered. She was looking at herself again and beginning to get used to her more feminine appearance.
‘In that case, I’ll leave you a few bits ’cos I’ve got plenty in the salon. If ever you’re over Chelsea way, you must call in.’
‘Yes, I will. Thanks, Aileen.’
Dulcie saw the neighbours out, while George sat studying herself. Yes, she was just as beautiful as the model in the magazine. She was tall like her too. She’d never imagined herself looking like this. It felt good and liberating to finally acknowledge herself as a real woman.
Her gran came back into the room and sat in her armchair. ‘When you’re up to it, we’ll go shopping up the Junction and see about getting you some new clothes,’ she said.
‘We won’t be able to afford that for a while, not with me dad drinking like he is.’
‘Yes, we can. We don’t have to worry about money.’
‘How come?’
‘That Jane Wilcox woman came round here when you was ill. I told her to bugger off, but she shoved some money through the door. It was a fair old whack too, only don’t mention it in front of your father – I don’t want him pissing it up the wall.’
‘You can’t take money from her!’
‘Why can’t I? That doctor a
nd his concoctions don’t come cheap, and how else would I have paid the rent? You was unconscious and your father… well.’
George bit her tongue. She could see her gran’s point, but they weren’t bloody charity cases. She couldn’t believe they’d taken money from the Wilcoxes. The thought of it grated on her. It was humiliating.
‘As soon as I get back on my feet, we’re going to pay her back, every penny.’
Before her gran could answer, the door opened, and her dad walked in. He looked bleary-eyed, and his hair was sticking up. ‘Morning, ladies,’ he chirped, then his body jerked, and he jumped backwards, his face draining of colour. ‘Sissy! What? How?’
‘Dad… it’s me, George.’
‘Fucking hell! What have you done? You look just like your mother! For a moment, I thought that was her sitting there!’
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. Aileen popped round and made my face up. Do you like it?’
‘Oh, George, yes love, you look stunning. But I don’t know if I’m happy with you going about like that. You’ll get all sorts of unwanted attention.’
‘Leave it out, Jack. You’ve had her looking like a boy all her life. She’s grown up now, a woman, and it’s nice to see her looking like one for a change.’
‘Yeah,’ George added, and grinned at her dad.
‘I can see I ain’t got a chance against you two and I must admit your mother would have loved to have seen you looking like that.’
George could hear the sorrow in her father’s voice and hoped he wouldn’t break down in tears. He left the room before she could see, but she knew he’d be reaching for the bottle again.
‘I’ve got something you might like,’ her gran said. ‘On top of my wardrobe, there’s a brown leather case. Get it down and have a look inside. The stuff will be a bit dated now, but I’ll bet it’ll look smashing on you. Go on, go upstairs and have a look, then come back down here and show me.’
George was intrigued. She found the suitcase, though it hurt her body when she lifted it down. She placed it on her gran’s bed and opened it. She carefully peeled back the tissue paper to reveal a cream lace dress, a pair of silk high-heeled shoes to match along with gloves, a handkerchief and a small hat. She laid the outfit on the bed and realised, from a photograph she’d seen, she was looking at her gran’s wedding dress. Dulcie had asked her to put it on, but she couldn’t. The man her gran had married when she’d worn this was now buried in their backyard!
She walked back into the front room to see her gran’s face drop.
‘Sorry, it didn’t fit,’ she lied.
‘No, of course not. I wasn’t thinking,’ Dulcie said, ‘but I’m determined to see you in a pretty dress to match your pretty face. I know Mrs Barker at number thirty-seven. Come on.’
‘It’s Sunday, Gran. Mrs Barker won’t have her shop open.’
‘Exactly. She’ll be at home with her twenty-odd cats, but she always has a load of stock in her spare room.’
‘I ain’t being funny, but everyone knows her stuff stinks of cats’ piss, and it’s all second-hand.’
‘And since when have you been too proud to wear hand-me-downs? Come on, just humour me. I’d just like to see you looking like a proper woman. Whatever we get from Mrs Barker’s can be thrown out once I’ve seen you dressed up.’
George half-heartedly agreed and helped her gran along the street. Mrs Barker was pleased to see them, and even more so when they said they’d like to purchase some second-hand clothes from her. They rummaged through the goods in the upstairs back room and found a couple of things to buy. George couldn’t wait to get out of the house. She thought it stank, and the flea-bitten cats were making her itch.
‘Go on then, use my room,’ Dulcie said enthusiastically when they got home.
George went upstairs, closed her gran’s bedroom door, and held the clothes at arm’s length as she stepped into a blue dress embellished with black beads and tassels that ended just below her knees. She slipped on the black heeled shoes, which tied on the front with a ribbon, then pulled on a pair of long, blue gloves that matched the dress perfectly. Her make-up complemented the outfit as well.
She looked in the mirror on her gran’s dressing table. She couldn’t see her whole image but what she saw took her breath away.
‘Hello, Georgina,’ she said out loud, ‘And goodbye, George.’
Georgina Garrett had emerged. Like a caterpillar from a chrysalis. She was now a beautiful butterfly and was ready to spread her wings.
44
It was still warm for October. Molly was bored and fed up with being cooped up inside the house. And she missed her mum and George. Billy refused to allow her to visit them. He said they were scum, and now that she was a Wilcox she was better off without them. He didn’t want his child associating with those sorts of people. Molly had been offended but had kept quiet. They hadn’t yet been married for two months, yet she’d already learnt that anything she said to upset Billy would result in an angry outburst. He’d warned her that if she wasn’t pregnant, she could have expected a swift back-hander across her face!
She looked at the clock on the mantel. It was only half past ten. The morning was dragging by so slowly. The house was clean, the laundry done, and dinner was already prepared. She thought about calling on her neighbours, but when they’d introduced themselves, their well-to-do manners had made Molly feel inferior. She was a working-class girl from an impoverished family, and though when she was younger she’d dreamt of living in a big house in a nice area, she now found herself feeling out of place.
It was Friday, Billy’s poker night. He wouldn’t be home until late. If she snuck to Battersea, she’d have plenty of time to get back before him, but it was a long walk without any money for a bus. He would only give her enough cash for housekeeping, and she’d have to show him receipts and account for every penny spent. But there must be some money somewhere in the house, she thought, longing to see her family, and desperate for news of George.
‘Sod it,’ she said, and dashed up the stairs. She rummaged through Billy’s wardrobe and searched through his jacket pockets for any loose change. She didn’t need much for a bus ride. But there was nothing. So she tried his drawers. She found two flick knives, a knuckle-duster and a policeman’s truncheon. She was about to give up, when underneath a grainy photo of his father she found a small leather purse with several coins inside. Perfect. She took what she needed and hoped Billy wouldn’t notice.
It was a fraught bus journey to Battersea, and once she was there, though she’d have liked to have seen her mum, she decided it was too dangerous. Billy knew people, and if she was seen at Clapham Junction, it was sure to get back to him. Instead, she hurried to see George.
By the time she reached George’s house, her heart was hammering and she’d broken out in a nervous sweat. She knocked several times on the door. When it opened, she was close to tears.
‘Molly… come in,’ Dulcie said, ushering her through with a sense of urgency. ‘You’re taking a risk, ain’t you? We’ve guessed that Billy ain’t letting you out.’
‘Yes, but I had to come. How’s George?’
‘You can see for yourself in a minute. She’s upstairs; she’ll be down in a tick. Go through, take a seat and I’ll put the kettle on.’
Molly sat in the front room and caught her breath. She felt the baby kick and smiled. It felt good to be in familiar surroundings. When she heard George coming down the stairs, her fears were replaced with excitement, but when her friend walked in the room Molly gasped in shock.
‘Molly, I can’t believe you’re here! It’s so good to see you,’ George said, holding her arms open.
Molly would have normally embraced her friend, but she was speechless and couldn’t take her eyes off her.
‘Are you all right, Molly?’
‘Erm, yes, sorry. It’s just… you… you look so different!’
‘Do you like it?’ George asked, doing a quick spin.
‘Ye
s! Goodness, George, I’d hardly have recognised you. Amazing. Absolutely bloody amazing!’
‘Oh, by the way, I’m not George any more. The new me is called Georgina.’
‘Georgina. It suits you,’ Molly said.
‘Anyway, enough about me. Does Billy know you’re here?’
‘No, he’d go mad if he did.’
‘I thought as much. Have you seen your mum?’
‘No, but can you get a message to her? Tell her I’m all right and I miss her. Are they all right?’
‘Yes, but I know they’ve been worried about you. Billy told your mum she’s not to come and see you, so for your sake, she’s stayed away. She’ll be over the moon to know you’re well. And how’s the baby?’
‘The baby’s fine. Kicking hard. I reckon it’s gonna be a boy. I just hope he don’t take after his father.’
‘You don’t have to stay with him, you know. You could always come here. It’d be a squeeze, but we’d make room for you.’
‘I know, thanks, George, I mean Georgina, but I wouldn’t want to bring any more trouble to your door. I’ll work it out, don’t worry.’
The next few hours sped by, and before Molly was ready she found it was time to leave. Saying goodbye was heart-breaking, but she did her utmost to hide her sorrow from Georgina.
As she climbed aboard the bus, a feeling of foreboding overwhelmed her. She dismissed her worries and put it down to being upset about returning home. But her instincts had been right, and later that week, Molly’s fears would be recognised.
*
It had taken some getting used to, but Georgina now liked the greasy feeling of lipstick on her lips. And more so, she liked the way it made her look. She flounced downstairs with her newfound confidence.
‘You look a picture, Georgina. Are you off out somewhere nice?’ her gran asked.
‘I’m taking Ethel to the fair. I saw them setting up yesterday.’
‘That’s nice. It’s a shame Molly can’t go with you.’
‘Yeah, I know. Still, it was great to see her.’