by Lynda Paige
‘I appreciate you cooking tonight,’ Gem told her.
‘Least I could do towards repaying you for putting me up while my van is being fixed. The men will have the wheels back on by tomorrow morning ready for me to move back in, Solly?’
He nodded. ‘It’s all been organised. Your van will be as good as new.’
Gem looked at their guest affectionately. It wasn’t until after she had extended her invitation to Velda that she worried that, although they got on well as friends, living together in such a small space as the living van was could be difficult and prove more of a trial than a pleasure. But she had no need to worry. Velda had been a thorough joy to have around. The woman had been extremely considerate, always insisting on taking a back seat when there was a clamber for the bathroom in the morning and waiting until everyone else had retired for the night before she did herself; she always tidied away her bedding of a morning and never left any of her personal items around. She insisted on helping Gem with the housework and preparing the meals, but never in such a way as to undermine Gem’s position as the mistress of the house. Gem had enjoyed having another woman on hand to talk to, appreciated her help around the van and would miss her company when she left. She decided to tell the woman her feelings.
Velda smiled warmly at her, leaned over and patted her hand. ‘Me too. All of you, I will miss. I’d forgotten what it was like to be part of a family and I have thoroughly enjoyed it.’ Her words were said in all truthfulness. Each member of this close-knit family had opened their arms and welcomed her in, had done all they could to make her feel at home. They had respected her privacy, a matter that had worried her the most over coming to stay as she deeply guarded it. To her shock, that was what she would miss most when she left; being part of a family. She wasn’t looking forward to going back to living on her own as much as she had thought she would be.
The next morning, at just after eight, Gem was putting on her coat to ward off the chill for the short trip over to her father-in-law’s living van, where he was waiting for her to update him on the fair’s financial situation. Solly, Jimmy and Robbie had already left to start work, leaving just herself and Velda. The older woman was filling the cast-iron slipper bath with boiling water, taking advantage of the fact that the Grundys had a bathroom, albeit a rudimentary one; the water from the bath, when released, ran out of the plug hole and through a pipe straight into the ground. She didn’t, so a soak in a proper bath, not a shallow tin one, was a luxury.
‘This one should do it,’ she said to Gem as, dressed in her flowing robe-like dressing gown, she hauled the iron cauldron-type pot off the stove and made a hopefully final journey to the bathroom with it. When she returned, she put the pot back on the stove and refilled it with water ready for when hot water was needed and remarked to Gem, ‘Bit early for a meeting with Sam, isn’t it? Even people who work in offices don’t start until eight-thirty.’
Gem sighed. ‘It’s payback for me not having the figures for him yesterday afternoon because I chose to have some fun on the fair with Miss Dunn. That’s why I had to stay here to do the accounts last night instead of being in the pay booth of the Fun House and had to get Solly to find cover for me. He’s just being cantankerous, that’s all. He’s letting me know that, when all’s said and done, he’s the boss and when he says jump we jump. He’s been extra grumpy since…’ She suddenly clamped shut her mouth, realising she was about to say, since she suspected Velda had turned down his advances to her.
‘Since when, dear?’ she prompted her.
She blew out her cheeks. ‘Oh, since… er… can’t remember. For a while, anyway. You must have noticed he’s been grumpier than usual for the past couple of weeks as you have a nightcap with him most nights.’
Velda felt that Sam had accepted her reason for her not wanting to change their friendship exceptionally well and he treated her just the same as he had before his approach to her, but from what Gem was telling her, it seemed he hadn’t taken it as well as she had thought and was taking his disappointment out on his family. She felt remiss for that but, regardless, that was beyond her control. ‘Can’t say that I have. He’s been his normal self with me.’
‘I’d best get off or he’ll be docking my wages if I keep him waiting. Not that I get any wages for what I do, it’s just expected of me as Solly’s wife. I’ll be about an hour. By that time you’ll have finished your bath and maybe we could have a coffee together before you pack your stuff? You can be all settled back in before the fair opens at two.’
Velda looked pleased at the suggestion. ‘A coffee with you will be lovely. I’ll look forward to it.’
Gem had hardly reached halfway between her own van and her father-in-law’s when she suddenly stopped and slapped her hand to her forehead, loudly tutting and annoyed at herself. She couldn’t update Sam on financial affairs when she hadn’t got the accounts books with her, which she had left on the kitchen table. She retraced her steps and, back at her own van, let herself in, not bothering to announce her return to Velda as she thought her to be in the bath enjoying her hot soak.
A minute or so previous, stripped for her bath and with one foot raised, preparing to get in the inviting hot water, Velda realised that she had forgotten to bring her towel in with her to dry herself off with. It was at the side of the sofa, stored neatly away with the rest of her belongings. She had collected her toiletries so was cross with herself for not remembering the towel too. She had the van to herself though so no need to put on her dressing gown whilst she nipped out of the tiny bathroom into the living area to fetch it.She was halfway into the lounge when Gemma walked in.
For both women it was like time stood still as they both stood, staring frozenly at each other. Then, after what seemed like an age, both gathered their wits simultaneously, Gem to cover her eyes with a hand whilst exclaiming, ‘Oh, my God!’
Velda cried out, mortified, ‘Oh, Gem… Gem… I… I…’ She leapt into the bathroom, grabbed her dressing gown, pulled it on, then dashed back out again to stand before Gemma, grab hold of her arms and frenziedly plead, ‘Please, Gem, please let me explain.’
Gem dropped her hand to glare stupefied at the older woman. ‘What is there to explain? You’ve lied to us, fooled us for all these years. You’re a MAN! How could you do this to us? Why?’
She vehemently blurted, ‘Because I am a woman, Gem. I might not have the body of a woman but I’m just as much a woman as you are. Don’t look at me like that, please. Before you judge me, before you tell me to go, please hear me out first. Please, Gem, please?’
Gem stared at the person she knew only as a woman called Velda. She felt that she ought to afford her the courtesy to explain the reasons behind the deception. She said, stonily, ‘I have to tell you that, at the moment, I don’t know what I feel… disgust… revulsion… confusion… and other things I can’t find the words right now for. I can’t promise I’ll feel any different after I hear what you have to tell me, but I will listen.’
Velda sagged gratefully and uttered, ‘Thank you.’ She sank down on the sofa, pulling her gown tightly around her as though seeking comfort from it. After Gem had sat down in the armchair opposite, she took a deep breath and began, ‘Right from when I can remember I didn’t feel right about myself, that something was wrong, only I didn’t know what. As a very young child, three or four perhaps, when I was on my own I would take off my clothes and look at myself in the mirror. I can remember feeling that what I was seeing wasn’t what I should be, only I didn’t know what it should be, just not what I was. Sounds stupid, I know, but that’s the best way I can describe how I felt about myself then. I was the youngest of three brothers and I knew I was different to them somehow. When they played with their toy cars, football in the street, all the sorts of stuff boys did, I wanted to be with the girls, playing with them and their dolls and doing other girly things with them. It was dresses I wanted to be wearing not trousers. I wanted my hair long so I could have it in pigtails and ponytails, pretty rib
bons at the ends. My mother thought it was just a stage I was going through and would grow out of it but my father was having none of it and neither were my brothers. They teased me mercilessly. I was a nancy, a cissy. Because the other boys used to rib them over me, my brothers would beat me when my parents weren’t around. Most nights, every night in fact, I’d cry myself to sleep. My father had always believed there was something medically wrong with me and, finally, he took me to the doctor. He was a crusty old Scotsman and he told my father that I was just being rebellious and to beat it out of me with a stick. So whenever I was caught doing anything that wasn’t considered what boys did, I was thrashed black and blue. Then, finally, my mother got fed up with the neighbours telling her I wasn’t normal, sniggering that she’d given birth to something unnatural. At her wits’ end she decided I was mentally unstable as she couldn’t think of any other reason why I acted as I did. She threatened that if I didn’t start behaving like I should, then she’d have me sent away to the lunatic asylum and they would give me electric shock treatment. And, if that didn’t work, a lobotomy to repair what was wrong with my brain. I’d heard of those places and I was terrified. So I squashed all my feelings of wanting to be with the girls, dress like them, play the games they did, and forced myself to join the boys, play their games; be tough and rough like they were. I hated it, hated myself. Each day was purgatory for me but I kept up my act for fear of what would happen to me if I didn’t.
‘It wasn’t until I was about thirteen years old that I met a woman… who I thought was a woman… who told me just what I was and, for me, that day was like a weight had been lifted, as I finally understood what was going on with me. My mother had sent me on an errand to collect a dress from the dressmaker she had been using for years. When I arrived in her shop the dressmaker, Mrs Golders was her name, told me to wait in the sewing room as she was in the middle of a fitting and as soon as she was finished she would see to me. She told me to help myself to milk and biscuits and there were some comics I would find that she kept for customers’ children to keep them occupied whilst she dealt with their mothers. She would be about half an hour, she told me. I helped myself to milk and biscuits, found the comics, and I was just about to sit down and wait for Mrs Golders to return when I noticed the dress. It was hanging on a rack with others, but this dress was different. I had never seen anything so beautiful. It was a party dress for a young girl of about my age. It was made from the most fine material that sort of shimmered in the sunlight coming through the window. It was white with many net skirts underneath and a wide red band around the middle that tied in a large bow at the back and the ends hung right down to the scalloped hem. It was like the dress was screaming at me to try it on and the need for me to do that was far too great for me to resist. Only a few minutes had passed since Mrs Golders had told me she’d be about half an hour, so I had plenty of time.’
Velda’s eyes glazed distantly over as she re-lived such a pivotal moment in her life. ‘The dress fitted me like it had been especially made for me. As I looked at myself in the mirror it was like I was seeing myself for the first time; as I should be seeing myself. Looking pretty in a dress. I was so consumed with my reflection that I didn’t know anyone else had come into the room until I felt a light touch of a hand on my shoulder and Mrs Golders said, “You look beautiful, dear, but that dress was made especially for another little girl for her birthday and she’ll be very upset if it’s not in perfect condition when she comes in with her mother tomorrow to collect it. I’ve other dresses you can try on if… .” I never let her finish, I screamed at her that I was only larking about putting on the dress, terrified she’d tell my mother what she’d caught me doing but she took me by my shoulders and shook me hard until I’d calmed down and then said quietly to me, “I know one of my own kind when I meet one. Now, carefully take off the dress and hang it back up, then wait here until I come back and we’ll have a talk.” I had no idea what she meant about knowing one of her kind when she met one. There was something in her manner though that told me not to be frightened and to wait for her to hear what she had to say to me.
‘It seemed ages before she returned and, during that time, I’d built myself up into a terrible panic. I was so worried she was just stalling me so she could summon my mother and any minute she would come charging in and have me carted off to the asylum for what Mrs Golders had caught me doing. I was on the verge of running off but then Mrs Golders came back and, to my relief, she was alone. She could see what state I was in. She sat down next to me, took my hands and told me not to be frightened as she wasn’t going to tell my parents and that she understood why I had done what I did. She said she had known since I was a little boy that I was the same as she was. I still didn’t understand what she meant: that I was the same as she was. She was a woman, she looked like my mother, dressed like her, wore her hair in a similar style and smelt like she did and I’d no reason not to believe she wasn’t a woman. But she had a way with her that just made me want to listen to what she was telling me. She told me she had so very much wanted to talk to my mother about me, who she could tell was struggling to understand why I behaved as I did but to do that would mean her divulging her own secret about herself and then being hounded out by those that didn’t understand or accept her for what she was. She told me that hardly a living soul is born perfect, that nearly everyone has something about them that isn’t perfect. Some babies are born without one of their limbs, with something wrong with their brain, some with a nature that makes them fall in love with others of their own sex and some in the wrong bodies altogether. They have the body of a female but brains that think and behave like a male. We aren’t mentally ill but just how Mother Nature had made us.’
Velda was desperately worried about how Gem was taking this information. Was she disgusted, horrified or beginning to understand what Velda’s life had been like for her through a quirk of nature? She daren’t look at Gem to find out for fear she would see that look of revulsion that she had done her best to avoid for all these years she had known her by keeping this secret to herself.
She went on: ‘It was like everything fell into place for me then. The relief was enormous. Mrs Golders went on to tell me that, unfortunately, very few people understand this and when people don’t understand something they are frightened of it. Until the time comes that people do understand then we have no choice but to hide what we are from them or our lives be made a misery. She told me that she had had a terrible time as a child, what she suffered was almost the very same that I had. Like she had, I had two choices. I could continue to live a lie for the rest of my life as a man or be true to myself and live as the woman I really was, which is what she had decided to do. I was not in a position to make that decision now so, until I was, the best advice she could give me was to live a lie and that way at least have harmony with my family and those around me. When the time came, my decision wasn’t going to be an easy one to make. If I decided to live as a man I would be going against all my own female instincts and have the constant battle of making out I was something I wasn’t. If I chose to live as the woman I truly was then it would mean divorcing myself from my family, who would never accept me as a woman, and making a life for myself where no one knew me. It also meant that it was unlikely that I would ever meet anyone who would want a relationship with me so would never have a family of my own.
‘Any friends I had would need to be kept in the dark for fear of losing them or divulging my secret and then me being hounded out. I’d have to start all over again somewhere new. Mrs Golders was right. Even at my age I realised that, when it came to me to decide my future, it was not going to be easy. Mrs Golders solemnly told me that she would never speak to my mother of what had transpired between us. She made me promise to remember that she would always be there for me and that, should I find life a struggle, I could always wait until after the business was closed and go to her shop where I would be at liberty to dress as I wanted and have free rein over her make-up
and wigs. Over the next few years I took that offer up many times and being able, for a short time at least, to become the person I really was helped me cope. We became become very close, did Mrs Golders and I, and I know she looked forward to my visits as much as I did.
‘I was nineteen when I knew the time had come to make my decision over my future. I’d gotten to the stage that I just couldn’t live the lie I was any more and the thought of living like I was for the rest of my life filled me with dread. My two brothers were both married by this time and my parents were strongly hinting that I didn’t seem to be making any effort towards finding myself a wife. My mother was starting to invite the daughters of friends and neighbours around; it was so awkward for me and the girl involved. Over the years I had collected together clothes of my own; dresses, skirts, blouses, brassières that were padded to give me a chest, a couple of wigs, shoes, handbags… All the things I needed to change my appearance to what it should look like to me. I was slim back then, with a good head of hair, and I wasn’t particularly very hairy anywhere else; I only needed to shave a couple of times a week. I do have big hands and feet, but then so do other women. I might be blowing my own trumpet, but when I was all dressed up I made a good-looking woman back then. I would have fooled even my mother had she met me in the street. Not so much these days as, over the years, I have put on weight.
‘Anyway, I decided to make a new start. I had a little money I’d managed to save from my wage as an assistant in a hardware store, not much, but enough to last a few weeks if I was careful. So after telling Mrs Golders what I was doing, thanking her for her friendship and all she had done for me, I left a note for my parents explaining why I was leaving, feeling it better to tell them the truth than leave them in the dark. I then caught a train to London. I got on that train as a man and got off as a woman. Why I picked London I’ve no idea but it was as good as any place to start my new life as a woman in.