Diary of a Provincial Lesbian (29 page)

We have all paid two pounds to get in, which includes as much tea and biscuits as we can consume. We sit on a row of wooden chairs. Miriam closes the door.

‘Ah, thank you,’ says vicar. ‘Lights please.’

Miriam switches off light and stumbles back to her place at video control. Television screen - perhaps ten inches wide? Assembled audience peers at Fab Clothing sales video. Camera pans across large hall, seemingly packed with women dressed like lady mayoresses, all smiling and clapping gloved hands. Pan back to catwalk. Young women also dressed as lady mayoresses slouch up and down, drawing attention to braiding on cuff, button detail, ingenious kick pleat in back of skirt.

One model in close up demonstrates six different ways with an elasticated flower bracelet - bracelet, necklace, pony tail scrunch, bandeau, belt and hippy head band. Video finishes. Miriam switches light back on. I clap.

In front of us vicar stands beaming confidently, hands clasped in front of her. Will she start the sale with a prayer? No. Says to man with shopping bag, ‘I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to step outside as us ladies will be trying on.’

‘I’ve come on behalf of my wife,’ man blusters.

‘I’m sure you have and here’s a brochure to take back to her.’

Exit man looking miffed.

Vicar says, ‘The secret to Fab Clothing’s success is versatility, which means to you and me, i.e. women on limited budgets - economy.’

NB. Should have said vicar is wearing black tights and leotard over dog collar. Mrs Ferguson hands vicar a tube of emerald green cloth. Like a magician vicar demonstrates how tube can take her from the office - tube becomes a knee length skirt with useful pockets, to a cocktail bar - pulls tube up to under her armpits and it is a skin tight dress - to a grand ball. Wow! Turns out that tube is double layered. Vicar peels top layer down to make skin tight ankle length skirt again with useful pockets. Miriam’s mother and I clap.

‘Hold it folks,’ says vicar. ‘You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.’

Takes off tube. Turns pockets inside out. Undoes two invisible rows of poppers in pockets and hey presto tube has become a hooded short sleeved top ideal to combat light spring showers. Everyone claps.

Vicar shows us more wonders, none as impressive as tube. Vicar could sell ice cubes to eskimos. Everyone buys tube. I buy three in emerald, scarlet and black.

At home find I can make skirt, long skirt and cocktail frock but not hooded top. Almost asphyxiate myself trying to free my head from useful pocket. Realise tubes are made of a horrid polyester jersey which may not breathe. Have spent ninety pounds. Hugely resent Miriam and vicar.

November 27
^th

Just when I’m thinking that Margaret of Bittlesea Bay must have dropped off the map, Laura rings back re. her running opponent. She’s ringing from her mother’s under-stair cupboard, so her voice is slightly muffled due to winter coats and general lack of oxygen. Conversation interrupted with, ‘Fags Mum. And ashtray. Chop chop.’ Later I hear a burst of the frantic opening music to
Hawaii 50
. ‘Mum can you turn it down?’ Laura says.

‘Another boxed set?’ I ask.

‘Mum’s given up on jigsaws. She’s gone boxed set mad.’

Laura says the reason she’s stopped worrying about Iris’s running partner is that she’s seen running partner’s romantic partner and the woman’s stupendous.

Ask, ‘Isn’t Iris stupendous?’

Laura pauses then says, ‘Iris is an acquired taste. Now what about you? Still suicidal?’

Explain that I was never suicidal, more very depressed. Also there is someone I rather like who I think might rather like me, but frankly I’m frightened of falling in love and being hurt again.

‘Hmm,’ says Laura. ‘Yes I will have a Guinness. Aren’t you rather jumping the gun - you might get several years happiness in before being hurt again? Thanks Mum. Cheers.’

‘Cheers. But how can I believe that someone really cares about me?’

‘Because nobody’s going to put up with you for several years if they’re not at least fond of you.’

Change tack slightly while I have Laura’s attention. ‘So what am I doing wrong that makes them stop being fond of me?’

‘You’re not doing anything wrong. Anyone can get tired of their favourite meal if they have it every night and Mum says some relationships aren’t meant to last forever. Thank you, Mum.’

‘Is your mum listening in?’

‘She was just dusting the extension.’

November 29
^th

Spot Janice’s white lorry parked outside my house as I walk up hill. She must have seen me, because she suddenly leaps out of the cab. Janice does not look sullen - she looks happy. Immediately imagine she’s about to tell me that she’s met a fabulous new woman in the last few days. Steel myself for bad news.

However, Janice starts whistling self-consciously and wipes wing mirror with her sleeve as I approach. Just somehow know that, in this instance, I am the reason she looks happy.

Our faces move unfamiliarly together. I kiss her ear; she kisses a strand of my hair. We go indoors and I say, ‘Should we get started, there’s not much daylight left?’

Janice blinks and looks confused. Instantly we both become scarlet faced. Quickly explain that I am talking about digging up sheet metal from Mr Wheeler’s side of the fence. Janice nods and grins. Goes back out to her lorry for her pickaxe. I hear her chuckling to herself. Get two spades from my shed.

Mr Wheeler out on Watch but his back gate was open. It proved very hard job. He’d dug the sheet metal into the ground with a vengeance. It went down at least two foot. Felt sad while digging, thinking of Mr Wheeler, then only middle-aged, blocking out any reminder of good times. Said as much to Janice.

She said, ‘Never mind Mr Wheeler, what about you Margaret?’

We both paused for a breather. Very cold afternoon but hot work. Told her I was still pretty miserable about myself. Said I’d lost confidence and felt it was hard to look forward to my future. Muttered the word
trust
. Said it wasn’t easy to believe in a happy future when I seemed to have a prescribed life pattern that started with high hopes and ended with someone (me) feeling like a dropped stitch. Laughed weakly. Janice didn’t laugh at all.

‘You have to take risks sometimes. We all have to,’ she said.

‘I know.’

‘I think we’re there,’ she said. ‘The metal sheets. I can get my pickaxe underneath and lever them up if you hold them steady.’

We worked together. At first the sheets wouldn’t budge, seemed determinedly stuck in the mud. I had a fleeting thought that Georgie would have done this on her own, or got Nic or Mr Wheeler’s help. Where would I have been? Making tea for the workers. On the periphery.

At last they came out. We refilled the deep holes but left a little space between the ground and the bottom of the fence. Just in case.

It was dark, too dark to read Janice’s face. I said, ‘Do you remember us meeting months ago at the Glass Bar?’

Janice bent forward, patting the earth with the back of her spade. ‘Yes.’

‘You made quite an impression on me, I wrote about you in my diary.’

‘Yet you didn’t recognise me when you met me again.’

‘No, but you were familiar.’

‘I recognised you straight away. It was,’ she said, straightening up, ‘like fate.’

November 30
^th

Go with Martin and Deirdre to see
The
Meat Loaf Story
. None of us were ever fans of
Meat Loaf
but Martin has been given free tickets by someone who did the theatre lighting, and Deirdre felt this would give her a chance to air her new ‘Rock Chick’ leather jacket. Martin seems unsure of this leather jacket - it is a step in a new fashion direction for Deirdre. Jacket petrol blue. On back is an arrow piercing a silver heart and the words,
Born to be Very Bad!

Martin tells us sternly in the foyer, ‘Now understand, you two, this isn’t the real
Meat Loaf,
so when the chap comes on I don’t want to hear groans of disappointment. You’ll show me up.’

Apparently, the real
Meat Loaf
is about six foot-two and this chap is about a foot shorter and square shaped. We troop in. Deirdre is surprised that we don’t have a box and that we have to share our row with other members of the audience. She keeps shuddering and fiddling with her hair.

‘Sit still,’ Martin hisses.

Mini-Meat-Loaf bounces on with wonderful, glorious, fantastic, incredibly beautiful women pretending to be Cher and Bonnie Tyler. The Bittlesea Bay audience goes wild, apart from me, Martin and Deirdre. Martin at least nods his head to the music. Glance at Deirdre. She wears a strange fixed smile which I know means she’s thinking, ‘This is no place for a Debenham’s girl.’

In the interval, old style ice-cream usherettes march in front of the stage and I’m the first one in the queue. Bring back the tubs. Martin in great good humour, Deirdre icily quiet. Accepts tub between thumb and index finger as if it is a specimen and a poor one.

‘Surprisingly good,’ says Martin.

I agree, Mini-Meat-Loaf is surprisingly good. Also ice-cream tub ‘And what about Bonnie Tyler look-alike?’ I say with enthusiasm.

‘I think they both stink,’ Deirdre says, succinctly tapping away with her wooden spoon at the rock hard ice-cream.

However, when the finale comes, even Deirdre is swept up in the excitement. We - the whole audience - are on our feet singing along to
Bat out of Hell.

December

December 1
^st

Go with Janice to BBBP Society
talk held at the Palm Court Hotel on the seafront. Not really a hotel, more a bed and breakfast. We are directed into the dining room where tables have been folded up and leant against the wall. We sit down on a variety of chairs.

I recognise Monica and other members. Also Morag and Vera. There are at least twelve more people. These Mr Wheeler refers to in a loud undertone as
Joe Public.
Man in trilby hat introduces himself to Mr Wheeler and says he’s from the
Listening Ear
and does Mr Wheeler object to being photographed? Mr Wheeler doesn’t mind at all, in fact directs
Listening Ear
man to his best side. NB. Mr Wheeler’s best side gives the impression that he has a full head of hair, Mr Wheeler’s worst side gives the impression that all hair is trying to escape over a domed hillock.

Vera, who is Mr Wheeler’s assistant for the evening, hands out photocopies with blurred black and white photograph at the top, possibly of a badger, possibly a bulky black bin bag. Mr Wheeler coughs and we settle down into attentive silence. He explains that he’d hoped to give a slide show but had been unable to lay his hands on the relevant equipment. However, he had put together a series of twelve slides and his neighbour Vera had donated her plastic slide viewer for the evening. Could we pass these around while he proceeds with his talk?

‘Please do return both box and slides to me at the end.’   

Feel rather proud of slide depicting the splintered lower section of my back gate.

At some point during the talk Janice takes my hand.

December 2
^nd

Met Janice in rumoured to be gay pub.

December 3
^rd

Met Janice in pub.

December 4
^th

Janice to dinner. Janice tells me that she and her gardening team have a three week job hard landscaping a big garden in the Midlands. Feel physically sick. So reminiscent of Georgie’s excuses.

We talk.

Janice says gently, ‘I’ll telephone you and you can telephone me any time of day or night. I can’t make up for how Georgie treated you. You have to learn to trust me.’

Promises to be back by Christmas. I take gulp of air and say, ‘Look, I won’t telephone or expect you to telephone me. I want to get over this fear and make a fresh start.’

Janice lopes off into the night. So far she hasn’t stayed over. I’m waiting for some imaginary green light to proceed. Sit up late with Kitten on my knee. Realise that one of the things I most like about Janice is that she’s so straightforward, treats me as a friend yet we seem to be much more than friends. Georgie was never straightforward. And I recognise that never knowing what Georgie was thinking, doing, feeling was what had undermined me, made me the puppy or the whimperer. I had knowledge now. I wasn’t just...loving in the dark. Oh sod it. Must stop writing and get to bed.

December 6
^th

Receive Christmas card from Tabby. Picture of a horse looking philosophical. Inside, Tabby’s written,
where our friendship goes from here is up to you. Season’s Greetings.

Send card to Tabby. Choose cheerful, cheeky robin. Enclose short note suggesting that perhaps in New Year we might meet up say half-way between each other’s house for lunch.

December 8
^th

Go Christmas shopping with Deirdre. First stop is Ikea. Mildly quibble as Deirdre starts measuring the length, height and depth of a linen cushioned sofa. ‘Christmas shopping, Deirdre? Gifts for other people?’

She ignores me. ‘Write this down,’ she says.

I scrabble in my bag for paper and pen. She dictates, I write. She double checks my writing.

‘What do you think of the colour?’

‘Off-white?’

‘Yes.’

‘What about your white leather settees?’

‘Sofas,’ she corrects me. ‘Look, they’re fine for Bittlesea Bay but they do not yell London Town.’