Stilettos & Stubble (27 page)

Everyone then
started up with their own stories;

‘No one else
would give me a gig cos they said I was past it!’

“The Glove’ is
well known for its great atmosphere and camaraderie.’

‘Working at
‘Madame LeBlanc’s almost killed me - what a bunch of bitches!  I was on Prozac
after a week!’

I found myself
rising slowly to my feet and realised that all eyes were now on me.  I felt my
customary flush of embarrassment but I carried on regardless.  These people
were my friends - they wouldn’t mock me or my heartfelt words.

‘I agree with
everything you’ve all said.  The Glove accepts people for who they are.  It’s
the first place I’ve ever felt like I belonged - where I’ve looked forward to
coming in and being a part of a great group.  It’s taught me so much - sadly
maybe
some
of it a little too late - but I think it’s finally made me
see that it’s what’s inside that counts.  None of us are really what we appear
to be on the outside but that doesn’t
matter
, does it? 
Other
stuff - the bigger things in life - are far more important and I think The
Glove has that in bucket loads.  We
will
survive this.  I just know it.’

I sat back down
to a mini round of applause and the sight of Annie and Tittie dabbing at their
eyes.

As the clapping died
down, we heard the front door slam - we must have forgotten to lock it in our
rush to get to the meeting - and Dave went to see who it was.

He returned with
a shrug of his shoulders, ‘Must have been the wind.  So what’s the next step
then?’

And, as exhausted
and miserable as I was - and on my first day off in months - I stayed on and
chatted with the girls, trying to come up with a solution.

It sure beat
being home alone.

Chapter
Twenty-Seven

Although I was
having a break from my night time shifts, I knew I’d end up spending most of my
spare time during the day at The Glove - so much for my valuable wound-licking
time, where I’d planned to sob, eat chocolate, stroke Bogey and watch trashy rom-coms.

I guess I
realised that having company would help.  We were all united in our mission to
keep the club open and I sensed a closeness had enveloped us that was stronger
than ever before.

And so I found
myself the morning after the meeting in the office by eleven, studying our rent
and lease contract and looking up complicated terms on the web in the vain hope
that we could get off on some sort of technicality.

My mobile
signalled a call and I rummaged in my bag for it, befuddled by legal jargon.

It was Luke.  My
heart skipped several beats and I threw the phone down on the desk backing away
from it.  Stupidly, the thought ran through my head that I looked a mess in
jeans and baggy T-shirt - old habits die hard.

For some reason,
I couldn’t bring myself to answer it.  When it finally stopped ringing, I
breathed a sigh of relief.

Immediately, it
started up again.  I stared at it and gestured at it to ‘shush.’

Suddenly Annie
was behind me, putting his leather satchel and a bag of croissants on the
desk.  ‘Hey, Perce!  I know it’s pretty radical but I always find the best way
to stop a phone ringing is to answer it.  Give it a go.’

I regarded him in
horror.  ‘Answer it?’  I looked back at the phone which had finally ended its
ringing session.  ‘There!’ I said with a forced smile.  ‘No need now.  It’s stopped.’

‘Phewie!  Nothing
gets past
you
this morning does it?  A force to be reckoned with, eh?’ 
Annie was stirring milk into two coffees and then he came to the desk and
placed one in front of each of us, opening the bag and offering me a croissant. 
‘Eat and speak.  No more, ‘
Oh I don’t
want to talk about it’
- just
get it all out and we’ll see what we can do about it.’

I took the
croissant and began to pick flaky little crumbs off and put them in my mouth. 
I really wasn’t hungry but I was grateful for the distraction as Annie examined
his nails and waited.  He meant business and he wasn’t going to let me off the
hook lightly, especially after the way I’d bullied him the previous day.

‘I’m waiting.’ 
He tapped his leather boot on the floor impatiently.

‘OK, OK!’  I
slammed my croissant down on the desk causing a spray of buttery little crumbs
to billow into the air and across the floor.

‘Don’t even
think
of getting the vacuum cleaner out to clear that up,’ Annie said, ‘I’m one step
ahead of you and the rats can get it later anyway.’

I brushed the fallout
from my lap and looked at Annie.  Maybe it
would
help to talk.  ‘Luke
and I had a row.  He told me that I was always trying to be something that I’m
not and … well, I guess he’s right.  I was spending my life fixing myself up
and trying to be gorgeous - that’s not
me,
Annie.’

It all sounded so
simple when put together in a couple of sentences - blindingly clear-cut and
uncomplicated.

Annie nodded and
stroked his chin in thought.  ‘Well if he’s
right
, where’s the
problemo?  Just be your faberooney self, with no act, and you go back to being
hunky dory.’  He tipped his head to one side and asked, ‘Don’t you?’

‘That’s just it,
Annie.  I can’t help thinking if I’m just ‘Boring Old Perce’, with none of the
glitz and glamour, he’ll soon tire of me.  So I’ll be back to square one
anyway.  I guess we’re just doomed.’

Annie tutted
loudly.  ‘Don’t talk such shit!  You’re
never
just ‘Boring Old Perce’.  You’re
a wonderful, warm, attractive woman and if Lukey boy can’t see that then he
doesn’t deserve you.  When will you start believing in yourself?’  He stood and
went to the filing cabinet to flick the kettle back on.  ‘You know, your
buggering mother has an awful lot to answer for and trust me, Perce, if I ever
get to meet her face to face I’ll give her the biggest piece of my mind and it
won’t
be pretty.  She’s saddled you with an inferiority complex and it’s got to
stop.  She should be ashamed of herself.’

I knew he was
right and I realised he was only saying these things because he cared, but I
didn’t see how it could change my situation.  There was no way a man like Luke
would continue to be interested in what was ultimately a Plain Jane.  He could
have his pick of the bunch - pretty little London socialites with silky locks
and a smattering of perfect freckles.  They lunched, they shopped, had degrees
in fine art and skied bi-annually.

In contrast, I
wore magic knickers, had outbreaks of pre-menstrual acne, leg hair that grew
like the Amazon forest and the early onset of a fine pair of Bingo wings.

‘Thanks Annie.’  I
broke a piece of croissant off and started to eat, my appetite returning.  ‘I,
for one, would love to see the showdown between you and my mother but I really
wouldn’t know who to put my money on.  She’s got a wicked tongue on her, you
know.’

Annie flared his
nostrils and looked positively terrifying.  ‘Pah!  She doesn’t scare me.  Bring
it on, I say.  Bring it on.’

I shuddered at
the thought.  Thank goodness it was unlikely to ever happen.

*****

I kept my promise
and accompanied Annie to any hospital appointments he had.  This enabled Tittie
to remain at the club and ensure that it ran as smoothly as possible.

I’d asked Annie
if he’d prefer Tittie to go with him but he’d refused.  ‘He’s too close to the
whole thing.  He ends up getting all emotional and making me more worried.  No,
you come Hun.  We can bitch about the nurses’ legs.’

And so I found
myself sitting around in waiting rooms with many spare hours to think.  Blood
tests followed scans followed one consultant after another and two-year-old,
dog-eared copies of ‘People’s Friend’ soon lost their appeal.

I refused to
dwell on my broken heart.  Luke had tried calling several times but I’d made up
my mind it was over - far better to take the control now and deal with the
misery than to repeat it all a few months down the track.

It was early
December and Annie was due to receive his final results.  We were sitting in
yet another soulless waiting area and he was tapping his feet, biting his nails
and whistling simultaneously.  The man opposite looked at him in annoyance but
Annie just smiled and gave a little wave.  He was beyond nervous and I took his
hand and held it tightly in mine in a bid to calm him down.

‘Soon be over,’ I
told him.

‘Only when the
fat lady sings,’ he quipped.  ‘And by the look of that Hattie Jacques nurse
over there, it could be any time soon.’

We sat in silence
for a couple of minutes and Annie went on.  ‘It’s put everything into
perspective, this scare.  I’ve been drifting for far too long - taking things
for granted and not really putting in the graft.  I had such high hopes for The
Glove - it was my dream to have one of the most successful drag clubs in London but I ended up being content to just let it tick over and never upped my game.  Now
I’ll be happy if we can just manage to hang on to it and, if we do, I’m gonna
work my balls off.’  He chuckled at his choice of words.  ‘I mean it, Perce. 
No more resting on my laurels - I owe it to you and the girls.  Let’s just hope
we can sort this, eh?’

As his name was
called and he left me with a squeeze on the knee to discover his fate, a
smattering of words raced across my mind. 
‘Write what you know’
.

I pulled a scrap
of paper from my bag and started making notes.

Hopes, dreams,
acceptance, friendship,‘The Gossamer Glove’

*****

It was good
news.  It was far from over but it was nothing serious.

Annie had a
hydrocele - a harmless gathering of fluid in the sac surrounding his testicle. 
He was booked in for drainage and removal and, although he’d be in a little
discomfort for a few days afterwards, everything would be fine.

He was fortunate
enough to get an appointment for mid-December which meant he would be out in
time for Christmas and able to recuperate at home.

‘And if anyone
makes any jokes about Santa’s sack being full, I’ll have their guts for
garters, Perce!’  Annie was on top form again, holding my hand and swinging my
arm energetically as we almost skipped back to the tube station.

‘I’m not dying, Perce! 
Isn’t that the best Christmas present we could ask for?’

I nodded and
placed a kiss on his cheek, ‘Yes Annie, it’s just the best.’

But, if I was
totally honest with myself, I could also think of one more thing I would have
liked - but that was
never
going to happen.

*****

Annie insisted on
taking me to the Harvey Nichol’s champagne bar to celebrate and thank me for my
friendship.

‘But Annie, I
look like crap.  They won’t let me in.  Let’s just go to the pub.’

He stopped mid
walk and stomped his foot on the pavement, pulling me to him roughly by the
elbows.  ‘Stop that right now this minute.  No more!  You’ve got your good
jeans on, your tits look great in that top and you’ve got your kick-ass boots
on - if you just attempt a little smile and hold your head high, things will be
just grand.’

And so I found
myself sipping champers surrounded by pretty young things and London’s up and
coming.  A rather attractive young man smiled at me and I smiled back.

‘Work it baby! 
Work it!’  Annie leaned over and whispered in my ear and I thumped him on the
arm, rather too hard.  ‘Oy, Missus!  Watch it!  Don’t abuse the infirm.  And
drink up, you’re too slow.’

We sat drinking
and chatting and just generally relaxing after the trauma of the past few
weeks.  It was great to unwind and be away from the club - just to put all the
misery out of our minds.

‘You called Lover
Boy yet?’ Annie asked, chewing on some ridiculously over-priced peanuts.

‘Nope!  And I’m
not going to.  My mind’s made up. 
This
fat lady’s singing.  It’s over.’

‘Well, I think
you’re a fool but I know you won’t change your mind based on my opinion.  If
you want to die a miserable old spinster, surrounded by ancient queens, you’re
going the right way about it.’

His speech was
halted abruptly when I needed to open my bag to read a text.  I left him to
order a second bottle of champagne and read a message from Diana.

‘Tom’s
called!!!!  He wants to see me!!!  What should I wear?  HELP!  xx’

My reply was
simple and from the heart.

‘Just be yourself!
 xx’

*****

I was pleased for
Diana.  Of course I was.  But I was only human and couldn’t help feeling the
slightest pang of jealousy.  Tom had clearly found his senses and their
relationship was now going from strength to strength.

‘Vot lucky bitch!’
Lubov said as she painted her nails at my desk one afternoon.  ‘But is goot somesing
vurk out for vun of us - love is alive and zis we must remember.’

Lubov and I had
taken to hanging out together more and more.  It was weird to have a friend more
or less the same size as me - it was a new feeling.  We started sharing clothes
and I began to see that what looked good on her looked good on me.  My style
was becoming simple but trendy and I could feel myself blossoming despite my
broken heart.