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Mother’s Love
By Skinnie Stallion
Sunday
Only the second day of the half-term break and Rachel was already at her wit’s end. What was she going to do about Josh? He’d become such a handful. He wouldn’t study. He wouldn’t help around the house. She despaired of him. All it seemed he wanted to do was mope around the house and read magazines. Her magazines.
He refused to fill in any university applications. He wouldn’t even register on the UCAS system. Not that she was sure it was necessary: his school reports last summer had been poor, the forecast of his results worse. Parents’ Evening last week had been an embarrassment. There was a consistent theme across all subjects: ‘Josh needs to apply himself’, ‘Josh needs to concentrate’, ‘Shows little improvement over last year’, ‘Unless his coursework improves, even a pass at A-Level may be in jeopardy’, ‘For a boy of such obvious ability, he continues to disappoint’. Even Sport, where he used to excel, had gone down-hill: ‘Reluctant to train. Needs to get stuck in. Despite obvious ball skills, will soon lose his place in the 2nd team.’ The only positive messages came from the young Art mistress: ‘Obviously talented. Needs to stay focused and not stare into space. His sketchbook contains some superb drawings, but unrelated to building his portfolio. He needs to understand that the A-Level syllabus does not include a module on fashion and dress design.’
Rachel looked out of the window. Josh was wandering around the lawn around giving his football the odd, desultory tap. After many entreaties, she’d persuaded him to put on his football kit and go outside in the garden for a kick-around where at least he’d get some fresh air. She’d offered to ring some other mums to see if his friends wanted to join him but he’d not been keen.
Something seemed to change when he started his A-Levels. Was it puberty? It hadn’t seemed dramatic. His growth spurt last year had left him lagging behind or rather below his friends. From being of similar height, he was now a good four to six inches shorter than many of his classmates. Even many of the girls were taller than him. His voice had dropped a bit and he was healthy, but he looked so slight she was concerned the school might think he was undernourished.
His personality had changed too. He’d gone from being lively and talkative when he was doing his GCSEs, to spending time alone in his bedroom. Or hers. She sometimes found him upstairs looking through her closets. He was always too embarrassed to explain himself. He normally just ran to his room and closed the door.
She worried that he was being bullied. She wished he’d talk to her. It was hard to know what to do. Nothing was mentioned at Parents’ Evening and she didn’t want to cause a fuss when he never complained or indicated that anything was amiss. As a single mum, it almost made her wish that there was a father to offer advice and counsel but she’d brought up Josh on her own with only Mummy’s help.
She would have despaired about the next ten days but at least he’d be staying with her mother during the day while she was at work next week. Mummy was good with Josh. Always had been. Josh liked spending time with his granny’s house. Mummy probably had more patience with him, or simply knew she could hand him back to Rachel at the end of the day. Maybe Mummy would be better at telling Josh that if he wasn’t going to University next Autumn, he was going to have to get a job, and that he’d better start applying soon.
2. Monday evening
Two things struck Rachel when her mother brought Josh home on Monday evening. The first was immediate and obvious, visible before Josh even got out of her car: he was smiling. Not just smiling, he was laughing. He looked happy like he hadn’t looked in days. He seemed more subdued when he saw her and she only got an offhand “Hi, mum,” as he walked up the front path clutching his rucksack.
The second was apparent when her Mother emerged from the driver’s side of the car. Orla was wearing a pair of tight, shiny burgundy coloured pants and matching jacket. “Aren’t you forgetting something, Josh?” she said.
“Sorry, Gran.” Josh scurried back to the car and gave Orla a big kiss on the cheek.
“You’re such a sweetie,” said her mother with surprising emphasis and gave Josh a very light pat on the backside.
He scurried back up the path, turning to say: “Thanks, Gran. Thanks for a lovely day,” with a lovely smile.
“Where’s mine?” asked Rachel as he tried to sidle past her. Josh gave her a perfunctory peck, and then scampered upstairs.
“Hello Mummy,” said Rachel as her mother came to the gate for a chat. “Five questions, Mum. One: have you had a good day? Two: has Josh been OK? Three: what have you two been doing today? Josh seems like a different boy. Four: have you fed him? And five: where did you get those terrific pants? You look amazing. And can you do One and Five first, please?” she teased.
“Rachel, do you always have to be so organised and precise? You’re not at work now.”
“Sorry, mum. Force of habit. Once a Project Manager, always a Project Manager. Must be the way you brought me up,” she teased.
“Anyway, to answer your questions: Yes, and Josh has been fine. They’re so lovely. You must be so proud of them, and so brave.”
“Brave? That’s not a word I’d associate with Josh these days. At Parents’ Evening, the games master said he seemed afraid of tackling people in soccer matches.”
“There’s brave and there’s brave.”
“If you say so, Mummy. I still don’t see it.”
“Well, we chatted and watched some things on NetFlix after Josh had read some of their school books.”
“He what!?”
“They did some schoolwork.”
“That’s a first.”
“Well, they seemed fine with that. And chatted some more. And yes, Josh has had tea.”
“Thanks, Mum. And you’ve still not answered about your pants.”
“Oh, these. Do you like them?”
“I adore them. But do you think they’re appropriate.”
“Darling, of course they’re ‘appropriate’. Whatever makes you say that?”
“Well, they’re so shiny. They’re real attention grabbers. People will look at you.”
“And …..?”
“But Mummy! You know what I mean Mummy!”
“Rachel, it’s been five years since Michael died. I know it’s sad but I decided over the summer that it was time to move on. In fact it was Josh who helped me. They showed me these new styles when we were going through their sketchpad.”
“Really? Josh?”
“Yes, Josh knows so much about modern fashion.”
“Does he?”
“Yes. You really should talk to them more.”
“I try but he never wants to talk to me.”
“Just ask them to show you their sketchpad. They’ll talk.”
“Really?”
“Yes. They may even show you their private sketchpad.”
“Private Sketchpad? I didn’t know he had one.”
“There’s such a lot you don’t know Rachel.”
“Like why my Mum is wearing such sexy pants?”
“Maybe. And more besides. You just need to open your eyes, Rachel, and think about something other than work.”
“If you say so. On the subject of work, did you speak to Josh about getting jobs if he’s not going to Uni.”
“Yes, Josh is fine with that. I don’t think Josh is ready for university in any case.” Orla started to turn towards the front gate. “Look honey, I must dash. I’m meeting a friend at a bar in town at seven.”
“A friend. Which friend? And dressed like that.”
“Just a friend. No-one you know. And most definitely dressed like that. I’ll pick-up Josh tomorrow. Same time as usual. We’re going shopping.”
“Shopping! Josh never wants to go shopping!”
“Josh does want. It was their decision. Look, I must dash. Bye for now, darling.” Orla closed the gate and went back to her car.
Rachel couldn't believe what she’d just heard and seen. Josh doing schoolwork? Josh being co-operative? Josh being communicative? Josh wanting to go shopping? It almost sounded like he was back to his old self. And did she spot that her mother was wearing heels? Orla never wore heels: she was always in something practical like flats or trainers. And why had she kept referring to Josh as they or them?
3. Tuesday evening
Only Tuesday and Rachel felt tired. Why were Tuesdays always worse than Mondays? She felt weary as she opened the door to Josh who looked even happier than yesterday. He wore a beaming smile as he gave Orla an even bigger kiss. And what was her mother wearing? The white blouse and pink jacket were fine, even if the pink was a bit showy, but the skirt. The skirt! A black knee-length pencil skirt. It looked even more shiny than yesterday’s pants. It glistened in the sunlight and looked far too tight. She could only take short steps, and even those required one foot directly in front of the other. She was walking like some catwalk model, not helped by her ankle boots. Heels again. High heels. She might have looked good in those burgundy pants but she was going to have to caution her mother about wearing clothes that were unsuitable and far too young for her.
“So did you look at Josh’s sketchbook last night?” asked Orla after Josh had gone inside to watch TV.
“Well, I looked in his rucksack while he was having breakfast.”
“You did what? Didn’t you ask Josh?”
“Sorry mum, I wasn’t sure. I didn't want him to say no.”
“You can be such a silly girl, Rachel. You should have asked their permission.”
“I guess, but I didn’t want another tantrum. I offered to help him clean his room last night and he exploded. He didn’t want me going in.”
“Just let them be. It’ll take time. So what did you think of the sketches.”
“I only flicked through but they looked really good. So many pictures of girls in dresses.”
“Yes. Anything else?”
“It looks like he has a real eye for fashion.”
“Most definitely. And…?”
“I can see why his teacher complained about him not staying focused on his course work.”
“Oh Rachel, you need to look closer.”
“What do you mean?”
“What I said, you need to take bit more time. Everything has to be so quick with you. You may be a project manager, but speed isn’t everything. Though saying that, I need to get going.”
“Why? I thought we could stay and chat. I wanted to find out about your shopping trip.”
“Sorry, I’m out for dinner.”
“Who with?”
“Oh, no-one you know. Just a friend.”
“The same friend as last night?”
“Maybe,” replied Orla cryptically.
“But you can’t go out to a restaurant dressed like that!”
“Why ever not?”
“You look like some …. some……”
“Spit it out, darling.”
“Some young tart!”
“Thank you darling,” Orla said with a smile. “That’s one of the nicest compliments you’ve given me. I’ll take ‘young’ any day. And ‘tart’? Well, let’s see after tonight.”
“Mummy! You are awful! Where did you get that skirt?”
“Why? Do you want one yourself?”
“Er….” Rachel paused. Secretly she longed to try her mum’s skirt and yesterday’s pants. Trouser suits for work and jeans at home might be practical but were so boring, day after day the same.
“A place called Bergman and Knightley. It was Josh who suggested we go there.”
“Josh?”
“Yes, Josh. Like you said, ‘he has a real eye’. Must dash. Bye, bye, darling.”
After Josh had gone to bed, Rachel looked up Bergman and Knightley. Her eyes nearly popped open. She had some vague memory of seeing a spread about them in the local rag when they opened their store in town some months ago. Maybe something in VOGUE too. She didn’t know why she bothered to keep her VOGUE subscription. She hardly ever read it, and most months her copy seemed to disappear, though she could never remember putting it in the recycling.
She’d have to have another look at Josh’s sketchbook tomorrow morning.
4. Wednesday evening
“Bye Gran. Thanks for great day.” He held his grandmother’s hand who pulled him close and kissed him. “Thanks for everything,” he said with a wink and kissed her back. He ran past Rachel with a spring in his step, pausing only to give her the briefest of pecks.
“What was that all about?” asked Rachel. There was something different about Josh, she thought, but he went past so quickly, she couldn't place it.
“Oh, nothing, darling. Josh will tell you all about it. We had another shopping day. I wanted to go back to B&K and so did Josh.”
“B&K?”
“Yes, B&K. The place I told you about yesterday: Bergman and Knightley.”
“Again? I looked on-line yesterday and they seem mostly to sell what I can only describe as fetish wear. It’s all latex, and leather, and PVC.”
“Not all, darling. They do lots of other fabrics although they do rather specialise in latex and PVC.”
“And leather,” added Rachel staring at her mother’s midi-length pencil skirt.
“Yes, and leather,” accepted Orla But they do make-up, and shoes, and lingerie ….”
“…. in latex and leather…”
“And lace and cotton…”
“…. and PVC.”
“If you insist. You do seem rather obsessed about their stylings. B&K does have a rather lovely coffee shop on the top floor. Josh adores their spiced latte and cinnamon buns.”
“He can get that at GAIL’s.”
“Maybe, but the staff and the view are much nicer at B&K.”
“Are they really? I don’t want you leading Josh astray.”
“I think it’s more Josh leading me. They’ve helped me to discover a whole new side.”
“Really. I had another look at his sketchbook this morning.”
"What did you see this time?"
"His face. His face is there. He's drawn his face."
"You noticed."
"Every figure. Every model. Every pose. It's him. Him wearing a dress. Him wearing lingerie."
“Yes.”
"I couldn't believe it. What does that make him? Some kind of pervert?”
“Hardly.”
“A twink, then."
"That’s a rather ugly description, Rachel."
"OK then, gay. Is he gay?"
"I wouldn’t necessarily say gay. Non-binary is probably better. Josh is certainly different.”
“Different as in drawing pictures of himself in women’s clothing.”
“Think about it some more, honey. You really must have a proper chat with him tonight.”
“Why doesn’t he have a chat with me, then?”
“Because they haven’t known how. They’ve been so worried.”
“Worried? He’d be better working than worrying.”
“You can be very hard at times. Just sit down and talk but, more importantly, listen.”
“To hear from my non-binary son.”
“Josh is just finding their way. If you find that difficult, think of them someone who’s uncomfortable in their current body. Someone who’s confused and trying to work things out. Exploring possibilities.”
“He’s not been having sex has he? Not gay sex?”
“No darling. At least not yet. Don’t jump ahead. Josh doesn’t quite know what they want or what they fancy except wanting to be more feminine and wear more feminine clothes. They’re so confused.”
“He’s a sissy, then.”
“If you must, but a gentle, kind soul who’s very nervous and wary of the world.”
“So why did you go back to Bergman and Knightley, today? And don’t tell me for cinnamon buns.”
“When we were browsing yesterday, there was a sign in the window advertising for staff. Josh wanted to go back and ask them about jobs.”
“Josh ask about jobs! That’s the first time he’s been proactive about anything recently.”
“So be happy then. Josh has got an interview on Friday morning.”
“An interview! An interview! Rachel started to babble with anxious excitement. “He’ll need to prepare. He’ll need to look smart. He’ll need a haircut. He’ll need to think about questions….”
“Calm down! I’ve already been through all that with Josh. They have an appointment at the B&K salon tomorrow. I’ll sort out some clothes too. They’ll go in on Friday looking like an ideal candidate. Now why don’t we go inside and have a chat with Josh? They’ve already gone in to put the kettle on. Josh wants me there, at least at the start. I’ll then leave you two to talk. I don’t want to get in the way.. I just ask you to think before you speak. Josh loves you so much and doesn’t want to hurt or disappoint you.”
Rachel followed her mother into the house. She couldn’t believe what she’d just heard.
Orla sat between them on the sofa as they talked, holding their hands as the tears came - tears not of sorrow but of release, tears of love - sat between them like the wise lady she was. And then she’d stood up and brought their hands together, and then they hugged. Rachel felt so proud of Josh. Proud that they could talk to her. Finally understanding Josh’s doubts and uncertainties. Understanding their unhappiness and difficulties. Accepting that there didn’t need to be a plan. She hugged her boy. A boy yet not a boy. Her girl, but not a girl. Not now, not yet at anyways.
And then they were both hugging Orla. Rachel had never been more appreciative of her mother: a mother who listened. A mother with patience. A mother who’d guided her and loved her. A mother who’d helped her when she was a single parent and didn’t judge, and didn’t criticise. Didn’t criticise her mistakes. Josh had been the fruit of one of those mistakes. The happiest mistake she’d ever made. She needed to love Josh like Orla had loved and still loved her: a mother’s love.
Josh was hugging her too, tears streaming down his face, eyeliner and mascara and leaving watery grey trails down their cheeks. She’d known there was something different about Josh earlier but hadn’t looked. Hadn’t looked closely enough. Hadn’t looked properly. He was wearing eye make-up.
Josh had talked. Talked and talked. Orla had left them after a while. She was meeting a friend again. Another friend? Rachel didn’t bother asking. She just complimented Orla on how she looked. Admired her skirt and leather jacket - more B&K purchases, no doubt – and hoped she had a good evening. Despite herself, she couldn't resist saying a cautionary, “Take care, mum. Don't do anything I wouldn’t do,” albeit jovially and light-heartedly.
“Oh, I definitely intend to do that,” retorted Orla. “There’s a lot of things I’ve found I like doing. Aren’t there Josh?”
Josh sniggered. “Yes, Gran. Have fun, but do take care like Mum says.”
“Don’t worry, I will,” Orla said as her parting shot.
“What did she mean ‘there’s a lot of things I like doing’?” Rachel asked Josh as soon as her mother had left.
“Oh, mum! You know! All the sorts of things ladies do. The sort of things ladies enjoy. Gran’s got a new lease of life since I introduced her to Bergman and Knightley.”
“She certainly has that,” agreed Rachel. “And a whole new wardrobe.”
After talking for a couple of hours, Josh had taken Rachel up to his bedroom. It was tidier than Rachel had imagined. Rachel spotted a stack of VOGUEs piled in a corner. She declined their return: her magazines had found a good home. They sat on the bed and went through Josh’s Sketchbook, and then their Private Sketchbook. There were more tears as Josh revealed his most secret desires, uncertain whether they were desires or fantasies. But desire to be something other than what they were.
Then Josh brought out from under the bed his shoebox containing little devices that he’d taken to wearing since the summer. He showed her without embarrassment. They were past that. Showed her knowing that she’d understand. Devices with different designs but the same purpose. Devices of diminishing size. Devices that made him feel less like a boy. Devices that helped suppress some of his boyish instincts and made him feel less ugly. Devices that hid that ‘thing’ but left him frustrated. Devices that made it uncomfortable playing football. Devices that meant he couldn’t get muddy or go in the showers when he played football. Padlocked devices. Padlocked with keys that resided safely in his bedside drawer. Devices that needed to stay locked. Rachel kissed and hugged Josh. Her poor darling. So confused. And she’d not known. How had she not known? Why hadn’t Josh been able to tell her. Had Orla known? Had it been a confidence between Orla and Josh?
Rachel cried. Now it was Josh’s turn to comfort her. How had she got it so wrong? She’d always made assumptions about what he was doing when he went upstairs to his bedroom ‘ Looking at pictures of models in VOGUE, or stuff on the internet. If only she’d thought. If only she’d observed and listened. If only she’d taken the time. She was only just starting to understand the mortification and sacrifice that Josh had been putting themselves through. He must have been so lonely and she hadn’t been there for him.
Rachel could see Josh was wanting to say something but seemed hesitant. Rather than push them, she waited. Eventually, it came: “Mum, can I ask you something?”
“Of course, darling.” After the evening’s revelations, Rachel was bracing herself for his question.
“Gran said I had to ask you.”
“Yes, darling, about what.”
“Mum …. Mum,” he hesitated and then blurted, “Mum can I get my ears pierced?”
Rachel sighed with relief. “Of course darling, of course you can.”
“Thanks Mum. Gran said you’d be Ok. Thanks Mum, you’re the best.”
They’d chatted more. Josh wanted to talk about earrings and dresses, and all kinds of everything but eventually Rachel insisted that it was time for bed.
“You sleep in that thing?” she enquired.
“Yes, Mum.”
“Isn’t it uncomfortable?”
“It was at first, but I’m used to it now. It’s much easier now I’m wearing smaller sizes.”
“I wish you’d told me, Josh.”
“Don’t worry, Mum. I have now. I feel so relieved that I’ve told you. Gran said it would be better.”
“It is, Josh, It is. Now night, night, Josh.” She kissed and hugged him. “Sleep tight,” she said as she closed his bedroom door, only realising the dual meaning of what she said as she started down the stairs.
5. Thursday afternoon
Rachel felt tired and drained after yesterday evening. She had sat downstairs long into the night after they’d finished talking. Quiet and pensive, she’d pondered on all that she’d heard. There had been so much to absorb, so much to process. Was it shock, or was it coming to terms with something she’d felt for a long time? Her son was a sissy, or at least thought he was. She’d always tried to dismiss the thought that Josh wasn’t like other boys. Never played like other boys. Didn’t share the same interests except football. Had she done something wrong, or was this just the way Josh was meant to be? Why had Orla seen this and not her? And now he was going to being interviewed for a job at Bergman and Knightley.
He would have been having a make-over this morning at Bergman and Knightley ahead of the interview. She’d left it to Orla to organise. Her mother seemed happy to pay too. All she’d heard during the day was a couple of texts. Her mother still used text despite Rachel’s entreaties to use WhatsApp. ‘I’m just an old fashioned girl’, she’d say. ‘I can’t keep up with all this modern technology.’ Old fashioned? She could have fooled Rachel. The way she was dressing was nothing like ‘old-fashioned’. Cutting edge, more like.
‘Think Josh should go blonde’ was all the message had said. Rachel hadn’t replied. She wasn’t going to disagree if that was what Josh wanted. Now she was going to have a son with blonde hair and pierced ears. In the past she’d have worried about what her mother would say. Now it was her mother taking the lead. How times had changed. Two hours later she received another terse message: ‘Josh blonde’, and that was all.
A motorbike roared along the road. ‘Bloody bikers,’ she thought, disturbing a quiet afternoon. An engine revved several times outside the house and then fell silent. Rachel went to the window to check what was going on. Drawing back the net curtain, she saw the rider in red leather biker jacket was removing their helmet. she couldn't believe her eyes: blonde hair was shaken and there was Orla. Orla as a biker and in another pair of PVC pants, this time red rather than burgundy. She couldn’t believe it. She seemed to remember her mother once telling her that she’d ridden a bike after leaving college. But this wasn’t some scooter, it was a proper biker’s bike, a Norton 961. Kids playing in the street gathered to admire the bike.
Some dads also appeared but their attentions were divided. Not just between the bike and Orla, but the girl she was holding hands with. A pretty blonde girl dressed in matching biker gear. Rachel took a longer look and did a double-take. That wasn’t a girl, it was Josh. Josh like she’d never seen him. She couldn’t believe she was looking at her boy. So pretty. So happy looking. Josh as he wanted to be , and finally she understood. This was Josh as he was meant to be: pretty, cute, and adorable. She had never felt prouder.
Rachel could see that Orla was speaking to Josh but couldn’t lip read. She went to open the front door to welcome them. It meant she missed Orla saying to Josh: “Your Mum is in for a bit of a shock, Josh. You see the only thing I have really told her is that you have gone blonde.”
“Oh Gran!” exclaimed Josh, concerned about Rachel’s possible reaction.
“Never mind, it won’t be the first time your Grandma has been in trouble with your Mum.”
“What do you mean, Gran?”
“Oh, like that time I took you to Thorpe Park and you were sick on one of the roller-coasters.”
“That was ages ago, and I was only twelve.”
“I still don’t think she’s forgiven me though,” chuckled Orla. “Anyway, let’s go and face the music,” she added seeing Rachel coming to the gate.
“Hello, you two. Had a nice day?” asked Rachel looking them both up and down. She realised not only Josh was wearing the same outfit as Orla, he had similar footwear too. Both stood tall in shiny, cherry red dagger heeled ankle boots. Josh was wearing heels.
“The best-est day ever!” said Josh.
Rachel turned to her mother. “And you Mum? How’s your day been?”
“I think the results speak for themselves,” Orla said, looking at Josh. “Aren’t they pretty?”
“And the bike?”
“Oh that thing. I thought it was time for a change. My old bike has been gathering dust for years. A bit like me. I decided to trade it in and get a new model. Do you think it suits the new me?”
“Perfectly.” It wasn’t just Josh who looked happy. Her mother looked radiant. Spending time with Josh had been good for her. Rachel felt she too needed to spend much more time with Josh.
“Thank you darling.”
“And the biker gear suits you. You look wonderful, Mum. But did Josh really need a matching set?”
“Well, if I was going to be running him around town, it seemed sensible. And he does look good in it, doesn’t he.”
“Yes, Mum. I’ve never really seen it before, but he is pretty. Very pretty.”
“A little foundation, some lipstick and eyeshadow can do wonders for a boy. I’ll let Josh talk you through their make-over. We’ve gone through possible interview questions, and I’ve sorted out an outfit for him to wear tomorrow.”
“I thought he could wear his school suit.”
“Oh, no. Josh needs something far more appropriate if they’re applying to B&K. I’ll pick them up at the normal time tomorrow. I’ll be using the car though. He can change and get ready at mine. Anyway, must dash. I’m out again tonight.” Orla mounted the bike. As she straddled the machine and stood tall to kick-start the Norton she chuckled to Rachel, “It does feel nice to have something between my legs again.” With that the machine sprang into life leaving a puzzled Rachel and a group of admiring kids and dads.
6. Friday afternoon
Rachel had been on tenterhooks all day. She’d rung her office to say she was going to work from home in the morning and take the afternoon off. Part of her had wanted to take the morning off too and go with Josh to B&K to show her support but she’d thought it better to leave matters with Orla. Her mother had arranged everything and had been guiding Josh through the interview process; for once Rachel knew it was better to stand back and leave matters in capable hands. Work would keep her occupied and not fret.
She still couldn't believe Josh’s transformation: the sullen boy at the start of the week had blossomed into a new person. Happy in themselves and in their own skin, and very happy in skin-tight PVC. Never happier. He did look wonderful and, she hesitated to think it of her own son, sexy in those pants. The pants hugged his figure so tightly that she felt she had to ask him about his device thingy. How could he look so … so … so damn feminine down there? “Oh mum, I don’t need to wear one of those now. I know what I am. And the salesgirls at B&K showed me how to get smooth lines when I was in the fitting room. They were so helpful.”
‘I’ll bet they were,’ thought Rachel, who merely said “Really?” in acknowledgement. He really did have beautifully smooth lines down there. She thought better than to ask more.
“And Mum, what do you think of my make-up? Isn’t it fab? They did me and Gran together. We were side-by-side in the salon. They put a bit more blush on me to highlight my cheekbones. Do you like it? Do you like what they’ve done?”
Rachel sighed. Josh sounded as excited as any girl; as excited as she’d been when Orla had first allowed her to wear with lipstick and proud of her tentative daubs. “You look lovely, darling.” She had to accept he was beautiful, as beautiful as any girl. Her beautiful high-heeled boy. She was happy for him.
She heard them before she saw them and ran outside. They were laughing and talking. For some reason, Orla hadn’t parked outside the house. It was as if she wanted to walk down the street for all to see. Orla and a pretty young girl. And what a sight they were. Her mother, but her mother in tight black PVC pants and a white bolero blazer with the prettiest girl Rachel felt she’d ever seen. A girl wearing a shiny, figure hugging, off-the shoulder pink dress with a matching pink bow in her hair. She tried to make out the fabric of the dress. It folded and rippled as she walked. It had to be made of latex: sheer pink latex. A girl wearing pink high heels. Courts like her mother’s with heels that had to be at least five inches high.
The girl had flowing blonde hair. Who was she? As they got closer, she could see the girl was wearing earrings. Teardrop amber and mother of pearl earrings dangled from her lobes. That clinched it and Rachel let out a whoop of delight. It was Josh. Josh wearing a pair of her mother’s earrings, but his hair had changed again. Gone was the pixie look of yesterday, in was flowing blonde hair. He must have had hair extensions or be wearing a wig. “Darling, you look amazing,” she exclaimed as they got closer. Yesterday he’d seemed a bit nervous when he got off Orla’s bike wearing those shiny red pants. But at least they were pants. Now he was wearing a drees and he didn’t seem to care if the neighbours saw him. “How did it go?” she called.
“Good, I think. At least they liked what I was wearing.”
“You can’t go wrong dressed in B&K,” added Orla.
“Well, you should know,” said Rachel. “But what about the interview questions?”
“Fine, I think,” said Josh. “They seemed to like me.”
“When will you hear anything?” asked an excited Rachel.
“Soon, they said. They’re seeing other candidates but they expect to make a decision today. Now why don’t we have a nice cup of tea,” said Orla trying to calm things. “Josh, why don’t you go up and change into your new football kit. I’m sure Rachel would like to see it. Maybe we could have a kick around later, although I’m not really wearing the right shoes.”
“Sure thing, Gran.”
As Josh sashayed indoors, an astonished Rachel asked, “How on earth have you got him to do that? Keen to play football?”
“We went to a sports shop after the interview and I bought him the Chelsea strip.”
“So?” queried Rachel.
“The Chelsea Women’s strip.” Rachel still looked puzzled prompting Orla to add, “For goodness sake Rachel, they’ve won the Treble this year. Josh is very happy to be a Chelsea lady.”
An hour later, Rachel and Orla were stood in the garden watching Josh demonstrate his ball skills. Seeing him dribble the ball, Rachel felt he was back to his old self. It wasn’t just wearing the Chelsea strip but it helped. So many things had helped. “Even if Josh doesn’t get the job, aren’t you proud, Rachel? Doesn’t Josh look wonderful?”
“Absolutely fabulous. She’s perfect.” She. There she’d said it. Not him. Not they. She. Josh was a girl, at least as long as she wanted to be. Rachel was proud of her. Josh was so brave.
When Rachel looked at how her mother was now dressing, she could see where Josh’s bravery came from. While Orla had supported Josh, it seemed like Josh had been a strong influence on Orla. She’d found herself. It wasn’t just Josh who looked fabulous, so did Orla. She’d been reinvigorated and found a new style and a new lease of life. She looked twenty years younger. More like an older sister than her mother. Rachel realised that maybe she should loosen up and follow her mother’s example. Josh’s influence might be good for her too.
Orla’s phone rang. The call was over in less than a minute. The smile growing on Orla’s face said it all. She closed the call. “Josh has got it. They said that he will have to wait another 9 months, but they are very eager to have him. It’s all done Rachel. You are going to have a daughter.”
“Thanks, Mum,” said Rachel, barely able to contain her happiness.
“A daughter in full -time employment as soon as they leave school. And there’s more,
Bergman and Knightley are not only offering Josh a full-time position next summer, but they’re proposing that Josh starts in a Saturday job as soon as possible to gain experience.”
“What kind of experience would that be?” asked Rachel.
“As a Saturday Girl. They say Josh would fit right in. I think you should go and tell him the good news, Rachel.”
“Why don’t we do it together? After all, you put in all the hard work.”
“OK. And can I suggest that we all go out together tonight to celebrate? I’d like you meet my new girlfriend.”
“Girlfriend! Mum, I thought you’d been meeting a man.”
“Oh no, honey. Someone altogether nicer. One of the managers at B&K.”
“Mummy! You’re terrible! Well, let me be a bit naughty too. I’m going suggest that if we all go out together and Josh wears her interview dress, do you think she’d let me borrow her shiny red pants? I’m dying to try them on.”
“You’ll have to ask Josh, but I think you’d look splendid in them. You will need to wear heels though. We can’t have you in trainers and me and Josh in heels.”
“Sure.”
“I can see you getting a complete B&K makeover if Josh is going to be working there. Oh, and Rachel……”
“Yes, Mum?”
“B&K are suggesting that Josh is known as Jess or Decca. Would you be OK with that? I think Josh prefers Decca.”
“Sure. Decca is nice.”
Orla turned towards Josh, “Decca, Mummy’s got some good news for you. And she has a question as well.”
Now it was Rachel’s turn to blush and get flustered. But she was already looking forward to lots of girly chats with Decca. Her Decca.
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