Out and Proud

by Lisa Young

  Go Well, Prudence

  Director of Healing, Inside Out Organisation. BSHHiT, PhD in Healing Therapies

  Abruptly closing the computer screen, Lottie fought a sinking feeling, as dread gathered in the pit of her already fragile stomach. “Crap!” she muttered, knowing full well that she wasn’t going to be able to refuse a direct instruction to attend.

  Apart from the fact that anything Pru said sounded more like an instruction than an invitation, one of Lottie’s character flaws was her complete inability to think on her feet and escape dreaded social situations. She also couldn’t lie convincingly. On the odd occasion that she had braved a lie and gone for a sick cat or a dying aunt she had felt an overwhelming burden of guilt, and, after being caught out, she had vowed that if her brain wouldn’t give her an excuse in the moment she would simply have to bear it.

  Lottie felt that Pru was a powerful force, and she always found her instructions hard to refuse. Oh well, she thought, there were no plans for Thursday as Alice was away for work and she could probably get Mel to come along for moral support. She resigned herself to the inevitable, mentally noting she needed to call at Sainsbury’s on the way home from work to pick up a suitable food contribution. Although, what she could get without offending the delicate constitutions of those attending, she couldn’t quite decide.

  A BUSY WEEK followed, including a dinner date with Alice where, thankfully, sex was not in the cards as she had an early call at Grant’s Farm the following morning. Keen to avoid any exploration of her own sexual history, Lottie had embarked upon a mission to keep the conversation firmly based on Alice’s life. Although, try as she might, Alice had remained frustratingly tight-lipped about her own relationship history. Lottie considered herself skilled at eliciting personal information from virtual strangers, after all, she was grade three in her sales skills training, and yet she could not seem to get a coherent account from Alice about her previous partners. Lottie was left with the sense that Alice was being evasive, and she felt herself becoming frustrated and all the more curious about Alice’s experiences. In a desperate attempt to obtain some context to Alice, Lottie had made the mistake of requesting Alice’s number. Lottie realised that this was a risky strategy, as she might be asked to provide her own, and so she had abandoned her feeble attempt when Alice had waved both hands in her direction indicating a vague ten. Lottie was keenly aware her own number would easily fit on one hand.

  LOTTIE GAVE PRU’S group little more thought until Thursday teatime, when she called into Sainsbury’s after leaving work early. She felt somewhat dismayed that Alice had come home a day earlier than expected from the female vet’s conference. Lottie had not confessed her use of the internet advice site, as she felt that Alice would think her rather foolish. So she had been forced to claim a work overload and promised to see her the following day, meaning that she now had a small white lie to remember. Lottie was not looking forward to meeting Pru. A night of re-bonding with Alice was a far more tantalising prospect.

  She strolled through the gaping jaws of the local Sainsbury’s, and, thirty minutes later, she was still pacing the aisles reading and rereading the ingredients of the various biscuits and cakes. Heading for the gluten free section, she pounced on a packet of uninviting almond slices. They were gluten free and had no meat in them. She recalled these being the main criteria. Glancing at her watch, she congratulated herself on finding a suitable contribution, despite the time delay. She hurried home for a quick shower and bite to eat before Mel arrived.

  Opening the front door, Lottie could barely contain her delight as she laid eyes on her friend. “Oh, Mel!” she shrieked. She felt it was quite possibly the most amusing sight of Mel since the cat litter debacle.

  Taking her time to fully appreciate Mel’s butched-up outfit, she chuckled.

  Slightly bemused by her friend’s reaction, Mel looked a bit aggrieved before mumbling a reply. “I’ve got to have some bloody cover if I’m gonna fit in with a bunch of lezzers. Am I getting a cuppa before we go or what?”

  Lottie had not anticipated that Mel would need a gay disguise, but quite clearly she was intending to bluff it. Slowly looking her up and down, she noted a pair of stonewashed denim dungarees, a pair of Converse trainers, and a trilby hat, set at a jaunty angle, all of which clearly made her feel somewhat camouflaged in readiness for Pru’s group. It was also the first time Lottie had seen Mel make-up free. Her hair, free of cat litter on this occasion, was scraped into a sideways ponytail that reminded Lottie of Kylie Minogue in the eighties.

  Lottie moved to let her pass, still chuckling, and noted her red talon nails, fully acrylic, not the usual nail etiquette of a fully butch lesbian, but she didn’t want to criticise her friend’s obvious effort. Humouring her friend, Lottie fished out her own black Converse trainers to an approving nod from Mel, before they set off into the night and headed for the local village hall

  They had rounded the corner and began the descent into the village, when Lottie was startled by the bright lights of a car approaching from the rear at an alarming pace. Lottie worked to the rule that these country roads were strictly thirty-mile-an-hour zones, especially after dark. The blind bends and the treacherous descents into the villages from the cliff tops meant that most local drivers preferred to get to their destination alive, if a little late. Tempted to move aside to let the maniac pass, she looked at the car clock and realised she needed to keep moving or else she risked being late.

  As she looked in the rear-view mirror again she felt her heart hit an irregular beat as the lunatic appeared a mere inch from her bumper flashing their headlights frantically and hooting in a repetitive motion on the horn. Touching her brakes momentarily in a reflex reaction of panic, Lottie broke out into a mild sweat. She was blinded by the full-on headlights of the stranger’s car and felt she was being pushed farther towards the blind bend ahead. In response the driver swerved wide of her car attempting to pass.

  “Bloody maniac!” Mel shouted as they rounded the blind corner, and the driver, seemingly oblivious to the complete lack of vision ahead, passed them making frantic gestures of a rude and unpleasant nature.

  Shocked as she realised the driver was a woman, Lottie pulled into the nearest passing point as the tail lights of the angry red car disappeared into the distance. The driver had found a way to open her sunroof and was making continued wild gestures with her two fingers, leaving Lottie under no illusion that she was considered incompetent to drive. Despite her aggressive behaviour, Lottie had heard the unmistakeable tones of Vivaldi’s Four Seasons drifting from the open sunroof. Shaken and unnerved by the driver’s erratic behaviour, she slowed to a snail’s pace as she rounded the corner and into the village, where she pulled into the village hall car park and pulled hard on the handbrake.

  After a moment in the car to regain their composure, Lottie and Mel clambered out, Lottie clutching her packet of slightly squashed almond slices. When they approached the hall entrance, there, parked in the disabled spot, was the red Citroen 2CV.

  The maniac driver, who turned out to be rather portly, was attempting to manipulate her body to make an ungainly exit from the small car while she mumbled under her breath. “Bloody cars, built for skinny French men!”

  She was followed by a scrappy and dishevelled passenger who was barely visible above the towering pile of tins and boxes she was balancing precariously in her spindly, liver-spotted, arms.

  “How the hell did someone else fit in the car with that mountain of woman?” Mel mumbled.

  Lottie returned her attention to the driver, reminded of Archie’s well-used copy of Matilda and the indomitable headmistress, Ms. Trunchball.

  Seemingly unaware that Lottie was the victim of her earlier outburst, she grinned through thin lips announcing with gusto. “Well then, you must be Charlotte. I’m Pru, and this is my assistant, Miriam.”

  Miriam’s wizened face peered meekly from behind the tins as she reluctantly parted with a timid smile.


  Lottie’s jaw dropped as she approached Pru, noting her home-knitted cardigan and her linen smock-dress. However, she smiled meekly and managed to reply. “Nice to meet you and so looking forward to the meeting.”

  With a stern glance, Prudence gave Mel a swift appraisal and turned sharply, raising an enquiring eyebrow at Lottie.

  “This is my friend, Melanie. She’d like to come to group, too.”

  “Invitation only, my dear!” Prudence snapped, but quickly recovering, she smiled in a half-drawn sneer. “One more won’t hurt, I suppose. I hope you’ve brought your piece of creative writing.”

  Without waiting for a reply, she turned with remarkable grace for someone of her size and headed for the door into the hall. Following closely at her heel was Miriam, who turned to throw them a nervous smile as she held the door open for Prudence with her free hand. Lottie threw Mel an apologetic grimace, and together they followed the odd couple through the door and into the hall.

  Poetry in Motion

  LOTTIE LOOKED CURIOUSLY around the hall at the odd assortment of females in Pru’s exclusive clan. Pru was nowhere to be seen, and so Lottie concentrated on observing her anxious assistant, Miriam, who was busying herself at the front of the long hall with an assortment of tins and chairs. Suddenly, Mel nudged her sharply in the ribs, causing Lottie to turn towards the noise coming from behind them. A loud guttural groaning bounced around the room and Mel grasped Lottie’s hand anxiously as they all turned to look towards the back of the hall.

  Pru appeared in a cloak that seemed to be constructed of feathers. Her head held high towards the sky, she groaned again, her eyes rolling upward towards an invisible source. She lifted her arms and breathed heavily. Lottie noticed her bosom heave with the physical and mental effort.

  The room fell silent.

  Slowly, Pru made her way towards the front of the group, sweeping her cloak across the heads of the women who were sitting in the circle. Some ducked away instinctively. Others breathed deeply and also lifted their eyes upward. Lottie noticed the faint smell of incense as the cloak passed above her, and she saw what she thought were blackbird feathers in amongst the grander eagle-like ones.

  Eventually, Pru rounded to face the group. Her eyes still closed, the groan became a keening wail, and as her lips pursed and gradually disappeared into her face, she uttered a welcome. “The Spirits are amongst us, ladies. Let them speak to us!”

  The room remained silent.

  Mel shot Lottie a worried glance and Lottie shrugged her shoulders in apology. At the front of the room, Miriam dutifully shook a maraca which had appeared from one of the unlabelled tins. At this signal, Pru made her way regally towards her chair, where she shot a frosty glare at Miriam, who hastily prepared Pru’s seat with a brightly coloured cushion. Pru unceremoniously plonked her ample behind down onto the hard plastic chair and rearranged her cushions with a sigh. Pru glared once again at Miriam, who avoided her gaze by studying the floor and nervously plucking at an invisible thread on her cardigan.

  Lottie glanced around the room, and noted that there were a variety of reactions from the women. Some clasped their hands in their laps and looked avidly in the direction of Pru, waiting for guidance from the spirits. Lottie noticed two younger women, seemingly oblivious to the ongoing drama, as they shot furtive glances at one another, clearly sizing up their options. Mel had not moved from her chair but Lottie was painfully aware of the acrylic finger nails digging into the side of her leg.

  “The spirits support us, friends, on our voyage of self discovery and improvement. They wish us well. Now, be gone spirits!” Pru shouted, sweeping her cape off dramatically and shaking her head slowly, while regaining her composure.

  The room remained silent. Everyone looked to Pru.

  Suddenly, and without warning, she snapped her head up and pointed with a gnarly wooden stick to the whiteboard which had appeared at the front of the room.

  “Ladies!” she shrilled. “Welcome to Pru’s Group. Let’s start with some group ground rules, shall we?”

  Gradually the room returned to some form of normality and a hushed chatter could be heard. Pru looked enquiringly around the room, apparently awaiting a response, and suggestions for the group rules. At the edge of the group, a slightly built woman with unruly wild hair stood up. Lottie hadn’t noticed her before now.

  She looked around the room nervously before announcing proudly, to no one in particular. “Hi, my name is Ella and I’m an alcoholic. I’ve been clean for twenty-eight days!”

  The room fell silent once again.

  Without warning, Pru leapt to her feet and in one swift and incredibly nimble movement firmly gripped the woman’s arm. “Wrong night!” Pru spluttered. “This is not a group for alcoholics!”

  There were nervous titters around the room.

  Clearly agitated with the impostor who had taken centre stage, Pru pulled her towards the door muttering under her breath about people breaking her connection with the spirit world. Lottie noted, with interest, that the two younger women who appeared to be locked into some weird mating ritual had taken the opportunity to close the gap between them, as they moved their chairs closer together. As she looked around the room, she caught the eye of a member of the group who looked relatively normal. In fact, Lottie was convinced she’d seen her before but she couldn’t place where. Her train of thought was disturbed by Mel who was squeezing her leg frantically in an attempt to get her attention without incurring the wrath of Pru. “What?” Lottie hissed.

  “You didn’t tell me I needed to bring a piece of writing! What am I supposed to be writing about?” Mel responded, ignoring Lottie’s eyes pleading with her not to draw attention to them.

  Lottie whispered. “I don’t know. I think it’s supposed to be a type of therapy, so anything about coming out or a problem in your life?”

  Mel shot her a look that said she was treading on very thin ice. “Lottie, I’ve not come out because I’m not a bloody dyke! I can’t believe you’ve roped me into this looney show. Gimmie some paper!”

  Lottie passed along a notepad, which had magically appeared from one of Miriam’s tins. She had taken advantage of the lull in proceedings to hurriedly rectify the fact that it was becoming apparent that several members had not come prepared with suitable written contributions. Lottie hastily removed a sheet for herself, and they both scribbled frantically before returning their attention to Pru.

  Re-entering the room with a dramatic flourish, Pru muttered aloud. “Next we’ll have the bloody bisexuals trying to get in on the act. Honestly, that lot are bloody gays in denial. Get a grip!”

  Realising she was overheard, she smiled charmingly in the general direction of the group and returned to her place on the raised stage at the front. Lottie couldn’t help thinking that Pru seemed to revel in being the centre of attention in this small gathering, and she hoped that it wasn’t the sort of group where she picked volunteers to contribute.

  “Group rules people!” Pru said, scanning the hall with her beady eyes, and Lottie felt as if she was assessing them all for their weaknesses. “I should say of course that Pru’s Group is a working title for the group. We’ve been running for just more than a year now and have debated various titles for the group but we don’t seem to have come up with anything suitable. So anyway, I’ll just say that we’ll give it a mention again at the end of the group, and of course any suggestions are always welcome. It’s your group after all, not mine!” Pru chuckled and shook her head. Her jowls jiggled unattractively in unison with each shake, as she looked to Miriam for approval.

  Miriam anxiously made eye contact. “Suggestions, welcome, yes, welcome,” she muttered, before focusing back on her invisible thread. Lottie wondered briefly whether Miriam had mental health issues.

  She was also beginning to very much doubt that anything would happen in this group without Pru’s explicit instruction, but she made a mental note to offer a suggestion at the end, to sho
w willingness. She mulled the Bisexual and Lesbian Society. It sounded very serious and inclusive, which she somehow hoped would challenge Pru’s views.

  Pru had begun to scribble furiously on the whiteboard, clearly forgetting that she’d asked the group to come up with the rules.

  NO mobile phones, switch them off please!

  RESPECT other people’s right to speak, everyone has a turn!

  FOLLOW the agenda, we need to keep to time!

  LISTEN! We all still have things to learn and every contribution has a value.

  BREATHE, ground yourself and be in the moment.

  SPIRIT! Remember the spirits are amongst us. Let them channel through you.

  Last, but by no means least, CONFIDENTIALITY!

  Obviously happy with her rules, and not bothering to run them past the group, Pru turned her attention to the theme of the evening, expressive poetry. She pulled out her own contribution before turning to the group and asking them to pass their poem or writing to the person on their right. Lottie reluctantly swapped contributions with Mel, who seemed confident with her last minute efforts.

  “Okay. New people go first, a little tradition of ours,” Pru smirked as she pointed a disproportionately large finger towards Mel, who instantly turned puce with embarrassment.