The Reinvention of Martha Ross

by Charlene Allcott

  ‘I kind of put it on hold,’ I say.

  Cara slams her palm on to the table, causing me to jump and several punters to look over at us. ‘Stop putting your life on hold, Martha. It’s getting really fucking boring.’

  ‘OK,’ I mutter.

  ‘I’ve got a ticket to this event tomorrow night, it’s kind of a networking thing. You’ll meet a ton of people and you’ll be inspired and then you’ll move into my fabulous flat and then you’ll take over the world.’ She holds up her glass and doesn’t move until I join her in her toast.

  ‘OK,’ I say. ‘OK, fine. What’s the event?’

  ‘It’s some women’s thing.’

  ‘The business I was thinking about was for women, women looking for love.’

  ‘That’s cheesy as fuck but this will be perfect for that. I’ll text you the details.’

  ‘Thank you, Cara. Thanks for everything,’ I say.

  ‘Thank me by living your life,’ says Cara.

  ‘Cara, I’m sorry about messing things up between you and Marc,’ I say.

  ‘Forget about it, he owes me about a million favours.’

  ‘Why?’ I ask.

  ‘You don’t know how many Saturdays I sat waiting for him to come and take me to the bloody park.’

  ‘Wait! What?!’ I shake my head as if it might lodge the information into place. ‘Marc’s your—’

  ‘Dad, yeah.’

  ‘Cara,’ I say, ‘this explains so much.’

  41

  LEANNE IS HAPPY to babysit so I have no excuse not to go. I’m not sure what to wear to a networking event so, despite the lack of luck it’s brought me, I decide on the funeral dress. When I arrive, the other women look like they’re dressed to go to a nightclub; one even has a bustier on. It makes me realize how much I have to learn.

  We’re given a champagne cocktail on arrival and I think I could get used to this being in business malarkey. A lot of the people here seem to know each other; I realize I’m opening myself up to a whole new social circle. I once read that you become who you associate with; if I hang out with these women maybe I can get some of what they have. We’re ushered to some seats set up in rows. It takes a few minutes for everyone to settle but finally the crowd falls silent and a woman walks to the front of the room. She’s wearing a tight-fitting, black trouser suit and impossibly high heels. She introduces herself as Agnes.

  ‘Thanks for having me back,’ she says. The audience gives her a round of applause. ‘Today I’m going to be talking about reclaiming your feminine power.’ I take my notepad out of my bag. ‘How often throughout your day do you honestly feel like a woman?’ she says. As she says the word ‘woman’ she grabs her crotch with her right hand and everyone cheers. I write ‘how often do you feel like a woman’ on my pad. I can feel the person sitting to my left watching me. She seems amused by my note taking. I look around and no one else is writing so maybe it’s not the done thing. I slip the pad under my chair.

  ‘First time?’ whispers the woman.

  ‘Yeah, you?’

  ‘I’ve been coming for years.’ She places her hand on my knee. ‘Just relax, everyone’s great.’ I smile a thank you. For years, I’ve been trying to find somewhere I really belong and perhaps I’ve finally found it. I don’t understand much of the rest of what Agnes says – she spends a lot of time talking about chakras – but I like just being in her presence, feeling her energy and the reaction she elicits from the group.

  ‘Enjoy!’ she shouts when she finishes, and everyone cheers again. I guess this is when the networking starts. Most of the women go to get more drinks, and around me ladies greet each other enthusiastically. I see an older woman standing alone and approach her.

  ‘Hi,’ I say, and reach my hand out. She looks at it for a few seconds before shaking it. ‘What’s your business?’ I ask. She laughs, and her face, which had previously looked quite serious, softens beautifully.

  ‘Design,’ she says.

  ‘Oh, I used to be married to a designer,’ I say. I say this lightly, like it was a lifetime ago, which in some way it feels like it was.

  ‘Guy or girl?’ asks the woman. I love this, how cosmopolitan my life is becoming. That I’m hobnobbing with the type of people intelligent enough not to assume.

  ‘He was a guy,’ I say. ‘Still is.’

  ‘Well, I’m sorry he put you off,’ she says.

  ‘Designers?’

  She laughs again and I feel pleased I’m such a natural at this.

  ‘I’m just going to get us a drink,’ she says. ‘I’m Moira.’

  ‘Martha,’ I say.

  ‘M and M, I like that,’ Moira says before walking away. As soon as she’s gone a black girl with a big afro grabs my arm.

  ‘Don’t let Moira get her teeth into you, she’s such a predator. Seriously ruthless. You’re far too sweet.’ I’m a bit disappointed that my inexperience is so obvious. ‘Here, talk to Annie, she’s a newbie too.’ The woman pulls me towards a girl with a gorgeous head of blonde curls.

  ‘Hey, Annie,’ she says to the girl, ‘this is …’

  ‘Martha,’ I say, and offer my hand. The girl shakes it and, satisfied her work is done, the woman with the afro leaves.

  ‘It’s Áine, actually,’ says the girl with a soft Irish accent. Her skin is flawless and she doesn’t have a lick of make-up on.

  ‘You look kind of young to be starting your own business,’ I say.

  Áine frowns. ‘I’m not starting a business, I’m a student. I want to be an animator.’ I guess I didn’t establish the exact purpose of the event. I suppose it’s just a general female empowerment thing.

  ‘So, is this your first time at a sex club?’ asks Áine.

  ‘A what? I’m not at a sex club!’ I say. Áine giggles and then stops when I don’t.

  ‘Excuse me,’ I say, and run to the reception. As I do I see so much that I didn’t previously. The low lighting and scantily dressed bar staff, all women. It’s like one of those optical illusion pictures that looks like a boat or whatever, but then someone points out that if you focus on it in a different way it looks like a fox playing table tennis, and you just can’t unsee it.

  I step out on to the pavement and call Cara. ‘You sent me to a sex club!’ I hiss.

  ‘OK, hun,’ she says. She sounds distracted.

  ‘This is so inappropriate!’

  ‘You need a new perspective,’ she says.

  ‘I feel violated!’ I shout.

  ‘OK, darling, talk to you later. Byeeeee!’

  I’m fuming. This is the most disrespectful thing that has ever happened to me. I feel a hand on my shoulder and turn to see Áine.

  ‘You’re not leaving, are you?’ she asks.

  ‘Yeah, I think … I don’t think …’

  ‘Don’t go,’ she says. ‘I’ll be honest, you’re the only girl I’ve seen that I like tonight.’

  ‘It’s just, I don’t … I mean, I’m not …’ Áine takes my hand; the action silences me.

  ‘I know,’ she says, ‘but live a little.’

  And even though I am livid with Cara, I did promise; so I let her lead me back in.

  I wake up with Áine’s curls covering my face. They smell like almonds. Had you asked me before this morning, I would have told you that it would be weird to wake up next to a woman, but it isn’t. It feels a bit like the mornings after I have bunked in with Leanne, safe and cosy; although with Leanne I have never had an orgasm the night before, let alone three. I think Áine is asleep but then she reaches behind and slaps my thigh.

  ‘Morning, beauty face,’ she says.

  ‘Good morning,’ I say.

  ‘You want eggs?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  Áine’s place is stunning. She has the penthouse flat in an apartment building; out of the French windows the sea looks close enough to step into.

  ‘Student accommodation has come on,’ I say as I sit at the breakfast bar, and Áine places a cup of coffee in front of me.
r />   ‘My dad’s loaded,’ she says. ‘When I got accepted on my course he bought this place as an investment.’

  ‘Wow,’ I say, looking round again, ‘lucky for some.’

  ‘Maybe,’ says Áine. She returns her attention to the frying pan. ‘I’d rather have a dad with no money that wasn’t a bigot.’ I drink my coffee.

  A few minutes later, Áine places a plate of creamy scrambled eggs in front of me.

  ‘Wait,’ she says, then picks a sprig of parsley from a pot on the counter top and sprinkles it over the eggs.

  ‘This is brilliant, thank you. You’re good at this.’

  Áine sits opposite me with her own plate. ‘You’re good at this,’ she says. She eyes me meaningfully and I fight to hide my smile. ‘I can’t actually believe this is your first time.’

  ‘Well, it is,’ I say. Last night was my first time at many things.

  When we went back into the club, music was pumping and most people were on the dance floor. The DJ was playing these amazing dance tracks imprinted on my muscle memory from my university days, and even though I was trying to stay angry with Cara, the mood pulled me in. Áine made me go to the centre of the dance floor and it felt like I was being consumed by the music and the crowd. Sweat was dripping down my entire body and I felt my hair sticking to the back of my neck. Ordinarily I would be mortified by this but I barely noticed.

  When the intro to Christina Aguilera’s ‘Dirrty’ filled the room, the energy lifted even more. Áine flapped her hands in front of my face to cool me down and I returned the favour. When I did, the woman with the afro spotted me and thought I was waving at her. She waved back and then beckoned me over to the stage where she was standing. No chance, I thought, at the same time as Áine screamed, ‘Yes!’ She pushed me over and it just felt easier to let her pull me up with the other half a dozen women dancing there. I froze for a couple of seconds, looking out at all the people staring back at me. They were dancing but they also seemed to be encouraging me.

  I started to shake my hips and a woman in a cat suit shouted, ‘Go, sister!’ I raised my arms over my head and let the song work through me. I tried to embody the sassiness of the lyrics, dragging my nails up my thighs and swinging my hair around. Áine started smacking me playfully on the bum and I wiggled it in her direction to calls for more from the crowd. She wrapped an arm round my waist and we rolled our bodies in unison. I’ve danced with girls like that before but only for boys; this was for me. As the song climaxed we broke apart and I did a series of vigorous chest thrusts, throwing my head back with each one, and at the last line I opened my arms as if receiving an encore and shouted along with Christina, ‘It’s about time for my arrival!’

  Áine asked me if I wanted another drink and I told her that I was actually pretty hungry, and I should be getting home.

  ‘Home! As if. Have you been to Incognito Burrito? It’s fantastic!’ I had not.

  Incognito is a tiny takeaway on a side road near the beach. The place was packed; apparently it was not so Incognito any more. Áine said I had to have the pork – I’d only ever had chicken before so I had to say yes. We found a place to stand in the corner and eat. When I bit into it my teeth glided through the meat like it was marshmallow.

  ‘Right?! Right?!’ said Áine with her mouth full. She told me she moved to Brighton not long after coming out. Her family, but her father particularly, had told her it was a phase, a phase he would not tolerate. Up until that point she’d been his golden girl.

  ‘He’s such a tool. He didn’t realize that all the shite that made me such a good girl, yunno, no interest in the boys and going to the footie with him, was screaming lesbian.’ I laughed. ‘Brighton seemed like the holy land to me. I like animation enough but to be honest if I didn’t study it I couldn’t have justified coming here.’

  ‘But your dad must know that Brighton is one of the most gay-friendly places in the UK?’ I asked.

  ‘People see what they wanna see,’ she said. Áine quizzed me about growing up in Brighton, about the clubs I had been to and if I had ever seen Nick Cave.

  ‘To be honest, I’m not the best Brightonian. I’ve never even swum in the sea.’

  At this point Áine dropped the remainder of her burrito. ‘No way!’ she said. ‘That’s not possible. We’re going.’

  ‘Going where?’ I said.

  ‘The sea, obviously. You can’t live by the sea and not go in; it’s disrespectful.’

  ‘Áine, can I point out that it’s winter and the night,’ I said, but I still let her drag me down the narrow street towards the water. As we stood on the pebbles I pulled my coat around me as Áine took hers off.

  ‘We won’t swim, just get in the water. Make it official. Come on: are you a man or a mouse?’ she said.

  ‘Actually, I’m a woman,’ I told her. She stopped then and turned me towards her.

  ‘That you are,’ she said, and she kissed me. The heat from her mouth contrasted deliciously with the cold air and although it was a very sweet kiss there was just enough pressure to tell me there was much more where that came from. It was a risk kissing me like that, and it made me think I should take one too.

  ‘OK, before I change my mind.’ I dropped my coat to the ground and ran into the sea in the funeral dress. I had imagined that it would be cold but it was even colder than I had imagined. I wasn’t sure that I would be able to keep moving forward; my breathing had become shallow and my teeth were chattering. I could hear Áine shouting beside me but I was so frigid I couldn’t even shout back. As soon as the water had hit my chest, I considered it official and retreated to the shore, where Áine helped me into my coat before putting on her own.

  ‘You poor thing,’ she said.

  ‘Why … are you … OK?’ I asked.

  ‘The Irish Sea, I guess,’ she said. ‘Now, we better get you to my place to dry off.’

  ‘Where’s your place?’

  Áine smiled and raised her eyebrow before pointing to the building in front of us. ‘Right there.’

  ‘You’re obviously a natural then,’ says Áine. She scoops up the last of her eggs and wrinkles her nose at me as she chews them.

  ‘Thanks, I guess. You too,’ I say.

  ‘Well, no, I’ve had a lot of practice,’ she says.

  ‘How? If you’ve just come out,’ I ask.

  ‘Boarding school,’ she says with a smirk. ‘And you’re sure I can’t tempt you away from men?’ she asks as she clears up our plates. I shake my head. Last night before we went to bed I made sure that she understood it couldn’t be more than a one-off. I didn’t want to be responsible for any more hurt in the world. Áine said she would rather be with me once than never at all. All evening I had known that spending the night was a possibility but it was only when she said that, that the coin finally settled on heads. We had a shower, which led naturally to more kissing. Áine moved beyond that very slowly but I still panicked a little.

  ‘Just do what you like,’ she said, and I simply didn’t know. When she noticed my hesitation she said, ‘Do what feels good.’ And it seems that what felt good to me also felt good to her. Rather than sex seeming like a performance, method acting for a piece entitled ‘Skinny, Kinky Girl Satisfies Man’, it felt like a game, a shared experience, not two separate ones that happened to be occurring at the same time.

  ‘Thank you though, it was great,’ I say.

  ‘It was, wasn’t it,’ says Áine. Then she asks, ‘What do you do?’ It should feel weird going back to basics after sleeping together but it doesn’t.

  ‘Nothing,’ I answer. ‘Nothing I want to talk about.’

  ‘What do you want to do?’ asks Áine, unfazed by my negativity.

  ‘I don’t know any more.’

  Áine looks at me as if I haven’t finished speaking, so I continue. ‘I thought I wanted to be a singer, but it’s not me. I don’t have the drive or the talent. I don’t even know why I let myself believe I could do it for so long. And I kidded myself I could start a
business but I can’t even run my own life.’

  Áine pushes out her bottom lip and then says, ‘I’m the queen of fooling myself. I mean, I always knew I wanted to be with women but the idea of having a girlfriend in my backward parish with my idiotic father, it didn’t fit. So, I thought I couldn’t do it at all. Broke a million boys’ hearts being who I didn’t want to be. The thing is, you can do what you want to do – you just have to get over the fact that it’s not gonna look exactly as you thought it would. Who knows, maybe it will look better than you even imagined.’

  ‘Maybe,’ I say. ‘You never know.’ Áine smiles at me encouragingly. ‘Look,’ I say, ‘I better go.’

  ‘So soon?’ She says this uncritically; she wants me to stay but she’s willing to grant me my freedom.

  ‘Yeah, I’d love to stay longer but I left my kid with my best friend.’

  ‘You have a kid?’ Áine looks at me as if she’s meeting me again for the first time.

  ‘It’s a long story.’

  As I leave, Áine gives me a kiss on the cheek and a scrap of paper with her email address written on it. ‘In case you need any design work, for your business,’ she says.

  ‘I don’t think I’ll be doing that,’ I say, but I put it in my pocket.

  Áine leans against her door frame and watches me walk towards the lift. ‘Aw, but you never know,’ she says. ‘You never know.’

  42

  I KNOW IT’S time to let go of my dream. It’s time to let go of a lot of dreams but this one is overripe and ready to fall from the tree. I return to work and ask Bob to give me a permanent nine-to-five contract because people who are not going to become singers do not need to work shifts. Bob seems mildly impressed by my decision. ‘I knew you had a Debenhams voucher in you,’ he says. Fairfax gives a Debenhams voucher to anyone who works at the company for ten years or more. I grip the seat of my chair after he says this. I sense I need to physically hold myself on to it. ‘I’ll get a contract for you ASAP but you can start working the hours now.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I say, and get up to leave.

  ‘Welcome to the team,’ says Bob.