Workman: Chapter Three - Part Two

3

 

As I drove into town I thought about the ring, trying to make sense of what had happened.

Being a man had felt good and natural – too natural if anything. I had a strong feeling that it had affected the way I thought while I looked that way. When I had been Geoff, had I been myself but with a man’s body, or was it more than that? Had my mind changed into a man’s mind?

I thought about the things I’d done; the different attitude I had to working on the house; the way I’d been able to stand up to Mr. Crabtree – and those national front hooligans. I’d been interested in the sports pages of the newspaper. Normally I hated sport with a passion. And in the steakhouse I’d been more interested in ogling the pictures of sexy women in the magazine than reading my usual articles.

It was disconcerting.

But it didn’t matter now. It was over and done with, The ring was in the toilet.

I wished I’d waited and flushed a second time but there would be chance enough for that later.

I drove on.

The fascinating part, I supposed, was actually the other effects – the tweaks to reality. This Geoff character had become a brother, to go by the full name on the credit cards. I wondered if the neighbours would still remember him now. Did he still exist? Would they forget him in time? Would I forget?

It was all just questions.

I parked in the multi-storey that backed onto Hurley Park and walked into the main shopping precinct. I was tempted to walk up into the Narrows and try to find the stall again where I’d bought the ring; ask the woman about it. I wondered if she knew about it. But surely not. She wouldn’t have sold it me for so little if it was that powerful. And why would she have done so without telling me what it did?

No, that made no sense at all.

I went into Tower Gate and wandered round the clothes stores, looking for something to cheer me up. I felt a little down and I didn’t know why. I fancied getting something really feminine. I even toyed with getting my nails done. But that made me remember Sangeeta and my mood pitched even lower.

I thought about seeing her for the first time the night before, of how proud I’d felt when I stood up to those thugs – how stupid I’d realised I was when they came toward me looking aggressive. But I remembered how good it had been afterwards, despite the bruises, to feel her gratitude and admiration. I’d never had anyone think of me that way – as a protector. It was lovely.

I considered… No. Bad idea.

I considered walking round to the end of the mall where her little parlour was.. just to look. Or even… I could go inside and have my nails done – by her.

Was that crazy?

Yes. It was. It was insane.

But… I was considering it.

How could it hurt?

I thought about it for a second; then two seconds.

Twelve seconds later I started walking, heading toward the furthest reaches of the mall.

 

4

 

Tower Gates was, on the whole, high street shops and giant glittering department stores filled with light. There were shopping centres like it all over Britain – maybe all over the world as far as I knew. It had the customary glass lifts and implausibly long escalators rising through vast open spaces. It had its food courts and too many shoppers. But it was highly extensive and in the farther reaches the units went for less money, encouraging a slightly gaudier shop front.

Here could be found discount stores and cheap bookshops, concession clothes stores and a few vacant slots, waiting for some young entrepreneur with a bright idea.

I wasn’t made of money. I had always been a girl with an eye for a bargain. I shopped in those out of reach passages regularly. Who could afford high street prices nowadays?

When Sangeeta had told me about her “Beauty Bower” I’d known exactly where it was.

It was a tiny slot between two larger shops, not much more than a booth really; room enough for two manicure stations and a screened off area in the back with a reclining chair. The poster on the window advertised manicures, pedicures, waxings and eyebrow threading.

I felt suddenly very nervous when I caught sight of her in the window. Sangeeta didn’t have a customer and she was the only one in there. She was sitting in the reclining chair, a magazine folded back on itself on her thigh, her legs crossed.

“What on earth am I doing here?” I muttered to myself. “This is a terrible idea.”

I loitered, unsure, then decided to leave. I shouldn’t have even come down there.

Before I could turn away, Sangeeta looked up. She saw me standing there and smiled broadly, giving me a little wave. Not sure what else to do, I smiled and waved back.

She came to the door. “Hiya. Come on in.”

I faltered.

“Come on. You can be my first customer of the day.” She flashed her lovely smile.

“Er, okay.” I let her draw me in, tingling as she took my arm in her hand, guiding me through.

“What do you fancy today?” she said, “I can tell you take good care of yourself. Your eyebrows are fabulous.”

I beamed at the compliment. “Oh, thank you. Do you think so?”

“I certainly do. Here. Sit down. How about a manicure?”

I let her guide me into position and shrugged mentally. “Okay.”

She was wearing a white short-sleeved beautician’s uniform and, if anything, looked more beautiful than she had the night before, her hair tied up in a flamboyant bun.

She did the prep work then set to task on my right hand.

“So, are you local?” she asked.

I nodded then realised she hadn’t seen me do it because she was concentrating on my nails. “Yes. Sort of. I used to be. And then I moved here again recently.”

“I’m new to town too.

I sat watching her, really unsure why I’d come. Was it just curiosity? I didn’t know. But part of me was inquisitive… about her; about the things she told me; about how genuine she was. I’d been lied to so many times by different men, I just wanted to know if…

This was stupid. I wasn’t going to change back into a male. I was never going to see her again. Why was I wasting my time?

“Are you married?” she asked.

“Uh, no. Never.”

“Boyfriend?”

I shifted in my seat. “Not recently.”

“Sworn off men?”

“Not officially, but yeah. I guess. For now.”

“So there’s no one special,” she said.

I hesitated, thinking about the way she’d kissed me the night before and blushing furiously. I shouldn’t have been here. This was wrong in so many different ways.

She looked up at me. “Are you okay?”

“Er yes. No. I just feel… a bit poorly.”

“Oh dear. Can I get you a drink of water?”

“Uh… Yes. Please.”

She got up and went to a concealed sink in the back, returning quickly, and handing it to me, concern in her eyes. I took it and sipped some down, wishing I hadn’t come in.

“I thought for a minute you felt faint because I’d stumbled on some dark secret.” Sangeeta flashed her eyes and then giggled.

I giggled too. “Not hardly.” I cleared my throat then set the glass down and she went back to work.

“Do, er… Do you have a boyfriend?” I asked.

“Me?”

“Yeah.”

She paused, thinking, then screwed one eye shut and grinned. “Well… no. Not really. But!” She laughed.

“What?”

“I did… It wasn’t anything really… but I did meet a guy last night. Really gorgeous.”

“You… did?”

“It was nothing. I probably shouldn’t even…”

“What?” I asked.

She looked away, thinking again, then turned back to me. “I don’t like to kiss and tell.”

She went back to work on my nails. I should just let her finish, pay her the money and get out of there.

“So there was a kiss?” I asked.

She glanced up at me with those bright magical eyes, hiding her smile behind her fingertips.

“I won’t tell anyone,” I said.

She seemed to consider for a moment.

“He was…” She stopped as though she wouldn’t tell me anymore, then she beamed her smile again and I saw moisture in her eyes. “Have you ever been in a situation where you knew it was going to be bad? Worse than ever? And then… then a guy appears who’s just the most gorgeous guy you’ve ever seen? And he tries to help and makes a total mess of trying to save you… but that doesn’t matter. And then… then you think it’s too perfect – that he can’t be a great guy on top of all that, except he is. He’s warm and funny and earnest and kind; but he isn’t afraid to have a few beers. And…”

She stopped.

My eyes were moist too. I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t say anything.

“And then he’s just gone,” she said. “And you don’t even know his full name.”

She wiped the side of her eye then just concentrated on my hands, saying nothing more.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

She raised her head and now her eyes were perfectly clear. “Fairy stories aren’t true. Are they?”

I put my free hand on top of hers, trying to smile. “I don’t know,” I said. “I really don’t.”

She smiled, lifting her thumb to squeeze my hand back.

“But I hope they are,” I said.