Keep Practising

For a few seconds the words didn't register. Then, a pain like a hammer blow hit my chest so hard I couldn't catch my breath. I started gasping, and I heard Mum calling, "Nurse, nurse." The blackness returned, but this time I wanted never to wake up.

I woke up again in the middle of the night. I opened my eyes, and the lights were dim, but I could see Dad asleep in the chair by the bed. I guessed he was giving Mum a break. He looked older somehow, slumped in the chair; sleep and worry robbing him of the energy he had during the day. I lay there with my eyes open, but not seeing anything, sobbing silently to myself as I thought about Sofia. She couldn't be dead. It had to be a mistake. This was a nightmare, and I would wake up properly and she would be there telling me to get my arse in gear. I screwed my eyes closed, trying to remember what had happened.

Something touched my hand, and I opened my eyes to see Dad standing by the bed holding my hand. He wiped his eyes with the back of his other hand, and I knew from his gesture that it was all true. I would never see my best friend again.

Chapter Four

I had been too unwell to go to Sofia's funeral. On top of the broken arm and pelvis, I had caught a superbug in the hospital and had to be put into a controlled coma for a couple of weeks. Mum told me it was touch and go before I pulled through.

As soon as I could, I got Mum to take me to Sofia's grave, where I laid some flowers. I couldn't stop crying, and Mum had to hold me tight until the sobbing stopped.

The strange thing was I couldn't remember anything about that day. The Doctor said I had blocked the memory because of the trauma I had experienced - dissociation, he had called it. But because I couldn't remember what had happened, I blamed myself for Sofia's death. Mum and Dad gradually told me the story, and that neither Sofia nor I were to blame.

The police had pieced together what had happened from cameras and eye-witnesses. A couple of teenagers had stolen a car and were being chased by a police car when they lost control and hit us on the crossing. Sofia had pushed me out of the way and it had struck me a glancing blow, but she had been hit full on and died at the hospital.

As my physical injuries healed, despite everyone trying to convince me it wasn't my fault, I could not stop feelings of guilt overwhelming me. I saw a therapist for a few weeks and it helped a little, but I still felt guilty that I had survived and Sofia had died. My best friend was gone and at times I couldn't see how I could go on without her. Mum and Dad were brilliant and they watched me like a hawk.

I wanted to see Sofia's parents, but I didn't want to go if I would upset them. Mum made a few discrete inquiries and a few weeks after the funeral I paid my respects.

I needn't have worried. Despite their grief, they were pleased to see me, and, like everyone else, they told me it was not my fault. For their sake, I didn't cry, but it was hard when I saw how heartbroken they were. What had made it worse for us all was that the two boys who had driven the car had only been given a suspended sentence and a driving ban

And all the time, there was the elephant in the room.

They had taken me to the hospital straight from the accident and my parents arrived soon after I went into surgery. If they hadn't learnt any other way, the hospital gave them the clothes I had been wearing, so the cat was out of the bag.

The strange thing was nobody said anything, but there it was, lurking in the background. I could see Mum and Dad wanted to ask questions, but they held back, waiting for me to recover.

I decided it was up to me to broach the subject.

I was convalescing at my flat, and Mum would come over to make sure I was coping and to bring me meals which I could heat up. One afternoon I told her we needed to talk about what had happened. The first thing she said was that whatever I was about to say, she and Dad loved me and would always love me. We hugged and cried together, and I told her about how I had become attracted to wearing women's clothes from a young age. How it had built into a hobby and then into a passion. How Sofia had been my mentor and teacher and how heartbroken I was when she died. How I liked to feel feminine and that it made me feel softer and gentler. How it made me a better person, and that dressing was a part of me I couldn't give up. I told her I loved dressing but I wasn't gay, and I didn't want transition.

I don't think she fully understood, and to be honest, I wasn't sure I fully understood either. She was upset I hadn't been able to tell her, but she understood how difficult it would have been. I told her I was nervous about telling Dad and she said I shouldn't worry because he loved me and he would always want to support me. We cried some more before she left promising it would all be OK.

The next time Mum came over, she brought Dad and the first thing he did was to give me a huge hug. Mum had told him everything and to my relief I didn't have to answer the same questions Mum had asked. To this day I'm not sure how much they accepted what I had been doing, but I think because I had survived and was still with them, they were prepared to put up with almost anything.

Mum suggested the idea of me finishing my convalescence at the family apartment in Mallorca. I loved the times we had spent as a family there, so I needed no extra persuasion to go there. Dad said if he could get the time off from the business they would join me there.

It gave me a crazy idea. I had thought of it before but never had the chance to go through with it. Could I live full time as a woman? Nobody knew me there. It would be a challenge for sure, but I would never have a better opportunity to find out how important my dressing was to me. So, the only boy clothes I packed were the ones I needed to travel in. Everything else would be for Josie. I already had a wardrobe of clothing and I ordered more online as I would need extra for my stay.

I left London on a chilly May morning and arrived in a balmy Mallorca a couple of hours later with a suitcase full of women's clothes ready to start a new adventure.

Chapter Five

The first few days in Mallorca had been stressful. I unpacked and tried on some of my new clothes, but only in the room and on the balcony, not daring to go outside. I finally plucked up the courage to go down to the pool, finding a secluded spot where I could lay on one of the sunbeds, all the while ready to bolt if somebody came too close. Eventually I realised nobody was interested in me and I ventured further, but was still as skittish as a kitten.

I barely spoke to anyone for the first week, ordering takeaways to eat inside the room and watching the collection of videos my parents had left. It dawned on me I would have to go large or go home. I could not go on like this. If my experiment was to work, I would have to be a lot braver.

I was sick of takeaways, so my first proper trip was to a local tapas bar. I had been there before with my family and remembered it as a cosy place, popular with locals. Of course, when I got there it was crowded and noisy and there wasn't a local in sight. I checked TripAdvisor and there was a place recommended a few streets back from the Marina.

Outside were a few tables occupied by what looked like locals, and it wasn't too crowded. Inside, I found a seat at the bar and ordered a beer. A few years ago, a lone female in a bar in Spain would have caused a riot, but things have changed for the better. Nobody bothered me and probably because I spoke fluent Spanish, albeit with a Catalan twist courtesy of my mother, my tapas arrived quickly. Another beer helped me to relax, and I felt more confident.

A girl took the seat next to me and in poor Spanish with a heavy English accent tried to order a white wine. The barman shrugged. She tried again with the same result. I couldn't help myself and lent over and told him what she wanted. He smiled at me, but I got the impression he knew what she wanted but was being a dick by pretending not to understand.

"Err, gracias."

"You're welcome."

"Oh, you speak English."

I smiled. "Yes, I'm half British, half Spanish."

"Thanks for doing that for me. I tried to learn Spanish on Duolingo but it's not as easy as they say."

"You did OK. Keep practising."

Her wine arrived, and we touched glasses.

"I'm Justine. Thanks again."

"I'm Josie. Are you here on holiday?"

She blushed. "Honeymoon, actually."

"Congratulations." We touched glasses again.

"Thanks, I'm meeting my husband here. Oh, saying husband still sounds odd."

"Keep practising."

Justine laughed out loud.

"Oh, here he is. Jack, meet Josie. Josie, meet Jack. Josie helped me out when my Duolingo crapped out."

"You were fine. The barman was being a dick."

Jack nodded to me. "Josie, thanks. Can I buy you a drink?"

"Thanks, but I guess you guys want to be on your own."

"Go on, I insist," said Justine "Jack, beer for Josie and white wine for me. Josie, where are the loos?"

I asked the barman, who gestured to the back of the bar. She headed off, but was back within seconds. Justine grabbed my hand and said, "Come with me, please."

She practically dragged me with her. Josie used to do this to me and spent most of the time bitching about the doctors at her hospital, who seemed to regard the nurses as a perk of the job. The loo was small and there was a single cubicle, but the door was missing so anyone could see in.

"Will you stand guard for me, Josie? I can't bear the idea of someone walking in on me."

Without waiting for my answer, she hitched up her skirt, pulled down her knickers, and sat down on the toilet. I stood there dumbstruck as she peed away right in front of me. She pulled off some toilet paper and wiped herself before pulling up her knickers and straightening her skirt.

"You got a boyfriend, Josie? Someone here?"

I shook my head, quite unable to speak.

"You should have them banging down your door. Great looking girl like you." She washed her hands and as she dried them, she looked sideways at me. "You've got something different about you. I'm not sure what, but if I was a lezzie, I would fancy you. Thanks for keeping guard. Do you want me to do the same for you?"

"Um, no, no. Thanks, Justine, I'm good."

"Can you keep a secret?"

"Sure."

"It's like, well, Jack. To tell the truth, he's not that good in bed."

I grinned. "Keep practising."

We emerged from the toilet laughing.

"What's the joke?" asked Jack, looking a bit cross, maybe suspecting he might be the joke.

Justine smiled broadly and kissed him. "Nothing, darling. Just a girly thing."

They were a great couple and good company, but after a couple more beers, I decided to leave them to themselves.

Jack shook my hand, and Justine kissed my cheek and said, "Josie, you're a star."

As I turned to go, I said to Justine. "Keep practising."

She nearly fell off her chair laughing. I almost skipped back to the apartment, happy I had passed my first audition.

Chapter Six

My confidence soared after the evening spent with Justine and Jack. My physical injuries had healed well and the few days I had spent around the pool had acclimatised me, so I decided to go further afield. First, I had to do an early morning trip to the supermercado to stock up on food in the small car my parents kept here.

I wasn't exactly looking over my shoulder, but I was always on the lookout for a glance from someone who has noticed something about me. I wore some loose cotton trousers and a pretty top, and with my hair pulled back and pushed through the back of a baseball cap, it made me anonymous, and it suited me fine. I'm a halfway decent cook thanks to my mum, and I can find my way around the standard Spanish dishes. I had planned to do a trip to some markets but for now the supermercado would have to do.

Having passed the first hurdle of the day, I was off and running. The next few days I spent around the island exploring. Despite its reputation, and if you keep away from the more hedonistic places, it's a lovely Mediterranean island on which to spend time.

I had saved a trip to Palma for later. It's a great little city, easy to get around and there are parts of it where you can escape the crowds of tourists. I wanted to do some clothes shopping and my credit cards took a beating. Before heading home, I stopped for a coffee and something to eat at a cafe off La Rambla. I found a table, put down my bags and asked for a glass of water, a coffee and an ensaimada mallorquina pastry.

The waiter brought them to the table, but I had the uneasy feeling he was paying me a little more attention than was necessary. He brought the bill and waited while I paid. He said Gracias, paused a beat before adding Senorita in a way that made my blood run cold, and I knew he had read me. What should I do? Pick up my bags and run? Fuck him, I thought. If he wanted to make a scene, then I was at least ready for it. I calmly ate my pastry and drank the coffee. I could see him staring at me, and I held his look. I have been read by people before, especially when I was starting out, and sometimes they got angry or disgusted, and sometimes both. People can get nasty and I used to carry a rape alarm with me just in case. Some people can't accept others who don't fit into their straight-jacketed view of the world.

I finished my coffee and was about to collect my bags when he came over to my table. Here it comes, I thought. I tensed, ready for what was about to happen. He bent down to pick up the cup and plate and whispered, "Senorita, I think you are very beautiful. If you need to go somewhere you can meet others like you, give me a call." He scribbled something on the bill and walked away.

I hope my mouth didn't stay open for long.

I got back to the apartment and needed a drink to settle my nerves. I retrieved the bill from my purse and found he had written both his mobile number and his name - Carmen. I laughed out loud, both in relief and joy that I had been read only by someone like me. I put his number into my phone. You never know, I might give Carmen a call.

An hour later, a fresh problem reared its head when I got a WhatsApp message.

"José. I am coming out to visit for a few days. I arrive on Friday. Can you pick me up at the airport? Besos Mama."

When I planned my little experiment, I had not thought it through enough to expect this. I knew Dad had said they would try to come out to visit, but I guess he couldn't take time off from the business. I couldn't tell Mum not to come, so I only had two options; revert to José for the time she would be here, or to remain as Josie. I wanted to stay as I was, but did I have the courage to be Josie with my mother? She knew about my dressing, but would she ever want to see me that way?

Today was Wednesday, so the following two days I spent panicking about what to do. I still hadn't decided by the time I set off for the airport, although I was wearing the boy clothes I had arrived in, and my hair pushed back through my cap. As I looked in the mirror, I saw a tomboy staring back at me. I had shaped my eyebrows, and my face looked softer, more feminine, even without makeup. I made up my mind right then to tell Mum when we got back to the apartment.

I spotted her among the throngs of tourists, and she hugged me tight.

"José, I am so happy to see you. You look good. Oh, take off your silly cap, I want to see you properly." She pulled off my cap and my hair fell loose. "Mmm, you've let her hair grow, I see. It looks just like mine now."

"I'm so glad to see you too, Mum. Come on, let me take your bag."

We chatted all the way back to the apartment about what had been going on back home. Dad was up to his ears in work, as one of our local competitors had retired and we had picked up a lot of new customers. She said Sofia's mother had asked her to send her love as well. We arrived at the apartment and Mum hugged me once again.

"You look well, José. How do you feel?"

"Yeah, pretty good. A few aches and pains, but the sun and relaxation has helped a lot. I think I'll be ready to come back soon."

"Don't rush it, José. Make sure you're properly well."

"Mum, I have something to tell you."

"Later, later, José. Now, there is a mystery we need to clear up. Senora Rodriguez messaged me to ask who the young lady was staying in our apartment. She said it was odd because she looked a lot like me."

My blood turned to ice. Senora Rodriguez was the apartment block busybody and self-appointed neighbourhood watch. A notorious snoop and gossip. I had tried to avoid her, but had seen her around once or twice. I should have known she would have stuck her nose in.

"Err, I mean, it's like this..."

She smiled, "José, don't worry, I know who the mystery lady is."

"I was going to tell you, I'm sorry."

"José, it's OK. It wasn't difficult to work out after Senora snitch messaged me. I told her it was a niece of mine. Oh, by the way, what is the name of the mystery lady?"

I squirmed with embarrassment. "Josie. Sofia came up with it."

She smiled. "Bien, that's nice, but don't you think it's time I met Josie?"

Oh God, was this really what she wanted? "Mum, do you mean it? Are you sure?"

"Of course. I want to see this young lady who looks like me. Get on with it."

Here goes nothing, I thought. I dashed to my room and promptly had a crisis of conscience. What if she hated me as Josie? What if she screamed? I took a couple of deep breaths and remembered she was my mother and she knew what I was up to. With a little luck she might not even cut me out of her will.

I decided I shouldn't go too wild. I picked a pretty sundress I thought made me look good. Not showing too much skin, but not dull either. I pulled my hair back and did my makeup. Not showy, but enough to be noticed; some light eyeshadow and light pink lipstick. I combed out my hair and pulled on a pair of medium heels. I took a look in the mirror and I thought that's going to be enough. I began to tremble as I thought about what I was about to do.

"José, how long will you be?" She had asked that question all my life. I took a few deep breaths, tried to steady my nerves and shouted, "I'm ready, Mum."

I opened the door and walked a little unsteadily into the room. Mum was looking out of the window and turned as she heard me enter.

Her eyes opened wide, and her hand went to her mouth. For an instant I thought this had been the worst mistake of my life. I looked down at the floor, unable to look at her.

"Oh, Madre mia," I heard her whisper. "Josie, you look beautiful."

I looked up to see her with her arms spread wide. "Come here, my child."

In a daze, I walked over to her, and she hugged me tight. Her shoulders sagged, and I felt her crying.

"I'm sorry, Mum. I didn't mean to upset you."

"I'm not crying because I'm upset, I'm crying because you look so pretty."

We hugged and hugged until I had to break away to gather myself together.

Mum wiped her eyes, sniffed and said, "Well, that old witch Rodrigues was right about one thing. You do look like me."

"That's a good thing, right?"

She hugged me again. "Oh, yes, it's a good thing." We both cried until Mum let me go and wiped her eyes. She held me by the shoulders and whispered, "Josie, are you happy?"

"Mum, I am very happy. Are you sure you don't mind seeing me like this?"

She hugged me so hard I thought I would pop a rib.

"I am happy if you are, José. Oh, I mean Josie. Sorry, I'm a bit confused. I'm also starving. Should we get something to eat?"

"I can rustle up something here, Mum?"

She shook her head and said firmly, "No, I want to go out to eat with my niece."

I blushed, "Mum, are you sure?"