Tranford Tales - Bernie

CHAPTER 1

The clothing trade was in my blood. Living in Leeds it was almost synonymous with being Jewish.

Our people escaping pogroms had not been able to carry much, but with needles and skill they started to set up businesses in overcrowded slums in the poorest part of the city. As things got better, the Jewish community steadily moved north into better and better properties. When I was born, we lived in Chapeltown, with the largest synagogue in Leeds. I eventually ended up in genteel Moortown along with much of the Jewish community as Chapeltown in turn gave way to Polish and Indian immigrants. Dad was proud to be a member of Moortown Golf Club.

From an early age I helped sewing buttons on high class women's clothes in time off from school. I could operate a sewing machine for simple seams from the time I was big enough to work the treadle. (There were electric ones, but manual ones were still in use. They were reliable and worked well. Many preferred them for bespoke work.)

But even then, things were changing. Cheaper clothes started coming from Asian sweatshops, both in Asia and in Leeds itself.

"There'll always be a market for quality clothes," said my Dad.

But he was wrong, as Mum always realised.

Instead of going into the family business, I got a job in a factory when I left school. It was decent money. I was able to marry my beautiful Miriam, and we had three children, always well dressed.

Our friends and relatives gradually gave up their businesses, as people wanted cheap clothes rather than good clothes.

What was an anathema to us was clothes which were worn and thrown away. So far as we were concerned, clothes were an investment: good quality which would last, like shoes which would have the soles and heels replaced several times.

I just didn't have the natural authority to order other people around, so I stayed near the lowest level as factory worker, but Miriam was a careful housewife, and the children were good, so we managed, and they grew up and moved away.

My darling daughter had just moved to Israel and our sons were far away when I lost my beautiful Miriam.

I was suddenly alone, and the factory closed down. I managed to get a job as a caretaker, though it did mean I sometimes had to break the sabbath. To be honest, I had not really been that observant for many years.

I was dismissed for being drunk. It was true that I was drunk but that was not the real reason.

The real reason was complaints from the residents because I was going around in women's clothes.

I don't know how or why it started, but it was a little something I had wanted, and when the children were away, she had indulged me. Just privately, only Miriam and me, she helped me with makeup and a wore something pretty for a few hours a week. I especially loved lingerie, but was happy at home, with both of us in a nice dress, and we would talk about trips we would make together in my lovely clothes. Tomorrow or next weekend, she would take me out and show how proud she was of me. But it never happened, of course.

When she was gone, there was no joy in it. There had to be someone to see me. I didn't remotely have the courage to go out. I knew I would probably be beaten up.

But one day I was feeling so miserable that I got really drunk and went outside to show myself. The residents complained, so I lost my flat and my job.

Of course, the children offered to send me money, but I was too proud to accept. The very idea!

I didn't tell them the real reason of course. I said the service had been outsourced instead of being residential.

I said I was getting on fine, and having a good time with my friends. In fact, the only time I got out was a once a week visit to the Jewish social centre. And only because Miriam's cousin Hannah insisted. She had never married because her fiancé Leo had been killed, but there was never any thought of us getting together. It was just what Jewish families do to look after each other. It would have been rude to refuse her kindness. She made sure a got a good kosher meal there once a week.

I was a man in his late fifties with no special qualifications and left the last position because of drunkenness. There was not much chance of me getting a job, so I lived on the dole in some damp rooms. No-one ever came round because I was ashamed of where I lived and what I was.

The boys sent me letters occasionally, and my daughter telephoned me once a month, though I kept it short because I didn't like to think of her spending all that money.

It was always a special occasion for me. I had ironed a dress and sewn a seam I noticed was starting to come apart. She couldn't see me and didn't know of my little quirk, but it was like being in company.

There was that special joy when I heard "Hello, Dad. Becky here!"

"Now don't cut us short this time, because I've got something to tell you, and it's important."

"You're pregnant?" I interrupted, suddenly hopeful.

"Oh, no. Sorry. Not just yet. I'm doing well at work, but we will get round to it, I promise."

"Now listen. I know about you and your dresses. Mum told me long ago, and Auntie Hannah knows it anyway."

I gasped.

"Are you all right?" she asked with concern.

"Yes, darling, it's just a bit of a shock."

"Well, it's a bit related to that...Actually, are you wearing a dress now? Describe it to me."

I was terrified and pleased, as I hesitantly told her.

"Sounds lovely. I'm just in slacks, I'm afraid."

"Now listen carefully. I think I've found a job for you. I've been on the internet for months looking, and it really sounds good. It's a job as a caretaker, with its own flat."

I started to speak, but she shushed me.

"The best thing is, it's some sort of village where there are transgender people, so it's all right for a man to wear a dress."

I couldn't understand what I was hearing, and she had to repeat it.

It was a place called Tranford, and I protested that I didn't want to leave Leeds. I visited Miriam's grave every week.

"It's only an hour or so away by train. It takes you that to get to New Farnley on the bus from Moortown, and the station's half the way there. Hannah could meet you at the station to visit her Leo's grave sometimes and you could have a meal together."

"Please Dad! Just give it a try. They said they'll pay the train fare and give you lunch. They're going to call you tomorrow. Just for me, Daddikins. Just for little Becky."

How could I refuse?

CHAPTER 2

I hadn't worn my suit for a while, so was annoyed to see there was a bit of mould on the trouser cuff. I cleaned it off, and steamed and pressed to make myself look presentable. I polished my shoes and washed and ironed the least worn shirt. I wore my Leeds United tie. (The Jewish Sabbath in Leeds stopped at three o'clock during the football season. There were Jewish players, Jewish officials, and plenty of Jewish fans.)

Becky was right. It was not much more than an hour to the city, where I was met at the station by a young man called David. Tranford was just outside the city, so it would take a bit of time to get there.

He must have read my thoughts or been briefed by Becky, as he said "If ever you want to visit Leeds, someone will run you into the station."

It was hard to believe what I saw. It was just an ordinary community, but quite well turned out. People who appreciated clothes. Some of the women were men, and some might be or might have been. What they call transgender. But it didn't matter.

There was a community centre, which is what I was to look after, with a very nice flat.

"It shouldn't be too much trouble at the beginning," David remarked. "So you'll have plenty of time to socialize. The first big thing will be a Christmas party."

He stopped. "Sorry is that a problem for you?"

"No," I laughed, "it's fine. So long as it's not a religious ceremony then lots of Jews don't mind. We always had a Christmas tree, and the children had presents like their friends."

As he showed me the flat, he pointed out a computer.

"There's full fibre internet, so you'll be able to Skype your children," he remarked, but I didn't understand. When he explained it was like a video phone call, I said it would be too expensive, and was amazed to discover it was free.

A woman called Liz was apparently the local dressmaker, and measured me up for future reference.

I asked how many applicants did they have, and when would I know?

David and Liz laughed.

"We can't say how grateful we are to find you. We'll be really disappointed if you don't join us."

Of course, I took it. David drove me back to the station, reimbursed me for the rail fare and gave me money for taxis.

It seems that Becky had been in touch with them, presumably by the Skype thing, as she rang me up that evening to make sure I was taking it.

It didn't take long for me to inform the Job Centre and clear out of my lodgings.

I discovered that they had already put some food in the fridge and the pantry, all kosher, they said. (Which was thoughtful, though I don't actually bother with the rules except on occasions.) They had bought some standard overalls for serious work, and Liz had made what she called working dresses -- an easy-care smock, and a skirt with a bib and brace. These and anything else were work supplies, so without charge, but she would be glad to make me a new dress for time off at a reasonable price.

Looking at her specimens and patterns I was impressed, particularly as she was self-taught.

She made me a lovely dress, and helped me with makeup by the time I had learned to use the computer and was able to call Becky on Skype.

"Dad! You look great! And that dress, is it lined? It really suits you."

I couldn't help crying. And it was so good to see her as well as hear her voice.

I asked a couple of times was there really no charge, and she reassured me when there were faults in picture or sound.

"You haven't done anything wrong Dad. These things usually put themselves right in a bit."

"By the way, I've told the boys, and they're desperate to see you. Ike thinks it's funny, but he does that with everything, and Ben says it's really cool. He's impressed you've been such a dark horse."

Now I don't want to be a woman, and I wouldn't be very convincing as one. It's just that since I was a child, I thought it was unfair that men had to dress in dark suits the same every day, while women could have pretty clothes changing all the time. And lingerie! All the patterning and lace! Just for bed or underwear! I asked Mum why and she said it was nice knowing it was there, but it would be immodest to show it, except for a bride at a wedding, of course.

How wonderful to be in a place where people can wear nice dresses without it mattering what was on their birth certificate!

Both my sons laughed to see me on Skype, but it was friendly laughter, and Ben did say his old Dad had turned out more exciting than he thought, and he was glad to see me happy again.

Liz and her husband Sophie invited me for dinner. They were a lovely couple of similar age to me, with a grown-up daughter. Sophie was obviously a man, but had some bits removed and some installed up top: "for the sake of the clothes" he said. It gave me the collywobbles thinking about it.

He was right, of course. The dress did hang better. Liz fixed me up with a padded bra to wear for best, but I was used to dresses without one, although slips were nice, so I mostly didn't.

There were many other people who were "women all the way". Some of them had surprisingly good figures, but things like the shoulder slope gave it away to someone from a clothing background, though Liz had done a good job in flattering them. However, that didn't matter. They had husbands and were women for all practical purposes. The Tranford Wives, they sometimes called themselves. I liked them a lot.

CHAPTER 3

Once I had the place in shape, I started preparing for the Christmas party. I was pretty much given a free hand. David said I should spend what I wanted, but I set a modest budget, and decided on something traditional. In my male clothes I spent some time in town looking around. I got a good deal on a medium size Christmas tree, for a start.

Then in a corner of a toyshop I discovered some decorations reduced to clear. People wanted flashier things these days. No one wanted paper chains. (They are strips of coloured paper with some adhesive on one end. You like it and join it into a loop, then do the next one. It takes a lot of licking.) I bought the lot, and some concertina paper ones.

I suppose I started to view the Tranford Wives like cousins in my community. When an event is coming up, like a wedding, you just expect them to pitch in, so I asked. Would they do a few paper chains and what food would they bring? A few were surprised, but everyone agreed.

A woman called Maisie, who was a painter on the building site, but part of the community, bought a male doll and put him in a white outfit to be the fairy on top of the tree. When people spotted it, they laughed. She's another transgender, and quite funny.

I took advice on drinks and music. There was a good stereo as part of the fittings for the community centre. Some volunteers helped me put up the decorations and lay out the tables and chairs, and the party was a great success.

Including me.

Liz had promised to make me a party dress, but had been quite secretive about it. It was only a few days before when we had a fitting. It was pink and lacy and frilly. I thought there would be a dress over it, but no, this was the finished article!

It was very immodest and I could feel my face burning.

"Oh," she said. "Don't you like it? I've actually got another one I can finish off."

It took me a moment to speak.

"It's wonderful. It's like lingerie outside. Like a fairy story or something. But can I really wear it? With people?"

I suppose the community I had lived in was rather reserved. And I had yet to discover what was on the internet.

"Yes, of course you can. It's a party dress. And it suits you."

I was in a daze. I had helped out in dress shops and never seen such things.

"What style do you call this?"

She laughed.

"Well actually it's a very respected style for some people called cissy. Do they use that word in Leeds?"

Yes, actually they did. Some boys had called me a cissy when they found out I sometimes did sewing. Not a proper male.

She explained it to me.

"A cissy dress is the ultimate feminine -- over the top, in fact. I think it works best when it is worn by a man with pride. Transwomen generally like to be more conservative."

"I don't know," she mused. "I guess it's a bit like sexy women wearing men's suits, making sure you know they're women. Quite different from transmen who want to be accepted."

"Somehow you are embracing the feminine as much as possible. Not something you'd do every day, but wonderful for a party. You'll be the belle of the ball!"

I loved it.

But it was too much. I couldn't show myself like this. Not amongst all these smart women.

In case I chickened out, Liz had made me a French maid outfit with a short skirt and petticoats. That was quite cissy, but a bit of a joke, so I said I would go for it.

I was a bit embarrassed at first, but people were amused and complimented me. It also meant that I could go round serving, and of course dealing with the drinks and music. It was better having something to do, as I didn't have a partner.

People drank, but not too much, ate a variety of food, and danced and socialized. The Tranford Wives were more glamorous than at any event I had been to, and sexier, too. But still refined middle class.

Apart from Maisie, our painter. She was out-and-out flaunting herself in a low-cut top and the shortest skirt. And her husband Bill, who also worked on the building site, was an outrageous flirt. It was all harmless, and they were good fun. Apparently, they were building their own house in time apart from their work, so we didn't usually see a lot of them.

Something happened at the party with David (or after it), because afterwards he was seeing a nice young woman called Chloe. She was an electrician on the building site but lodging with Liz and Sophie. I was glad for both of them.

There was a party to see in the New Year, of course and I was persuaded to wear the pink cissy outfit.

I ended up blushing with compliments rather than embarrassment. They wouldn't let me serve, and Bill insisted on dancing with me (and Sophie and Liz and Chloe and some others).

CHAPTER 4

There were cooking facilities in the flat, and a larger kitchen in the community centre. I had never been much of a cook -- that had been for my mother, wife and later my daughter -- so I quite often ate at the pub. This also supported the couple who ran it. People often characterize Jews as being mean, but it's not true at all. As business people we know the value of money, but we also support community. Going to local shops and businesses is expected as part of normal social life, even if it's not the cheapest. Tranford was very much like the community in which I had grown up, so it was very comfortable for me.

As part of this attitude, people hired the hall and facilities for birthdays and anniversaries. These contributions helped the upkeep and my wages, as well as giving frequent community times. Periodically they would hold a welcome get-together for new members of the community.

It became automatic that there would be a French maid to serve!

Now although I had been in and around the trade, and could cut and sew a bit, I had never been trained in actually making garments, but Liz suggested I could learn to make my own dresses, and use her sewing machine when she didn't need it.

One day I went round and she said she would help me make a simple skirt.

But the sewing machine terrified me. It was more like a computer than anything I had seen before, and so fast! She said it was like driving a car, learning to be gentle on the accelerator, but we had never been able to afford a car and I had never learned. I decided that at sixty, I was too old to learn, so would be glad to let Liz make my clothes.

I had started to Skype Hannah once a week, as well as my children, since she had an iPad, and she joked about me being the last man to get on the internet. I also went to Leeds once a month to visit Miriam's grave. Hannah joined me, and we also went to her Leo's. We had lunch and some time together. It's different from doing it on video.

I had laughed about my sewing experience with her, but didn't expect what happened next.

A van came from Leeds with a delivery for me. Inside was an old-fashioned sewing machine with a treadle instead of a motor, like the ones I had used as a boy. You controlled the speed by how fast you worked the treadle, from stitch by stitch to speeding through in the way my mother used to. There was also some proper tailor's triangular chalk, wax chalk and a full set of tools. Many were old, having been kept for old times' sake, but some had obviously been bought from the materials and metric markings. A full set of real scissors from large bent-handled shears, pinking shears and all down to embroidery scissors, button-hole scissors, and thread clippers. Measuring tools, including a long metal yardstick and a metre stick, smaller rules (you probably say ruler), French curve, tailor's square and sewing gauge. There were also the needles and smaller tools for making and unpicking stitches. I had a steam iron, of course, but not the tailor's ham and clapper for steaming.

It was a full professional set for men and women's clothes. Liz was impressed and intrigued, as I explained a couple of the items.

Hannah also supplied two lengths of cloth in Leeds United colours, and some gents' suiting (probably left over from a closed down business), very good quality, which she suggested would make warm skirts for the winter -- one long and one just knee length -- and which could be worn by the most respectable woman in Moortown, or even Adel or Harrogate.