My Story by Caroline Cossey

My Story by Caroline Cossey

Author:Caroline Cossey [Cossey, Caroline]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Caroline Cossey
Published: 2015-06-11T00:00:00+00:00


12

The Price of Privacy

The show was to be recorded in Yorkshire in front of a live audience, and we travelled up to Leeds together. Everyone was excited and in high spirits, and even I was beginning to enjoy the adrenalin. The rehearsals had given me a lot of confidence. ‘Perhaps I could get really good at this,’ I thought.

We were given a large dressing room to share and I sat with a cup of coffee, waiting to be called in to make-up. One of the girls came over to join me and we were chatting about the show when, out of the blue, she asked: ‘Why is it that you’ve never worked with Brian?’

I felt the blood drain from my face and I reached down into my bag for my cigarettes.

‘Brian who?’ I said lightly, struggling to keep the tremor from my voice. My hair was shielding my face and she couldn’t see my pallor.

‘Brian—’

I fought to stay calm. ‘Oh,’ I said. ‘Has he tried to book me? I’ve been so busy lately, and my agent doesn’t always keep me up to date with work offers.’

But the girl persisted. ‘Well, he’s tried to book you on a number of occasions. He seems to have got the idea that you don’t want to work with him. Is that right?’

‘I don’t even know him,’ I replied. ‘Is he a friend of yours?’

‘He’s my boyfriend,’ she said. ‘You’ll meet him this evening. He’s coming to see the show.’

I changed the subject as naturally as possible, but I felt as though I had been punched in the stomach. As soon as the girl left, I fled to the loo and locked myself in. Leaning against the door, shaking uncontrollably, and with tears coursing down my face, I felt as though my world had broken into a thousand pieces. If there were money to be made out of it, this man would lose no sleep over exposing me.

The idea of my privacy being shattered in that way was too terrible to contemplate. I had been living and working as a woman for so long, how could I possibly bear to be turned into a freak show, a creature to be stared at and talked about? I would sooner die.

I tried to get out of the show and went to see the casting director, pleading ill-health. But she didn’t buy it.

‘You’re just having an attack of first-night nerves,’ she said. ‘As soon as the show is over you’ll feel a lot better.’

By the end of that dreadful day I felt suicidal. With two left feet and a mouth as dry as sawdust, I had stumbled through the show. Under the bright studio lights the world took on a surreal aspect. I knew that Brian was there watching from the wings, and, judging by the expression on his girlfriend’s face every time she looked at me, he had shared my little secret with at least one other person. ‘It’s only a matter of time before they all know,’ I thought to myself, feeling a trickle of sweat run down my spine.



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