the cauldron

She looked up and down the carriage. The train was busy – this was good. It meant she could stand in the aisle between carriages without raising suspicion, keeping an eye out for the ticket inspector. She’d scoped out the train already – toilets in both directions. She had to stay alert for anxious hours, traveling with increasing speed from the narrow valleys of Powys, late-summer green and dark and heavy, through the open fields of dry, bleached-yellow England, down to London. She looked up and down the carriage again, glancing briefly at the tote bag by her side, and to ease the tension in her mind, outlined the rationale for her actions.

When you want to avoid paying the fare on the train, there are several questions to consider.

First – how do you avoid the ticket inspector? The most graceful soloution, of course, is to go and hide in the toilets, just for like five minutes, until the inspector’s moved from one carriage to the other – and then you just go to the carriage they’ve done a sweep of. Classic, elegant. She was in such a good position for this. Just remember to take the bag with her.

There was someone else in the aisle between carriages too. Was he looking at her? No, looking out of the window. Could she sit in the carriage? She padded over to look, saw free seats, but then she’d be sitting next to someone and honestly who needs that. Now that guy was looking at her. She met his eyes, he looked away.

Second question – how likely is the ticket inspector to do a full sweep of the train and ask for all tickets? They only do that sometimes, once a journey. Otherwise they just tend to ask for new fares. This one comes with practice. They usually do the sweep on the long stretches, like this bit – Stafford down to London, especially before the train gets to Milton Keynes. In her experience, anyway – always when she’d gone down to see Entropy in the past. When they were still seeing each other.

But the third thing is really important – are you prepared to pay for a ticket? If you’re cornered, and you don’t have a convenient toilet at your back, this is always a possibility. The thing to do then is just pay up – get a ticket from the last stop to the next stop, or whatever. Whatever is least suspicious, gets the guard to leave you alone. When that happens, she really lays on the femme voice, gets way more middle-class. Her Welsh accent softens. After all, what else were they teaching in those NHS vocal training classes. She used that voice when she was working at the reception of the National Library. Not her favourite job, too public. She liked archival stuff better. Or exhibition stuff, hardly anyone in the exhibitions this time of year. Hopefully, anyway. She felt the weight of the box in the bag.

Sometimes it’s unavoidable, you have to pay. Like on the Aberystwyth to Shrewsbury line, a beautiful journey, but so quiet, so quiet, and the train is always small. One toilet, sometimes. She got away with the toilet dodge when the guy did the big sweep after Machynlleth, but got nabbed between Welshpool and Shrewsbury. Annoying, but fine, she’d budgeted for that – single from Welshpool to Shrewsbury, seven quid – she’d changed trains at Shrewsbury anyway. And if she avoided most of the fare down to London, that’s at least another hundred quid in the fund for her facial surgery.

Focus, Gwen! She saw the ticket guy, going through the carriage, checking everyone. She went into the toilet, locked the door, sat, looked at her phone – five minutes should be enough time for him to have checked that carriage and the next, and it didn’t do to spend a suspiciously long time in the toilet.

*

After ten minutes, she stepped out. The inspector was in the far carriage. Success! She should have been relieved. She felt stressed though. Why did she feel stressed?

Shit, where was the bag? Fuck. Fuck. She’d left it in the toilet, now someone else was in there, she’d have to wait.

Why do people take so long in there? Jesus.

*

It was fine, in the end – the lady in the toilet after her gave her the bag. For a bit, amidst a simmering panic, Gwen wondered what her response would be to the tall thin doll asking her about a bag she’d left in the loo. Would she be that kindly but bemused sort who smiled a bit too much? Or would she sigh or something, and Gwen would have to parse her response for some underlying hostility. She didn’t want to do that. She had enough on her plate. In the end though the lady – maybe fifty, dark hair, tidy-looking – had looked at her open expression, wordlessly handed her the bag.

Gwen nodded, mumbled ‘thanks’

The older woman said nothing, had no expression.

People are weird.

*

Stepping out of the station, the buzz of the city embraced her, the fading summer dusk blending the lights of the food trucks and the streetlamps. She took a bus straight to Dalston, to the bar where Entropy worked. Just the tote bag and a backpack with a couple of things. If this didn’t go well, she would maybe miss the last train back, wouldn’t she? But there was probably an early one tomorrow. It was a relief being somewhere with good transport.

The bar was a squeeze, but would get busier as the evening progressed. Dyke-coded. Gwen nudged past a bunch of other dolls as she made her way in. She felt her shoulders unchlench. She saw Entropy working behind the bar. Entropy had bleached her dark hair blonde at the fringes, and it looked like petals. As she mixed a drink, her familiar expression of bored annoyance gave Gwen a blip of apprehension, but she was here. This expression was replaced by wide-eyed surprise as she spotted Gwen.

*

They talked, Gwen persuaded Entropy to hear her out. She took her break and they sat at a booth towards the back, with a small reserved sign on it.

‘Ok Gwen, what? What do you have to show me?’

‘Ok. Are you ready though? It’s really good.’ She widened her eyes at Entropy, whose expression mingled impatience with curiosity. Gwen smiled, and thought she saw a reciprocal flicker from Entropy.

‘Oh for fuck’s sake just show me, what is wrong with you?’

‘Ok, ok here it is..’

Gwen reached in to the tote bag and pulled out a purple box with Unisharp: 30G fixed needle syringes written on it. It was the box where she kept syringes for her estrogen injections, which since that morning were stored instead in a plastic M&S bag under her bed. She opened the box, full of scrunched newspapers and another tote. Reaching into it she took out a small, ancient-looking wooden bowl, perhaps the size of a balled fist, like half an eggshell, blackened and somewhat broken with an assymetrical gouge beneath the rim on one side.

Now Entropy’s eyes widened. There was a moment of silence.

‘Ok what is it?’ asked Entropy.

‘Don’t you remember?’ said Gwen, her smile wavering.

Slowly, theatrically, open-palmed, Entropy shrugged.

‘It’s the Nanteos Cup, Ent! I showed it to you when we went round the National Library’

‘Wait.. that’s that weird Welsh Holy Grail? Jesus fucking Christ, Gwen!’

As Gwen had explained to Entropy on their walk round the Library during a visit to Aberystwyth, the Nanteos Cup probably wasn’t the Holy Grail. It was a cup kept at Nanteos House in the nineteenth century, which came from the medieval monastery of Ystrad Fflur, the vale of flowers, in the uplands of Ceredigion. Some people theorised that it had been venerated at Ystrad Fflur as the Holy Grail, and that it may have been taken to the monastery from Glastonbury around the time of the Dissolution in the sixteenth century. Those people were probably wrong.

It had been such a nice visit, though. And Entropy had loved the story of the cup, or appeared to. They had met some of Gwen’s colleagues, and Entropy had been her usual cool, charming self. Gwen had felt a lot less alone, no longer the only trans woman working at a friendly but small institution full of cis academics, some weird outlier. There were two of them now, her and her cool girlfriend, a little transsexual gang who could ignore what others thought, who had their own intimate world. They went up Pen Dinas, went round the charity shops, had tapas, then got very drunk on cider. And then stood on the beach at three in the morning throwing rocks and other things into the sea. It was perfect.

Gwen spoke: ‘Yeah! It’s the Holy Grail! Or, you know, not. But maybe!’

‘What the fuck is it doing here?’

‘It’s a gift – it’s for you!’

‘Gwen did you steal this? Have you stolen this?’

‘Well, yeah! I mean, it’s for you! You love this shit, you love the occult! Here it is! I stole you the Holy Grail.’

Gwen absolutely beamed, as Entropy stared open mouthed across the table.

‘I don’t want it.’

‘What? Why?’

‘Gwen what the FUCK! You can’t just steal historical artefacts, what is wrong with you? Girl you are a transsexual woman, do you have any fucking idea how bad prison can be for girls like us? Jesus fuck, Gwen, this is dangerous! Have you thought any stage of this through?’

‘No but listen I’ve thought it through so well! So at work today, I’d already gotten the keys to the display exhibits from behind Gwydion’s desk. I just took the cup out, put in a sign that said ‘apologies – object has been temporarily removed from display’, and came on the train straight down.’

‘What about when they find out it’s gone?’

‘Well obviously the library’s closed Sundays, Mondays too since the cuts. And like, the only person who’ll really look in on the display exhibits is Aeronwy, and she’s been pretty checked-out since the last round of redundancies started – I think we all have, even part-timers like me. And I don’t think anyone will think twice about the apologies sign for a while. I reckon we’ve got at least a couple of weeks.’

‘Until what?’

‘Well until they notice, I could put it back before then.’

‘I thought this was a gift?’

‘Well... I mean, that kindof depends on how... you know, on how this goes.’

‘Gwen what the FUCK. This is exactly why we broke up.’

The light left Gwen’s eyes a little, and a frightened disappointment came in.

‘...what?’

‘For fuck’s sake Gwen. You turn up here with this weird, stolen, conditional gift. How can you be so weird and fucking Welsh that you’re like this even when you’re doing something so monumentally stupid.’

‘I thought it would be romantic’

‘What? Offering a conditional gift that comes with the promise of prison time? You always do this!’

‘Steal you the Holy Grail?’

‘No! You always just do these big stupid things without thinking them through! It’s like you’re terrified of inertia, and you spend so long stewing in it and you don’t do the steps, like the little steps that take you further. It’s just like you sitting on that fucking pile of GRC paperwork and moaning about it, just do the stuff that will make your life better! And then it all just bolis over and you do these fucking stupid gestures, and it was cute to start with but it’s just your outlet! I have to get back to my shift. Put that fucking cup away, I get off in an hour, and then we’ll work out what we are going to do about this absolute clusterfuck you’ve created.’

‘We’ll work it out? We is hopeful.’

‘I am warning you, Gwen. I am so fucking angry with you right now, don’t you fucking dare try to be cute. I will see you when my shift ends.’

*

Gwen waited in the booth, staring at the last third of her drink. What actually was her plan? Was Entropy always like this, always criticising? She remembered her as being nicer. Why was she not more impressed?

‘Gwen? Babe! What are you doing here?’

It was Rebecca, Entropy’s housemate. She was wearing plaid shorts, a mesh top, combat boots. Tall, over six foot, a strong face with beautiful cheekbones, a face suited to smiling. Which she did often – she always seemed to know everyone, Rebecca. She was always nice to Gwen when she’d come down and stay with Ent. Gregarious, and she introduced Gwen to everyone! Entropy was always weirdly... cagey about that. Like she was keeping the two of them as a couple apart from her social world, or something.

‘Gwen?’

‘What?’

‘What are you doing here, babe?’

‘Oh, you know, just a little visit, just... hanging out’

‘Oh really?’ Rebecca raised an eyebrow, looked to the bar.

‘Well darling lovely to see you, I’m going to get a drink. We’re off to Layla’s set tonight, if you’d like to join us? I mean if that’s the vibe. There’s like a whole gang of us going once Ent’s off her shift.’

‘Oh wow I’d love to!’

Rebecca chatted to Entropy at the bar. As Gwen, from an inaudible distance, watched them talk, Rebecca’s expression shifted from confusion, to surprise, to an amused mouthing of ‘what the fuck’. She walked back over to Gwen.

‘Babe have you stolen an artefact?’

‘Yeah. Yeah I mean... borrowed, probably.’

‘Hahahahahaha what the fuck? Can I see it?’

Gwen relaxed. This was more the kind of reaction she wanted!

‘Maybe later.’

*

From the noise of the bar to the gently warm night beyond. Fuck, whatever she was doing it was nice to be back here. She looked at the terraced houses. Some students gathering around a porch to leave for a club. An uncurtained window, a girl alone but for a cat on the sofa, checking her phone in flickering television light. Gwen shivered, pulled her cardigan tight. Did she still have her bag? Safe at her side. They were heading to the club for Layla’s set, that would be nice. She slowed her pace and listened for Rebecca and Entropy behind her.

Entropy’s unwillingness to invite Gwen along had faded in the face of Rebecca’s firm insistence that they couldn’t leave the ‘poor little country mouse alone in the big city’. Her enthusiasm proved stronger than Ent’s uncertain indifference, but they were both still talking behind her as they walked. Their conversation seemed to resolve, and just then Rebecca came up to Gwen,

‘So... you’ve got the Holy Grail, that’s what I heard.’

*

It was busy, and warm, some queer basement bar under a pub called the King’s Head. Gwen had a faint memory of it, or was it that she had been to so many similar places? Entropy hung out by the door, chatting with the bouncer. Rebecca walked with confidence to the bar and got them drinks. She had some tech job. And as they stood with their drinks and listened to the early set DJ, who could not beatmatch, Rebecca looked over with some purpose. A look at the DJ, questioning, which Gwen echoed. A look towards the toilets, meaningful, which Gwen understood.

But it was Entropy that took Gwen’s hand and led her towards the toilets.

‘I need the loo but we should talk.’

There were three cubicles. One was occupied; one had no toilet seat; one had no lock. With the inevitable arithmetic of shit club toilets, they wound up in the third cubicle, Entropy sitting on the seat and Gwen leaning back against the door.

‘Gwen why did you come here? Why did you do this?’

‘I miss you, Ent. I miss us together. I thought I’d show you...’

‘Did you need to steal a relic to say that? Ok. I miss some of us... but it didn’t work for me anymore. I’m not going to say it isn’t weird and nice to see you, but it’s... like look at how you’ve turned up. It’s like you were just bored, I don’t know how much you thought about me or...’

‘I did though – I thought a lot about you. That time you were really into it, me telling you about the history of the cup and the grail theory.’

‘I was into you, Gwen. And I’m sorry that I’m not anymore. Look, you can stay tonight, but tomorrow you need to go back. And...’ she sighed, ‘take that cup back where it won’t get you into even more trouble. You need to look after yourself.’

As silence settled, broken by Rebecca shouting for Entropy. She joined them in the toilet.

‘Girls, who wants a fucking bump?’

Entropy rolled her eyes and left the cubicle.

*

The unease and uncertainty fell from Gwen like a cloak as the Mkat took hold. Shapes on the dance floor, lights shining more brightly than before. They joined Entropy on the dance floor. Dancing felt natural. Gwen echoed Entropy’s movements, caught her eye. Entropy returned her smile faintly, and looked away. Then turned away, moved away, to talk to some people by the bar. Gwen turned to Rebecca, who was tall, and strikingly beautiful, red hair in the changing reflection of light, eyes glowing above those cheekbones, and looking at her. Rebecca leaned down, and they kissed, kissed for a long time. Dancing, Rebecca’s arms at her shoulders, hers at Rebecca’s waist.

‘Can I look at your Holy Grail?’

‘What?’

‘I want to look at the cup!’

It was loud, they went back to the toilet cubicle. As Gwen reached into the bag, Rebecca’s eyes widened and she shouted ‘Wait!’, and, rummaging in her own bag, brought out a bottle of Buckfast.

‘Let’s drink out of it!’

Gwen hesitated, for a bit. Would the drink stain it or something? But it was a cup, that’s what it was for! The musty wooden smell of the ancient bowl mingled with the sweet odour of the Buckfast as each took their turn sipping. In silence, solemnly, and then kissing deeply with sticky lips.

‘Do you think we’ll live forever?’ asked Rebecca. ‘That’s what it’s meant to do, right? Like in Indiana Jones?’

‘Honestly it’s kindof vague. In medieval literature, the grail often isn’t really defined as a thing, like what it is, what it does. It’s more of a MacGuffin, you know? All the knights, all of the Round Table knights, they just go out into the world and quest, and the grail is the prize. It’s French, first, it’s a French story, by Chrétien de Troyes. And he’s vague. But then after him there’s these other authors, like fanfic, they write more about it and decide that it’s the cup at the Last Supper, or the Crucifixion, or as something that gives eternal life. But first off it’s pretty vague, more about the quest.’

‘So it’s about the journey, not the destination? Do something and think about what it means later? I can see how that would appeal to you.’ Rebecca smiles. Gwen thinks that she has seen few smiles that mix goofiness and sultriness as well as Rebecca’s. Pretty eyes. Blue, forgiving eyes. She wished she had eyes like that. She realises she’s staring, and they kiss again.

‘It’s different in Wales’, says Gwen.

‘What do you mean?’

‘There is something like the grail in Welsh myth – called Pair y Dadeni, the Cauldron of Rebirth, it’s cool, it makes zombies. But it’s not in the Welsh version of the grail story, Peredur. In that story there’s this cool burning tree, that’s green and lush on one side and, like, on fire on the other. When Peredur goes off to kill this monster. I love that tree. But there’s no grail – instead of a grail, Peredur sees this massive decapitated head on a platter, and that’s the whole thing of the story. But the whole story is really vague and rambly. But it’s still good. You know... I can give you the Welsh version if you like.’ Gwen tries for sultry.

‘Give me the Welsh version? Give me a cauldron?’ asks Rebecca, confused.

‘Nooo... do you want me to give you head?’

‘You’re weird. Yes please.’

Gwen smiled, pushed her hair back behind her ears, and crouched down on the toilet seat as she pulled down Rebecca’s shorts.

*

Entropy was dancing with some friends, enbys and transmascs mainly, on the other side of the room when Gwen and Rebecca came back out. Dancing closely with someone, Gwen thought their name was Tar? They joined them. Gwen and Rebecca kissed again, Entropy kissing Tar (was it Tar?), everything full of love. Groups of queers dancing, her attention drawn to two circles, mainly other dolls, each side of the pillar in the middle of the floor. Some selfconsciously cool, one with some ball of light thing, Gwen didn’t know what it was, she was swinging it about, pretty amazing, until it cracked the back of some guy’s head. Laughing, apologising. Gwen and Rebecca both laughed, dancing and kissing again.

Dancing, and lights, and kissing. Much later, as Gwen walked over to the bar, she saw Entropy standing in the corner, on her phone.

‘This is okay, right?’

Ent glanced up, ‘Why would I care? It’s up to you. I do wish you had a social circle wider than me and my housemates.’

Gwen closed her eyes. She suddenly felt tired. Just then Rebecca swooped in, tall, thin, graceful, goofy, and yanked the tote bag from Gwen’s shoulder.

‘It belongs in a MUSEUM HAHAHAHAHAHAHA’

Unhinged. Gwen ran after her.

Entropy returned to her phone. She wished she’d gone back with Tar an hour ago, they’d seemed keen. She was tired though, it had been a long shift at work, she didn’t drink anymore, and the energy of this crowd was very unsober right now. And this was just classic Rebecca. That girl was messy, and her tendency to fuck anyone she befriended was one of the reasons that going about with her was socially connective and emotionally fraught – some demented catalyst, she was always bumping into exes and people she’d fucked. On the dance floor, Entropy had seen at least three of the latter either glaring daggers or eyerolling at Gwen and Rebecca kissing. Not Entropy, though. If Gwen needed to snog her slutty housemate to process whatever the fuck this was, let her. Rebecca asking her for permission earlier too – Entropy wasn’t Gwen’s protector, those two could do what they liked. She’d had enough of looking after people, enough of nurturing clueless dolls. Gwen was nice and charming and clever but there was always that imbalance, and whenever she did anything it was everyone else who had to deal with the consequences of how chaotically she did it. She was pretty, though, her long, serious face. Prettier than Rebecca. Well, whatever. Gwen could deal with her consequences. And Rebecca too, though she wouldn’t, that girl never did any heavy lifting. And fuck, Gwen could be annoying, and draining, and needed her so much more than Ent needed Gwen. Stuck out in the sticks, but it was so nice visiting her, it really was. It was pretty there.

And Gwen’s baby trans development and that excitement she always got doing stupid shit, like Jesus just getting drunk and dancing and Mkat and... Entropy was just a bit bored of that, you know? Just bored of it. It would do Gwen good to move away from her life and live in a city, see how boring that stuff got when it was your everyday. Entropy had always wanted to enjoy Gwen’s life with her, out there in the beautiful mountains and the facing sea. But Gwen couldn’t enjoy it. Look at her running about now, though.

*

As the night wound down, a group of them went back to the ground-floor flat Entropy and Rebecca shared with two other dolls and a ginger cat called Rex. Rebecca was very insistent on having a fire in the back garden and watching the sunrise, which was hours away, so Gwen worked with her to pile wood into the fire pit. Her arms felt tired, but her head was still buzzy from the Mkat and the drinks. Movement was good, and movement together was even better. They settled around the fire, low conversation and smoking. Rebecca and Gwen had moved on to cider, each pouring a glug into the cup and sipping it as it spilled.

The garden was small and treeless, but there were tall beech trees overhanging from the garden next door, the shadows of a crowd lit by fire playing on their smooth trunks. Rex watched the group from a distance, sat warily on a barbecue. Gwen spent some minutes tempting him into trust, then stroking and fussing for a long time. When she returned to the circle, Rebecca was chatting to Entropy.

After most had left, and Gwen and Entropy sat across from each other over the weakening fire, with Rebecca asleep on Entropy’s leg. She looked down at her friend’s sleeping form.

‘She needs to be careful, that girl. She’s going pretty hard.’

‘She seems really happy to me. Like, she was having a good time all of tonight, it was really nice to see her.’

‘Yeah. Gathered that. Look you don’t know her, Gwen. She’s my friend. You don’t really know her.’

Both looked again at the fire.

‘So I guess this adventure went pretty well for you. Just burn it down and see what the fuck happens and worry about that afterwards?’

‘I’m sorry, Ent. I came down for you, I came down because of you. I missed you, I missed us. It’s not my fault you don’t.’

‘Did you? Did you miss me? You haven’t asked me anything about my life. Just talked about that stupid cup, got smashed, hooked up with my friend, I don’t know where I fit into any of that.’

Gwen looked down at the cup in her hands.

‘I brought this down because of you. You loved it that day, you loved coming up. And then you didn’t want to anymore.’

‘I do remember that day, Gwen. What I remember mostly is how happy I felt to see you in your environment, in this life you’d built for yourself, this world you knew really well. And how your eyes shone when you were telling me about history and ancient artefacts, and how sure you were that it was interesting, that it was important.’

‘All of that, my job, my life there. I built all of that when I was miserable. It feels like the past, it just hurts. It’s not a life that’s... it’s not the right shape for me. I’d love to keep what is alive from it, the life it’s still possible to live. But I don’t know how to get rid of bad parts and keep good parts when they’re in the same thing.’

Gwen realised that she was crying. She stood and went over to Entropy, who put her free arm around her. She gently stroked Gwen’s dark hair before she spoke,

‘It was hard to be happy there when you weren’t. You always liked it better coming down here, but it was different when you came down here. We were less close.’

‘You understand me so well, Ent.’

‘I really don’t. I don’t know if you know me that well either.’

‘Here we are, anyway.’

They were silent again for a while, as the dawn chorus stirred the air around them. The light of dawn was coming up, catching half of the tall beech in the next garden in red.

Again, it was Entropy who broke the silence.

‘So if the quest’s the thing, what do you do once you have the grail? What does it do?’

‘I don’t know... gives life? Be alive, I suppose?’

Gwen looked at the embers, and at the cup in her hand as she spoke,

‘It’s weird. You spend years looking at a thing through glass, and it’s magical. And then... you can take it, and move it through the world. And it’s just some old wooden bowl, just a thing, like all the other things.’

‘So are you going to take it back?’

‘No. Fuck that. It’s mine now.’