CHAPTER 17
The next couple of days were very odd, for me, as I Johnned my way to work and Lauraed round the house in the evening. Pete was driving me each day, and I had to concentrate on being appropriate in each phase.

He was apprehensive about his father coming down, and not just about the revelations that might emerge. On his return home from hospital, he had felt smothered by his father. Whether that was from guilt that his son had gone out to ‘be a man’ and come back so reduced, or simply that Pete’s perceptions had changed, he could not say, but either way he had decided to take the educational opportunities offered, and go back to what he still thought of as his home, and find his own way. The rest, we knew.

His worry was that his father would be unable to handle his refusal to rely on him. It was OK being independent at about 300 miles’ distance, it was another doing it in the same room. And then, there was myself.

I will try to be very precise in what I say here. I have already mentioned my sexual arousal, but I really do not think that there was any scope at all for a sexual relationship with Pete as I was. Laura had apparently been me, and I her, from my earliest memories, the ones I used to have. Everything bore that out. The more I remembered, and it was still moods and feelings rather than incidents, the more I realised that Laura was me and Old John was a construct. I actually thought of him as Odd John, after the Small Faces song on an album my mother had, and the fact that I thought of him as ‘him’, as ‘other’, made the point.

Apart from the horror of the last part of the tape that Mary had played, I had been profoundly disturbed by John on his eleventh birthday. Not just the dispassionate way he described his bike modifications, there had been the genuine puzzlement at the question about having a party. Laura had bounced her way through her answers, and I was still smiling at the response when she listed who was coming to her party: PETE, a whole list of girlfriends, oh, and some boys.

And my father (NOT my ‘dad’) had taken all that, and shat all over it. I resolved to visit his grave again.

Enough. The point I was going to make was that I was terrified as to Pete senior’s reaction to finding his son cuddled up to a drag queen, a bender, a transvestite, pick your own abusive term. I held fast to the fact that his son had stood by me throughout all of the horrors of the past weeks, and he seemed willing to stay and continue the work. And loved him, which was becoming less confusing each time I saw him.

The day he was due, we got back to find that Mum had been shopping again, and had found a narrow wheelchair that fitted neatly through all the doors n the house. Pete’s super whizzy beast had canted wheels to help contain the speed he cornered at, but if he was going to race through the house I would let his tyres down. Now he was mobile, and I would not have to do crutch-duty any more. I had a small pang of regret at that. I loved my mother more every day, a feat I thought impossible. Pete made a number of jokes about mothers in law, and I was secretly pleased.

Mum drove up to Fareham to pick up Pete senior, and I did my level best to look as Laura as possible. The wool skirt and grey silk blouse, as suggested, were on show, coupled with black stockings (yes, I wanted to feel good for Pete) and as my mother had insisted, three inch heels on black suede court shoes. If he didn’t like it, sod him.

Just as I finished putting my face on, I heard the car. Pete was on kettle duty, and I heard him get the door, courtesy of his second set of new wheels. I decided it was time to make my entrance.

He was a big man, at least 6’4”, going slightly to fat but still solid. Bald as a coot, or shaved, with a pepper and salt beard, he made me feel smaller than ever.

He was talking to Pete, my Pete, in what seemed a relaxed way, and he was holding Mum’s hand. I came into the kitchen, my heels loud on the floor. This was the moment when I would find out…he turned, and his face lit up.

“Laura!”

I was swept into a huge and comprehensive hug, and my doubts swirled down the drain and out to sea. This was a man, a man’s man, and I was a girl in his arms.

“You have grown girl”

“Well, I have had over twenty years to do so!”

“No wonder Pete is stuck on you. Can you answer one question?”

“Yes…..”

“You couldn’t possibly fancy an old, bald man that knows your mother?”

“Oh you sod!”

Just like that, from fear to slapping him and laughing. I looked at my mother, and back at Dad Pete, and realised why she loved him, and where my man had come from.

Mother eventually shouted for calm and cooperation, and we settled ourselves around a simple buffet meal of bits and nibbles.. I noticed that at no time did they drop their hold on each other.

Mum loved him, and he did her, so why so long apart? The conversation around the table steered clear of nasties by what seemed general consent, and I was astonished when my mother, as we finished clearing the table, appeared with two board games.

“Scrabble or Monopoly?”

Pete laughed, “No way am I going up against my bloody lecturer in Scrabble! Monopoly, of course,”

So, there we were, sat round a table playing a board game, like some ordinary family. I had grabbed the little dog, Mother the car and Dad Pete the top hat. Pete looked in the box, grinned, and took the boot.

“Seems apt, I suppose”

He won, and he knocked me out first, the bastard. I may slowly be learning to speak human, but was still a long way from reading the unspoken stuff, and Pete’s poker face was so far beyond my skills I just gave up.

It came down to Mum and him in the end, so Dad Pete and I settled down on the sofa for a chat.

“I believe you have had a couple of heavy days, Laura”

“That is putting it rather mildly, Pete. I have a lot to come to terms with”

I indicated my clothing. “This was something remarkably private till a few weeks ago, and yet, as I recover myself, it feels more and more normal, more normal than being John, at least, but he was never normal.

“Can I ask you one question, Pete, one single one before we go into the rest of things?”

“I may not answer it, you know that, but try me”

“Mary---my psych---says that the pattern of my abuse was obvious from my childhood records. Why was that never picked up? Surely my doctor, our GP, should have spotted it?”

His geniality went on pause for a second, and I saw someone hard behind the smile.

“Your father….John and your GP were in the same Lodge. A funny handshake or two, a bit of free building work, you should get the picture. No more, girl, leave it till tomorrow.”

There was a loud shout from the table. Apparently, my mother had just landed on some expensive property, and Pete wanted her kidneys or something in payment. The game was over. My game would start tomorrow.

I joined Mum again in the small hours. Dad Pete wasn’t there.

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My mother, being the perfectionist she is, went all-out on the breakfast front. Pete was fresh from the shower, which he could now use on his own, but Dad Pete was yawning as I came down in my dressing gown and slippers.

“That bed’s too short. I should have climbed in with your mother”

She was calm, clear and controlled.
“I am sorry, Pete, but I already had a guest last night”

She was also bright red. I pointed this out to her, which of course made her redder, and then she burst into tears and ran out of the room. I went after her, finding her sitting on her bed. I held her, and she clutched at me.

“I knew last night that you might come to me again, and I know the horrors that come to you, but I wanted him there, and I resented you keeping him away. I resented my own child”

“That is understandable, you have missed him, I can see that. You are always so precise, Mum, so controlled, and you aren’t when you are near him. Please understand, your own life doesn’t stop for your children. I want you to be happy. Pete can cuddle me if I need it”

She sat up and looked at me, turning my face to her gaze.

“You have decided then, my love?”

“No, Mum, there is no decision. I realised that as I lay beside you last night. Little Laura knew from the day she understood the difference, and I am still that girl. I just had a few years of illness and confusion. I am not rid of Odd John yet, I never will be, but I think I know who I am again.

“Knowledge, not choice, Mum, and I do believe I know. The decision will be what I choose to do about things. I am Laura, I will be me, but the mechanics…they will need very careful thought, and help from my loved ones”

“And those who love you, dear. Never forget that.”