CHAPTER 92
The next morning was the usual post-party nightmare of half-eaten food and filthy glasses, not to mention a mild hangover. The Woodruffs had stayed over, and the girls, but everyone else had made their way home by cab or shanks’ pony. There were things to do, and fortunately there were young people to kick out of their sleeping bag who could be made to do it. I don’t think I look terrifying in a pair of fluffy pink slippers and a terry dressing gown, but I did my best.

“Kelly, Mark, up and at ‘em, time to earn your keep!”

A tousled head looked out from under the edge of the bag. “Don’t got no keep here, I’m a guest, guests get brought cups of tea in bed, so nyah!”

Mark was mock-whistling nonchalantly as I stooped down.

“Lazy guests don’t get full English breakfasts with black pudding…”

She grinned, and I realised yet again how lucky the young man was. “Well, when you put it like that!”

Ginny was already in the kitchen. “You are going to go all carnivorous, aren’t you?”

She bent down over a tray of eggs.

“Don’t worry, little birdies, I will break it gently to your family. After she breaks you gently…WANT POACHED!”

She switched from lunatic to serious, as she always did, and asked if I had enough in the house for everyone.

“No worries, Ginny, Eric and I did a massive shop the other day. Are you all right with eggs and cereal?”

“I’ll have some of the beans and tomatoes, yeah? My girly will be all meatmurderous, so no problems there, but she wants bacon you can snap. Laters!”

She went off with two cups of tea, as the house continued to wake. I started the oven warming to crisp Kate’s bacon, and set the gloppita gloppita machine going for coffee. That smell was what finally brought the die-hard liers-in downstairs, the four of them arriving behind a manic Ginny.

“Want more tea, do you?”

“Fuck, yeah! Is the Chief Rabbi short of some skin?”

She handed me their two cups as she perched on a kitchen chair, pulling Kate over to sit on her knee. I stared at her.

“Gilbey girl, even for you, you are manic. What is it?”

Once again, the switch was thrown. “Annie, it’s just that this morning, yeah, it fucking hit me right between the eyes. We’ve been on your case since I thought you were going to die on me, and it’s gone so well, yeah, that it felt unreal”

Kate was nodding agreement, and took her wife’s hand as it flailed about in emphasis. Ginny continued, linking fingers with her girly.

“Then it’s now, yeah, this morning, and it’s all so Ideal Home Show, yeah? So fucking ordinary it makes me want to dance! My girlfriend has her family back, they’re coming to her wedding, yeah, it’s all REAL! All this, up to now, I’ve been waiting for that other shoe to drop, and it ain’t falling, it’s on your foot and it’s a fluffy slipper and it’s Gurly-Gurl pink!”

Once again, a flicker, as if she was some old-fashioned slide projector. This Ginny was almost tearful.

“And most of all, we might get to be parents, sort of, and you have no idea–“

She stopped dead. “I’m a fuckwit, Annie. Of course you have an idea, I’m sorry”

Kate kissed her. “No, love, Annie understands, she’s a big girl now. Annie, this means a lot to us, and if we can get there, so can you. If you want to, of course”

I sighed. “Oh sod it, you two, stop being maudlin and set the table. Breakfast in fifteen, aye?”

I shooed them all out, and turned back to my cooking, as the tears held back, just at the edge of flowing. Ginny had hit the raw spot indeed, that place I could never hope to heal. Concentrate, girl, a morning of celebration, breakfasts to serve, vegetarian to offend. So many years pretending to be a man served me well, I could definitely act. Eric, of course, read me like an open book in large print, and after they had all finally taken their leave he came up behind me as I stood at the sink, and just asked “What is it?”

“Ginny and Kate, they seem so happy, and…”

“And you were hoping Polly had us in mind?”

“No, Yes. Sort of…just, I can never be a parent, not a real one, and it’s just one more thing that cuts me. One more abnormality”

“Lots of women are like that, love. Lots who can’t.”

“Ginny and Kate could, either or both”

“And have a child that only came from one of them? Chantelle’s from outside, they start at evens, but any child one of them gave birth to would be all of one and none at all of the other. I have spoken to them about this before, love. They are an odd couple, they want to share everything”

“Don’t I share enough with you?”

“Nope. Not enough snogs for one.”

That led to the obvious reply, and that in turn led upstairs, and the old joke came to my mind, just as Eric did, that I might not be able to have a baby, but the trying for one was not unpleasant.

The next few weeks were a little silly, as work took its toll on our ever-active social life, and Kirsty got more and more excited about Things as I worked hard to keep my weight heading towards the point where the Things would look good on me. As my figure improved, I found my tastes changing, towards more sharply styled suits and skirts, influenced more than a little by my fiancé’s professed adulation of my rump and legs. The LBD, it seemed, had been more of a hint than just a gift. That realisation was such a boost to my ego as a woman that it tempted me to try out other things, and the lingerie departments got a slight bashing for a while. The day I broke eleven stone was momentous, and I rang Ginny from work to pass her the news, only to get her answering machine, which was odd, as it was Kate’s evening off, and they normally stayed at home for a slob session. I set off for home as the late relief came in, and as I went round the back to put my bike away I found a tandem and Kate’s solo there already. There was a note tucked into a seat pack.

“At coffee shop by bank. Bring money”

I rode round to the old High Street, and spotted the mad one straight away. They had clearly timed it to match my coming home time, and Kate was at the counter getting coffees and cakes for all of us, and a coke for the girl in the new lycra and helmet standing next to her…they had done it. Quietly, no fuss, no shouting, Chantelle had joined them. As she turned, she smiled, and she was indeed beautiful at that moment, even if she couldn’t work out how to get her helmet off.

“Hiya Mizz Price! We got cake, yeah”

Ginny grinned. “F–lip yeah, Annie, can’t not have cake, even if it does look like something from the WSD. How’s lover boy?”

I looked straight at little Shan. “Which one?”

That brought a real blush. She tried to change the subject.

“We rode all the way here, on a two-seater bike, and I had to pedal all the way, lahk”

Ginny laughed” Move your legs, anyway, girl! I didn’t feel no dynamo driving me from the back!”

She turned to me with the grin in place. “Early days, but it was such a lovely day we had to do it. Right, Shan?”

“Yeah, was great, even the hilly bits, and this is all new kit, and she really knows good swears for car drivers, yeah”

Ginny put on a professorial face. “Agglutinative compounds, my dear”

“What?”

“You just sticks lots of words together and shout them. Just not in coffee shops, yeah”

“When, Kate?”

“Three days ago. Shan’s on a month’s placement, to see how it goes. It’s a sort of rolling month thing, until they make a final decision on her”

“And you already have her on a bike?”

“Ginny had a cunning plan…I have to ride home on the train, dump my bike, and come back with the car and the tandem rack. So we need somewhere to sit and be civilised”

I nodded. “So, you thought chez Johnson, aye?”

Ginny snorted. “How long you been doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“Calling yourself by your married name, of course! Kate, there’s no hope for her, no sooner out of the enemy clothing and she’s signing up for patriarchy duties”

“Indeed” murmured Kate. “It’s Priceless”

Even Shan got that one, but Kate continued. “Nope, actually, we were thinking of the Woods residence”

Stupid me! I looked over to a lycra-clad teenager, and she was as red as the gloves she still had on her hands. “Daz be home from school, yeah?”

“I don’t know, love. Shall we go and see?”

A gentle procession to the Woods house found a delighted Naomi, but no Darren, who was playing an inter-school match that afternoon, so armed with Naomi’s directions we continued on to his playing fields, where Albert’s car was parked as he watched his boy on the pitch. We locked up and clattered across the car park to join him, and that was a joy for me, as his face lit up at the sight of the girl.

“Darren’s a striker, look, number ten on his shirt, in the blue. Half an hour to go, and nobody’s scored.”

I know how THAT sort of story is supposed to go. We turn up, young love speaks across the pitch, young man is inspired by presence of beloved to perform above and beyond, winning goal, etc. Well, they lost, by one goal, but Darren impressed me with his pace and control, and it was a tribute to his skills when it became clear that their full backs were actively trying to hurt him, the silly boys. Half the time my coppers hadn’t been able to get hold of him, how did they think they could do any better? The final whistle went, and after a round of handshakes and claps, the players and officials made their way off the field. Darren made his way straight to Albert, and when he registered who was there his grin was so wide the top of his head should have fallen off. No shyness now, straight into a hug, to a chorus of “Dazza’s got a girl-friend!” from his team mates, but the taunts came with and were met by smiles.

If I couldn’t have any of my own, here at least were two I could feel some pride in having been able to help. Albert was beaming.

“Fish and chips then, children?”