CHAPTER 8
I laughed happily as Elder placed Younger back in his chair. “You have just made my life easier, you know, I can call you ‘Dad’ now so tiny brain here doesn’t get confused!”

There was a lot of work left to do. Abigail was certain to have passed the word about the ‘freak’, so I would be attending work from now on as Laura. That brought on another long chain of thoughts, where I tried to work out if there was actually anywhere I would need to dress up as a man, and I could think of none. Jane, perhaps…no. It would clear the decks, and that was all I still needed from her.

My wardrobe was large enough, a last relic of masculinity insisted, to see me through work for a while, but I would definitely be dressing down a bit from the Abigail Offensive. Serious Academe required more of a librarian than a laser-sharp management bitch, and I would be able to relax a little. Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love my sharp suits, and I think I have dropped a few hints about my taste in shoes, but I wanted no distractions for the students.

That got me giggling properly. Dr Evans turns up in a dress and the students aren’t distracted. Yes, of course.

I had a lot to do, indeed. Mary would need a visit, the solicitors, Jane, registering interest at an estate agent for our flat, the banking details…

“Pete–no, not you, my Pete, what do you want to do about the Legion?”

“Well, I suppose that is up to your mother, love”

She smiled. “If you have to ask, she was right to call you ‘tiny brain’. Of course you can stay, as long as you need until your own place is ready. Your father is here till Sunday, so there will be plenty of brute labour available from the lower orders.”

Dad snorted.

Dad. Not my father, but someone who seemed to care for me. Perhaps as a response to his son’s feelings for me, but for whatever reason there was a clear affection growing in his voice when he spoke to me.

“OK ladies, here is a plan. We get as many of these visits out of the way tomorrow as we can. Tonight, we go out to dinner somewhere nice, and perhaps invite a couple or six friends out, so we can toast today’s engagements.

“Which reminds me, son. We both have jewellery to buy. How are you off for funds?”

“Not too bad, Dad, and I will be saving on the Legion rent. Which reminds ME…Mrs Evans, I need to start contributing if I am to live with you. I don’t like to freeload.”

She laughed out loud at that. “You have already paid, Peter, you gave me my daughter. All I will ask is that you tidy up, and perhaps help with the food bills. We seem to have got through a phenomenal quantity of wine since your return”

“Food bills” I murmured…”That reminds me, what did Martin mean about ‘crafty butchers’?”

Dad snorted again, and kept doing so until he could keep in the laughter no longer. Pete was blushing slightly. “Crafty butchers, er, take their meat in at the back door….”

“Oh. Ah. But you set him straight, if you excuse the pun.”

“Yes, remember what he said? ‘Definitely a woman’ ”

Why is being human so complicated, and why do they have to have so many bloody in-jokes? We, or rather Dad, got Pete into the Discovery and we set off by way of the supermarket yet again. Mother had decided that if we were to invite guests to dine with us, we would have to have the wherewithal to have them back for cheese, biscuits, coffee, all that “Good Housekeeping” stuff she does so naturally. As I was ringing the usual suspects, plus Harriet, Sam, and Howard, and Pete a few friends via HMS Haslar, the local naval hospital, my mother started to laugh.

“I have just realised something, my dears. You have deprived me of a true maternal tradition. Peter has known you so long, how can I show him embarrassing pictures of you in your childhood? He’s probably in half of them himself!”

That set us all off. The joke wasn’t that amusing, but the mood was so good, the atmosphere buzzing with the sheer joy of four people, that anything would have been funny. We cleared the shopping needs, and as Mum set out the various plates and bowls for later, Dad made reservations at “Le Chat en Oeuf” for our party. I took a bath before we went out, and made bloody sure that I had disposed of any stray hair. I looked forward to the end of my zapping sessions.

Mum laid out my clothing for me, as she said that we would match as much as we could, and detected just a little of that common mother-daughter ploy of ‘sister, not mother’ She had dug deep into her knicker drawer, and I found myself offered a black basque, stockings, very abbreviated knickers, and an absolutely adorable LBD.

As I stood in my towels admiring the outfit, she came in and hugged me, damp from her own shower. “I overheard part of your conversation today, my dear. Please, just see if these can help. Have no wish to know of your intimacies, but if he can see you in that underwear and NOT respond, we will have to work very much harder than I would imagine possible.

“I have my own laid out for this evening…..”

She was blushing. My mother was blushing! “He, er, likes the look, and it seems to work rather well for both of us…”

I hugged her, and she whispered the rest into my ear. ”You will be feminine tonight, my dear, feminine and as beautiful outside as you are inside. Let Pete’s little problem have both barrels!”
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We had quite a party at the restaurant. The four of us were joined by Dave and Sharon, Howard, his wife, Sam, his partner John (confusing….not at all!), Martin and his wife Anna, plus Harriet.

Pete had called on the staff nurse who had looked after him on his return to Gosport, a ridiculously cheerful ‘Badian called Tyler, as well as his physiotherapist, Ollie. And, I must admit it, I thought “sod professionalism”, and Mary could make it. I was losing count, but I made it 16. The owner of the restaurant must have blessed his good fortune, being so full on a weekday evening, and he returned the favour by giving us some free bubbly for toasts after the meal. I don’t think it was quality stuff, but what do I know about wine?

And do you know what? I couldn’t have given a toss. It could have been tap water, it mattered nothing. This was my night, and my mother’s, and our two men’s. The owner, who spoke to everyone in French or broken English, but admitted to me that he was Dutch, had pushed and shunted tables until we had a hollow square for our party, and from somewhere balloons had been found. Harriet ended up lodged between Ollie and Tyler (remember Emma, Laura!), Pete quietly advised Martin about his sense of humour around Howard and John, Dave passed a number of comments about me and Mum while Sharon slapped him, and Mary just sat and smiled.

I really felt for her. Unlike her hypnotist, she had been compelled to sit through all of the shit that passed for my life, and I owed her a huge debt for her strength in seeing it and me through to life and sanity. How did, how could, someone like her unwind?

I made several visits to the ladies’. I was learning quite quickly that we don’t have weak bladders; we just have a deep need for gossip. Harriet in particular was cock a hoop.

“Two, you sod, two! They’ve each slipped me their bloody number, what the hell do I do?”

“A threesome?”

Sharon chipped in, “Bugger me girl, you take my Dave home and wear him out so I can sleep, and I will suffer the horrors of those two in your place, ‘cause I am a selfless cow! Or is that ‘selfish’?”

Mary murmured in a cod German accent, “Tell me about your childhood” and we were off into giggle land.

Oh, I could write a book on that evening, it was a real eye opener. I had learnt, or recovered, so much, thanks to Mum, and Pete, and Mary, but was still learning, and that night I saw a group largely made up of strangers united by a mutual bond, who came together in a happy social unity, and it came home hard to me how much I had lost, how many years I had wasted, and how much I really hated my fucking father.

Pete caught my mood, as always, and turned it around, which is one reason I love him, and Dave stood up to play toast master.

“Ladies, gentlemen, and my wife. I wasn’t doing anything tonight, so this little party filled a bit of a loose end for me. Seriously, I have had a friend for a number of years, but I don’t think he knew he had me. He was always in his own world, obnoxious as all hell, but despite the fact that I am as sensitive, according to my wife, as a sloth on valium, I could always tell there was more to him than was obvious.

“There was never any harm to John, never any malice, but he could never connect unless on ground he knew. To my credit, he adds modestly, I stuck by him till this young chap came back into her life and it all went silly, in the nicest possible way.

“I found out why my odd mate was odd, then I found out she was lovely, and now we are here to see a circle completed with four long-split halves coming together again after far too long. If this world were perfect, they would never have been apart in the first place. Then again, if that were so, we would not have had such a joyous night, nor the chance to eat so much at someone else’s expense, which is never a bad thing.

“I could talk all night, but my wife would kill me, so, please, my friends, raise a glass to love divided, love revived, Lucy, Laura, and two Peters.

“The happy couples!”

Tears are a natural thing when your heart is bursting.
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Some hours later the house was empty again, crumbs and plates the only sign of the crowd of friends and locusts who had swept through. Dad had literally carried Mum up the stairs to their–wonderful thought–bedroom, and I had helped Pete into our–even better thought---bed.

I was still in the LBD, and my best ravage-me-mercilessly shoes, and I stood by the bed, unzipped and let drop. Pete gasped, “Fuck me, Laura”

You know, I didn’t, but Mum had been right yet again, and what we did do was very, very satisfactory. I must put a box of tissues by the bed.