EPISODE ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTY-ONE
As Nicky let herself
into the house, she was met in the hall by her mother. Nicky wore a small frown
of apprehension, like a timid animal, which sent a warning to Jackie that her
daughter was in trouble. She guessed that it must be something to do with the
boyfriend, and she was almost gladdened by the thought that they might have
split up. Then she felt guilty for the thought and offered Nicky a weak smile.
‘Nigel and I were just about to have a glass of sherry,’ she said. ‘Would you
like one?’
Nicky merely nodded, and the frown remained, as if its existence was permanent.
Jackie led her into the living room, and Nicky’s heart sank when she saw Nigel
sprawled expansively on the sofa, his long legs splayed out in front of him.
She had been hoping Nigel might be out pitching to one of his prospective
clients. No such luck. Now Nicky wondered whether it was a mistake, coming home
to Mummy for a shoulder to cry on. With Nigel present she felt a knot
tightening in her stomach and feared his disapproval.
‘Hello, Nigel,’ Nicky greeted him. She had always wondered what to call him,
refused to call him Dad as her mother had wanted, and tried not to call him
anything, usually waiting until he was looking in her direction before speaking
to him.
Nigel gave her his salesman’s smile, though his eyes remained neutral, lacking
any warmth. ‘Hello, Nicky. To what do we owe the pleasure of this sudden and
unexpected visit?’
‘Darling,’ Jackie urged. ‘I think Nicky needs a glass of sherry. Can you pour
us three glasses?’
‘I can, because I’m capable of pouring. But I will pour them.’
Nigel smirked, and Nicky wanted to slap the pedantic little twerp. She watched
him in silence, glaring at him as he carefully measured out three schooners of
Amontillado.
Jackie noticed the scowl and rubbed her daughter’s arm to distract her. ‘Is
everything all right, Nicky?’
‘Oh, it’s just…’ Nicky began and faltered.
‘Something’s wrong. I can tell.’
Nigel handed Jackie and Nicky a glass each, and went back to the drinks cabinet
to collect his own, saying, ‘Perhaps Nicky would like to talk to you on your
own, darling.’
Jackie shook her head. ‘That won’t be necessary. We’re a couple, Nigel –
husband and wife. We don’t have secrets from each other.’
Nigel smiled approvingly, almost preening himself. But his secret visit to that
massage parlour in Hastings flashed into his mind. He chased it away, as if it
hadn’t happened, and concentrated on giving Nicky a sympathetic expression, the
face of understanding and righteousness.
‘Where’s Vanessa?’ Nicky asked.
Jackie raised her eyes to the ceiling. ‘She’s still in bed.’
‘At five in the evening?’
‘The morning sickness went on through the afternoon.’
Nicky nodded matter-of-factly, as if these things were perfectly normal, and
sat in one of the easy chairs. Her mother sat facing her on the sofa opposite,
and Nigel joined her, so that it looked as if she was being put on the spot,
especially as the air of expectation permeated the atmosphere in the house.
They both stared at her, doing their best to look sympathetic, but it looked
more as if they were sitting in judgment.Nicky took a sip of sherry and cleared
her throat softly before speaking. ‘I had to talk to someone about it.’
Jackie frowned. ‘About what?’
‘Anthony. He’s…’
Nicky couldn’t bring herself to say it.
‘Darling,’ her mother said, oozing sympathy and understanding. ‘We can’t help
if you don’t tell us.’
‘I doubt if anyone can help.’
‘Try us,’ Nigel said, before realising it sounded a trifle sharp, and added,
‘We’ll do our best to lighten the load.’
‘Don’t get me wrong,’ Nicky started falteringly. ‘I get on with Anthony. We’re
– er – very good for each other, in all sorts of ways.’
Knowing her daughter was diplomatically alluding to their sex life, Jackie
looked down at her legs before deciding to cross them.
‘Go on,’ Nigel prompted. ‘We’re listening.’
‘Well,’ Nicky continued, ‘he’s always taken an interest in what I wear. Likes
to go out shopping with me. Tries to influence my taste in clothes.’
Jackie frowned. ‘So what’s wrong with that? I know most men wouldn’t give it a
thought, but…’
Nicky took a deep breath. ‘Oh hell, I can’t keep it to myself any longer. I
really can’t. It’s crazy. Unreal. I came home unexpectedly last week, and there
was Anthony wearing my clothes.’
Jackie stared at her daughter uncomprehendingly at first. Then it sunk in. ‘You
mean he’s…a transvestite?’
Nicky nodded. ‘That’s exactly what I mean.’
‘But what about…you know…his feelings towards you?’
‘Oh, that’s all perfectly normal. He’s not gay, if that’s what you mean.’
‘Well that’s a relief,’ Nigel offered. ‘That wouldn’t be natural.’
Nicky’s mouth fell open. ‘And dressing up as a woman is?’
Nigel leant forward on the sofa, peering at her with a serious expression. ‘I mean
the Bible tells us homosexuality is taboo. It doesn’t say anything about cross
dressing.’ He chuckled suddenly. ‘Unless I missed a chapter somewhere.’
Nicky grimaced. ‘I’m glad you find it funny.’
Nigel made a smile-wiping gesture with his hand. ‘You’re quite right. It’s
not.’ Suddenly his body shook as it erupted into a guffaw. ‘Did he look
attractive?’ he spluttered. ‘No, sorry, sorry, Nicky. But you must admit it’s
hard to take seriously.’
Clutching her sherry glass like a weapon, Nicky stood up. ‘I knew I shouldn’t
have come here and told you.’
‘Sit down, darling,’ Jackie said, ‘I’m sure Nigel will recover in a minute.’
The living room door opened, and Vanessa entered, a hand across her stomach,
although she was still as slim as she always was.
‘Oh. Hi, Nicky. What’s going on? What’s so funny?’
By now, Nigel was wiping tears from his eyes. ‘It’s Nicky’s boyfriend. Only
she’s not so much a boyfriend as a girlfriend.
He laughed uproariously.
‘Bastard!’ Nicky yelled, and threw the dregs of her sherry over him.
*
Donald and Ted tiptoed from the bedroom and went downstairs into the living
room.
‘I thought she’d never go to sleep,’ Donald said. ‘Now who’s for a gin and
tonic?’
‘I think we deserve it. And it’s her first night with us. We’ve got something
to celebrate.’
‘You’re right, Ted. Let’s crack open some bubbly.’
As Donald opened the fridge door, there came a piercing cry from upstairs,
followed by gurgling tears of discomfort. Ted and Donald looked at each other,
smiled tolerantly, then dashed upstairs to attend to little treasure’s needs.
When Donald leaned over the cot, he caught a whiff of something that smelt of
public toilets. ‘Oh, how ghastly,’ he said. ‘Good job it’s your turn, Ted.’
Ted, who had been leaning forward, straightened up, getting out of the vicinity
of the rank odour.
‘It’s not my turn, Donald. I did it the last time.’
‘No, you didn’t. I did.’
‘You’re wrong, because I can remember…’
‘Well, I don’t care. You’re her natural father.’
‘That’s not fair, Donald. And you know it.’
‘Oh, all right,’ Donald conceded. ‘I’ll do it.’
He suddenly dashed out of the bedroom door.
‘Where are you going?’
Donald returned moments later with a scarf around the lower part of his face,
drenched in after shave.
Ted laughed. ‘Oh, Donald! God knows what little Miranda will make of that.’
IN EPISODE 162
The return of the prodigal son