by Isabella May
In the slowest of motion, her bump – or more precisely, the expandable, flesh-coloured stage prop that had been posing as her pregnancy all this time – slipped down her maternity trousers and fell in a heap on the floor, circling her feet.
The bar was engulfed in the kind of silence that only sudden shock can provide.
River was a Punch and Judy puppet, minus the helping hand, gulping at air like the oxygen might convert to words, offering up some kind of sense to put to this diabolical scene from the Callous Crocodile. But out of his mouth came nothing.
It had been Georgina all along. She was a schemer and a liar, an evil, ridiculous piece of work. Even Blake raised his eyebrows then, began to step back from his poisonous sister and her latest ludicrous scam.
“Georgina Hopkins!” Terry burst out, almost on the verge of tears, “I think I could just about disown you for this.”
But then in a moment seemingly more choreographed than pro-wrestling, Lennie burst into the bar before anybody else could even think to add their two pennies worth.
“Sorry I’m late, guys,” he fell about, coughing, spluttering and panting all at once. “It was…” he just couldn’t seem to get his words out, laughter consuming him now, giant exuberant guffaws, the annoyance that is a private joke the recipient refuses to share, yet refuses to stop cackling at either.
“I say it was… it was water!”
“You say what?” said Georgina.
“Could it ever have been anything else?” He started up again with his ghastly noise. “He’s a River… and he’s been serving you all up water.”
No wonder it had been tasteless when River had asked Mercedes for a little. His mouth remained agape, unable to process what he thought he had just heard Lennie declare. And how did he know anyway? He’d never even met Georgina.
“Give me that flaming lab report.” Georgina yanked it from his hand, pregnancy bump still framing her matching cranberry-red high heels, showing her up as her own unmistakable piece of evidence. “You’ve got to be lying out of your giant backside, fat use you’ve been to me since day one.”
“Now, now, I rather think that’s a little uncalled for, darling. It has been my absolute pleasure to double cross you.” He handed her over a piece of paper as would a gentleman. “Why else do you think I jumped at the chance to get involved? As soon as I twigged I might be River’s daddy; that was it, everything changed. See, the real reason I came back to try and patch things up, Son—”
“Do not… call me… that word,” said River. “You have absolutely zero proof.”
“You’re right there, of course you are. Call it a sixth sense though, your mother and I… you might want to cover your ears at this point,” Lennie advised Terry, whose iron grip had positioned itself either side of Heather and Aunt Sheba, “well, it was a one-nighter, Glasto summer of eighty-three if I recall correctly. I’m not going to insist we do a test on you and me though, like we did with the bottle. I can feel it in my bones: I’m your father for sure, why else would you have such a love of music? I’m here if you want me… always… you’ve only to knock at my—”
“That’s enough,” snapped River. “Thanks, but no thanks.”
Everybody’s eyes naturally returned to Georgina now as she studied the document, her own eyes glossed over in denial.
“Composition breakdown – H20,” she read aloud, all her previously put-on decorum a thing of the very distant past. “It can’t be… you’ve rigged it… I knew I should have taken care of that part myself.”
“Too greedy, love, weren’t you… That’s why I had to call in Tamara, get an injection of cash to meet your demands.”
“Tamara, as in my sister?” shouted Alice, unable to disguise her contempt.
“Yes, Alice, and I’m sorry by the way, for hounding you as well… especially now I know my true relationship with my former lead singer—”
“Oh, I am not your anything, quit while you’re ahead, Lennie,” River pitched in.
“As I was saying, now I know the true nature of our relationship,” Lennie continued unfazed, directing his words between River and Alice, “you have my solemn vow that I will leave you alone, the both of you… you make a jolly good couple by the way… especially seeing’s you make that tart,” he swivelled to point to Georgina, who unbelievably had the nerve to still be standing there with the stage prop at her feet, hand now diva-like on hip, “green with envy.”
Georgina looked to Blake for back-up, it wasn’t forthcoming.
“I fail to see why any of this is remotely funny.”
Lady Rigby-Chandler scraped her seat across the floor making a sound akin to fingernails running down a blackboard, and all fell quiet again.
Except for Aunt Sheba.
“You’re damned right there. What a heartless, twisted little madam you are. Who fakes a pregnancy? Have you any idea how many of us have baby stories, real baby stories about our cherished infants who never got to set foot on this Earth. You should be locked up, young lady in my humble opinion. And I’ll tell you what: I hope you never do get to experience the joys of having a child. Why in God’s name should you when you make a mockery of a heaven sent gift not all of us got to see to fruition?”
Heather took Aunt Sheba in her arms. Terry’s face was ablaze. In fact, everywhere River looked – despite his own undeniable relief not to be fathering any baby of Georgina’s – folk were outraged, disgusted, dismayed, seething. What an incredible anti-climax to what was supposed to be the event of the year in this place that had known nothing but his heart and his soul.
Lady Rigby-Chandler stepped forward then and River hoped against hope that somehow order would now prevail. She snatched the report – and the bottle – from the statue that was Georgina, passed River back his property, and surveyed the document for herself.
“Why yes, it is water. Not quite as velvety as Evian. But pretty soft on the palate all the same. And why shouldn’t a mixologist add a little water to his creations? Who else here is qualified enough to tell me otherwise?”
Georgina went to open her mouth.
“Now, Gee, you know that’s not true,” River found himself stepping forward too. “From what I hear, you missed most of the final quarter of the course I invested hundreds of pounds to send you on.”
Georgina bowed her head, finally moving out of her circle of shame which she picked up and tucked under one arm, as if she might put it back in the wardrobe, bringing it out again for a rainy day.
“The head of the Brunswick wrote to tell me he couldn’t issue your certificate, after all,” River went on, “so it wasn’t just the missing money from the till… or you and your gentlemen friends’ gate crashing the premises which led to my decision to turf you out.”
“I’m embarrassed, George,” said Terry, shaking his head helplessly, wiping his eyes with his frayed brown handkerchief. “What’s it come to, eh? I didn’t bring you up a liar, a grasser-upper or a stitcher-upper besides. River’s a good kid, well… man. You had your chance with him; you had your chance of a really great career in this here bar too. But you went and blew both, nobody but yourself to blame. And that’s why River and Alice, you have my blessing.”
“And mine,” said Heather, “woo hoo, I’d been rooting for you two lovebirds to make a nest all along.”
“Oh gawd.”
River put his hands behind his head, a somewhat pointless coping mechanism, and Alice’s eyes grew to the size of flying saucers, as was usually the case when she knew not what to say. They’d dealt with more focus upon them in their past lives, true, but nothing quite compared to the focus of your nearest and dearest – a couple of foes besides – topping your never-in-your-wildest-dreams-wedding-cake with a big fat cherry.
River wondered who’d spark up the next piece of dialogue. Lennie soon answered his question.
“I’m sorry, Alice, about your sister’s involvement in all of this.” Lennie bowed his head as if worshipping a deity. “But the fact of the matter is,
there was no way I was prepared to pay for anything myself, that would have felt plain wrong, I merely stepped in to ensure River was protected… in the end that was relatively easy.”
“And what about this weird mystical translation?”
Georgina scrabbled about in her bag, finally revealing a very crumpled piece of paper.
“I think we’re done now, George,” said River. “You must think I was born yesterday… but I knew all along it was you stealing snippets from my cocktail bible… talk about scraping the barrel.”
Which was an outright lie and he knew it.
“She paid me too,” Lennie cut through everybody all over again, visibly wanting to continue to offload his shame. “And the truth is,” he paused then to suck in air as if it were a substitute fag, not before pulling one of those vile E-cigarette things out of his jacket pocket, “the truth is, it was a pretty penny too.”
“Jesus Christ, does everything have to be about money with you?” River cut in.
“Come on, guys, see this from my point of view. I’ve lost a lot. Gigs cancelled, new album postponed, bills to pay, expenses going out on auditions for new recruits, not to mention covering for Bear’s Priory bill. That all adds up.”
“So she was happy to fund you as opposed to lend some money to her sister. Lovely,” said Alice.
“That you are, sweetheart,” said Lennie, treating her to his habitual eyelash flutter. “It’s just like Snow White and the wicked Stepmother.” He enjoyed another drag on his black shiny stick.
“The only wicked Stepmother in this place is her,” said Georgina, pointing at Heather.
It was unbelievable how much lower she was prepared to go, but once the final remnants of your dignity had deserted you, River supposed there were no limits to how far you could exceed yourself.
“I hope you’re not talking about River’s mother like that,” said Alice.
River didn’t dare clock Terry’s expression, could practically feel the steam emanating from his ears.
“Yeah,” said Hayley.
River had been wondering how long his third favourite woman in the world would be able to stay out of this.
“Your dad deserves a little happiness now… and if that’s with his mother,” she gave River a mutual nod as if to confirm his mutual ranking in her world, “so be it. Anyways Lady Muck, from what I’ve been told, you were the one to come up with the idea of a travel group. You shot yourself in the foot there if you didn’t want Terry mixing with the women.” She threw in a laugh accompanied, of course, by a snort.
“The lady’s right, you can’t eternally blame your parents for the way life’s turned out.”
A man seated towards the back of the gathering, until now hidden completely from River’s line of vision, and, going by the look of glee on Hayley’s face, hers too, stood then.
“Everybody has a shovel load of crap to deal with at some point in their childhood,” TV Exec Bob went on. “I’m living proof of that, and look what I’ve achieved, all despite one of the most working class, broken family beginnings you could imagine.”
“He’s right.” River took over the imaginary baton he felt had been handed to him. “And at least you started out with both parents around; at least you and Blake had each other.”
Blake half-raised an eyebrow at that; sort of conceding River might have a small point.
“Look at me. I’ve probably got any number of half siblings roaming around the planet, and I’m lumbered with a father who up and left before my goddess of a mother had even popped me out – a father who, as it turns out was probably my flaming band manager, unbeknownst to either of us for over a decade, a father who could give your beloved Lord Pervert a run for his money,” the latter slipping out of River’s mouth before he could stop it, but fortunately nobody was any the wiser and so he carried on. “But what would you know, I’m actually relatively unscathed… even after all that.”
“Speaking of numbers,” Terry interrupted, “what she’s not told you is she’s had any number of invites out to sunny Spain from her mother. I’ve told her she should go, learn the lingo, stay a season or two, put the past behind her, and see where the wind takes her.”
“And as for him,” Terry nodded at his son, “he’s got possibilities that could turn into permanent commitments back here if he gets his act together.”
“What’s that supposed to mean, Da—?”
Terry walked to the door then, heads following him as if he were the tennis ball in a Wimbledon final, he ignored his son’s question and moments later called in a young boy, a young boy who turned out to be Blake’s son. Blake’s ex-wife trailed, protectively, not far behind him, she stood at the door with arms folded, looking on unconvinced. Ethan ran across to his dad and Blake began to sob.
It was a magical moment, all traces of anger at River’s former friend, dissolving in a heartbeat. Hurt people hurt people, and that was all there was to it.
“I’m sorry… I will sort my head out now, no more letting you down anymore, I promise… I promise you and your mum. I really will be a proper dad to you from now on.”
“Don’t get too used to this, it’s early days, and I am categorically not part of the plan,” said Blake’s ex.
“I wouldn’t worry about that, love.” Georgina just had to pipe up again, one last time. “He’s got himself a Zara now, pop next door if you want to check out the competition… might have to wait until the morning though: shop’s shut at the moment.”
“The only thing that should be shut now is your mouth!” shouted Blake, his eyes finally seeing through the malice of his sibling. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to come out with it like that… I’m just fed up with her butting into my life all the time. Dad’s right, Sis, best thing you can do for yourself now, best thing you can do for all of us is to fly out to Benidorm… tonight. Here.” He released Ethan from his embrace and walked over to Georgina, handing her a bundle of notes. “Take what you need and come back when you’ve got your head straight, but I’m inclined to say preferably never. There’s nothing for you here, all you seem to do is cause everyone grief.”
Georgina accepted the cash in her right hand, and, with the mock bump still tucked under her wing, she turned on her heel, walked out the door, and didn’t look back.
“Pains me to say it,” said Terry, “but I’m kind of hoping that’s the last I’ll see of my daughter for some years, until she’s matured, got her head screwed back on, made a life for herself. All of which is highly unlikely under the influence of the mother who had umpteen affairs when our George was a wee nipper, but still, one lives in hope.”
“You did your best, Terry,” said Heather, looping her arm in his.
“Yes, you did, Dad, you did a stellar job. I, for one, am thankful, it can’t have been easy.”
“Nothing worthwhile ever is, Son.”
“Ha, don’t think you’re off the hook already. You have a lot to prove,” Blake’s ex-wife retorted again, still reluctant to desert the frontline of the bar. “Until I’m persuaded otherwise, until the courts are too, everything’s gonna be through and with your dad, Blake. I don’t trust you without Terry. You’ve got a lot of winning back in that department to do, before I grant you any time alone with our child.”
Blake smiled, acknowledging the truth in her decision. Clearly there was a lot that both had, and hadn’t, gone on behind closed doors in their relationship. He genuinely hoped Blake would make amends, turn his life around now he had been given the chance.
Gradually, with nothing further to publicly announce, individual conversations started to spring up until they became fountains of fun. The travel agents – although only merry – had begun a worm-ish Conga, grabbing at people to join them as they wended their way around the bar, ever hopeful it would grow into a snake; Lee and Jonie were clearing away glasses, providing the last of the Irish Creams to the most recent arrivals, Blake had departed with Terry, Ethan and his ex-wife, unbelievably giving River a Hitler style salute
, and perhaps more unbelievably still, not batting an eyelid at Alice, whose magic had inexplicably worn off.
Perhaps Zara really was the woman who had achieved the impossible? He’d choose to believe that anyway, just as he’d choose to interpret Blake’s extremist parting gesture as an olive branch of sorts. Heather hovered a short way behind them at the doorway, waving them off, more radiant than River remembered her ever being in any of the outlandish outfits she had donned for her processions and conventions.
Could anybody be leaving this bar on a better potential happily ever after? New beginnings called for each and every person who’d celebrated and deliberated that particular evening in December 2017. Of course, this was in no small part thanks to one group of very special Toltex Indians, in no small part thanks to one marvellously mystical woman named Mercedes – who River quickly realised shared joint third place on his Favourite Females in the World list.
Yet all of this was also, in no small part, thanks to himself for having the belief to listen to his inner voice that day almost a year ago, when it led him deep into the Mexican campo. Despite the twists and turns that inner knowing had led to, it had proven just about the best life lesson: to think with his heart, not his head. And now, for however many years he had left on this planet, he vowed to remember it. Well, as much as was humanly possible, anyway.
Belief is everything.
Wasn’t that what Felix had said when he’d dropped him off at his hotel? It had been a placebo all along, nothing more than a bottle of water – on paper at least. Except River chose to think otherwise; this was no ordinary water. This wasn’t even water from the town’s Chalice Well, or nearby Bath’s Roman Spa. This was ‘a little bit special’ in the words of one Terry. It was water with one super powerful blessing, all right.