The only person truly enjoying the elaborate Spanish banquet was the priest. Everybody else was tense, wondering what gay time bomb might detonate next. Josh sat folded into himself, alongside Sam, who no longer saw the funny side. Seeing Santi so anxious affected them all.
When Father excused himself to use the loo, panic-stricken twittering broke out.
‘Why didn’t you pick up the phone?’ hissed Mari Carmen.
‘I left it upstairs,’ said Santi. ‘How could you do this to me, Mama?’
Santi’s father spoke for the first time. ‘If I pretend to have a heart attack—’ he began, before Santi shushed him.
‘Is there anything incriminating in the downstairs loo?’ asked Josh.
‘Like what?’ snapped Neil. ‘Do you think we keep a giant dildo by the Molton Brown hand wash?’
Anna rubbed Josh’s hand under the table. He smiled at her. He was buoyant these days, not so easily knocked down. If that’s Thea’s doing, maybe it’s wrong to tell him about her and Luca.
Father was back, a secretive smile on his face, holding something behind his back. ‘Santi and Anna,’ he said, as if addressing two silly children in his Sunday school. ‘You should be more careful. People might get the wrong idea!’ He held up two monogrammed hand towels.
‘His’ and ‘His’ read the lunch guests. Laughter – too hard, manic even – ensued.
‘My grandmother will be so sad to have missed you,’ said Anna, handing out coffee like a good esposa. ‘She’s Catholic, very devout.’ Dinkie was, indeed, nuts about priests. They could do no wrong in her biased eyes.
‘Maybe I can call the dear lady?’ Father Juan José didn’t seem the sort to miss a chance to impress.
A phone was found. Dinkie’s lined little face appeared, confused, on the screen. When Father said a suave, ‘Hola, Dinkie!’ she screamed.
‘Would y’ever say a quick Hail Mary with me, Father?’ she asked, as star-struck as a Belieber.
Mercifully, it was time to disperse. Marriage is exhausting, thought Anna, her arms around Santi as they all gathered to pay homage to Father Juan José. He was making the rounds, clasping each of their hands, looking them in the eye.
‘Just go,’ whispered Santi as he and his ‘wife’ awaited their turn.
Mari Carmen held Paloma, smiling at the baby’s musical burps and coughs. The noises changed. A horrible wheezing. Mari Carmen’s face cracked with concern.
The air in the room changed. Paloma was silent. Her cherub mouth opened and closed but made no sound.
‘Her face is bright red!’ said Isabel.
‘Paloma!’ said Josh, as the baby’s arms flailed.
They all moved towards her but all were irresolute. Nobody knew what to do, other than panic.
‘Here.’ Neil took the child from Mari Carmen. He sank into a low upholstered chair and laid Paloma along his arm, his fingers around her chin, keeping her mouth open. Face down, she struggled for breath as Neil tipped her gently. Her head was now lower than her bottom.
‘Please,’ said Santi to nobody in particular as Neil delivered one, two, three distinct blows between the little girl’s shoulders with the heel of his hand.
‘It’s not working,’ snapped Josh.
‘One more, then CPR.’ Neil hit the baby again. A tiny damp nugget shot out of Paloma’s mouth. Her wails were welcome.
Anna had been holding her breath. Now she began to sob. As did Santi, falling on his mother.
‘Neil, that was . . .’ Sam was lost for words.
‘My agency’s producing a short health and safety training film for British Airways,’ said Neil. He was calm, but he spoke robotically. ‘It covers this. I literally watched it on my laptop before you all arrived.’ He seemed to wonder at that, at the random nature of life. At the fine line between it and death. He stared at Paloma, who was recovering with the speed of a healthy child. Already looking around her, her face returning to its habitual strawberries and cream. ‘Excuse me,’ he said and hurried with her from the room.
The grown-ups took longer to recover. They migrated back to the seats, shocked, mulling it over. Praising Neil.
‘Thank God her Uncle Neil was here,’ said Father Juan José, shaking his head.
Santi flinched.
In the utility room, the soft hum of the dryer sang beneath Neil’s words as he laid Paloma on a bale of fresh white towels. She wriggled and reached for him. He stared as if he’d just found her, as if she was new to him.
Paloma wanted to stand. She always wanted to stand these days, the little show-off. Neil helped her to her feet and held her by her hands. She stared at his tears. Neither of them noticed Anna through a slit in the door.
‘I promise,’ he said to the baby, ‘I’ll always look after you. I’ll always be here. I’ll always put you first. I’m your protector, your guide, your critic, your biggest fan. I’m your daddy.’
Neil pulled Paloma to him. She gave a yelp of surprise, then snuggled into him. He saw a stripe of his sister through the door and held out one hand to draw her in.
‘Why did this take me so long?’ asked Neil through his tears. ‘What’s wrong with me, Anna?’
‘You got there in the end.’ There was nothing really wrong with her bombastic, generous, bossy big brother. ‘You’ve had to hide your feelings for much of your life.’ An early love affair went catastrophically wrong, but Neil had simply kept to himself; it couldn’t be talked about at home. ‘Paloma’s teaching you how to love, no matter who’s watching.’
‘She is,’ blubbed Neil, his face pink. ‘You are, darling, you are,’ he said to the child. ‘She’s my daughter,’ he said, as if surprised. ‘She’s mine and I’m hers. I’d give my life for her and I mean that literally, Anna.’ All the cliché new parenthood emotions had hit him a few months late and very very hard. ‘How did she creep into my heart when all she does is cry and poo?’
‘Because your heart is where she belongs,’ said Anna. Feeling rose in her throat. For Neil. For Bonnie. For the unnamed baby inside her.
‘Paloma, I’m sorry it took me so long.’ Neil held her at arm’s length, talking seriously to her. ‘I’m an old slowcoach, but from now on I’ll be here to punch the baddies and throw your homework on the fire if it gets you down.’
Paloma laid a hand on each of Neil’s damp cheeks. ‘Ahhhh!’ she trilled. ‘Dada!’
Neil scooped her up and pushed past Anna.
The group in the sitting room got to their feet when he appeared.
‘Is she OK?’ asked Isabel.
‘She gave us a hell of a fright,’ said Sam.
‘You were amazing, Neil,’ said Josh.
‘God bless you, Neil,’ said Mari Carmen.
‘Father Juan José,’ said Neil, as Anna caught up with him. ‘This lady isn’t Santi’s wife. She’s my sister, yes, but Santi and I are married, and Paloma is our daughter.’
The priest frowned.
Mari Carmen pressed a handkerchief to her mouth.
Santi bounded across the room to kiss Neil on the mouth.
‘I married Santi,’ Neil went on, staggering slightly – when Santi kissed you, you stayed kissed – ‘because I love him and respect him and I wanted to make a home with him.’ He turned to Santi. ‘And a family.’
‘But . . .’ Father spread his hands in an appeal. ‘How . . . Mari Carmen? Is this all true?’
‘Yes,’ nodded Santi’s mother. ‘I’m sorry, Juan José.’
‘I’m shocked. Truly shocked. So, young Santiago is a homosexual.’ Father threw out his arms. ‘We must start again. Why don’t I bless your union, as I wasn’t at the wedding?’
There was no fire, no brimstone. Father Juan José shrugged, later, as he was leaving. ‘Look, I am a priest in the modern world, for all people. How can I love only some of them? You live your lives, boys, and be good to each other and to Paloma. That’s all I ask.’
‘Done,’ beamed Neil. As the door closed, he said, ‘I feel different now I’ve been bless
ed.’
‘Oh shut up about it.’ Santi, who’d been blessed countless times, was amused by his husband’s new-found penchant for the Catholic Church.
‘Saint Neil,’ said Josh.
Anna snorted with laughter. ‘Can I give you a lift, Joshy?’
‘Yeah.’ He looked at his watch. ‘I need to get a move on.’
‘Hot date with Thea?’ asked Sam as he wound a scarf around Isabel.
‘Yes, actually.’ Josh stuck his nose in the air, as if deciding to be frank about it.
Anna caught his eye. Something about the defiance made her stare. Like a memory. No, not a memory, next door to a memory . . . She had to be nudged by Neil before she came to. Like a zombie, she walked to the front door.
Then, suddenly, she was all haste. Tooting the horn for Josh to hurry up. She had to dash home. She had to double-check. As he tore down the path, laughing, saying, ‘All right, all right, keep your hair on!’ a text arrived.
OK let’s meet. Sunday lunch 2 p.m. The Intrepid Fox SW6 8QA. Don’t expect too much. I just want to look you in the eye.
Carly.
‘You OK?’ Josh paused as he did up his seat belt. ‘You look . . . spooked.’
‘Yes. No.’ Anna fumbled, dropped the car keys.
‘We can take a minute. That was pretty hard-core,’ said Josh.
You don’t know the half of it. ‘Let’s get you home.’ Anna checked her blind spot. ‘Mustn’t keep Thea waiting.’
Yeti barked as if Anna had been away for a month. He danced about her legs as she sprinted to the kitchen drawer where she’d stashed the hated Polaroid. She swept it up, brought it close to her eyes. She switched on the overhead light and studied it again.
She was right.
Chapter Twelve
Lunch at The Intrepid Fox
ROAST PORK/CRACKLING/ROAST POTATOES/SEASONAL VEG
The eleventh of November is Armistice Day.
Anna kept the two-minute silence along with thousands of others, standing in her garden, looking up at a squally sky.
It was an anniversary of peace, a memorial to sacrifice, and her daughter’s birthday. Today she’d be reunited with that baby after a gap of twenty-four years. Inside Anna, baby number two cartwheeled.
The third trimester was fulfilling all the pregnancy clichés. Anna was a weary, aching, egg on legs. Nothing fitted. Getting out of the bath was a white-knuckle affair. All day she couldn’t wait to drag herself up the stairs to bed, only to spend half the night staring at the ceiling.
‘Yeti!’ She broke the silence when she turned to go back in and the dog almost tripped her up. ‘Bad dog!’ Anna imagined falling, and lying there like a turtle. Yeti got the brunt of her unease. ‘In!’ She pointed at the kennel Luca had built. It was warm, dry, but it wasn’t a rug in front of the fire and was therefore spurned by the hedonistic Yeti.
In he slunk, fixing doleful eyes on his mistress as he folded himself up on the kennel floor.
‘Stay!’
What to wear to meet the woman you gave away as a baby isn’t covered in the style columns. Anna had bought two maternity dresses in sludgy colours. She hated them both.
The doorbell interrupted her as she flailed at the zip of the greeny grey one. He’s early. She took the stairs sideways on, slowly, carefully.
‘Josh. Hi.’
Her brother kept his head down. Waited until he had a mug in his hand. Leaning against the sink, he said, ‘What’s so urgent?’
The urgency of her call to Josh had come after a month of cowardly fretting. Anna didn’t know where to start. So I might as well jump in feet first. ‘Something’s on my mind.’
‘Yeah?’
He knows what I’m going to say. ‘This picture.’ She held up the polaroid of Thea and Luca.
‘Yeah . . .’ Josh’s voice crawled to a halt.
‘That’s you with Luca, isn’t it?’ Anna ploughed on, even though it sounded insane when she said it aloud. ‘Josh, you’re Thea.’
Josh shifted, coughed, kept his gaze resolutely on his feet. ‘Yup, that’s me.’
Anna floundered. To hear it confirmed from Josh’s own lips made it all real. She sensed that what she said next would have repercussions in their relationship for evermore, but clever psychological insight was beyond her. ‘Josh, I don’t . . . you’re dressed as a . . .’
‘As a woman.’ He nodded vehemently. ‘I’m transgender, Anna.’
‘You’re what?’ The word was one of a slew of terms Anna had never picked apart. Transgender. Transvestite. Transsexual. ‘What does that mean? Are you, like, a drag queen or something? Are you gay, Josh?’
‘Of course I’m not a bloody drag queen!’ Josh sounded exasperated.
‘Be patient. This is all new to me.’ Anna had to sit down. She crossed to the sofa. ‘My back’s in uproar,’ she said.
Josh put a cushion behind her. ‘That better?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’ Anna was ludicrously grateful. Days went past without anybody touching her. He was such a good guy, her brother. My sister?
‘Transgender means that my gender and my sense of personal identity don’t correspond with my birth sex.’
‘And again in English?’
‘Sorry.’ Josh almost smiled, then seemed to collect himself and sighed. ‘I looked it up before I left the house because it’s hard to explain. I’ve never seen myself as a boy, Anna. I was born in the wrong body.’
‘When did you—’ Anna wasn’t even sure which questions to ask.
‘I always felt different. In a bad way.’
Their entire childhood, reassessed.
‘You are different, Josh. You’re spe—’
‘Don’t, please.’ Josh winced. ‘I don’t want to be special. I want to be ordinary. I want to walk about and feel like I’m simply another person, nothing to see here. But I’ve always felt like a freak. And now you think I’m weird. You do. Be honest.’
‘I’m always honest with you. I could never think of you as weird.’
‘That’s nice but—’
‘No, hang on. No “but”. You’re being frank with me and I’m doing the same. Accept it, before we go any further. To me, you are just my beloved Josh. Even if you grow an extra head.’
It all came out.
‘It was as if there’d been some terrible mistake made. As if God played a trick on me.’ Josh had fought it and fought it. ‘Imagine Dad knowing.’ The understatement said it all.
‘You could have told me.’
‘No. You’d have looked at me differently. That was my worst fear. Still is. That people won’t accept me as a person, but see me as a problem.’
Anna said nothing. To some extent, she’d always treated Josh that way. Luca had tried to tell her so; I didn’t listen.
‘I don’t want sympathy.’ Josh was almost angry. ‘I don’t want to be the pathetic baby brother. I want to be . . .’ He gathered himself. ‘I want to be a woman. A strong woman. A woman who stands on her own two feet.’
‘On her own two stilettos?’
‘Exactly!’ Josh laughed. ‘But it’s not about make-up and high heels, you know that, right?’
‘Is it more about here?’ Anna laid a hand over her heart.
‘And here.’ Josh tapped his head. ‘The real me, the one that lives inside my head is female. That’s that. Not a fad. Not a phase. It’s the truth about me.’
‘I believe you.’
Josh burst into tears. Hot, noisy sobs like he used to when he was little. ‘Sorry, I don’t know why . . . sorry . . .’
‘Shush.’ Anna beckoned him to sit beside her and they sat, their heads together, her arm around him, as Josh cried it out. ‘You never cry,’ she whispered. ‘Perhaps you should do it more often.’
‘It’s relief more than anything. You believe me. You’re touching me.’
‘Of course I’m touching you.’ Anna was close to tears herself. ‘Your soul never changes, isn’t that what our clever old Dinkie says? Your soul, Josh Patrick Pip
er, is exquisite.’
Tea was made. Cake was found. After years of silence, Josh couldn’t stop talking. He mapped out the process to changing gender.
‘First, you have to live as a woman. You have therapy. Loads and loads of therapy. Then you begin hormone replacement therapy. Then you legally change all your personal documents so you’re a woman. And then, surgery.’
Ouch. ‘Where are you up to in this process?’
‘I forgot to say that it all starts with years of being too afraid to do anything about it. At least, it did with me. Then I got a therapist. Several of them. After a while you know what they expect to hear. That’s how I was able to fool them that I was on step two, going out as a woman.’
‘But you weren’t?’
‘Too scared. It’s terrifying to go out dressed as a woman. It’s not like when blokes do it for a laugh in the pub. I want to genuinely pass, to be accepted as female. I couldn’t bring myself to do it, but I had to lie or they would have stopped my medication. After waiting so long I couldn’t bear another setback. But then Luca started at my clinic. He saw right through me.’
‘Did he take you off the medication?’
‘He made a deal with me. I could continue if I joined a self-help group he’d set up, and if I promised to try to live as a woman part-time.’ Josh digressed for a moment. ‘It’s really hard setting up those groups but Luca pulled it all together. He got funding, and premises, and volunteers. He’s an amazing guy, Anna.’
‘I know,’ said Anna.
‘So why did you . . .’ Josh sat back, held up his hands. ‘Sorry. Your business. Luca wouldn’t tell me and he was right.’
Luca could have blamed Josh. Could have ‘outed’ him to Anna. But he chose not to. ‘So, are you, Josh? Trying, I mean.’
‘I’m taking it slowly. My heart thuds just popping out to the shops. I haven’t turned up to see anybody I know yet. But then . . .’ Josh looked shamefaced. ‘I don’t know many people. I’ve let my hair grow. When I’m Thea, I usually put a clip in the side, like this.’ Josh pushed back a lock of hair.
The Sunday Lunch Club Page 22