Mad About the Boy

by Maggie Alderson

  So I decided to invite him to one of our family suppers, which were now quite regular occurrences. He could meet Tom and Percy – and I could show my handsome hunk off to Hugo and Greg, because although I had come to terms with their relationship to an extent and had even grown almost to like Greg, I still had something to prove.

  James didn’t seem very keen on the idea at first. I asked him while he was spotting me on the leg extension and I noticed he inhaled very deeply before replying. Probably something Shaolin monks do to maximize oxygen supply to the brain, I thought.

  ‘Aren’t you happy with our little scene, Antonia?’ he said, after exhaling. ‘Because I’ve got to tell you – I’ve never been happier with anyone.’

  I thought for a moment, trying the breath thing myself, but it just made me feel dizzy.

  ‘Of course, I’m happy, James,’ I said. ‘You’ve totally changed my life, but I suppose I want you to be a bigger part of it.’

  ‘Can I think about it?’ he said.

  I nodded. Like I said, I was learning the waiting game with him. But I didn’t wait long – just until after we had sex the next time. We were up in the dance studio about three-quarters of an hour later, sprawled behind a pile of exercise mats. James had recently administered what Percy would have called a damned fine seeing-to.

  I was lying in the crook of his arm and I whispered into his ear, without moving.

  ‘Have you thought about what I asked you downstairs?’ I asked, nuzzling him as I spoke. ‘I know you’re wary of changing anything between us, but I do so want you to meet Tom. You two are the most important people in my world and I want you to know each other. Please come for supper.’

  I heard the exhale.

  ‘How can I refuse you anything, you naughty girl?’ he said. ‘You’ve got me by the goolies. I’ll come to your supper, or whatever you call it. But you’ll have to pay a price – in advance.’

  And he saw to me all over again.

  The family supper took place three nights later. Percy had been thrilled when I told him Mr Muscle and I were moving it on to another level and that he was coming over for dinner.

  ‘Ooh, what fun. The great leap forward. I bet he has a special diet,’ he said, starting to twitter. ‘Find out, Ant – maybe I’ll have to order special low-fat organic tofu.

  Percy had clearly wound the rest of the family up to fever pitch too. Tom was very excited about meeting Jackie Chan – which is how Percy seemed to have sold him – and he’d been practising kung fu kicks all over the house.

  When I got home from the shop on the night of the dinner he had set up some planks in the garden which he hoped James would be able to smash in two with his head. He had also assessed the various trees to see which one would be best for hanging upside down in. I told him not to get too excited about it and asked him not to badger James too incessantly.

  Percy and Tom weren’t the only ones who were overexcited. Hugo and Greg actually arrived early for once.

  ‘Sooooo,’ said Hugo, chucking my cheek in a way I found intolerably patronizing. ‘You have a new beau and we’re all going to meet him. What fun. He does know we’re still married and I’m a pouf and everything, doesn’t he? We’re not going to have to stage a mini “Cage aux Folles Down Under”, are we? That would be too tiresome.’

  ‘He knows, Hugo,’ I said. ‘And he’s cool about it. But just try not to flutter too much, would you?’

  Between him fluttering, Percy twittering and Tom tweeting it would be more like bird watching than dinner, I was beginning to think.

  ‘Of course, darling,’ said Hugo. ‘I promise to behave immaculately. We’d hate to put him off, wouldn’t we, Greg? Percy says he’s a babe.’

  Although I was becoming highly anxious about Hugo’s probable behaviour at the forthcoming event, I couldn’t help smiling at the mere thought of James and I saw Hugo and Greg exchange an arch look. Then the doorbell rang and I rushed out to meet the man himself. I had been so keen for him to come and meet Tom – and to show him off to the others – but now I was really nervous.

  I didn’t have to worry about one thing – he looked his absolutely gorgeous best. He was wearing dark blue jeans, loafers with no socks and a black T-shirt that could have been designed to show off his body. No hat. No glasses – he had his lenses in for a change. He kissed me warmly.

  ‘Hello, babe,’ he said softly. ‘Nice to see you’re a girl again – you know this is only the second time I’ve seen you out of a filthy T-shirt, don’t you? And I fancy you anyway.’

  I hugged him and he grabbed my bum – cue entrance Tom.

  ‘Who’s that, Mummy? Is it the kung fu man?’

  James laughed and shook his head. ‘I’m really in for it this evening, aren’t I?’ he said amiably and I had a horrible feeling he was.

  Tom had run back into the kitchen, before I could introduce them.

  ‘Uncle Perky, Uncle Perky,’ he was shouting. ‘The kung fu man’s here and he’s touching Mummy’s bottom.’

  ‘The kung fu man,’ said James. ‘Is that really who I am here?’

  ‘He’s only seven,’ I said.

  Percy appeared – or rather, made an entrance. He was wearing his leopardskin jeans, with no pants underneath, it was all too clear to see, and a black T-shirt rather like James’s. He had a jangling mass of silver bracelets on his wrist and his hair was looking particularly black and particularly spiky.

  ‘James, my dear,’ he said, mincing along the corridor. ‘Percy Heaveringham. Lovely to see you. We’ve met at the gym, of course, but I may have had lilac hair at the time. It was in the steam room …’ He smiled like the Queen Mother. I could have beheaded him. ‘Do come in and meet the rest of the family.’

  He extended one elegant hand towards the drawing room, as though he was displaying the prizes on Sale of the Century.

  Hugo and Greg were smooching on the sofa as we walked in. Tom was doing kung fu fighting up and down the room. Not bothering to disentwine themselves, Hugo and Greg looked up at James and let their mouths drop open. They looked back at each other and then seemed to have a race to spring to their feet and greet him.

  ‘Well, hello …’ said Hugo, sounding exactly like Terry Thomas meeting a luscious young staff nurse, but Greg beat him to the handshake and was much smarter in his approach.

  ‘G’day, mate,’ he said, sounding like he was off to wrestle a few crocs. ‘The name’s Greg Paps. Probably seen you down Muscle City, used to lift weights down there meself. Free weights.’

  ‘G’day,’ said James. ‘Yeah, I think I’ve seen you down there.’ Then he turned to shake Hugo’s hand. I turned with him and saw that Hugo had gone bright red around the neck. Never a good sign in a Heaveringham. If any of them saw that particular pigmentation appear on their father, they would flee to opposite ends of the house – and that was quite a long way, believe me.

  In this instance I couldn’t tell if it was lust, fury, or jealousy that was causing the chemical reaction known as the Heaveringham Hurricane and if it was jealousy I wasn’t sure if it was me, Greg or James he was jealous of. All I knew was, we were all in serious trouble.

  ‘So,’ he said, sneering at patrician full bore. ‘Boffing the wife, are you?’

  ‘What’s boffing?’ said Tom, leaping into the room. ‘Will you show me, kung fu man – I mean, James?’

  I’m ashamed to say I fled to the kitchen. It was either that or set about Hugo’s head with the poker. Percy found me by the sink doing one of James’s breathing exercises.

  ‘Oh, Antonia,’ he said, hand to his chest. ‘He really is marvellous-looking without that hat on. And so charming. You are a clever girl.’

  ‘What is that fuckwit faggot Hugo Heaveringham doing in there now?’ I asked him, hissing with fury.

  ‘Reading the Spectator,’ said Percy.

  After a few more deep breaths, I went back into the drawing room to find Hugo reading as described while Greg was looking out of the window with his arms folded. I went
and stood by him. James was in the garden breaking Tom’s planks with his head.

  ‘I’m going to have a strong drink,’ I said, with icy civility. ‘Would you like one, Greg? Hugo?’

  ‘I’ll have a beer,’ said the newly butch Greg.

  ‘Pink gin,’ said Hugo without looking up. If I’d had a soda siphon I would have had at him with it.

  I got their drinks and a large vodka for myself and went out to see what my two favourite people on the planet were up to. James was showing Tom a kung fu kick. Tom’s face was radiant with joy. At least something was going well.

  ‘What are you two boys up to?’ I asked, ruffling Tom’s hair.

  ‘Stop it, Mummy,’ he said, like a total brat. ‘You’re breaking my concentration. James says it’s all in the mind.’

  ‘Oh, does he?’ I said. ‘I’ll have to remember that next time I’m at the gym.’

  James put his arm round me and kissed my head.

  ‘Your husband gets to the point, doesn’t he?’ he said. He was smiling, to my relief.

  ‘Oh, God,’ I said. ‘He’s normally so charming, but every now and again he gets all complicated. I don’t know if he’s cross that you are sleeping with me or that I’m sleeping with you, when he thinks it should be him, or because Greg wants to, oh I don’t know. But don’t worry, he’ll get over it and try to win you over with his charm.’

  ‘James, James, watch,’ came Tom’s little voice. We looked up to see his head descending towards the planks at great speed.

  ‘Tom, stop that!’ I shrieked, but before I even had the words out, James had somehow leapt in his direction and scattered the planks before too much damage was done, although Tom did glance his forehead off one of them. Blood trickled down his face. James scooped him up, like a toy.

  ‘Are you OK, little buddy?’ he said to him. ‘I think you’d better go to your mum.’

  But Tom didn’t want mum. He clung on fiercely, tightening his grip on James’s neck, burying his face in his shoulder and starting to howl. I glanced round to see Hugo staring out of the window, looking even more hatchet-faced if that were possible, and scarlet around the neck again.

  ‘I wanted to hit the planks like you did,’ Tom was stuttering out between sobs.

  James was talking to him in the same soothing tones he had used to me after the mugging.

  ‘You have to be a big boy to do that, Tom,’ he was saying. ‘It takes years. You have to start with easy things. When you’re feeling better, I’ll show you some things you can do now, but don’t try any of that hard stuff for the time being. Now, how’s that head of yours? Reckon it needs a bandage?’

  He turned to me and pulled a ‘Help!’ face. I took Tom from him and carried him into the kitchen to clean him up. It was just a flesh wound and he was over it very quickly, eager to get back to his new best friend, James. He ran into the drawing room and leaned on his knee.

  ‘Do you think I’ll have a scar, James?’ he asked, gazing up at him, rapt. ‘Like yours?’

  ‘I’m sure you will, mate. A really big scary one.’

  ‘I do hope not,’ said Hugo, with his most icy smile. ‘Or I may have to sue you for mutilating my son.’

  ‘Oh, give it a rest, Hugo,’ said Percy, in one of his very rare cross moments. ‘You’re behaving like one of the ugly sisters. Get over yourself.’

  There was a deadly pause, then I saw Greg squeeze Hugo’s hand. I squeezed James’s and the atmosphere lifted.

  ‘Will you show me boffing now, James?’ said Tom.

  I wish I could say things got better at the dinner table, but they didn’t. Percy had clearly forgotten his enquiry about James’s special diet and seemed to have prepared the worst possible menu for his regime, which James was far too polite to refuse. We started with stilton soup and then moved on to lasagne, with lots of fatty minced beef and lashings of cheesy sauce.

  There were hot rolls with the soup and I tried not to notice when James cut his with his knife, then took the butter from the butter dish with the same knife and spread it straight onto the bread. It was a different country I told myself, with different ways of doing things. But I couldn’t stop myself glancing over at Hugo, who had a look in his eye I had seen many times at the Heaveringham dinner table. He’d seen it and he’d clocked it up against James.

  Percy had shown surprising restraint at James’s request for just water to drink and happily provided him with a large jug, complete with ice and slices of lime. When James was on his third glass or so, I noticed the water was a pale shade of pink. As we cleared the soup plates away in the kitchen, I asked Percy what it was.

  ‘Oh, just a little Campari, darling,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t let the poor boy drink plain water. Revolting. Added a little splash of voddie as well. Much better for him.’

  I went back into the dining room and scooped up the jug and glass with no explanation and replaced it with plain water. I saw James rub his eyes a little later and realized that the unfamiliar alcohol was getting to him.

  Percy presented him with a groaning plate of lasagne, saying he was sure James had a hearty appetite. He set about it manfully, although I knew it represented just about all the food groups he tried to avoid. And while he was struggling with that, I was struggling with the way he was eating it.

  He was holding his fork, prongs up, in his left hand and pushing the lasagne onto it with his knife, then raising the fork to his mouth, with both elbows out. I couldn’t help looking and noticing and caring and I saw Percy and Hugo exchange a glance that made it clear they had noticed too. Percy appeared to be warning Hugo not to say anything, but it was bad enough that they’d noticed.

  In that moment I really came to hate the English class system and all its stupid little rules. And I hated myself for caring about them. I was trying to tell myself it didn’t matter, when I noticed that Tom had stopped eating and was staring at James.

  ‘James is shovelling,’ he said, in his most piping tones. ‘How come he’s allowed to shovel? I’m not allowed to shovel.’

  ‘Be quiet, Tom,’ said Percy. ‘You say some very silly things for a seven-year-old. Grow up.’

  But it was too late to salvage the situation. The damage had been done.

  James looked at me and then over at Tom, just as he picked up his knife and fork and started eating exactly as James had been, elbows out like a rower. I saw the realization dawn on James’s face and I knew my own mortified expression would be giving me away, but I didn’t have any reserves of false jollity left.

  James slowly put his knife and fork on his plate – he didn’t put them together, I noticed, hating myself all over again. Hugo was smirking and Greg was frowning, clearly aware that something was going on, but not quite sure of the significance of it.

  ‘That was really delicious, Percy,’ said James, putting us all to shame with his good manners. ‘Thanks, mate.’

  Then he folded his arms and didn’t say anything else. I can’t say I blamed him.

  Clearly delighted his handsome rival had been humiliated, Hugo then launched into one of his super vivacious moods, enchanting us (not) with hilarious (not) tales of his recent dealings with Perth’s art collectors. The point of all the stories was how common and ignorant they all were and how superior was Hugo’s knowledge of the art world and life in general. Percy looked stony-faced as he cleared away the plates.

  James politely refused pudding – or sweet, as he called it, causing another flicker across beastly Hugo’s smug face. Zabaglione clearly wasn’t James’s favourite. He sat there quietly as Percy and I attempted to make some kind of neutral conversation and then as we put down our spoons, he looked at his watch and said he had to be off.

  Hugo hardly looked up as he left, but Greg sprang out of his chair to pump his hand again, touching his upper arm, all matey like. Tom held onto his hand, begging him not to leave ever and to come back immediately. And as we walked him to the door, I saw Percy grab his bum, giggling like a schoolgirl.

  ‘Ooh lovel
y,’ he said, in what I think was supposed to be a cheeky winning way. ‘Just wanted to see if it felt as nice as it looked. Come back soon, James darling. We’d love to see you again.’

  He came right to the door with us, so I had to go outside to the car to have a moment alone with James, snapping at Percy and Tom over my shoulder, to stay inside.

  James said nothing as he got into the car, but wound down the window, so I could speak to him. He had a totally blank expression on his face.

  ‘You were right, James,’ I said. ‘That was a total disaster. I hate them all. I’m really really sorry.’

  ‘Not your fault,’ he said. ‘I had a feeling it might be like that, but what can you do?’

  ‘Please don’t let it affect us, James,’ I begged pathetically.

  He just looked me in the eye and said nothing – and everything. It was quite clear that as far as he was concerned, it had affected us.

  ‘When will I see you?’ I asked, feeling panicky.

  ‘At the gym, Antonia,’ he said, starting to wind up the window. ‘At the gym.’

  I leaned in to kiss his cheek before he wound it all the way up, but he drove off, without acknowledging me.

  I went back into the house and ran straight up to my room.

  19

  Of course I went racing off to the gym the next night, desperate to make things right again and, of course, James wasn’t there. As always, when I least wanted to see him, Spider was on the desk.

  He showed his usual lack of interest as he swiped my card, but as he handed it back to me I plucked up my courage to ask him if he knew where James was. He looked at me with suspicious eyes.

  ‘Who wants to know?’ he said.

  ‘I do,’ I squeaked, feeling and sounding more like Piglet, than a grown woman. Spider was definitely a heffalump.