The Face

by Ivan B

  She flicked the kettle on, “Five minutes.”

  He kissed her again and murmured, “Your grans coming over this afternoon, you might like to slip a dress on.”

  She giggled, “I’ll do it in a mo.”

  He nodded and wandered off to his study to dump his papers and do whatever he did between visits. She glanced up at the picture of Bau that was fastened to the wall cupboard door and smiled again; she’d be home by the weekend and would be around for at least a month. I would be good for them all to be together again like a real family. She automatically put some tea in the teapot and thought of Bau. She now carefully tried not to know if Bau and Brian slept together, though goodness knows she gave them enough chances to do so even to the extent of insisting that Bau had a double bed in her room. However, by not really ‘knowing’ she didn’t have to lie and that made life easier. She knew it was a mental trick and that as his femme Bau was entitled to sleep with Brian, but the trick helped her stay on an even keel. Her eyes strayed to the picture of her and Brian at their wedding and she sighed with happiness. He was a good husband and she knew that he really loved her deeply. She turned and gazed at the calendar before picking up a green pen and striking out the need for contraception tablets, maybe the time had come for the family to grow.

  Bau sat at the hotel dressing table and carefully painted her tiny heart-shaped lips cherry red before giving her nose-ring a little polish. She surveyed herself in the mirror prior to putting her clothes on. The gap in her front teeth had been replaced by some ever-so-expensive bridgework and the loose teeth had been stabilised by similar bridgework so she no longer suffered from perpetual toothache or bleeding gums. Brian had insisted on all this dentistry immediately after she’d left prison, and, somehow, he’d also paid for it. She inspected her arms; she’d had all the little blue blob like tattoos over-tattooed with black oak leaves and Nanette’s anchors over-tattooed by a flutter of oak-leaves. This made her look like an advert for autumn, but it also helped her to know that prison was now just part of her past. There was only one exception; she’d had the blue-blob on her breast changed to a heart around which were the words Brian-Amy-Lucy as a reminder of her family. She’d also had some minor cosmetic surgery to smooth out her eyelids and mellow the skin on her cheeks. This had all been possible because she was, once again, earning money. After she’d left the open prison she’d spent three idyllic months with Brian and Amy before getting a job as a session bass player to a so-called crossover violinist, that is one who’d left classical music for jazz/blues. Once the album was recorded it became an overnight sensation and Marie-Anna, the violinist, had gone on tour with Bau and two other crossover musicians, one a cellist and the other a tenor. Bau had ended up playing for them all. Bass for Marie-Anna, lead guitar for the tenor and twelve string acoustic for the cellist. They had toured to packed houses for six months, cut a joint album and then toured again for six months before taking three months off. After that Bau had been in constant demand for recording sessions and touring. The Crossover Trio, as they called themselves, still toured for six months of the year and Bau had no trouble filling in the other months with other musicians. Currently the Crossover Trio were touring the USA, a place where Bau could not go due to her criminal status. She was still in touch with them and happily listening to their moans about Bau’s over-confident and over-eager replacement. Currently she was on-tour with an Irish Ballad singer and his two backing acts. The music was undemanding, the money was good and the company was convivial, even so she was looking forward to the end of the week and going home. She smiled as she recalled the last time she had been home and slept with both Brian and Amy. Her eyes flicked to the wedding photograph of them that travelled with her wherever she went. They were not only her lovers they were her family and her stability. They had been a tremendous support for her while she’d been in open prison struggling with coming to terms with her anorexia and her hearing loss. They had religiously visited her for two hours every Saturday and Sunday while she had been inside. An amount of visiting that would have been totally unavailable had she gone back to her original prison. She glanced back at her figure in the mirror, she was now up to a grand hundred and ten pounds and easily maintaining the weight. She had to admit that she both felt batter and looked better. She picked up a pair of tiny ear-plug hearing aids and carefully put them in her ears and followed this by placing what looked like a ruby heart-shaped pendant around her neck. In fact this pendant contained a microphone and selective amplifier, and it transmitted the resulting signal to her ear-plugs by something called blue-tooth technology. She had the same technology fitted to her mobile phone and her feedback loop from the sound system when she was playing. It was a top of the range hearing assistance system and Brian and Amy had bought it for her as a prison leaving present. Amy actually had an identical pendant, minus the electronics, that was an open-out locket in which she kept pictures of both her and Brian. She said that this kept them close to her heart. Bau carefully turned on all three pieces of the hearing assistance system and listened to the sounds of the hotel. She didn’t like the hotel life much; it was the playing she liked. So she’d be glad to go home and have a rest in a relaxing environment, an environment she diligently contributed to. Whenever she got paid she’d put 40% in a special bank account for the tax-man, 40% in the three-way joint account, give 10% to one of her selected charities and spend 10% on herself. It was this 10% that had allowed her to sort out her tattoos and indulge herself in a little cosmetic surgery. Even with those expenses she still had more than she really needed as whatever band she was with always paid for board and lodging. She smiled at herself in the mirror and wondered whether she should just get the edges of her lips touched up. Was she happy? She was more than happy; she was utterly content as she had the best of all worlds. She could indulge herself in music while not having to worry about houses and holidays. She had both Brian and Amy to love her as much as she loved them, and she had a place to call home. No, she decided, it was not called home, it was home. She was distracted from her thoughts by a slight movement behind her and swung round to see Roisin emerge from under the duvet of the second single bed. Not only was Bau the bass and banjo player in this band, she was also chaperon to the sound manager’s daughter, who was one of the backing singers. Roisin rubbed her tiny hands over her pale face before flicking her bright red hair back over her shoulders. Bau noted her disposition. “Rehearsal of the new routine starts in just under the hour,” she said gently.

  Roisin groaned. Bau decided on a little chiding, not that it would achieve anything; she’d been young once. “Perhaps a little less alcohol and an earlier bedtime might improve matters.”

  Roisin groaned again, “How can you go to a party,” she whined, “And not drink?”

  “Because I am a professional musician and I can’t play properly with a hangover any more than you can sing properly with one. Now if you don’t want your father to notice you’d better have a long cool shower and drink at least half a pint of milk with a teaspoonful of honey in it. The milk and honey are waiting for you in the bathroom.”

  Roisin managed a smile, “Thanks Bau.”

  She staggered off towards the bathroom and Bau thought about her own name. She was no longer Bau Didly or Margaret Chasle, she’d changed her name by deed-pole to Bau Noakes. Brian had suggested it and Amy had encouraged her to do it. She carefully put away a letter from her sister, who was now almost fully back in-touch. Her sister had had a daughter and, on remembering her miserable childhood, had immediately become a member of an open brethren church. So now there were monthly letters and so much to catch up on. She got up and slipped on a pair of jeans and a white tee-shirt, these were good enough for a practice session. She fingered the tee-shirt; she’d bought it on a shopping expedition with Amy, dear delightful Amy, who now seemed to be the happiest wife in the world. She looked at the wedding picture and whispered, “I’ll soon be home,” before leaving the room and quietly slipping into another
world, one of notes and riffs and musical camaraderie. One from which she could now emerge and be safe and secure and, above all, loved.

  Brian placed the last of the papers in the correct file and sat down. His eyes strayed to the four photographs on his wall. Janis his daughter, who he was still getting to know. Joan, his sister who was gradually getting her life back together. Amy his épouse and Bau his femme. If ever he’d doubted that Amy was the right one of the pair to legally marry he’d long forgotten such doubts. As man and wife they were supremely happy. He still had a thrill when he came home and found her in the kitchen and still enjoyed their active and passionate lovemaking. But it was more than that, it was like copper and zinc becoming brass. They’d melded together to produce something that was infinitely better. Amy was managing her mental infirmity well and they had carefully worked on her strategies for maintaining her health. The only one that had so far managed to defeat them was her tendency to forget to wear clothes other than bra and knickers. She left little notes all over her dressing table mirror and had even written a reminder on the bathroom mirror, but at least once a week he had to remind her, but then so did Janis and so did Joan. Perhaps it was something they had to live with, and if that was the only real legacy from her massive breakdown then that wasn’t too great a thing anyway. She also still had the occasional instance of distorted logic. He grinned as her remembered the look on Bishop Georgio’s face when she’d put balsamic vinegar in his tomato juice instead of Worcester sauce or Janis eyes when Amy had produced a rhubarb and lamb bake. He looked at Bau’s picture and anticipated her return home. She’d been marvellous in the open prison. They’d all found it hard to be separated in such a forced way, but she had maintained a positive outlook and worked hard on her anorexia. Now she was enjoying herself playing music and relaxed when she came home. In that respect she’d been right when she’d told him to marry Amy. She’d also contributed greatly to the household budget, both enabling Brian to stop marking exam papers and Amy to have private medical treatment when they had discovered her sinuses were full of polyps. It had been nothing too serious, but it had worried Brian nearly stupid, while Amy had seemingly taken it in her stride. The household budget had also been large enough for Bau to buy a new banjo and a ukulele plus a refitting of the barn to be warmer in winter. Brian heard Amy running upstairs, presumably for a dress, and smiled again. Was he happy? Undoubtedly so. Did he regret having two wives? No. It was unusual and not to be recommended. Undoubtedly it would not have worked had not Amy and Bau loved each other so much, but he didn’t regret it. Perhaps his life would have been different as a vicar, but he was content to work amongst the travellers. He stroked his chin. His life was on an even keel, the feeling of his life being out-of-control had ceased years ago, somewhere around the time Bau had come out of prison. He stooped down and picked up a plastic bag that had slipped out if his waste basket. He fingered it and studied the motif. It was from that supermarket, the one where five years ago he had spotted a face in the restaurant, a face that had changed his life forever.

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