Stilettos & Stubble (10 page)

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Authors: Amanda Egan

BOOK: Stilettos & Stubble
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What a complete
and utter bitch.  She’d led the life of Riley for years, draining my father dry
and talking him into massive expenditure for her own vanity and this was how
she repaid him.  And now she had the audacity to expect
him
to leave the
house.  Over my dead body.

 

I helped my dad
through to my bedroom and told him to have my bed for the night.  The sofa
would do me just fine and I didn’t expect to be doing much sleeping.

 

He got into bed,
fully clothed, and looked at me with a sad smile.  I kissed him on the cheek
and told him to try to get some sleep.  ‘We don’t need her, Daddy.  We’ll be
just fine without her,’ I said as I closed the door behind me.

 

I struggled to
get myself comfy on my way too short sofa, with a purring Bogey on my chest. 
And, instead of dwelling on my selfish mother, the only vision that kept
popping into my head was that of ‘The Hulk’.

 

Eventually, I
shut him out.  He was just too rude to be allowed to interfere with my slumber.

 

 

 

Chapter
Ten

 

 

I slept
fitfully.  My dreams ranged from my mother as a drag act doing some sort of odd
burlesque routine to ‘The Hulk’ doing unspeakable things to me which caused me
to wake with a jump and in a cold, albeit not unpleasant sweat.

 

Bogey looked at
me in a most disgruntled fashion and performed a massive fish-breath yawn in my
face.  Fully awake, he blinked rapidly and started up his morning purring
routine.  I rubbed his ears and thought how simple the life of a cat was.  Eat,
sleep, purr and be loved - what heaven!

 

Moving him gently
to one side, I eased my achingly contorted body off the sofa and stretched.  I
could hear my dad moving quietly in the kitchen and knew that if he was looking
for breakfast, he’d be sorely disappointed.  Food shopping hadn’t been high on
my agenda recently.

 

Bogey jumped down
and threaded himself between my legs as I made my way to the kitchen - he was on
the prowl and the only thing that meant was FOOD - NOW!

 

The smell that
greeted me when I opened the kitchen door had my stomach rumbling and my mouth
watering.  Dad was standing at the cooker, resplendent in my ‘Beach Belle’
pinny and frying bacon and eggs like a pro.

 

‘Morning Perce! 
I popped down the shops and bought us some brekkie.  Felt a bit peckish when I
woke up.’

 

I kissed him on
the cheek and flicked the kettle on, grabbing a tin of cat meat on the way.  There
would be no peace until Bogey had a belly-full.

 

‘Did you sleep
OK, Daddy?’ I asked as I spooned rancid-smelling tuna and pilchard into a bowl.

 

‘Like a baby,
Perce. Although I did feel slightly guilty when I woke up this morning and
thought of you scrunched up on that sofa.  My turn tonight, eh?’

 

Tonight? 
Oh boy, I hadn’t thought beyond one night and, as much as I loved my
dad, living with him really was going to be quite odd.  I’d lived on my own for
so long and had got used to my own company.  Of course I wouldn’t see him out
on the street but it
was
going to take a bit of getting used to.

 

‘No Dad, you have
the bed.  Bogey and I are just fine on the sofa.’

 

As my father
loaded two plates up with our belly-busting breakfast, it was as if he’d read
my thoughts when he said quietly, ‘I’ll head off to the house and collect all
my essentials and then I’ll start a flat search.   I don’t want to put you out
for any longer than necessary. No young girl needs her dad dossing for too
long.’

 

I took the food
my dad was offering me and settled opposite him at the breakfast bar.  ‘Daddy,
this is
your
flat.  If anyone should move out it should be
me
.’ 
As soon as the words left my lips, I began to panic.  I couldn’t
afford
to move out and find somewhere else to live but
logically
it was what
should be happening.

 

My dad chewed on
his bacon and began cutting a huge wedge of fried bread.  ‘Now, shush, Perce. 
This flat is
yours
and I’ve got no intention of chucking you out.  I’m
perfectly capable of finding myself another little place to live, so stop
worrying yourself and tuck in.’

 

‘She really means
it this time, doesn’t she Daddy?’  I posed the question I knew I had to ask to
see if he was really accepting the situation.

 

‘Yes, Perce.  She
does.  And even if she didn’t, I wouldn’t have her back this time anyway.  Been
a bit of a mug for far too long now and I figure it’s time for me to move on
and have a bit of a life for myself.’

 

I felt a mixture
of relief and sadness.  He’d finally hit his tolerance level and seen the light
but the reality was my parents were actually splitting up.  Suddenly I felt
like a little girl again.  As much as I knew that it was the best thing for
both of them, it still meant that I would be part of a broken family.

 

Not wanting to
show my fears or pain to my dad, I finished my breakfast hastily and made a
start on the washing up.

 

Dad dried as I
washed and then placed the tea towel over the oven door to dry.  ‘Right, that’s
me off then, Perce.  I want to make the most of the day so I’ll head off and
collect my stuff and then get down the lettings agency to see what they’ve got
to offer.  Thought I might try to stay reasonably close to you - seems silly to
move to an area I know nothing about.’

 

As he headed for
the door, minus the usual spring in his step, I silently cursed my mother. 
Here was a man approaching his seventies, forced into the prospect of salvaging
what was left of his life.

 

I vowed to myself
that I’d never forgive her.  OK, it was taking sides but then I really didn’t
feel as if I owed her anything and, when I looked back, I’d never truly had the
support of maternal love. 
One
day at ‘The Gossamer Glove’ had done more
for my confidence than any other and my mother had only ever succeeded in
belittling me.

 

As I tidied the
kitchen and readied myself for the day ahead, I found myself wondering how my
life would have turned out if I’d been blessed with a loving mum.  If I’d still
been ‘Big Old Perce’ but been accepted for what I was - and then nurtured and
encouraged.

 

Well, things were
changing and the words I’d spoken to daddy the night before echoed in my head.

 

We really
didn’t
need her.

 

 

*****

 

 

‘So how was your
first night at the club, Perce?’

 

Mia and I were
having lunch in her garden, watching Isla and Jo Jo playing in the sand pit as
they fed an odd assortment of stuffed toys with make-believe picnic food.

 

I’d already
filled her in on all the details of my parents’ marriage breakdown and she’d
been quietly shocked but sympathetic.

 

‘The club’s
great, Mia,’ I told her as I helped myself to some more delicious salad.  ‘I
had an absolute hoot until that rude dick appeared with my dad at the door. 
Honestly he was
so
nasty.’

 

An unwelcome
image of his bulk and stunning features flitted through my head and I batted it
away like a pesky fly.  He would
not
be allowed to take residence in my
brain.  Rude, rude, rude!

 

‘So now you’ve
done your first night there, what do you think your chances are of ever meeting
a bloke?’  Mia chewed thoughtfully on an olive.  ‘I mean, do
many
straight
guys go there or are you destined for a life with old queens?’

 

‘To be perfectly
honest Mia, I think I’ve given up on finding love.  If my parents are anything
to go by, I’d say our family is pretty crap at it.  As much as I envy all that
you’ve got - the hubbie, the house, the kids - I just don’t think it’s going to
be on my agenda.’

 

As I sipped on my
wine watching the kids in the sand pit, a lump came to my throat and a scene of
me with ‘The Hulk’ and our own two big-boned kids played on my internal film
reel.

 

Little Isla broke
my reverie by tugging on my arm and asking, ‘Auntie Percy?  Do you work for the
Queen now?  I just heard mummy say so.’

 

It was impossible
to be down for too long when there were kids around and Mia and I collapsed
into fits of uncontrollable laughter as Isla looked on in confusion.

 

 

*****

 

 

I quickly learned
that it was also impossible to be miserable around ‘the girls’ at the club. 
Every minute seemed to be filled with dramas, jokes, tiffs and banter.

 

I’d let myself
into the club shortly before four, ready to start on my list of jobs.

 

Hanging on the
door frame of my office was the most stunning sheath of aubergine velvet, with
a note attached to the coat-hanger.

 

‘Perce. 
Thanks for your help last night.  Annie came home about 3am and all is well. 
Silly tart!  Sorry about your lovely Pa.  Hope he’s OK.  Thought this dress
would look fandabidozie on you.  Laters. Tittie  x’

 

OK, that was
another crisis averted and maybe I needed to realise that Tittie might have
just a touch of drama queen about him.

 

I took the dress
from the frame and held it up against me.  It was just beautiful and looked the
perfect size.  Tittie certainly had the knack of picking the right things for
me and I was so grateful.  I’d been panicking that the skirt and top I’d
brought along for that night weren’t quite as glam as the black dress I’d worn
the night before but I figured I couldn’t keep wearing the same outfit night
after night.

 

Sighing with
pleasure as I lay the dress on the side, I heard the front door close and the
whistling notes of ‘I Am What I Am’.

 

Expecting it to
be Annie, I was surprised to turn and see a complete stranger.

 

I offered my hand
in introduction and volunteered ‘Oh, hi!  I’m Perce the new … well dogsbody I
guess.  Annie’s PA and front of house extraordinaire!’

 

‘Well,
hello
and ding dong!  I’m Dave AKA Betty La Muff - the only straight one here. 
You’re certainly gonna brighten up
my
nights.’  His handshake was firm
and manly and afterwards I needed to rub my fingers to bring the feeling back
into them.

 

Straight?! 
What the … ?  Were there really straight drag queens?  Was I totally naïve?

 

‘Betty’ pulled up
a seat and, as if reading my thoughts, offered, ‘I know exactly what you’re
thinking. 
Straight?
  Yes, love, we
do
exist.  I have to say
there aren’t many of us, and it doesn’t exactly get the wife’s seal of approval,
but by day I’m a plumber and on the odd night I’m La Muff.  ‘Course none of the
lads I work with know - I’d never live it down - but it’s just another side of
me that needs venting somehow.  Old Annie gave me the break I was looking for
and the rest, as they say, is history.’

 

‘Wow!’  I ran my
fingers through my hair and shook my head.  ‘I had no idea.  I just assumed
that all the acts were gay.  I feel pretty stupid now but I guess I
am
new to all this.’

 

‘Yeah well, you
live and learn eh?  And this is a funny old game.  Nothing is ever as it
seems.’

 

We heard a rustle
in the doorway and turned to see Lubov standing there, looking pale in torn
jeans and another shapeless hoody.

 

‘Vot are you
speaking of, Betty?  Vot is not vot it seems?’ he asked with a slight frown on
his exquisitely smooth face.

 

Betty let out a
booming laugh.  ‘Take a chill pill, Lube!  Me and the gorgeous Percy here were
just talking about the minority of straight guys in the biz - nowt to be
getting your G-string in a twist about.

 

Lubov visibly
relaxed and turned on his Converse soles, leaving the office with ‘Vell, zat is
good.  I dress now.’

 

Betty stood and
grabbed his rucksack, also ready to prepare for the night ahead.  ‘Far too
highly strung, that one.  Must be a cultural thing but I just don’t
get
him.’  He pinched my cheek and, with a ‘Catch you later, sexy!’ he was gone.

 

Day Two was
continuing to educate me - straight drags existed and Lubov seemed to have a
chip on his shoulder.

 

 

*****

 

 

‘Sorry about last
night and my little outburst, Perce.  Annie’s just got an attack of the
doldrums at the mo and I got it all out of proportion.’

 

Tittie was front
of house with me, sipping on his trademark multi-coloured cocktail and keeping
me company after his act.

 

‘It can be
terribly stressful running this place and it gets him down sometimes if the
takings are slipping,’ he added.  ‘Sometimes I forget how hard he works and I
get in a huff if he seems a bit distant.  I’m a selfish bitch really - I have
to stop and think it’s not always about how
I’m
feeling.’

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