Loneliness Trilogy Bundle Boxset (37 page)

“When do you want to visit the maternity shop? Let me know and I’ll keep Lizzie at…wait, no. Call your mum and ask her to mind Lizzie. We’ll go together,” Marcus decides.

“I can go by myself,” I tell him.

“Not this time, sweetie. You don’t know if you will run into Millie or her minions. I go with you. Period,” Marcus says.

“Oh. That’s right. I don’t know how I forgot about them,” I say.

“Mummy, hungry!” Lizzie turns in her pram seat, looking at me.

I dig in the bag and pull out a small bag of cut-up fruit. Lizzie and I both happily munch on the sweet, cold bits.

“On the shopping trip, why don’t we go tomorrow? I can call mum at home and, if she’s available, we can take Lizzie there, go shopping and eat,” I suggest.

“I like that. Let’s make it a date,” Marcus says with a grin creasing his face. “Before I forget, has Nigel finished the publicity piece that’s to go in the newspaper yet?”

“I believe so. He wanted to email it to the paper today so they could publish it either Thursday or Friday. “

“Excuse me, Mrs. Hadley? Tom from the Saint Albans Daily Standard here. Would you mind giving me a few minutes? Our paper is doing a story on the religious group and their petition, trying to get your band taken down. I promise, everything you say will be reported accurately.”

I look at Marcus with a questioning look.

“Tom, may I look at your press credentials? I hope you’ll understand, given everything that’s been happening,” Marcus says.

“Certainly. I don’t blame you at all. Here, have a look,” Tom says, offering his press credentials.

Marcus reads through it carefully and, handing it back, says, “It’s up to my wife. Jo?”

“I’m going to trust you, Tom, to write an accurate accounting. But…why would you encourage this group with more publicity?”

“It’s inevitable, sadly. We don’t ever want to give…certain groups more publicity, but in this instance, it is trying to take down a vital part of our city. The public don’t like that, and our paper want to highlight what this group is doing so the public know not to sign any petitions.”

“Okay, then. One request…no pictures of our daughter. She stays completely out of this.”

“Agreed. We will take pictures only of you and Mr. Hadley.”

We sit down in a restaurant’s outdoor section, where Tom proceeds to interview Marcus and me. I give Lizzie bits of fruit as we talk. The upshot of our interview is that Tom learns about Millie’s extremist stances on various issues and groups, such as immigrants, minorities, gays, lesbians and transgendered individuals.

“She implies that you are promiscuous, that your brother-in-law is violent, and that the other two members of your band are drug addicts. All false?”

“Definitely. We do all we can to present our true images. She continues to spread her lies,” I say.

“Any chance your band will sue her group?”

“Only as a last choice option. We would rather she and her group realize the truth without being pulled into the legal system, but…”

“It’s not off the table,” Tom divines.

“No. It isn’t.”

“Okay, then. Thank you! If you will let me take a few photos of you and Mr. Hadley, I will be on my way,” Tom says.

I edge Lizzie’s pram around so she won’t show in any pictures.

Tom takes several snaps, then leaves, allowing us to resume our flier-hanging errand.

The news story appears in the Saint Albans Daily Standard on Thursday morning. I do have to say that I am very impressed with his promise - the entire interview is exactly as we spoke. There is no mention or photo of Lizzie - simply Marcus and me, smiling into the camera’s lens.

At practice, we all discuss the interview.

“So, do you think this will help?” Tim asks.

“At the least, it will put doubt into the mind of the public. When anyone is approached by elements of that group, they will, hopefully, know to question whatever group members might say,” Marcus says.

“And, at the most?”

“People will begin speaking up against this group and telling them where they can stuff themselves,” Laslow says harshly. “I want to tell you something…about my row and falling-out with Millie.”

We all sit down, eager to listen.

“Before she left for the States, Millie and I were discussing a friend of mine. Marcus, you know Vic, right? My friend from school?”

“Oh, sure, I remember him. What about him?”

“He didn’t always used to be known as Vic - or as ‘he,’ either. Vic used to be Victoria. He was transgender for several years, then, a few years ago, underwent a sex-change operation to become what he has always felt himself to be - a man.”

“Oh! I remember meeting him, at our wedding!” I say.

“Yes, well. Millie cornered me shortly before she and Robert left to the States. I say ‘cornered,’ because she had a very specific agenda and set of questions in her mind about Vic. She inferred that he was ‘faking’ his feelings. That, if he would simply ‘pray to the Lord,’ he would come straight with Him and be straight, desiring men. I told her that it’s not such an easy thing as that. I explained that Vic had always felt as though he was a man. Well, Millie came back with the old saw that God doesn’t make mistakes. I said that nature makes mistakes. From there, it fell apart. We rowed and yelled at each other. She told me that Vic deserved all the bad he was getting, and would get because he was listening to Satan. Well…after seeing Vic struggle with his sexual identity, dressing as a woman and styling his hair as a woman, going out with guys and feeling bad about himself…it was just too much. I got straight into her face and yelled at her, telling her she was a bigoted, narrow-minded bitch. She came back at me, saying I was headed straight to Hell, that there was no redemption for me. I kicked her out of Gen’s and my flat that minute and we haven’t said a civil word since,” Laslow finishes.

“Wow. Scary,” I say. “What do you think she’d do against any one of us if she is not successful in banning our band?”

“Character assassination at the least. Public confrontations. Beyond that, I don’t want to guess what she would do - or encourage her group to do.”

“Laslow’s right. Jo, do you mind if I tell them what Millie has accused you of?”

I think for a few minutes, then decide it’s probably best that they know.

“Go ahead, but sanitize it for Lizzie, please,” I say.

“Good point. Boys, it’s bad. When we were at my mum’s and dad’s for Millie’s and Robert’s homecoming, we were spooning up some pudding for dessert. The bowl was directly behind Millie, and we heard her say that Johanna’s a…well, loose woman. That ruined the evening, so we went home straightaway. She tried getting into our house - we still use the electronic gate. Wouldn’t let her in, so she would pop round uninvited. I’d go outside to talk to her and Jo would keep Lizzie inside until Millie had left. She tried to order me to have a paternity test on Lizzie and me - I asked her who Lizzie’s eyes remind her of…”

“Shit! That’s…low,” Linny says.

“Hah! It gets worse. After Jo and I found she is expecting again, we decided to wait to announce it, mainly because of Millie. Well, Millie found out and she told me that this ‘latest brat isn’t yours.’ Jo came up with a wonderful idea - to go ahead and have paternity testing done and show the results to Millie. We’re waiting on the results now. Once we have them…”

“Slap that damn…cow across her overly big mouth and make her shut it,” Laslow says.

“Precisely. I think her exposure to these neo-conservative groups in the U.S. have something to do with all this. Though she put on the supportive, ‘speak up for underdogs’ pose before she moved to the U.S., I’m beginning to suspect that she has always harbored these beliefs, but never felt safe to express them.”

“Until now,” Tim says. “Okay, enough about that depressing topic! Practice. Let’s refine every piece we will be performing in our two sets - forty-five minutes apiece, with a fifteen minute intermission halfway through.”

Because we have been working so hard on our music, it is easy to correct any errors in our playing, timing, rhythm and singing. We refine our harmonies and do a quick run-through. Everything sounds wonderful! We’ll carry off a dress rehearsal tomorrow, which is the day before the benefit concert.

At home that night, a London television station calls.

“Ma’am, we are interested in interviewing you in light of the publicity from that church group in Saint Albans. We would like to send a crew out now, if you wouldn’t mind, so we can get some footage for tonight’s late news,” says the manager on the phone.

I look at Marcus, wide eyed.

“Sir, I’m going to put you onto speakerphone. I want my husband to here this,” I say, pushing the speakerphone button. Setting the handset down, I tell him, “We’re both here, sir.”

“Mrs. Hadley, the activities of that church group are known all around this part of the U.K. We are asking for your permission to send a news crew to your home for an interview, which would air on tonight’s late news.”

“How would you get the report back to London in time?” Marcus asks.

“Via satellite, Mr. Hadley.”

“One condition - I do not want our daughter to be made a part of this interview. It is to be of my wife and I only, and the only topic is this church group and their dratted petition. Nothing more.”

“Thank you. We will have a news team there within one hour,” says the manager before he rings off.

Mum calls us.

“Jo, sweetheart, just a few questions. I know you’re running ragged. How are you feeling?”

“Pregnant, but the nausea is going down bit by bit. I have a beautiful outfit for the concert!”

“Oooh, tell me! What does it look like?”

“No, you won’t know until you see me on-stage,” I tell her, laughing. “I’m not showing yet, but my regular clothing feels too tight.”

“So exciting! Okay, second question. What time should we pop round for Lizzie and her nappy bag?”

“How about right before dinner time? I’ll have something ready for us to eat, and you and dad join us. Then, you leave with her and her bag while Marcus and I clean up and change. We’ll meet up with you right after the last song of the second set,” I suggest.

“Excellent. D’you want help with dinner? Less for you to do, and we’ll be eating and ready to go sooner.”

“I like that! Yes, do come earlier. I’m planning to make a baked chicken with herbs and roasted potatoes. A cool fruit salad to follow, and we should be good - although I’ll still pack snacks for my Lizzie-girl.”

“You are making me hungry! I’ll bring the fruit, already chopped. I believe I have a glaze we can use.”

“Okay. I’ll wash and quarter the potatoes, then chill them in water for the day. That way, they’ll be ready for roasting when we come home,” I plan out loud.

“I am so glad I gave you cooking lessons,” mum says.

“Mum, I had better go. Lizzie just made an unholy mess in her nappy and she needs a bath anyway,” I say, waving my hand in front of my face.

“See you tomorrow, then. Give Lizzie a kiss from me, please,” mum asks.

“I will - once she’s clean!” After I hang up, I scoop Lizzie up in my arms. As I walk by Marcus, he gets a solid whiff and follows me, plucking Lizzie out of my arms.

“Wow! What did she eat?” he asks.

“What we ate, but, whew! You draw her bath while I clean her up.”

“I’ll clean her, you draw her water.”

“Mummy, poo-poo?” Lizzie shifts uncomfortably in Marcus’ arms, seeming to want to get away from the mess in her nappy.

“Ugh, yes, poo-poo, little girl! Daddy will clean you up and pop you into the tub presently,” I promise.

Because Lizzie is shifting so much and we are walking upstairs, Marcus shifts Lizzie so he holds her around her torso, allowing her feet to dangle.

“Better, love bug?”

“Poo-poo.” She grunts again.

“Oh, boy. Plan to use several wipes to get her clean,” I tell him.

More grunting.

I wonder what she ate? I think to the snacks she had, then remember giving her a new fruit. “Marcus, tell me if there’s anything…unusual about what’s in her nappy,” I ask.

“She’s not acting sick.”

Lizzie sighs, relieved.

“You might be right. I think she just needed to…go…a lot!”

Marcus brings a cleaned-up Lizzie, wrapped in a combination towel-robe, into the bathroom. He lifts himself to the counter and sits.

Standing on the fluffy bath mat, she shucks the towel and climbs into the warm water with my assistance. She splashes the water, getting herself and me wet. I give her several water toys.

“What did you and your mum discuss?”

“Plans for tomorrow before the benefit concert. She and dad will come here for dinner before - she’s bringing dessert. After, she and dad will take little stink-bug here to the park, along with her nappy bag…”

“Let’s hope stink bug won’t give us a repeat of tonight’s nappy!” Marcus says, laughing

“Ewwww! If need be, we can clean her up before they leave. Lizzie, your grammie and grampie will be here tomorrow night to take you to my show!” I tell her.

“Grammie? Grampie? No auntie?”

“No, not auntie,” I say, just as persistent honking begins outside.