by Lisa Young
On previous visits she had encountered a number of unusual individuals who carried with them stories of their past lives before they found Tony, and ultimately repented their sins before the Lord. During one such stay Lottie had met an armed robber who was on the run from the police. Initially, Tony and Amanda had chosen to respect his choice to follow his own path, which happened to lead him away from the area where he had committed his crimes. However, on waking to prepare for the Easter service they had discovered a number of missing valuables, including their handcrafted crucifix, which had caused a considerable amount of upset. Being a professional, Tony had concluded the service and fellowship obligations before forming a posse of willing volunteers to find the culprit—including a basset hound not so inspirationally called Fred. She was surprised to see the number of—possibly illegal—weapons carried by some members of the group, including an elaborately decorated Samurai sword, and several knuckle dusters. They tracked the offender for a number of miles—from the scent taken from his bed sheets—and found him in an inelegant embrace with a local barmaid who had a fancy for a rogue.
The offender was quickly dispatched to the waiting arms of the local constabulary with only minor cuts and bruises, and Tony and Amanda had subsequently added a polite question to their welcome pack asking potential group members to please disclose their previous convictions.
On her most recent visit however, Lottie’s luck had run out when she was collared by a buxom middle-aged woman who was keen to engage her in conversation about her new and improved shortbread recipe. Lottie had endured a polite exchange, but was casting her eyes around the kitchen looking for an excuse to exit. In the dimly lit corner of the kitchen she spied a pantry and managed to continue her conversation about shortbread while making stealthy steps towards that general direction hoping for a darkened sanctuary. Still nodding vigorously at the stranger who was debating the importance of salt in her shortbread, she spotted Tony in the darker recesses of the storage cupboard. Peering into the gloom, it was apparent that he was in the company of another male whom Lottie recognised as the local stable boy who provided livery for Tony’s three prize-winning stallions. Turning to fully face the entry of the pantry she was sure she had glimpsed Tony run his hand along the crotch of the stable lad. After she’d politely read the revised recipe for Highland Shortbread which the woman thrust into her hands, both had disappeared from view and Lottie had felt it was not her business to make any further enquiries. Keen to avoid any family friction, she decided she must have been mistaken and made a decision not to have that conversation with her sister, instead beating a fast retreat for home at the first opportunity.
Her mind returned to the present task of gathering any crockery remotely useful for presenting food, as she considered her other major problem of the day. Her mother had only recently entered the world of social media, settling on Facebook for her experimentation. She was less than savvy in the etiquette required for social networking, and Lottie noticed that she had proceeded to add Lottie’s entire list of contacts to her own, as she had shamelessly canvassed for attendees for the birthday gathering. She knew that many of her friends and associates, being too polite to decline, now had her mother as a Facebook friend. Elspeth had quickly become remarkably techno savvy for her advanced years, and Lottie had to admire how she had embraced social media to make Lottie’s day special.
She was less hopeful about responses to the Lottie’s 40th invitation from her Facebook friends, some of whom were work colleagues that she hadn’t appraised of the details of her personal life. Virginia had drawn her attention to this earlier in the week, and she had an uneasy feeling that she may inadvertently have been outed by her over-exuberant parent. Through the course of the week Lottie had received several confusing messages from her colleagues in the advertising department, including her very own boss, all confirming their attendance to her birthday soirée, clearly oblivious to the details of her personal situation. Ultimately, this had left Lottie with little choice but to embrace the process and hope for the best.
Lottie made a mental damage-limitation list of the likely candidates that would no doubt be attending that evening out of sheer curiosity. There were quite a few. She knew that the biggest issue during her earlier days had been to accept she was gay, but this was also equalled by the sure and certain knowledge that acknowledging this would involve readdressing her heterosexual identity to her friends and family. Following her divorce, Lottie had chosen not to share the details of the subsequent exploration of her attraction to the fairer sex, telling only a few close friends and family. As a teenager, she had explored her sexuality, but had then chosen the path of safety and family life, attempting to catalogue her earlier experiences as experimentation.
A failed marriage and two children later, Lottie had accepted the inevitable and embarked upon her dating career with women. She had never looked back. When starting her position at the newspaper she had hoped to be more open about her sexuality. However, following a startling encounter with a frisky Marketing Director by the name of Colin in the lift to the car park, she soon understood that the world of advertising sales was misogynistic and testosterone driven. She was also scarred by her previous attempts to be out at a previous workplace and so had opted for the safety of the closet in her new job, but always intended to be more open with those who she could trust.
Making her way to the utility room, Lottie retrieved the wine glasses, and as she piled them haphazardly onto the work surface she was grateful to notice that Alice had tidied and organised the night before. She felt a spontaneous rush of love and impulsively decided to be out and proud at the party and be damned. Alice didn’t deserve to be a dirty secret and the most important people in her life had already accepted her choices, so why should she care what her workmates thought?
Her thoughts were interrupted by the loud and assertive ringing of her doorbell.
“What on earth…?” she mumbled as she made her way towards the hallway.
“Superb daarling!” The front door swung open and the gravelly tones of her mother greeting Mel on the doorstep were unmistakeable.
After a hearty embrace, the pair tripped through the doorway, and grinning happily, Elspeth deposited Mel on an uncluttered sofa with a corkscrew and a bottle of wine. Lottie was warmed by the genuine affection between Mel and her mother, who fluttered around plumping cushions before she excused herself.
“Early start, my darling, early start! Those vol-au-vents won’t make themselves you know!”
Grasping her firmly with her burly arms, she pulled Lottie into a warm embrace planting two wet kisses firmly on either cheek as she passed. Lottie dodged the bulging carrier bags she’d collected from her car, one of which she noticed seemed to contain something that looked like a collapsed flag pole. Lottie returned her mother’s warm embrace, taking in the faint smell of lavender before she was swept towards the kitchen where her mother determinedly rolled up her sleeves.
Sometime later, and after a couple of hefty ports, Elspeth and Lottie had prepared a feast fit for kings and possibly also screaming queens. Forgetting her anxiety at the arrival of people unknown, her mum was techno savvy, but her memory let her down and she couldn’t quite remember exactly who she had invited, Lottie disappeared upstairs to make sure there was an ample supply of toilet roll, and to see what top she could pillage from Alice’s new staying over drawer. The arrival of a few of Alice’s belongings in an allocated drawer had excited Lottie beyond what she thought was possible, and she still liked to look in the drawer to remind herself how serious her relationship with Alice was. Through her dating years following her divorce from the fat ginger one she had never imagined she would be in such a healthy and satisfying relationship, let alone that a drawer in her home would be dedicated to a new partner. Pilfering through the Alice drawer she grabbed a crisp white T-shirt and a pair of low rise jeans. She fingered the material, revelling in Alice’s good taste in clothes—excellent and stylish,
but understated.
Remembering Elspeth, who was clattering around and mumbling about ramekin dishes, she hurried downstairs again. Entering the living room, Lottie paused in shock at the cacophony of colourful balloons which were suddenly attached to every available piece of furniture.
From behind a rainbow-coloured bunch appeared Alice, who was waving at her frantically and mouthing dramatically. “The garden, the garden!”
Lottie smiled at her, attempting reassurance. The garden was a little overgrown, granted, but Lottie had been forewarned of her mother’s birthday plan, and so she had spent three hours the previous evening battling the cold weather to ensure the grass was a reasonable length and that the fence panels wouldn’t fall and kill an innocent reveller—anyway the chill would surely draw people inside. She smiled again at Alice and shrugged before re-entering the kitchen to arrange the prawn vol-au-vents her mother had spontaneously knocked up.
Elspeth was clearly stuck in an eighties time warp, thought Lottie, as she battled her way through balloons of all colours. Outside she heard Robbie giggling. Bemused, as she hadn’t heard that noise come from her surly teen in a long time, she was about to go and investigate, when she heard a shriek from the utility room.
“Shit. Boots!” She broke into a sprint entering the lair of Boots to discover her mother was backed into a corner, shielding her body with a silver tray which she was wafting wildly in the direction of Boots who had risen from his own corner and stood eyeing her with interest. “Still got that, interesting cat then, dear?” she asked, as Lottie used her own body to shield Elspeth so that she could beat a hasty exit.
Shutting the door firmly, she bumped into Archie who approached the door with determination and a wad of blu-tack. He posted a colourful note on the door:
BEWARE, do not enter. My cat is very angry and he will bite you! From Archie Grant. Age 11
What a pretty rainbow he had drawn above his name. So artistic! A loud crash from the kitchen galvanised her back into action, just in time to note her mum disappearing outside with another bunch of balloons. Passing Archie, she tugged on his shirt and ruffled his hair, making a mental note not to drink too much prosecco until her son was safely tucked up in bed.
At the next trill of the doorbell, Lottie headed for the door, interested to see who her mum had managed to summon up for her surprise guest list. She swatted at Alice who was making feeble attempts to stop her from answering the door, still muttering about the garden. Lottie started to feel a little peeved. After all, Alice could surely have made a bit of time to assist her with the last-minute tidy-up if she’d been so worried about the outside of the house! Lottie couldn’t help but feel that this was rather ironic given that earlier in the day Alice had been more interested in de-gaying the house in an attempt to avoid any awkward questions from Lottie’s work colleagues.
The under-stairs cupboard now contained mounds of back copies of Diva magazine and the over-mantle picture of two women kissing had been replaced with a more conservative Highland scene. Likewise, the Banksy Kissing Policemen fridge magnet had disappeared into the depths of the cutlery drawer. She hoped that things would go without a hitch and that her two worlds could bob along beside one another for the duration of her 40th birthday celebration.
The doorbell rang out three sharp and angry jabs and she planted a kiss on Alice’s cheek before firmly moving her to the side to get to the door.
“Surprise!” Lottie took a horrified step backward as Pru surged forward clutching a large Tupperware container. Behind her Mim hovered nervously.
Lottie recovered herself swiftly. “Prudence, Mim, what a lovely surprise! Do come in. Let me take your coats.” Lottie turned for assistance from Alice, but she had vanished through the back door. Smiling in what she hoped was a sincere fashion, she put aside her sudden feeling of vulnerability as she welcomed the indomitable Prudence into her home.
Pru’s beady eyes expertly swept the room, quickly taking in the pile of un-ironed school shirts which Lottie had not quite managed to hide properly behind the threadbare sofa.
Casting a knowing look at Mim, Pru muttered ominously. “Lovely home dear, simple and homely. Now where is your mother, who was kind enough to include me in her invitations? I have a little contribution.”
As if sensing a presence, and much to the relief of Lottie, Elspeth appeared, smiling sweetly. “Well, of course you must be Prudence! Please come through, dearie.”
Pru leaned forward to peck Elspeth on the cheek with her thin mealy lips before pressing the Tupperware container into her waiting hands and mumbling conspiratorially something which Lottie couldn’t quite hear.
At the sound of the doorbell once again, her mother reappeared giving Lottie a quick squeeze on her way past. Lottie was filled with love for her mum in spite of her over-tanned skin and her colourful collection of neck scarves—today she was sporting two of her current favourites. It was so great to have her back in the country again, after spending many years communicating via Skype.
Her parents had separated when she was very young and her father—or Graham, as she referred to him—had not been a positive role model during her formative years, having a strong attachment to the Highland nectar, or whisky as it was called in the supermarket. Their contact was limited to the odd postcard, as he continued his tour of the distilleries of Scotland. She knew for a fact that it was highly unlikely that Graham would be making a guest appearance at the party given that her parents’ divorce had rivalled the Charles and Diana saga. Glad not to be a referee, she was reassured by this thought, and fixed her smile before heading towards the living room once more, as a steady procession of guests arrived, all clutching various parcels and bottles of fizz.
Amongst them was the ever-eager Linda Lovely who Lottie
was fairly certain had not been her Facebook friend! Eyeing her suspiciously, she could only assume that she had caught wind of the party from the others and had bagged herself an invite. However, Lottie did feel excited by the number of work colleagues who had made the effort to travel to the village for her birthday, and she greeted them warmly. She decided to introduce them to Alice, if she could track her down.
Standing with a group of work colleagues, Lottie noted that Linda Lovely had abandoned her usual motif T-shirt in favour of an odd, but striking, rainbow-coloured dress. Lottie was amused and wondered if Linda was going to do a complete U-turn and come out as gay. Catching Lottie in the act of staring, Linda laughed loudly and emitted a loud snort which caused her boss, Ann, to drop her glass of prosecco. Oblivious, Linda waved frantically at Lottie pointing dramatically to her outrageous attire and giving Lottie an exaggerated thumbs-up signal. Ann bent down to ineffectively dab at the spilt wine and grimaced as she accidentally brushed against the corner of Lottie’s comfortably worn leather chair.
Vegan, Lottie mentally noted. One of Ann’s many extreme lifestyle choices. Lottie made a mental note to introduce her to Pru later, and hoped that her mother had remembered that prawn vol-au-vents did not constitute a vegetarian option.
Linda was still frantically trying to attract her attention, but Lottie was keen to avoid unnecessary communication with Linda, and so she smiled while scanning the room for a preferable chatting companion.
Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Odie pulling his long sausage body awkwardly up the stairs, no doubt intending to hide in the bedroom until the noise levels had receded. The house sprang to life as an unknown person reconnected her stereo speakers, and the dulcet tones of Boy George filled the room.
Still scanning the crowd, she noticed that Robbie appeared to be staring hard at Mim. She didn’t have time to give him the standard manners warning about staring being rude, as she suddenly noticed the reappearance of Odie waddling awkwardly towards Alice, his small tail wagging frantically. Lottie saw that he had a white object in his mouth which he was dragging along the ground. She leaned forward for a closer look, discovering to her horror that it was her newly
acquired ears only rabbit from Ann Summers. Alice skilfully swooped forward to retrieve the item from his mouth, as she swatted him playfully on his bottom. Leaning over the shoulder of her brother and bemused sister-inlaw, the baby-dykes from Pru’s Group chuckled in synchronicity while giving Lottie and Alice the thumbs-up. Lottie blushed furiously, and inwardly cursed the ever-curious Odie. That damn dog had a twisted fascination with sex toys which was bordering on the obsessive. At least Boots’ anger management issues didn’t flaunt her bedroom activities to the world.
Sometime later, as she tried to locate Robbie again, she was sure she saw him mouth M? Her brain was firing, and she felt sure that she was missing something. Then, suddenly, she made the connection. Surely not M, the kingpin of cannabis supply in the Highlands? She looked for Mim, and following Robbie’s gaze from the front garden, she saw her climbing up towards the house from the harbour. She also noticed two dubious-looking youths climbing back into a battered VW Golf and making a hasty getaway, heading back up the hill away from the village at a speed which suggested they were leaving the scene of a bank robbery. When Mim realised that she was the object of Lottie’s attention, she had the decency to look slightly embarrassed, but Lottie couldn’t help but notice that she appeared to be struggling with the weight of an oversized rucksack that had an unidentified leafy plant pushing its way out through a partially closed zip. Bemused, Lottie couldn’t help but think that the meeting with the two youths had been a drug deal.
Feeling shocked, Lottie forcefully challenged Mim. “Miriam, are you M?”
Smiling with undisguised pride, Mim leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially. “Pensions aren’t what they once were, Lottie, I like to think of myself as The Gardener.”
