by Martina Cole
As Gates bellowed at his co-workers, bellowed at his contacts and bellowed at strangers in shops and pubs, he realised that he had a serious problem. Susan P found his behaviour highly amusing and that was more annoying than anything.
‘Very dog-in-the-manger, Richard,’ she chided him.
‘It’s not that, Susan, and you know it. She’s throwing herself away on that bloody fool and someone should tell her.’
Susan P lit a cigarette and blew out smoke noisily. ‘Someone like you, you mean? The girl is happy, the boy is happy, and Desrae is positively delirious, looking forward to grandchildren, if you don’t mind. I think it’s the best thing for Cathy and so does everyone else. It’s only you who seems to be against it, and I know the reason as well as you.’
Richard Gates felt himself blushing and that made him angrier than ever. ‘I should nick you, Susan, and you know that as well as I do, but I like to feel I look out for my friends, such as they are. And now, if you want to stay my friend, I would advise you to shut your fucking trap.’
Susan screamed with laughter. ‘You know what you need, don’t you, Mr Gates? A good fuck, get it all out of your system. Here, I’ll make you laugh, shall I, give you a good crack? I’ve recently acquired a house in Westminster that was owned by an ex-minister. Now my MPs can canoodle to their hearts’ content because it’s got one of those silly bells that tell them when they have to go and vote. If that doesn’t make you laugh, nothing will. How’s that for giving the establishment one up the arse, eh?’
Richard smiled despite himself. ‘You’re as a mad as a hatter, Sue.’
‘Seriously though, Richard,’ she told him, ‘you really should face up to what you feel, then you can deal with it. Admit the truth, man, get it off your chest. God knows it’s going no further than these four walls.’
He took a deep breath, forcing himself to put his thoughts into words for the first time. ‘I’ve never been a common or garden Old Bill, as you know. I keep my job and rise in it because I make a point of finding out people’s foibles, their little secrets. That way I can play my games in peace. But where that girl’s concerned, I don’t know whether I’m on my arse or my elbow . . .
‘Yes, I admit, I would make love to her if I could. I would make love to her morning, noon and night. And I’ll tell you something else - she’d love it, I know she would. Cathy needs someone like me . . .’
He broke off in mid-sentence and they were both quiet for a while. Then Susan P went over to him and embraced him, a sisterly hug.
‘My God, man, you have got it bad.’
He shook his head in despair. ‘I know that, girl. Don’t I fucking know it?’
‘If you really cared you’d be pleased for her, because she’s happy now.’
Richard laughed, a humourless sound. ‘But that’s just it, Susan. Is she happy?’
Cathy tried on the white suit once more and modelled it for Desrae. It was a lacy Ossie Clarke number which made her look taller, slimmer, and much more sophisticated. Desrae himself was like a cat with a whole pint of cream, absolutely over the moon to have this chance of dressing himself up in some expensive new finery. He had chosen a dark purple creation for the wedding, with a purple and orange hat and handbag as matching accessories.
In the six weeks since Joey’s death and the subsequent events, Cathy felt she had gained a modicum of peace. She would soon be Mrs Tommy Pasquale and would have a lovely flat of her own in Soho. Tommy had wanted to move out to Hampstead or even Knightsbridge, but Cathy was adamant that she wanted to stay there.
He knew she needed to be near Desrae and eventually agreed that it would be the best thing for a while. Cathy knew that Tommy wasn’t too pleased about it, but he would do whatever she wanted and she loved him for that. As time had gone by she had found herself caring more for him than she’d expected to. He was kind, considerate, and loved her so much it was painful to see at times.
Suddenly, Desrae stopped his chatter about the wedding and put a blunt question to Cathy.
‘Have you seen the doctor, love?’
She blushed. ‘What for?’
‘Because you’re pregnant, of course.’ Cathy was annoyed and it showed. Desrae was unrepentant. ‘I know your cycle better than you do, love. You’re pregnant all right, so why don’t you just admit it?’ One of his foibles was the fact that he loved to buy Cathy’s sanitary wear. He obviously hoped that the people in the shop would think it was for him, though he would never admit that to anyone.
‘I think I’m just late, that’s all, Desrae. Joey’s death and everything else, I think it’s just delayed things.’
‘You and I both know that’s a load of old cods, love.’ He put an arm around her shoulders. ‘Do you know who the father is?’
Cathy didn’t answer for a moment.
She had resented Madge because she didn’t know who had fathered her child, and now Cathy herself was in exactly the same predicament.
‘Of course I do. It’s Tommy.’
Desrae sighed. ‘All right then, if that’s what you say, then it’s Tommy. I hope it’s his, meself, but I’m not too sure about you, love. What do you really think, or should I say want?’
‘I know that Tommy is the father, I just know. Women do.’ This was said in such a way as to leave Desrae in no doubt that it was something he could never experience.
‘Well, obviously you’re being a bit of a crosspatch. I’ll just put it down to you being in the club. What does Tommy think about it all?’
‘I haven’t told him yet, not until I’m really sure.’
Desrae looked out of the window and said airily, ‘Oh look, there’s a dirty great pig flying over Greek Street. So, let’s talk about this properly, shall we? When are you going to tell him? He’ll be over the moon, you know that.’
‘With respect, Desrae, I’ll tell him when I’m ready and not before. It’s my baby, my life and my decision.’
‘I’m well aware of that but I hope you haven’t forgotten the fact you are marrying that boy in two weeks’ time. I hope you’ve plucked up the courage to tell him something this important by then or what chance does your marriage have?’
Cathy collapsed on to the sofa and started to cry gently. ‘I think it’s Tommy’s but I can’t be sure.’
Desrae hugged her consolingly. ‘You’ll know when it’s born. If it looks Italian it’s your man’s, and if it looks Irish then it’s Mr Charisma’s. That’s easy enough, eh?’ he joked. ‘Anyway, they’re both dark so it won’t make one iota of difference to young Tommy. He’ll love it, believe it’s his and take good care of it. Now stop worrying, will you? Just enjoy yourself. Christ knows we need something to cheer us up, all of us.’
‘I feel so guilty. I’m doing what me mum did. I’m having a child and I have no idea who fathere—’
Desrae interrupted her. ‘Listen, love, at least you can narrow it down to two. With people like your mum it could have been one of hundreds! So stop berating yourself and enjoy it all. I’m really looking forward to being a grandmother. ’
‘You’re right,’ Cathy said, and brightened up. ‘So long as it’s got me and you, it’s going to be OK.’
Desrae smiled, but it bothered him that poor old Tommy wasn’t even brought into the equation.
A fortnight later, Desrae sat in his kitchen and thought about the day ahead. It was to be a quiet wedding, just himself, Casper as best man, Susan P, and the bride and groom. Tommy’s mother had shown no inclination to attend and neither had his sisters.
Desrae felt sad and lonely this morning. Even though Cathy would only be moving around the corner, he would miss her presence in the flat. Miss having someone to talk to, to be with, to look after. But, as he lectured himself, if he had been a real mother, this day would have come eventually. And there was the baby to look forward to.
He and Cathy would make sure that her child had all the things they’d never had: security, love and money. Plenty of money. Children needed to be cushioned from the harsh r
ealities of life, needed people and money behind them to become somebody. In his mind he wove dreams of private schools, with himself decked out in all his finery watching the child collect a degree or whatever it was people got in private schools.
He had a goal in life once more. He would be Cathy’s right arm, her mother and father rolled into one. With her child he would redeem himself from a life of promiscuity and sexual gratification. There would never be another Joey. Fortunately, Joey had left Desrae with enough money that he need only keep his punters if he wanted them. But he did not want them any more.
He would retire, and take on the club full-time. Be there for Cathy and the baby and make sure that they all lived happily ever after, Tommy included.
He stared at the purple creation hanging on the back of the kitchen door and beamed with pleasure.
The photos would be wonderful with his Zandra Rhodes outfit and Cathy’s lace suit. It was a bit austere as far as he was concerned, but he knew Cathy didn’t like bright colours as much as he did. You only had to listen to her go on about the flat. Wanted it all like Susan P’s, all white walls and glass and minimalist, whatever the fuck that meant.
Once a baby was crawling all over the place, those white walls would be a no no all right, Desrae thought smugly.
As the 8.30 news was announced he put some toast on and plugged in the kettle. A cup of Rosie Lee and a bit of Holy Ghost, that’s what his little girl wanted this morning.
Humming, he prepared a tray with a rosebud in a vase to set it off and went to wake Cathy. He knocked on the door and went in, looking down at the girl who had become like his own flesh and blood and feeling tears well up in his eyes. She looked so childlike, so beautiful in sleep, that it made Desrae feel as if he were looking on a great painting or sculpture. Leaving the tray by the bed, he shook her awake gently.
‘Come on, sleepyhead. It’s the big day today.’
Cathy, who was dreaming of Eamonn, a nice home and a lovely baby, opened her eyes and burst into tears.
Desrae hugged her tightly. ‘It’s just wedding day nerves, love. Come on, eat up your breakfast and I’ll run you a bath. Then you’ll be as right as rain.’
But she wasn’t and they both knew why.
The deed was finally done nevertheless and Casper was making a speech at the reception in the club. All the girls had turned up there as a surprise and Cathy was glad to see them. They had all tried to outdo each other with their outfits and Susan P had admired each and every one of them.
One particularly tall transsexual was dressed as Cilla Black and really did look like her. After requests from everyone he had sung Step Inside, Love with great conviction. Cathy told him that when they opened the new club, he would be better off miming.
Now Casper was making his speech and his words brought a lump to the throat of everyone there.
‘I know you all care about Cathy, as I do. We wish her all the best of health and happiness, as we do Tommy - a man’s man and his father’s son.’
Everyone clapped here and Casper knew he was on to a winner.
‘Desrae looks every bit the mother of the bride, and the father as well . . .’
Everyone laughed except Desrae so he hurried on, ‘All that is left for me to say is: may you have many happy years together and many lovely children. All named after us, of course.’
Everyone clapped some more and kissed the bride and congratulated the groom. Tommy wasn’t the type to be kissed by TVs and they all knew that. For most of the girls the closest they had come to male behaviour in years was shaking his hand.
The reception soon gathered momentum as hostesses, bouncers and assorted visitors turned up, laden down with presents and champagne by the bucketful. Cathy could not help but feel happy, seeing the celebrations all around her. Tommy was so delighted his eyes shone with joy and she knew she had done the right thing. He would be a good father, a good husband. As Desrae said, she could have done a lot worse.
After two glasses of champagne she decided to go outside and get some air. She walked into the darkness of the shop, amazed to find that it was evening already. She opened the shop door and was about to step out on to the pavement when a hand grabbed her. Before she could scream a voice said, ‘Don’t worry, it’s only me.’
Richard Gates’s voice was the last one she’d expected to hear. Turning towards him, she smiled happily.
‘Susan said you might be along. How are you?’ She hadn’t seen him for a long time, she realised. Too long.
‘Oh, I’m all right. So how does it feel to be an old married woman then? Any different?’
She smiled ruefully. ‘Not really, I still feel like Cathy Connor inside. I expect I always will. It’ll take a bit of getting used to: Pasquale. By the way, I understand I have you to thank for getting me a birth certificate and everything. I appreciate it.’
Richard looked embarrassed. ‘Think of it as a small wedding present.’
She put her hand against his cheek for a moment. ‘You’ve always been so kind to me, haven’t you? Even when I had all that trouble as a kid, you helped me out. You know I did it, don’t you? Susan P told me never to tell you for definite. Well, I’m ignoring her advice because I want you to know that I count myself very lucky to have you as my friend. Even if you are an Old Bill.’ She laughed to take the emotion out of her words, and make him understand more than she was saying.
‘Can I kiss the bride, do you think, or do I have to ask your husband’s permission?’
Cathy laughed. ‘Of course you can kiss the bride. I can’t think of anyone else I would rather kiss.’
She was teasing him and it broke his heart. As she stepped into his embrace, expecting a peck on the cheek, his arms enveloped her and then he was pressing his mouth hungrily to hers and her lips were parting in answer to his.
It was a deep kiss, a sensual kiss, and inside she felt herself responding to him, which made her frightened. He held her to him like a vice; she could feel the hardness of his belly and the strength of his arms. Then the fear left her and she relaxed and kissed him back.
So much passion going into one kiss with a man old enough to be her father, and whom she had always looked on in that light.
Sexual attraction was still hard for her to comprehend. Cathy had felt it with Eamonn, never with Tommy. Now she realised she was in its grip again, with the last man on earth she’d have dreamed of. They kissed for what seemed an age before Cathy gently freed herself from his grasp. Her breathing was erratic and her heart beating a tattoo inside her chest.
In the half-light Richard looked younger, and his deep-set eyes were fathomless as she stared into them.
‘I love you, Cathy,’ he said hoarsely. ‘God help me, I always have. And if you were honest, you’d admit you feel the same way. You don’t kiss strangers like that, love.’
He pulled her to him tightly, and once again she felt safe inside his arms, warm and protected. They stayed like that until the shrill ringing of the telephone forced them apart. Cathy walked to the counter and answered it automatically, before it brought out Casper or someone else. She didn’t want to be caught with Richard in the darkened shop.
‘Hello?’
The voice on the other end of the line made her go pale. It was Eamonn calling from New York.
‘Happy wedding day, Cathy. I hope you’ll both be very happy.’
She was stunned. ‘How did you know? Who told you?’ Her mind was whirling.
‘Tommy did, love - I speak to him all the time. I just want you to know that there’s no hard feelings, eh? Let’s still be friends. We’ll have to see one another in the future when I come over to liaise with your husband and I’d like to think there was no animosity between us. After all . . .’
Without speaking, she put the phone back on its rest then took it off the hook.
He had lied to her. Tommy had lied to her. All his talk of shunning the men of violence had been a sham. Money was everything to him as it was to Eamonn. Now she had tied he
rself to a man who had lied to her, deceived her. He’d known that lying over something so serious would break her heart if she found out. She placed her hands protectively over her belly and felt tears fill her eyes.
Richard watched the changing emotions on her face and pulled her into his arms once more.
‘Tell me what’s wrong,’ he urged. ‘Who was that on the phone, love? Come on, you can tell me anything, you know that.’
And as she looked up into his loving eyes, his kind concerned face, she knew she could never tell him a word of this. The consequences would be too far-reaching, might even endanger him. Tommy would break her neck as soon as look at her if she ever spoke of what she knew, but he still believed she didn’t know what he was up to and that was for the best.
As Richard held her to him the door to the club opened and Desrae and Casper walked into the shop.
‘What’s going on here then?’ Desrae’s voice was loud.
‘A little too much to drink, and a bit emotional, eh, Cathy?’ Gates’s voice was carefully calm. Cathy looked gratefully into his eyes. Casper placed the phone back in its cradle and she stared at it as though it might jump off the counter and bite her.
‘Leave her with me a second, Desrae, then I’ll bring her back inside, OK?’ Gates’s voice was a quiet command and Casper, sensing something was afoot, took Desrae’s arm and guided him back inside the club.
Surrounded by pornographic books and films, posters of undressed women and men with other men in provocative poses, Richard took Cathy into his arms once more. Holding her to him tightly, he said, ‘Listen to me: no matter what happens, no matter what you do, I’ll always be there for you. Remember that, won’t you? I am here for you, darling.’
Cathy allowed herself to be held and caressed by him, knowing there were some things she could never tell anyone, even Desrae.
She had a secret from Tommy and he had a secret from her. What a way to start a marriage! What a way to face the rest of your life, because she knew that now she had married him, he would see her dead before he’d see her with another man.
