Stand By Me
MICHAEL
“Uncle Mick! Watch me! Watch me! Look what I can do! Uncle Mick!” The little girl with long dark hair plaited in pigtails twirled around in a circle. “I’m a ballerina!” Mick ran up and swept her up into his arms, turning her upside down.
Squealing with delight, she cried, “Put me down Uncle Mick! Put me down!”
“Who said that?” He twisted in a circle, pretending to look around.
“Me!” Felicity said, giggling.
“Who said that? Uncle Michael, did you hear somebody say something?”
“Oh no, I didn’t hear anything.” I played along.
“Uncle Mick! It was me! I’m here!” She banged her tiny fists on Mick’s thigh until he turned her the right way up and sat her on his hip.
“Oh! Frankie Junior! I didn’t see you there!”
She giggled into his shoulder. “Uncle Mick! You’re so silly. And Mummy calls you a bad name when you call me that.”
“Well Mummy’s very naughty, isn’t she?” He pretended to whisper in her ear as he lowered her onto the floor.
Felicity covered her mouth with both hands and let out a big gasp. “Uncle Mick! Mummies can’t be naughty!”
“Oh, yes they can.” Frank scruffed his daughter’s hair with the hand that wasn’t holding baby Matthew. “Are you being good, Fee?”
“She’s an angel, as always.” Mick pinched Matthew’s chubby cheeks, which was about the only part of him visible under the enormous white Christening gown. “All of your offspring are perfect.”
“This one isn’t big enough for you to know that yet. Just wait, he might be a nightmare.”
“Ever the optimist, eh, Frank?” I said with a smirk.
“I’m a realist. We have no idea who or what this baby is going to grow into. That’s all I’m saying.”
“Lighten up, this is a party, isn’t it?”
“It is indeed, Mick.” Tommy appeared holding a tray laden with drinks and put it down on the table next to me. “Shall we wet the baby’s head?” He raised a bottle of beer.
“We did that already on the day he was born. This baby’s head is already drenched.” Frank pointed out.
“Fair enough, let’s just have a drink to celebrate his Christening, shall we?”
The patter of high heels on the laminate floor of the church hall signalled the arrival of Sissy, who grabbed a glass of wine from the table.
“Oh, that’s good. I missed wine. Stupid bloody rules about drinking while pregnant. It didn’t do the first two any harm.”
“Love, are you sure about that?” Frank pointed to his eldest son who nobody had noticed steal one of the floral centrepieces, which he was now eating.
“James, drop that!” Rushing over to her son, Sissy yanked the flowers out of his mouth. “Jesus Christ,” she muttered under her breath. “Sorry, Father.” She winced as the priest chose that exact moment to walk past our table.
“I’m sure you were just giving thanks to the Lord on this joyous occasion,” he said with a knowing smirk.
“Yes, Father.”
“Mummy, Mummy, Mummy!” Felicity was spinning around in front of Sissy now. “I’m a ballerina!”
“Yes, darling, very good.” Poor Sissy sounded exhausted. I knew a lot of gay men longed to be fathers and hated having to choose between a family and true love, but I was not one of them. I loved my nieces and nephews–even if I wasn’t technically related to all of them–but that was enough for me.
I loved the life Mick and I shared. We worked hard and played hard.
We went out all weekend and took holidays as often as we could.
It hadn’t been plain sailing the whole time, of course.
When we opened the salon, things had been really tight.
Beans on toast for dinner tight. No money for records tight. Re-mortgaging the flat tight.
It took a long time for Mick to convince me to open my own shop.
I’d laughed when he first said it, but he’d been deadly serious.
He did so much to show me it would be possible, even finding the place we eventually bought.
It was a scary thing to put yourself out there and trust in your own skills and abilities, but he believed in me, and that was all it took in the end.
He believed in me when I couldn’t believe in myself.
Of course all our friends were incredibly supportive as well. From spreading the word, to using their connections, and even helping us paint the walls and ceiling when we ran out of money to hire decorators.
I’d been amazed how quickly Michael’s turned a profit. One minute we were opening the place, and a year later we had three other stylists, two trainees, and a Saturday girl, and were booked out a month in advance.
A few more years and we got our first celebrity client.
Percy–the latest “old queen” to join our ranks–worked in the theatre and raved about me to Charlotte Rampling, who appeared in the salon just before closing one night.
It was like something out of a film: she had a Macintosh, head scarf, and big sunglasses on.
I’d thought she was going to give me a secret message for James Bond.
What she actually wanted was a hair cut from “Baker Street’s newest celebrity stylist.” How I managed to keep a straight face when she said that, I’ll never know. But I did, and I cut her hair with confidence I wasn’t feeling, trembling like a leaf on the inside.
When she showed up on the red carpet to the Evening Standard Theatre Awards, looking fabulous and all the paparazzi asked her who did her new do, she proudly proclaimed.
“Michael Prentiss, of course, darling. Anybody who’s anybody goes to Michael’s.
” From then on we were booked up a year in advance and half of our clients were famous in one way or another.
The best part happened a year ago, when Mick happened to be in the salon one evening, charming the hell out of all the ladies.
The tips that night were phenomenal, and when our shop girl got married and left us in the lurch, Mick took over as the “concierge.” I got to see him at work as well as home and life couldn’t have been better.
He still drove his taxi when he wanted to earn a bit of extra cash–he’d spent nearly two years driving around London on Dusty to be able to take and pass the Knowledge, after all.
Those had been difficult times; every failed attempt hit him hard, even though he knew that failing the test several times was part of the process.
We’d got through it alright though, enjoying the making up enough to tolerate the rows.
Mike and Pepe–who had become two of our best friends–gave us some sound advice: never go to bed angry.
We’d also learnt from our past mistakes that it was best to talk to each other rather than bottle things up.
Falling asleep next to the man I loved was still the best part of my day.
“Hi, love, you okay?” Mick slid a gin and tonic into my hands and smiled at me.
“Yes, I’m fine. Great actually. I was just thinking how lucky I am. You know, with everything I have in my life.”
“It’s not luck, sweetheart.” Moving a plastic chair next to mine, he sat down and pushed his knee against mine.
“You earned it. You’ve worked damned hard your whole life for what you have.
I’m proud of you.” His eyes shone, and I knew he wanted to kiss me, because I wanted it to. Life wasn’t perfect, but it was close.
“Mummy!” Felicity tugged on Sissy’s skirt. “Uncle Alan and Auntie Jane are here! Can I take my cousins to the swings? Can I? Can I?”
“Yes, angel. If Auntie Jane says it’s okay. And be careful with Judith, she’s only little!” But Felicity was already at the door of the hall, dragging Alan’s two small daughters outside, each of her hands grasping one of theirs.
“Does she really think they’re her cousins?” Tommy asked.
“Yes,” Sissy sighed. “We’ve always told her to call you all ‘Aunt’ and ‘Uncle’ and her friend at school told her that your Aunt’s children are your cousins, so she decided Beatrix and Judith were her cousins. I didn’t have the heart to correct her.”
“She’s more of a cousin to them than my sister’s kids are.” Jane said, waddling over and sitting beside Sissy.
“When did you last speak to Emily?”
“When I telephoned to tell her I was pregnant again.” She rested her hands on her enormous bump.
“Which was six months ago. Honestly, Sissy, I’m past caring.
I’m about ready to stop trying to include her in my life.
If she can’t see past her ridiculous prejudices enough to be there for her own nieces, then to hell with her. ”
“Sorry again, Father,” Sissy called. That priest had a blasphemy detector, I was certain.
“Well, Jane, dear. Those girls–and whatever you’re cooking in there.
” I pointed at her stomach. “Have all the honorary aunts and uncles they could wish for. And we will continue to spoil them rotten. Speaking of which.” I reached under the table and pulled out a pink box with yellow stars all over it. “These are for Beatrix and Judith.”
“Michael, you spoil them,” Jane chided but took the box with a smile.
“I know. I just said that.” I grinned at her. “Go on, open it.”
“Shouldn’t I let the girls open it?”
“No, I want you to see them.”
“Jane, please put him out of his misery. He’s been so excited all week, like a kid at Christmas!” Mick pleaded.
“Alright, I will.” Jane removed the lid of the box, dug around in the shredded tissue paper and pulled out the two hair slides. “Oh, Michael. They’re perfect.”
“What’ve you got there, love?” Alan wandered over with Davey and Eric. Jane held up the little accessories. One had a bunny on it, and the other a tiger.
“Look what Michael bought for the girls. Alan, it’s a tiger and a bunny!”
“Oh.” Alan looked at the hair clips with a confused smile on his face. I got the feeling he didn’t understand the significance. “That’s nice.”
“The bunny is for Beatrix, because it’s Peter Rabbit, and the Tiger is for Judith. You know, like the Tiger Who Came To Tea.”
“Oh!” Alan’s smile reached his eyes now. “Beatrix Potter and Judith… Judith…?”
“Kerr,” Jane supplied, still beaming. I loved how Jane had kept the family tradition of naming her children after authors, even if her parents refused to see them.
“I’ve had the bunny for a while. Finding the tiger was trickier.”
“Oh, Michael, you’re so clever.” She lowered her voice and looked at Mick. “You’re so lucky to have such a thoughtful partner.”
“Oh, I know,” he said, grinning like that cat who got the cream.
We were an odd family, made up of a lot of people who didn’t look the same, or believe in the same things.
People who’d lost their own loved ones–or been abandoned by them.
We weren’t born into this family, but we chose it.
In a way, that made it stronger, more supportive.
We loved each other fiercely. Exactly like a family should.