Chapter Thirty Dolly #2
‘Yeah, I would have. I miss it, you know? But when I get to make a new recipe for socials, it feels a little like that. I’m hoping that maybe the network will be interested in a food show I’ll pitch to them.’
She gives me a knowing look. ‘And I imagine you’ve got that pitch all prepared and ready to go for them?’
‘Naturally.’
‘That’s my girl.’ It’s a relief to hear her call me that. ‘Look, thank you for hearing my piece.’
‘I’m sorry I wasn’t listening hard enough this whole time. I thought you just didn’t approve of the career and I got in my head about it, pushed you away until it felt more done.’
‘You waggling your lovely little bum on television was never what I imagined, I’ll admit,’ she says with a laugh that I share. ‘But you were never the girl I imagined. You’ve always been so much more than that.’
‘Thanks, Mum.’
‘Could you not have gone on that one with the host with all the camp outfits?’
‘The Traitors?’
‘That’s the one.’
‘I’m not sure I’m that good a liar.’
‘Don’t knock yourself. I just don’t understand why you’d go on a show where they don’t pair you with women. You’ve been telling me which girls you think are pretty since you could talk.’
‘I can’t have been that bad.’
‘You came out the womb waving that pink, orange and white flag, girl.’
We both laugh because yeah, that’s probably accurate. I resist the urge to correct her that the lesbian flag wasn’t designed until 2018, but my teen bedroom was covered in posters of women, hung and admired in ways that the straight girls could never begin to understand.
‘And I’ve always been so proud of that part of you.
Proud to be your mum. You’ve always known exactly who you are, Doll.
That’s why I don’t understand why you’d throw that Dolly away just because you think it might help me.
’ There’s a tiny pause, barely more than an intake of breath, before she asks ever so lightly, ‘Were there not any nice girls you met on the show?’
I can always sense the baited hook in front of me when it comes to Mum. ‘Why?’ I ask cautiously.
She chuckles to herself and sips her tea. ‘I don’t think that the production team understand what they have on their hands. I see how that little redhead girl looks at you.’
My stomach drops. ‘Oh.’
I know I should feel scared that it might be obvious, that I should be panicking about the show outing me accidentally. But there’s something particularly disarming about my mum seeing that the girl I can’t stop kissing wants me.
Mum lowers her voice, reaches out her hand and takes mine. ‘And I know you, so I know you’re spending all your time trying not to look at her. That’s why I don’t understand.’
I glance at the door.
‘You think he doesn’t know?’ she asks, and I shake my head. ‘The man has two good eyes.’
‘It doesn’t matter. Carys and I squashed it.’ Mum doesn’t even look at me while she sips her tea. ‘Warren and I are a team. I can’t go risking that for a girl who had her queer awakening because of me.’
‘Oh, she did, did she?’ Mum snorts. ‘Why am I not surprised something happened? You always were a little heartbreaker.’
‘I am not.’
‘I had half the girls from all the unis’ LGBTQ+ societies milling round my front door when you were nineteen, Dolores. A few times I had to send Jas out to offer them tea and tissues.’
I swipe at her, my hand landing in the fluff of her big dressing gown she wears no matter the weather. ‘You did not.’
‘I did! I was running an unofficial branch of the Lesbian Line phone service for all the counselling I was doing. So what’s she like then?’
‘Getting married to a man, Mum,’ I say pointedly.
She scoffs. ‘I think we both know that doesn’t mean anything in the grand scheme of things.’
‘I think it means a lot this time,’ I say, a little taken aback by how sad I feel about it. ‘Plus she hates me.’
‘Didn’t old Willy Shakes say there’s a thin line between love and hate?’ She thinks for a moment. ‘Oh, actually, maybe that was a Pretenders song.’
‘My only love sprung from my only hate,’ says Jas, dramatically swooning in the doorway. ‘Juliet innit. We did that in year eleven.’
‘Did you have fun using my husband for your algorithm?’
Warren reenacts the apple dance. Clearly he did.
‘That’s pretty much what you’re doing, though,’ Jas says. ‘That’s what Mum and Auntie Moira said.’
I round on Mum and I just know I have the biggest shit-eating smile on my face. ‘Oh, is it?’ There’s nothing sweeter than catching your mum being a little bitch, especially when she’s been occupying the high ground like an army general.
‘Jaslyn Doherty the gob on you,’ Mum groans. ‘Is there no sanctity in this house?’
‘So you have been watching,’ I laugh.
‘Look at her, smug as a creamed-up cat,’ Mum says to Warren.
‘Admit it, you were bitching about me,’ I tease.
‘Not just you. She thinks that Bridget is fake too,’ Jas adds. ‘No offence, Warren.’
He holds up his hands and sits back down at the table. ‘None taken. Why don’t you like Bridget, Moira?’
Mum wrinkles up her face. ‘She just gives me a weird feeling. What is it you kids call it? The ick.’
‘It’s definitely not the ick,’ sighs Jas.
‘And she’s highest on your shit list, over Jackson and Zack?’ I gasp. ‘Mother, you misogynist.’
‘Oh, come now. They’re just obvious. Why waste my breath on obvious arseholes?’ She taps the tabletop with her finger. ‘There’s something funny about her. Just watch yourself, will you?’
I nod, even though I’m pretty certain Mum just hates her in the usual reality television way. ‘Okay, I will.’
Mum gets up from the table, her arms shaking at the elbows.
This has been a long day for her, and I know she’s exhausted.
‘Now, come on, future son-out-of-law,’ she says, and Warren stands to attention, even if she has made it sound like he’s a cowboy that’s marrying into the family.
‘I have lots of things in high places for you to reach for me.’
Transcript: Carys meets Patrick’s family
[Awkward music plays over Carys, Patrick and his two parents sipping coffee together in an empty café.]
DAD So, what do you do, Carys?
CARYS I work on a city farm. That means a lot of—
MUM A farm?
PATRICK Not just any farm.
CARYS Yes, like I was saying I do a lot of teaching as well as looking after the animals—
DAD So you spend your day cleaning up after animals?
PATRICK You could argue that’s what my job is too, Dad.
MUM It’s a little more skilled, Patrick. Let’s be realistic here. There is a wealth disparity that needs to be addressed.
PATRICK That’s not a conversation for this table.
DAD I think it is, but fine. Whatever you want.
MUM Have you heard from Peony recently?
Transcript: Patrick meets Carys’s family
[Scene opens on Ang and Del walking down the corridor to Carys and Patrick’s apartment. They knock on the door, and it’s flung open with Carys leaping into their arms. The three girls come inside.]
DEL Okay, wow, this is definitely a leg up from your house share.
CARYS I love you for coming.
ANG Do you not normally love us?
CARYS Shush. Will you come meet Patrick?
[Montage of scenes of them saying hello. Patrick cooks in the kitchen while Carys pours the drinks. Together they lay out plates of pasta in a rich glistening red sauce, topped with parmesan.]
DEL So, Patrick, do you think women should have jobs?
PATRICK Err, yes?
ANG And their own bank accounts?
PATRICK Well, I think that we should have a joint account for some things but that Carys can keep as much of her money as she likes. We need to have a discussion but there’s obviously a pay disparity—
DEL And is that a problem for you?
PATRICK No, I—
ANG Patrick, are you attracted to my sister?
CARYS Angharad!
PATRICK [visibly red] Yes. Of course I am.
CARYS You don’t have to answer. My sisters are being impolite.
PATRICK They just want to know that I’m being good to you.
[Ang and Del begin eating, and Ang’s eyes close. Cut back to when their plates are clean.]
ANG Patrick, it seems I have grown quite fond of you, especially if you keep making pasta like that.
DEL Even if you are someone who looks in holes all day.
PATRICK What holes?
DEL More like whose holes.
CARYS [buries face in hands] Please stop saying holes.