Chapter Twenty-Four #2
Shaz abandons her place in the kitchen with Nash and Tegan and instead storms right up to the reporter and stabs a finger into his chest. ‘Oi. Dickheads. I have no idea what you think you’ve seen but have you ever heard of a deep fake?
One, why would a film star be here in the middle of winter?
Two, how would he have even got here? And three, this is private property and FOUR—’ she roars, just as the reporter tries to interrupt her.
‘We are doing a community initiative to feed the members of our community who are without a Christmas dinner and maybe youse would all like to fuck right off back to your own sad little dinners so we can get the fuck on with it, yes? Yes?’
Shaz is radiant, glowing and wholly terrifying – Christopher sends a thanks to the gods that he has never faced her wrath.
One of the photographers clearly decides this is more hassle than he can be bothered with and turns tail out of the front door.
But too many remain, including the smarmy guy who has managed, in all the chaos, to make his way round to the counter.
He’s merely steps away from where Nash is hiding, and if Nash moves to go upstairs, they’ll all spot him. He’s trapped. ‘I don’t have to move.’
‘Oh yeah?’ Shaz takes the tea towel slung over her shoulder and starts whipping it round in her hands, winding it up into a twisted rope.
‘I think it’s time you left,’ growls a deep voice that belongs to someone who looks the spitting image of Tegan. Her mum? Christopher wonders. He is not quite sure when she arrived, and for some reason, she is wearing a medical boot on one foot. ‘You don’t get to come here and intimidate everyone.’
This is a slightly ironic thing to say because she is one of the tallest, broadest women he’s ever seen and she could absolutely kick the shit out of basically anyone, boot or no boot.
‘Oh, what are you going to do? Kick me with your boot?’ stammers the journalist, losing a bit of his bravado.
‘I’ll do something much worse with it, which you definitely won’t enjoy. And now, look, all your little photographer friends have left,’ the tall woman snarls.
She’s right. They’re all hurrying outside, the door barred behind them by Mervyn and Ursula.
‘It’s just you, me, and my wife with that towel. You want to risk it?’
The man takes one look at the towel and Shaz, then back to the tall woman, and bolts.
The bakery is filled with triumphant cheers as the reporters and photographers dive back into the van and drive away. Christopher locks the front door behind them, just to be safe.
Nash emerges from the kitchen, and everyone cheers again. ‘Thank you, everyone. You really didn’t need to do that.’
Thelma pats him on the arm. ‘You helped us, lad. It’s only right that we help you.’
‘Shaz, did you know you’re absolutely terrifying?’ Nash laughs with relief.
‘You know, that’s the loveliest thing you’ve ever said to me? You can stay.’
Now that the moment of terror is over, Christopher’s brain finally catches up with him. And he realises that the tall woman has her arm around Shaz’s shoulders. Wife? Did the woman say wife? As if to confirm his suspicions, she bends down to give Shaz a kiss.
‘My wife is the scariest woman in the world. I’m going to have a bite to eat if that’s all right.’ Shaz sends the tall woman off to take a seat at the table with a pat on the bum.
‘Hang on a minute,’ Christopher says to Shaz. ‘You’re . . . together?!’
‘What, Gar?’ she asks, thumbing in the direction of the tall woman, now happily eating her dinner.
‘She’s Gar??’
‘Who else did you think Gar was? That’s Gabrielle! Gar for short.’ The look Shaz is giving him lies somewhere between baffled and extremely amused.
‘I . . . I don’t know,’ he murmurs and then realises the embarrassing truth of it all. ‘I thought you were married to a Gary.’
‘You thought my wife’s name was Gary?’ Shaz snorts with laughter.
‘Well, no . . .’
‘Hang on,’ says Shaz. ‘Did you not notice that Tegan is my step-daughter?’
‘You talk to everyone so . . .’ Christopher stumbles to find a word, ‘so Shazly that I didn’t think you were actually related. I thought that was just a You Thing.’
She bursts into raucous laughter. ‘Oh dear, I am either a shite step-parent or really good at bossing everyone around if that’s the case.’
‘And I’m . . . I’m really sorry, I presumed the straight default. That was weird of me.’
At this, she softens a little, her laughs subsiding if not diminishing completely. ‘Christopher, you big lug. Why do you think I was so insistent on coming in every day and getting people to come? Why do you think Gar and I were so keen for Tegan to come and work for you?’
Dizzy with the revelations, Christopher doesn’t answer, because how do you answer when all your preconceptions are so obviously wrong in the first place?
‘Because I wanted to support a new queer business, you big wally. One of my friends, Kim, is obsessed with bakestagram or whatever you call it. She sent me your announcement about opening here, and I clocked your subtle little blackberry and raspberry layer cake on International Bisexual Visibility Day, so I wanted to come out and make you feel part of the community. Hell, it’s not like we’re overrun with gays here, but I thought it might be nice to know one seeing as you were coming up from London.
And luckily, I liked you, so I stuck around. ’
‘Oh,’ he says, a warm ache forming in his chest. Before he can say anything, tears prick at the corner of his eyes.
‘Come here, you big fanny.’ Shaz wraps her arms around his middle and he bends down a little to tuck his head against hers.
‘No one’s ever said that before,’ he murmurs into her hair.
‘What? Come here, you big fanny?’
He snorts with laughter. ‘Not that, thankfully.’
‘I don’t know. Could be a good come-on. I’m sure you’d oblige it if Nash asked.’
Oh no. ‘Is it that obvious then?’
‘Oh, you bet, you’re giving me all the gory details tomorrow. While you two were back here cooking, half the gossip in the village hall was about whether we reckoned you’d snogged yet. Thelma wanted to start a betting pool.’
He laughs and takes a moment to find the words to say what his heart is yelling. ‘This is a little hard to explain,’ he begins. ‘So, you know my sister is gay.’
‘I know, Gar and I met her when you guys were up here in the summer. She and Gar couldn’t stop talking about shelving, the fucking weirdos. I think they swapped emails and everything. They’re like mutual close friends on Instagram now.’
‘Wait, hang on. So everyone knew but me?’
‘Apparently. Not that it was a secret. You just apparently can’t put two and two together. Or just two lesbians I guess.’
‘Well, I feel very silly.’
‘Anyway, we were having a moment, let’s not get side-tracked,’ she urges. ‘What were you trying to say?’
‘So yes, Kit is gay and a few of my friends are queer or trans, and I’m still really kind of finding my feet with everything . . . with being bisexual. It’s . . . it’s not new news. But it’s new that I’m embracing it, and have been doing so since Laurel and I broke up.’
‘I guess you didn’t so much have to think about the options when you were not looking?’ she offers.
‘Something like that. I mean, I knew. And Laurel knew to some extent. The first new person I told last year was Haf, and since then I’ve been trying to feel comfortable in it.
And with, like, the community in general, I was never brave enough to join any societies at university or anything.
What I’m saying is . . . it means a lot to me that you saw me that way, before I was even brave enough to say it. ’
‘Oh God, now I’m gone,’ laughs Shaz through a sea of instant snotty tears. She grabs him back into a huge cuddle, all laughter and love and joy.
As they break apart, he spies Nash sitting with the townies, regaling them with stories. All these brilliant people together. He couldn’t be luckier.
‘Christopher,’ Shaz interrupts his moment suddenly. ‘I don’t want to alarm you, but there appears to be a cat eating your ham.’