Dan makes a gesture of pulling a cape around him, stands on tiptoes and proclaims, ‘Do not fret! We shall keep him safe from that shrew-tongued harpy. She shall not steal our Jinx’s crown for a second year.’ He wobbles a bit and then puts his feet flat on the ground again. ‘I will sew and sing and play for him and you can motivate him with your bloody good advice.’
‘Ooh, I could do with some bloody good advice...’ Kevin flings the door open and makes a dramatic entrance, satin eye mask dramatically parked atop his ruffled sticky-up hair. ‘My parents are threatening to fly over in July. I don’t know how to escape it. I tried telling them there was a chance I was going to be seconded to Papua New Guinea on an exchange, but they didn't believe me.’
‘For such a clever person you have the worst excuses ever! Is Papua New Guinea known for its strong financial sector?’
‘It was the first thing that came into my head,’ he admits and I give him A Look. ‘July, Lils, they can’t come over then, they can’t.’
‘Oh God, no!’ Drag Factor is important to Kevin, always has been, and last year the regional heats should have been his. Unfortunately, despite spending a huge chunk of his adult life preparing for them he had failed to prepare for Vivicious tampering with all of the contestants’ belongings. This year Kevin has his heart set on winning that tiara – not merely for him but for justice. Or so he says.
I grab hisGloriousmug from the cupboard in the hope that it may put a smile on his face. We had bonded with the ferocity of No More Nails mixed with a side order of superglue at Freshers’ week, where the two little oddballs that we were immediately recognised each other, and made the mugs soon after.
‘Right, any month but July. It’s so freaking important I’m literally up at dawn. Now. In April! Even Dan is up early, all to make sure my songwriting skills resemble Lennon and McCartney rather than the usual Vengaboys meets The Cheeky Girls mash-up.’ He winks Dan a thank-you. ‘They can come in June, visit in August, but I need to keep them the fuck away in July!’
I press a cup of coffee into Kevin’s hand. ‘You never know, this could be a good opportunity to tell them who you actually are. In my experience parents are never quite as shocked as you imagine when truths are revealed.’ I use my most placatory tone.
‘Oh trust, my parents only have one child and this –’ he waves his mug in the air ‘– is not what they had planned.’
‘Maybe they’d be proud, maybe their love for you trumps yours or their expectations. We think you’re pretty perfect,’ Dan adds.
‘We do.’
‘Oh yes, the perfect son and the dreamy daughter they never knew they wanted all in one fabulous if slightly chunky body.’
Dan cackles, and it is hard not to. To be fair I have heard this joke before, every time Kevin mentions his parents, but Dan and he have been friends for a year or so, since Dan started working at the bar, so they don’t have the same shared history.
‘I read an article recently about how Taiwan is leading the way in LGBTQ+ inclusivity these days. Now may be the time to speak up,’ I add but Kevin gives me a look that would shrivel the insides of a far more fertile woman and I recognise that I should shut up.
I open the fridge and pop some yogurt in a bowl and present it as a peace offering to Kevin, who is now draped across a kitchen stool pretending to hyperventilate. He immediately faux slaps it away, a perfect pout on his lips.
‘Oh my God, I come in here, my heart in tumult...’
‘Tumult eh?’ I grin and exchange a look with Dan.
‘Tumult,’ he reiterates, ‘And you offer me yogurt? Good God, girl, this has to be a bacon sandwich situation at the very least. The very least.’
I raise my eyebrows.
‘I swear you were put on this earth specifically to make me feel bad.’ He sinks his head into his hands.
‘Reason for life right there,’ I respond. ‘Definitely why I keep breathing every day.’ I take the spoon from his bowl and pretend I’m going to flip it but instead move in super close to Kevin’s face, over fifteen years of friendship giving me permission to do so. ‘You literally sobbed at me last weekend when you couldn’t do up that dress. You said that I wasn’t to let you eat unhealthily on weekdays, that you wanted to be a new disciplined you, youbeggedme,’ I remind him. ‘You actually said that if I saw you head towards either the frying pan or Deliveroo on weekdays, I was to cut a finger off each time, and remind you that those long silk gloves you invested in so heavily last month would not look the same with missing digits.’
‘Fridayisthe weekend!’ Kevin protests. ‘You’re like the ... the Witches of Eastwick –’ his current obsession ‘– if they were health-conscious fascists instead of being all about martinis, female empowerment and beating the devil.’
‘You’re just cross cos no one has beaten your devil in ages,’ Dan observes drily and I let out a sharp burst of laughter.
‘Ain’t that the truth, and if my parents visit, it is quite likely no one ever will again.’ Kevin jumps down from the stool, pulls out the frying pan and glares at me in challenge. ‘I’m burning off calories merely through the presence of my emotional drama.’
‘In that case, darling, you’ll be a size zero by lunchtime,’ I shoot back and we all cackle in that way only best friends can.
Chapter Eight
Lily
The day has whizzed by and I have got to the lido before it gets too busy. I reckon I can fit my minimum fifty lengths in, have a twenty-minute muscle relax in the sauna, an ice bucket and a little time in the hot tub. Heaven.
I lower my body into the water. There is only one other swimmer in the pool, a couple going into the sauna and the hot tub looks empty. The middle part of the day is always the quietest and that’s what I’m seeking. There’s a few of us that come at this time; the lido is a small community and it doesn’t take long to get to know the other members.
The heat of the day makes the pool seem colder, the sun shimmers on the water and I hold my breath as I submerge my shoulders. A memory of myself and my sister running into the sea in Clacton flits into my mind, squealing with every step as the cold water hit the soles of our feet, our ankles, our knees, our groins – always horrific – our tummies, our shoulders. Our parents watching indulgently, knowing that we loved the shrieking as much as the water.
