‘Uh-huh, no shame and the sexual appetites of Casanova himself!’ she interjects, quick as a flash.
‘Charming. But not this evening. I’m not completely shameless and this evening the shame kicked in. I mean there was no denying it, he was beautiful, beau-ti-ful...’ I draw out the word and my fingers curl into an ‘o’ shape to reiterate the intensity of that fact.
‘Should the nationally renowned feminist Love Doctor be referring to men as if they are merely pieces of meat?’ Jinxy queries.
‘If you let the nationally renowned feminist Love Doctor finish what she was saying you would hear that she did not respond to this guy as if he were merely a piece of meat. I think it’s fair to say I took a thoroughly holistic view and assessed him as an individual with opinions and emotions before deciding his very beautiful piece of meat wouldn’t be allowed anywhere near me tonight. Or indeed ever.’
‘Well done, girl, you are making progress.’
‘Oh, do fuck off.’
Dan laughs. ‘Come on then, what did he do? What could he have done that put you off your stride, that made him suddenly unbearable?’
‘Honestly, his dating skills were strong. He was a gentleman – well-presented, smelt like heaven, asked me questions and actually listened to my answers, managed not to look at my boobs as he did so. All the old-fashioned chivalrous stuff, I was loving it. The Love Doctor would give him a strong ten on first impressions.’
‘Don’t keep referring to yourself in the third person. It smacks of sociopathy,’ Jinx says.
‘The Love Doctor likes it.’
‘I knew I would regret coming up with that name in uni.’
‘Regret it bad!’
‘Still haven’t told us what he did,’ Dan pulls us back on topic.
‘Oh right, well, his charming gentleman-of-yore persona was so deeply entrenched that I think he would happily have children up chimneys again and bring back the workhouse if only he could make it a bit less of a free ride. Honestly, once he relaxed with me enough to let his true self emerge –’ Jinx wiggles her thickly painted brows at me and I raise mine in return ‘– no, not that bit, I told you we didn’t get that far ... then it was pretty clear that he would like anyone with even vague pretensions of progressiveness to be hung, drawn and quartered and strongly believes that the welfare state merely keeps alive those that suck the soul from society. You thought that far-right woman was bad onQuestion Timethe other night? Well, let me tell you, she was practically a communist compared to this guy.’
Jinx screws up her face and I know she understands. I do have a healthy ... um ... very high sex drive, but I do put the brakes on when I need to. I need to be attracted to a person’s mind as much as their body, although the body can definitely help – I literally wink at myself in my mind and then grimace. But as much as I wanted to get laid tonight, I cannot engage with someone I think is a bit of a dick.
‘So, sexually, you are drawing the line at Nazis?’ Jinx gives me a look that indicates faux surprise at the fact I have a line, but I don’t want to get into a squabble, not until I’ve got my breath back properly at least.
‘Truth.’ I smile back in return. ‘Plus, he looked like he might quiz me on Latin, double-check my socio-economic status and then dip me in TCP, just to make sure I was suitable.’
‘Now don’t go kink-shaming.’ Dan giggles. ‘That’s not what we do.’
‘The kinks I don’t mind, the arseholery I do.’
‘Oh my God, if that girl doesn’t get outta my bar soon I’m not going to be held responsible.’ Phyllis – the owner of Chrysalis, mother hen and O.G. legend – joins us at the table. ‘I’m all for letting her process but her misery has been battering us down for years and if she takes to the stage again, with the boys locking up in a minute, to sing “All By Myself”, I am going to throttle her with a microphone lead.’
Phyllis is tiny, very wrinkled and terrifying. She’s in her eighties now – we think – but she could take on anyone and win, merely with the force of her presence. She is one of those people you lean in to, to listen.
All eyes turn to Miss Havoc de Belle, who, true to form, is dressed in bridal wear – not much of it, more garter than dress – and is hunched over the bar, her hand clasping a glass of whisky, the grip of her fingers very much at odds with the looseness of her posture.
‘Oh, you know she can’t help it. It’s just who she is. She loves love. Our very own Miss Havocsham,’ Jinx says, her eyes softening as they alight on her fellow queen. Dan joins in Jinx’s look and wordlessly – they have this freaky telepathic symmetry – gets up and walks towards the piano next to the stage as Jinx approaches Havoc at the bar.
Dan stands over the piano, his tongue slightly stuck out as he begins to play. And boy can he play, he’s a younger, funkier version of Alicia Keys but male, with a broad Bristolian accent and a tendency to dress in anything with a skull printed on it. He strokes the keys and I instantly recognise the tune as ‘We Are Family’. Jinx drops a kiss on Havoc’s shoulder, gently takes the whisky from her hands and pulls her to her feet. The object of Jinx’s attention is not looking like she wants to take part and I lean over and grab Phyllis’s hand, pull her to her feet whilst she lightly growls at me – a growl is fine, it’s silence that’s terrifying with this octogenarian – and together we join the other two, motioning for Adore Vajayjay and Twinkibelle, who are also in tonight, to join us as we sing loud and dance like our feet are on fire until Miss Havocsome is buoyed up with our love and I realise that there is nowhere on earth, naughty twinkly eyes or not, that I would rather be than here with my chosen family.
Chapter Two
Jay
‘Bye, Jay,’ Jasmine singsongs at me as I smile at Cass, hating that I am leaving my baby sister with that steely-eyed raptor who radiates bonhomie and wellness vibes as if they are chemical weapons. One small jab at her defences and the whole thing is going to blow sky-high.
Halfway down the stairs, I pause and it takes all my self-control not to turn back to the flat, pick Cassie up, put her under my arm and carry her down the stairs. I picture myself transporting her out of the building and into my car, her little legs kicking and her mighty lungs alerting the whole of the neighbourhood just as they had the last time I had tried to carry her off, when she was six years old and refused to leave the swings. But to do so would be kidnap and the thing with kidnap is it doesn’t really matter how much you love the person involved; it isneverall right. Tempting but never all right. Besides, she is twenty-four and I really have to learn to respect the fact that she may be my baby sister but she is myadultbaby sister.
What I do have in my arms instead is a kitten, a very cute kitten and one that Cassie had fallen desperately in love with. Last week my phone had been blown up by kitten videos, love heart eye emojis and my sister channelling Elmyra Fudd,I love him, I love him, I’ll hug him, I’ll squeeze him.Yet five minutes ago she handed him over to me saying he can’t stay in the flat. So Darling Dimkins – what a name – is now sat in a cat box, his sad little face peering through the grille and summing up what I’m feeling now as I open the car door and know I must drive away.
I carefully place the box in the footwell, let myself in the driver’s side and look down at him before I turn the key. ‘Hey, little guy, don’t look so sad. You can come and stay with me and we’ll do the whole men together thing. You’ll have your mum back soon.’ I smile, hope it’s true and reach through the grille to stroke the kitten, who draws back hesitantly. My heart goes out to the little grey ball of fluff. He has only met me today – I’m fairly sure Cass hasn’t made him watch videos ofmeall week – and now he’s here and I’m about to drive him away from his home. I stroke him, as much as I can with steel bars between us, to reassure him that I have his back.
