‘Can I move in then?’
‘Can you take charge of your blasted cat and have all the cacti, every single one of the buggers, in your room?’
‘Oh. My. God.’ Cass draws out each word like a stroppy teenager and Jay breaks and wraps her up into the biggest of bear hugs. Then he lets go, takes each bag off her shoulders, carefully placing them on the – slightly sticky – floor, and wraps her up again, this time spinning her round.
‘I’m taking that as a yes!’ Cass shrieks as her hair spins out like a windmill and she beams as much joy as he does, despite the red rims of her eyes. It is impossible not to watch this scene and be reminded of the goodness of Jay, of all the love he has, of all the love he gives.
Jay drops her to her feet and then grabs the bags. ‘Let’s go put these somewhere safe and out of the way.’
We head backstage again, raised voices still audible.
‘I’m going to drag you out by your thirsty-ass wig and shake you so hard that every last bit of filler in you is rolling across the floor.’
‘Ooh, drama,’ squeals Cass. ‘Not sure that it’s safe.’ She cocks her head in the direction of the arguing.
‘I’ll take a look,’ I say.
Whatever is going on, I hope Jinxy isn’t in the middle of it but then what sounds like very much her voice rises and I hear her say, ‘I will pull this shit off and make you bleed, you shady bitch!’
As Jay, Cass and I turn the corner we see chaos in front of us. There are eight queens getting ready out the back, all of whom are familiar faces from the West Country drag scene. They are all in various states of undress, some have their wigs fixed already, some are still just in wig caps and tape. Most have their make-up fully done but Jinx still has a fair way to go; her eyebrows and sideburns are glued down but she hasn’t made a start on her foundation yet. With only a little while until kick-off, this is alarming.
More alarming still, she is standing next to Vivicious and is holding her by her long pony-tailed weave, which I am fairly sure is an absolute no.
‘Put her down, Jinxy, you know she’s all kind of fucked cos she were never loved as a child,’ Meryl Strip calls across the room as she is rummaging through the staging cupboard whilst wearing tucking panties and prosthetic breasts and very little else.
‘Yep and she isn’t loved as an adult either.’ Jinx kicks Viv in the ankles and I step forward to try and de-escalate.
‘Ooh, I think these are yours, Twinks,’ shouts Lickety Split, a female drag queen who has come up from Cornwall and is dressed in a floor-length gown made out of little tin squares, all featuring a different Cornish image taped on to them and linked like chainmail. She has her make-up half done, one eyelid painted as the Cornish flag, and is waving a pair of diamanté stockings.
‘And might this be something to do with you, Ann?’ calls Meryl, who is pulling out a huge piece of fabric like a magician pulls scarves. I try not to laugh. Meryl is making the most ridiculous faces as she pulls and pulls.
‘Right!’ Phyllis storms in, marches past us and up to Jinx and Vivicious. ‘What in the name of Grace Jones and all that is holy is going on? Let go of her now!’
Jinx arches her brow and then drops the ponytail as if she were doing a mic drop, her eyes fixed on Phyllis rather than Vivicious, who is rubbing her head and shooting lasers of hate across at my very best friend in the world.
A chorus of fury greets the older woman as the girls explain that Vivicious has been messing with their things.
Again.
It’s a repeat of last year’s antics, when the whole thing descended into chaos as they all – bar Vivicious – lost key pieces of their acts leaving everyone only partially ready, totally flustered and Viv the clear winner.
This time Adore has lost her ukulele, Jinx’s borrowed lipstick – mine! – has gone walkies and OestreGem is only wearing one earring and is sitting in front of a mirror letting out a long piercing shriek, her face resembling the movie poster forScream.
‘How do you know it was her?’ Phyllis demands, ‘And that you’re not all a bunch of careless wenches who can’t be trusted on the biggest night of the motherfucking year to keep your shit together?’
‘Adore Vajayjay saw her,’ Ann Tagonism answers.
‘Is that true?’
Adore nods. And sings, ‘Caught her red-handed’ whilst miming strumming the ukulele.
Phyllis taps her cane three times and the room is immediately silent. Even OestreGem stops mid-scream and Meryl ceases her rifling and stands up straight.
‘We do not behave this way,’ Phyllis pronounces, and the two burly men behind her nod and cross their arms. ‘For decades we have had to put up with disrespect and all the bullshit that comes with it from society and yet we have always been a sisterhood. When I started my first house back in the Eighties, when I bought this club, this was all to create a space for us to come, meet, breathe in safety knowing that we were secure. We support each other. We are here to lift each other up. To help each other reach our goals and live our dreams. This is not on.’ She looks slowly around the room and makes sure she makes eye contact with everyone present.
I love Phyllis but she could scare the bejesus out of the devil himself.
Everyone nods in subdued agreement.
