Dunclownin' (part 3)

After the clown suit/pig blood and entrails debacle, I shower and retreat to the fashionably spartan guest bedroom allocated to V and me.

I gratefully pull on my civvies and enjoy a few moments of calm. The next few hours are going to be hellish: screaming children, the manufacture of polite chat with East Anglian strangers, my friends remorselessly taking the piss over my fainting episode…yes, it’s going to be a cracking afternoon.

Having gathered my thoughts and partially nullified my sulk, I clump my way down the bare wooden staircase, past a leaded-glass cabinet of threadbare stuffed birds of prey, and approach the kitchen, where everyone is seated around a long, rustic table. I enter the room to ironic cheers. 

“Good to have you back...Babe!” shrieks Jody, alluding with ingenious comedy to the film of the same name whose central character is a talking piglet.

“Very good Jody, you're on fire today,” I say.

“Squeal like a piggie!” shouts Ian. Only Glen and the children laugh, Glen more than the kids. I accept graciously a few even more lame gags before Jody turns businesslike and shushes everyone. She picks up a leather A4 notebook and slips on a pair of 'media player standard issue' black-framed rectangular spectacles.

“Okay guys 'n' gals,” she says. “Where were we? Ah yes - tasks for the party. Rachael, you are the fairest, you're overall referee for the games.”

Lovely Rachael, who was head girl at school with V, Jody and Candy, smiles bashfully and plays with her Alice band.

“Richard - team one captain. Glen - team two. Ian - team three. Candy - bulb planting corner. V - face painting zone. Me – host with the most. Everyone happy? Good.”

Candy sticks her hand up to indicate otherwise.

“Point of order. There’s a gender imbalance.”

“What?” says Jody, screwing her face up.

“All the team captains are boys, while the traditionally ‘feminine’ pursuits such as face painting are being overseen by the girls. I just think maybe you could shake things up a bit. Challenge perceptions.”

“Candy. It’s my daughter’s birthday party, not sports day at Greenham Common.”

“I just think it's a bit Alpha Male.”

"Perfect for captaining a team of winners, in fact." says Richard.

"Complete crap!" strops Candy.

"We'll see."

“Alright! Candy, you will captain team one and V will lead team two. Glen, you’re practically a girl, you can captain team three. Richard, you can channel your testosterone into face painting. That everyone? Good.”

“Um, you forgot me,” I say. Jody rolls her eyes and lets out a tiny scream.

“Right! Richard will captain a fourth team if enough kids show up. You - face painting and bulb planting."

"I'm an Alpha Male too you know. I just can't be arsed showing the other guys up."

The laughter seems to go on forever.

“You must give us the tour before everyone else arrives,” says Rachael.

The others march off behind Jody, leaving V and me to look after the kids.

“Shall we go into the garden, troops?” asks V, and off we trot with birthday girl Molly, and Richard and Rachael’s unfeasibly Welsh-sounding twins Gethin and Cerys.

V starts making daisy chains with Molly. The twins doze in their humungous buggy.

"Looking forward to the party?" I ask V.

"Yeah. It'll be good practice."

"Right."

"I can sense your eager anticipation."

"No, I think I still smell slightly of pig shit."

"Why are they called Daisy?" Molly interrupts, thrusting a flower into V's face. V laughs.

"They just are darling. That's what they're called."

"Why?"

"Can you think of a better name?"

"The V flower!"

V turns to me and gives me a supercharged 'baby look'.

"Can you think of another name?" I ask Molly. She starts crying.

A distant cry of "hello!" catches our attention. At the far corner of Jody and Ian's triangular plot of land, I spot a red-headed woman shepherding a small figure over the fence and clambering over after her. As the pair approach it becomes apparent that it is a woman and her child, and they are heading towards us.

The woman is dressed in a long, purple velvet smock and an ankle-length skirt, also in purple velvet. Around her neck hangs a chain with a large silver crucifix. Tripping across the grass behind her is a pale, pretty girl with freckles and long copper-coloured hair. She is dressed entirely in gold.

“Hello there!” cries the woman once again when she reaches us in a fug of patchouli, panting slightly. “I’m Lorraine. Hello Molly! I'm your mummy's new best friend, isn't that right Molly!”

V looks aghast. Fortunately Lorraine doesn't notice as she is suffocating Molly in a hug.

"Oh!" says Lorraine, releasing Molly from her velvety embrace, "This is my daughter Mabel."

“Hi Mabel!” we say. Mabel smiles shyly. I know for a fact that at this moment V is inwardly groaning at yet another child saddled with a working class Victorian name. This is one of her many pet hates.

“Here for the party?” asks Lorraine.

“Yeah, we’ve come up from London," says V, squinting into the sun. “I'm Jody's oldest friend.”

"Oh, you must know all Jody's secrets!" says Lorraine with a slightly crazed laugh which evaporates as suddenly as it arrived. "Seriously, I'm being humorous. It's really wonderful to have classy people like her living out here in the sticks. We're thick as thieves, me and her!"

"Is that a fact," says V. My instincts tell me that this is not the beginning of a lifelong friendship.

Lorraine kneels down on the grass and tucks her gold ballet pumps under her dress. Molly stares quietly at Mabel. Mabel peers into the endless, space-like expanse of Gethin and Cerys's pram.

“So!” says Lorraine, surveying the assorted small humans before her, “You two have been busy bees!”

“No, no. These are our friends’ children,” corrects V. “The mums and dads are just having a nose round the house.”

“Oh, silly me!” says Lorraine, slapping her thighs in an oddly violent fashion. “So, do you have any kids yourselves?”

“No, we don’t have kids yet,” replies V.

Lorraine nods slowly andassesses us coolly for a moment, as if trying to make sense of the fact that we’re surrounded by children, yet have none of our own. It's a conundrum for sure.

“Any plans to?" she asks. "Or is it a deliberate choice? A lifestyle thing?”

Oh-oh.

“I’m barren,” says V, matter-of-factly.

A look of horror crosses Lorraine’s face, not to mention mine. Lorraine looks to me. All I can do is nod sombrely and back up V's showstopping fib.

“Barren! Barren!” screams Molly.

“Aren't children amusing!” says Lorraine, edging a step closer to hysteria.

“More fun than adults!” says V.

“I do so love a party," Lorraine says to me, smiling like a maniac. "Do you think there will be wine?”

“Er, I suppose so,” I reply.

“Hmm. What about shellfish? Has the Jodester done any shellfish?”

“I honestly have no idea.”

“Of course, I’d love to have a glass of wine but I just can’t.”

"Come on then,” V sighs. "Why can't you drink?"

Lorraine looks a bit smug and pats her stomach.

“Mabel has a sister on the way!”

“How very lovely” says V. “What are you going to call her?”

“I was thinking of Nan or maybe Mildred.”

“How very lovely.”

“Oh, I can hardly wait. I suppose I’m just one of those lucky people who adores being pregnant. I love everything about it! And having a new baby is, of course, such a God-given privilege, a special experience. Although to be honest, I’m not looking forward to the cracked nipples or the piles…”

"How perfectly charming."

The trouble with the countryside is that the general lack of background noise tends to amplify the kind of tense silence that ensues. Mercifully, 'the Jodester' appears at the back door.

“Chop chop!” she bellows, clapping her hands. “Action stations. Party time!”

Comments

[Me]

Blimey. What's a bulb dibber and is it legal to use it if provoked?

[Amy in San Francisco]

Lorraine the Nosy Cow should have ended up with a bulb dibber right between the eyes.