Sex and Other Changes Read Free Page A

‘You look better in a suit than any eighteen-year-old should. You look as if you were made for suits.’
    â€˜Thank you.’
    â€˜It wasn’t meant to be a compliment.’
    Alison wore pink in the knowledge that she needed help to look feminine, but her dress was simple in view of the recent tragedy and of her temperament. Jen looked tactlessly gorgeous in virginal white, which Alison thought inappropriate and inaccurate. Anyone who had seen them on the steps of the register office would have assumed Jen to be the bride.
    Marge, with Alison’s permission, wore the dress in which she had got married to Bernie twenty-three years before. She could still get into it, but only just. Bernie, awkward in his shiny best suit, had tears in his eyes when he saw it.
    â€˜You still look a picture, love,’ he said, ‘and I don’t mean no Picasso neither.’
    â€˜I hope so,’ said Marge. ‘I daresay it looks old-fashioned, but we have to put on a show for them. It’d all seem so straggly else.’
    â€˜Straggly?’
    â€˜Forlorn. They’re marrying under a cloud. We’ve got to pull all the stops out.’
    â€˜Oh aye. We’ve got to pull all the stops out.’
    So there was champagne at the reception, which was held in a small private room at the Midland Hotel, where they were watched over by photographs of railway engines from the golden age of steam, and there was a slap-up, sit-down breakfast of lobster, steak and Black Forest gâteau, washed down with lashings of Mateus Rosé. Nobody could say they weren’t well done by.
    Prentice made a short speech, full of tasteless references to the activities of the wedding night, references so oblique that luckilynobody understood them. Then he read out the telegrams. There were three.
    â€˜ “Good luck – Uncle Stanley, Auntie Flo and all the Divots”,’ read Prentice.
    â€˜Very nice,’ said Marge.
    â€˜ “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. That leaves you quite a lot – Len Pickup”,’ read Prentice.
    There was laughter, but not much.
    â€˜ “Wish you could be sitting here beside me in heaven, old son – Dad”,’ read Prentice.
    There was a stunned silence. Nick went white. His mouth opened but no sound came. He swooned. Alison grabbed his face before it crashed on to the table, and lowered it gently. He soon came round. Sweat poured off him.
    Prentice sat with no expression whatever on his jowly face.
    After the meal the drink flowed. Bernie went on to pints – ‘I can’t be doing wi’ fancy drinks, me’ – and the other men followed suit. Nick felt obliged to join in, though he hated pints. He just couldn’t find room for all that liquid. And as the drink flowed, people moved around, and tongues were loosened.
    â€˜I hope it isn’t an omen,’ said Jen to Alison.
    â€˜You hope what isn’t an omen?’
    â€˜That stupid telegram.’
    â€˜You hope it isn’t an omen of what?’
    â€˜I don’t know. Nothing.’
    â€˜You hope it isn’t an omen of nothing. Well, that’s brilliant.’
    â€˜You know what I mean.’
    â€˜Yes, I do know what you mean. You hope I’m not going to be happy.’
    â€˜That’s a dreadful thing to say.’
    Jen ran from the room in tears. Alison had to go to the Ladies’ room to calm her and bring her back.
    In the Ladies’, Alison kissed Jen and said, ‘Oh, Jen. I’msorry. I’m sorry for all the things I’ve done to you. I’ve been horrid.’
    â€˜I deserved it,’ said Jen. ‘I resented you because you’re clever.’
    â€˜I resented you because you’re beautiful. You’re so beautiful, Jen.’
    They hugged each other and kissed each other and began to help each other repair their ruined make-up.
    â€˜Who’s Len Pickup when he’s at home?’ asked