Page 57 of Has Anyone Seen My Sex Life?
‘It’s more than sex that’s for sure,’ admits Stu.
Both Tim and I smile at the admission, for different reasons, of course. I raise a wine glass to him hoping he wasn’t bullshitting. He smiles back. The kitchen door opens. Danny. He shouldn’t be down here. In his hands is a wide-eyed Polly.
‘You said you were bringing up milk?’
Arse. ‘Yes, I did.’
I jump to attention, glad for the excuse to leave the table and gather my emotions. Danny gives Tim a curious eye, never one to be able to mask how he feels. He goes to sit down next to him. Shit, no. Go in the front room.
‘So, this is Polly, eh?’ Tim introduces himself by shaking her hand. She giggles. Stu and I study the scene on tenterhooks. How much did Danny hear? Please don’t make a scene, he’s young and kind and just trying to do his job.
‘So, Meg’s told me you had work things to discuss? Something about porn in the Lakes?’
I stand by the counter filling up a bottle for Polly and like some sort of really bad spy trying to gauge the conversation by looking at the reflections in a really dirty stainless steel toaster.
‘Yep, an amateur erotic artist – trying to track him down. We’ve just been talking about it.’
‘Well, something a bit spicier for the paper than Spot the Dog.’ That was Danny trying to make a joke. Danny doesn’t really joke which Stu and I know about so we both fake laugh.
‘Hopefully, Meg will show you some of his stuff. It’s a bit raunchy…probably not to be looked at around the little ones. Some of it’s really funny too.’
Oh dear, Tim. You need to stop now. Is there any garlic bread that we can stuff his mouth with?
‘Funny?’ asks Danny. Oh, Mother of Ballbags, he didn’t.
Stu sits there glaring at his older brother. We find it funny because we know the artist but I am sure there is humour there that is not intentional. I turn with a lukewarm bottle of milk and approach Danny and Polly. Polly’s doing the little bird mouth thing looking for a teat but Danny is distracted. I shove the bottle in her mouth and squeeze his shoulder to try and calm him down.
Tim reaches down to his bag and retrieves the printouts that Di gave us earlier in the day. Danny peers over to have a look at them, a grave look on his face. He points to a picture of a vagina rendered in ink in a pop art style. There’s a little speech bubble above it. ‘You get me so moist.’ Stu comes and stands behind us, blushing, then looking up to the ceiling, assuming the passage to be about my nether regions.
‘What’s wrong with that?’ Danny asks.
‘Moist is a really bad word. According to polls, it’s one of the most hated words in the English language. It sounds like the perfect conditions for growing mould…’
I bite my lip as I’ve already told Danny this but he refused to listen. Stu is pretending to stuff his face with pizza.
‘So, what would you say then?’ Danny enquires.
‘I’m gushing like a tsunami…’ hints Stu.
Tim and I laugh. Danny is not convinced. I study Danny’s face. I can’t quite tell if he looks hurt or annoyed. Polly finishes her milk and like the pro that Danny is, he hoists her on his shoulder to wind her. He holds her a little tighter than usual.
‘They look like proper paintings…’ asks Danny, innocently looking through his handouts.
Tim nods, ‘Oh yeah, they’re actually very good. They’re really well done. Lots of different medium. He’s good in watercolour.’ He spreads out the images he has on the table. Stu can hardly contain his giggles and behind Tim’s back he points at Danny, instantly recognising his brother’s manhood laid out before him. Danny gives him evils. ‘It’s decent.’ suggests Tim.
I sit down next to Danny and squeeze his hand under the table. He can’t be angry anymore because his art has just been complimented, surely? I’ve always liked it. He’s always had talents.
Tim is still scanning the papers before him. ‘Just hard to know where to start, really? Maybe married, maybe single, maybe male, maybe female?’
Stu’s face takes a funny turn and I squeeze Danny’s hand again. A squeeze that says if you’re so desperate to keep this a secret then you need to stop making faces that look like you’re passing a kidney stone.
Tim explains. ‘It’s hard to tell; the stories tell me man but the drawings are male and female genitalia.’
‘Maybe he’s just a fan of the human form in general,’ murmurs Danny. He puts a hand to my knee. My form? Or any form? ‘Maybe he just found something he was good at drawing and it snowballed from there?’
I think about what I know already. He went to one of Ro’s still life drawing classes and thought he was decent and it sparked something, something that was lacking before.
‘The contracts are pretty mega though. Is there a reason he wants to stay out of the spotlight? Maybe he’s an MP or someone vaguely famous?’ Tim pipes in.
