Page 89 of Has Anyone Seen My Sex Life?
I look around to check for blood splatter just in case. Danny is pensive. I can understand why so I go and sit down next to him.
‘Got us out of the exhibition at least.’ I slap his arm at the comment. ‘Tim’s on to it then.’
I try and reassure him. ‘We just got caught out. But this implies that we know who it is, not that it’s one of us.’
As we say it, the doors of The Brewery open and Tim emerges. He sees us and gestures a wave but doesn’t approach us given we all know there’s been a strange moment where we lied to his face. You were my newfound friend, Meg Morton, I imagine him thinking. I’ve confided in you. You’ve seen me emerge from your kids’ headteacher’s bathroom in nothing but a towel. I can see there’s one of Ro’s business cards in his hands. He looks disappointed. I took him under my wing but now it looks like I just did it as some sort of professional ruse to dump him. Danny can sense that it crushes me a little to see Tim questioning my integrity, not just professionally but also as a person.
‘I’m sorry,’ he holds my hand. ‘Is it really out there? This Mintcake stuff?’
‘It would seem so. From soft play to The Brewery.’
We all sit here in silence. A small family are next to us, obviously tourists as they eat ice creams in November, all wearing very new matching outdoor jackets.
‘Why Captain Mintcake, brother?’ Stu asks.
‘Just sounded right. Had a ring to it.’
‘I’d have been Major Windermere. That’s some classy shit, right there.’
‘That sounds like porn with flatulence,’ I tell him.
Both brothers who’ve never quite grown out of the little-boy fart joke, laugh.
‘Lady Ravenglass,’ I announce in tones posher than my own.
‘Sounds like aGame of Throneslass who shags her own cousins,’ replies Danny.
Stu and I don’t react to his jibe. There is a problem here – this is failing to be funny anymore. It’s always been this secret that he’s forced us to uphold for him. I’m awful at secrets; just ask my sisters how many Christmases I ruined for them. I’m over why he does this, I’m liberal enough to appreciate it as art and a means of expression but we’re lying to people we know. We’re not well versed in having to do this either and after a while, we will trip. We almost tripped tonight. And when we do, people will feel we’ve been dishonest with them, people we care about.
‘Your snatch sketches sold for £320 you know,’ Stuart informs him.
Danny doesn’t even flinch. I rub an eyebrow where a small migraine has started to form.
‘Can I ask a question?’
The Morton brothers continue to stare into space. I ask the question anyway.
‘You can draw as many minges as you like. Minge away. But if you don’t want Captain Mintcake to be outed then take it all down off the internet. Draw all you want, I won’t stop you, but it’s stressful trying to keep this secret.’
‘Minge Away. Sounds like a repellent of sorts. For when you want to frequent a nightclub full of drunk lasses,’ says Danny.
This may raise a snigger from Stu, but I still don’t get the joke. My eyes plead for a more serious response.
‘I don’t want to,’ mutters Danny. I can’t read the sentiment in his sentence. You don’t want to because you’re a stubborn arse or because you secretly like the attention?
‘How many people know about him?’ enquires Stu.
‘Enough,’ I say. ‘It’s just a case of someone digging around and they’ll work it all out. I mean, I found out eventually. It feels like it’s only a matter of time now.’
Stu inhales breath sharply. ‘Just come out with it, man. It’s good money that for drawing bits.’
‘Stu, it were never meant to be…this. It was a hobby. It was me just doing something I liked. Ro told me to put it online as part of some artist’s community thing and now it’s this. I didn’t ask for this.’
‘So, make it a thing,’ suggests Stu.
‘But I can’t? I’m not you, Stu,’ Danny says. ‘On my own, free to do my own thing. I’ve got a mortgage, got the girls. And folk down mill would love that, eh? Our boss left us up the swanny to become a glorified porn peddler.’
It silences Stu.
