Page 58 of Blow Down (The Plumber's Mate)
Heh. Better not mention my other theory then, which was that she was actually a bloke. Old Tobes wouldn’t be the first clergyman to spout fire and brimstone against homosexuals, all while getting his rocks off with them on the sly.
“Interesting,” Phil said, and bunged a forkful of potatoes in his gob, the annoying git.
Cherry switched her glare to my intended. “Oh, come on. You can’t just leave it like that.”
Greg tried to shove an ecclesiastical oar in. “Now, if Philip isn’t at liberty to say any more, we shouldn’t press him.”
“If he’s not at liberty to say more, he shouldn’t say anything at all. Should he, Tom?” Her gimlet stare switched back to me again.
I tried to ward it off with my cutlery. “Oi, don’t drag me into this. But yeah, seriously?” I turned to Phil.
He smirked. “Word is, Violet Majors has also been seeing someone. And again, nobody seems to know who.”
I frowned. “Whose word?”
“Polina Karwatsky.”
“Who?”
“She’s the Majors’ cleaner.” His expression got even smugger. “I don’t just sit around in the office all day. I spoke to her Friday.”
“Oh, is she Polish?” Cherry put in, which, yeah, had occurred to me but I hadn’t planned to mention seeing as how it was completely irrelevant.
“Ukrainian.”
“You kept that quiet,” I not-quite-accused. And no, I wasn’t talking about the girl’s nationality.
He shrugged. “Didn’t have a chance to mention it.”
“While we’re on the subject, Tom,” Cherry said a bit louder than strictly necessary, leaning forward. She was going to get gravy on her top if she wasn’t careful. “When are we going to meet your father?”
If she stretched her definition of on the subject any further, it’d snap and take someone’s leg off. “Uh . . . Well, you know he lives over in Bristol, right? I mean, it’s a long way at his age . . .”
Greg put down his fork. “I was hoping we might extend him an invitation to our wedding. After all, he is part of the family, albeit in a rather unconventional sense.”
My knife fell from my hand. Greg was going to have to wash this tablecloth—or get Sis to do it for him, for all I knew—and serve ’em both bloody well right. “What? Hang on a mo. You can’t do that. What about Dad?”
Cherry gave her fiancé an uneasy glance. “We’ve talked about it, and Gregory feels one shouldn’t brush these things under the carpet.”
“This isn’t just not brushing it under the carpet. This is hanging it out the window for everyone to see and shouting ‘Oi, look, dirty laundry here!’” I rounded on Cherry. “And you’ve changed your tune. What about the way you used to go on at me about not upsetting Mum and Dad? I don’t know about you, but I reckon someone inviting the bloke I’d been cheated on with to a family do would bloody well upset me and then some.”
I looked over at Phil, hoping for a bit of support here, but he was staring off into the middle distance doing moody-clam impressions.
Shit.
“Tom,” Cherry said, her tone unhappy. “I know it’s difficult, but Gregory and I . . . Well, we just thought it might be easier for you this way.”
“Easier? How the bloody hell do you work that one out?”
“Well . . .” She cast a pleading look at Greg.
Her fiancé didn’t leave her hanging. “We simply felt that it might be easier to introduce Mr. Novak at our wedding. Given that it is likely to be a rather larger affair than your own ceremony in the summer.” Which was fair enough, seeing as pretty much the entire diocese was on the guest list for theirs. Greg’s smile was kind and concerned. “There will be no need to spell matters out for those who don’t already know. He can merely be introduced as an old friend of the family.”
I swallowed. ’Cos they were right, weren’t they? Not about having him at theirs first being easier, necessarily. Although maybe it would be, at that. It’d certainly be one major thing less to worry about when me and Phil tied the knot.
But about Mike Novak having to be part of my and Phil’s wedding.
I mean, Christ, I’d been telling myself maybe he didn’t have to come, that he’d understand it was for the best. But it wasn’t like Dad didn’t know about him being my real dad. Mike Novak would be the elephant in the room whether he was there or not—and God knows, I’d had no idea how I could break it to him he wasn’t invited.
