When Love Comes to Town (10 page)

“Eighteen!” Daphne exclaimed theatrically.“Oooh, I’d give anything to be eighteen again.”

“The only time you’ll see eighteen again is on the back of a bus,” Dave jeered.

“Bitch!” Daphne pouted, clicking his tongue and throwing his head back in an exaggerated display of feigned disgust. Both Liam and Jackie were in stitches. Still feeling uneasy, Neil forced a grin onto his face. Daphne flashed him a quick look, as though wondering why he wasn’t laughing like the others. But Daphne was obviously relishing his new audience, especially Jackie.

“I just love the bangles!” he shrieked, clasping hold of Jackie’s arm and raising it up for inspection.

“Snap,” Liam said, shaking his arm and rattling his own bangles.

“Rhythm is a dancer,” Daphne replied like a shot, pointing at Liam as he plonked his foot up on the edge of Jackie’s stool and rolled up the leg of his cream-colored, baggy trousers. He wasn’t going to be outdone easily.

“George,” he sighed, closing his eyes and pointing to the narrow strips of leather encircling his skinny ankle.

“Who’s George?” Jackie asked, much to Daphne’s delight.

“Have you got a week to spare, dear?” he replied, clasping Jackie’s arm and again throwing his head back dramatically. Daphne began to elaborate on his latest tragic romance but Neil’s attention drifted. His eyes had rested upon a new arrival. A dark-haired guy, dressed in faded jeans and a white T-shirt, drinking alone near the door. He couldn’t believe it; at last he had spotted someone attractive. But what now, he thought. Was it just like in Hollies? “Where’ve I seen you before? What school d’you go to? D’you have a light please?” Or worse still, “D’you come here often?” Surely you didn’t have to go through those awful chat-up routines in here. Again he was shaken out of his daydream by Jackie.

“D’you fancy any of them?” she whispered, shooting looks over in the direction of Redser and his two pals.

“Spare me,” Neil sighed, conscious that his face had gone bright pink. Whatever about telling his sister that he was gay; it was a little peculiar having her ask him which fellows he fancied. Especially when he knew that her interest was forced. Attack was the best form of defense, he decided. “I mean, apart from Liam, how many blokes in this pub do
you
fancy?”

Jackie pursed her lips. “Hmm, one or two.”

“Well, it’s the same for me,” Neil whispered.

Jackie looked at him, almost in disbelief. “Which ones?”

“What?” Neil asked.

“Which ones d’you fancy?”

Neil shook his head slowly and sighed. “You’re worse than Cilla Black.”

Jackie laughed and then she leaned over to kiss his cheek. Their eyes met for the briefest of moments and his sister’s confused look saddened Neil. Even she didn’t understand how he really felt. Then Neil nodded casually toward the door. Maybe it was time to try and make her understand.

“What age would you say that bloke is?” he asked in a low voice.

“Which one?”

“White T-shirt, near the door.”

Jackie focused. “God, he’s gorgeous!”

“Ssssh, will you?” Neil gasped.

“He is,” Jackie insisted.

“What age?” Neil muttered out of the side of his mouth.

“I don’t know, twenty-two, twenty-three. Neiley Nook, d’you have the hots?” she smiled anxiously.

Neil faked a weary sigh and threw his eyes up toward the ceiling.

“You do,” Jackie teased.

“Don’t be stupid,” Neil muttered.

“I tell you, don’t they have lovely manners, those Byrne sisters, whispering in company like that,” Daphne exclaimed, and Neil sensed that Daphne was miffed because he didn’t have everyone’s undivided attention. When he heard Jackie begin to speak, he immediately clamped his hand over her mouth. He knew his sister well enough to realize her intentions. Jackie struggled to free herself.

“Oh lovely,” Daphne cooed, “washing the family’s dirty laundry in public.”

Even though her speech was muffled, Jackie still managed to point over toward the door. Bemused, the others turned to look.

“Jackie, I’m warning you,” Neil hissed, relinquishing his grip.

“The bloke in the white T-shirt,” Jackie gasped. “Neil thinks he’s gorgeous.”

Mortified, Neil lowered his head into his hands.

“He’s new,” Dave announced eventually.

Neil peeped out between his fingers and spotted Dave and Redser holding hands beneath the table.

“Let me at him!” Daphne moaned, brushing the back of his hand across his forehead as he rose to his feet. “I’m in love!”

Redser grabbed hold of Daphne and pushed him back into his seat. “We’ll have to chain you down,” he said, smiling.

Daphne arched his back and spread his arms wide. “Is that a promise, dear?” he gasped, bringing a ripple of laughter from the others. When Neil glanced back toward the door, his look was met by the guy in the white T-shirt. Neil felt his face color, and he averted his gaze shyly when he thought he saw the guy winking at him. Daphne was holding court yet again, telling them all about Jason, the love of his life before George.

“Jason was adorable, but oh, his feet!” Daphne pegged his fingers to his nose and crunched his face up. “I tell you, sisters, Saddam would’ve beaten those hunky Americans if he had just one pair of Jason’s socks in his artillery!” he added.

A couple of minutes passed before Neil glanced toward the door again. Another wink. Maybe he was imagining it, Neil thought. After all he’d had a lot to drink. He sneaked another look. Wink. There was no mistaking it that time, it was definitely him. What now?

Conversation was buzzing at the table. Redser had somehow managed to knock Daphne off the stage, and was telling Jackie and Liam that he and Dave had been going out together for two years. Jackie’s eyes nearly popped out when Dave told them that his older brother was also gay. Redser went on to explain that no other pub in Dublin had such a mix of backgrounds, that none of the usual silly social divides mattered here. He pointed to people: he’s a banker, she’s a solicitor, he’s a janitor, she’s a teacher, he’s a barman, she’s an actress, he’s a politician, she’s a bus driver, he’s a butcher. His list went on and on to Jackie’s and Liam’s amazement.

“And the rest of us are government artists,” Daphne said, managing to interject.

“Government whats?” Jackie asked.

“Drawing the dole.” Daphne got his laugh, but Neil felt too light-headed to listen. He felt the funny sensation inside, the one he experienced every time he saw Ian. He’d have to return White T-Shirt’s wink. He looked down at his feet, but his practice winks were interrupted by Jackie’s nudge.

“Neil, your man over there’s trying to attract your attention.”

Neil felt his heart surge. It must be White T-Shirt. What would he say to him? But the tingle of excitement disappeared abruptly when he saw who Jackie was pointing to. The one and only Uncle Sugar, sporting a new haircut, was waving Neil’s ID card in the air.

“Oh God!” Neil muttered under his breath.

“Is that Uncle Sugar?” Jackie asked in puzzled amusement.

“Hmm,” Neil nodded.

Everyone turned to look at the older man who Jackie had described earlier.

“Oooh, he’s so cuddly,” Daphne purred, making Liam splutter into his pint of Guinness. Neil stood up and struggled his way through the packed crowd. Sugar looked uncomfortable, realizing that he was the focus of their conversation.

“Sorry I didn’t phone you.”

“That’s okay, Neil, no problem.”

“I’ve been up to my eyeballs,” Neil added weakly, struggling to smother a grin when he saw the sad attempt at a trendy haircut close-up. It was shaved over the ears, exactly the way Neil’s hair was cut, but the style didn’t suit gray hair.

“Happy birthday.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re legal now,” Sugar added, pointing to his drink.

Neil nodded nonchalantly.

“I see you’ve made a few friends.”

“Yeah,” Neil muttered, detecting a hint of envy in the older man’s tone. He wanted to tell him that he saw his car driving past his house, assure him that he understood, that he did the same sort of thing himself, but that there was no point in him falling in love, that it wouldn’t be reciprocated. Instead, he took his ID card and escaped from Sugar’s company as politely as he could.

On his way back to the table, he sneaked a look toward the door. His heart sank. White T-Shirt was gone. He scoured the pub, but there was no sign of him.
Oh God
, Neil sighed inwardly,
he probably thought I was chatting Sugar up and left in disgust
. Disconsolately, he rejoined the others.

A friendly lesbian couple came over to their table and while they chatted with Redser, Dave, and Daphne, Neil could sense Jackie recoiling in horror. The two girls were quick to sense her discomfort and after they moved off to the back of the pub, Jackie admitted to Neil that she didn’t mind gay blokes but that lesbians gave her the creeps. Neil didn’t bother to argue with her, realizing that if he wasn’t gay, he’d probably have the same reaction to gay blokes.

“Here’s the ladies,” Dave said, nodding toward two transvestites who had just paraded into the pub.

“The clit-teasers,” Redser smiled.

Jackie’s and Liam’s eyes were wide in amazement. But Neil was surprised at how indifferent he felt to the new arrivals. No one else in the pub was even batting an eyelid.

“Love the mascara, Gladys,” Daphne said, touching the taller of the two as they passed the table.

“Thank you,” Gladys replied in a husky voice, shyly flicking the silky brown wig back from his eyes. He was about six-foot-five, his face was caked with makeup, and he wore a saffron low-neck blouse, a pink mini, black fishnet tights, and red stilettos. With that height, those shoulders, and those bulging leg muscles you could’ve been an international second-row forward, Neil felt like saying. And he grinned to himself as he imagined the gentle giant trundling out in front of fifty thousand spectators at Lansdowne Road with his green jersey flopping down over his pink mini. All the horrified rugby fans would choke on their cigar smoke and, no doubt, the likes of Neil’s brother-in-law would lead the chorus of hisses. Gladys’s companion, Penelope, was more the scrum-half build. A shorter, slighter man, sporting a neat tweed pinafore, sensible brown shoes, a smattering of makeup, and a short blond wig. Like Laurel and Hardy, the pair of them ambled their way up to the crowded bar.

“Oh God!” Jackie wheezed. She couldn’t contain herself any longer.

“Now, now, sister,” Daphne tut-tutted.

“Did you ever see anything like it!” she exclaimed to Liam, who was now controlling his smile, aware that he and Jackie were alone in their reaction.

Daphne was wagging his finger. “Live and let live.”

“Both of them are married,” Redser told them.

“To each other?” the near-hysterical Jackie gasped.

“Don’t they wish,” Daphne sighed, while Redser shook his head.

“With kids,” Dave added.

“Oh God!” Jackie wiped the tears from her face.

“You haven’t seen me in my little black number,” Daphne said, almost giving Jackie a relapse.

“But, aren’t they gay?” she spluttered.

“No, they’re boring heteros like you and Liam,” Daphne replied, smiling as he hit Jackie’s arm. “Only joking, sister.”

Gladys and Penelope were now chatting to Uncle Sugar. Neil was trying to imagine what the reaction in his local pub would be if Gladys and Penelope strolled in, dressed in full regalia. The whole place would grind to a halt. And they’d more than likely be flung out.

Daphne hid his face in his hands when the bright lights came on to signal closing time. “Oh my God, I feel naked!” he squealed hysterically. The dash for the exit had begun. Neil noticed how old Daphne looked for his age. Too many late nights, he presumed.

“Let’s go clubbing,” Redser said, and Neil was delighted when Jackie and Liam agreed. The guy in the white T-shirt might be there.

The upstairs part of the nightclub was just like a large sitting room. Comfortable armchairs lined the walls, the floor was carpeted, oil paintings hung on the walls, and a big mirror adorned the wall over the fireplace. Downstairs was a different matter. Steep stone steps led into a low-ceilinged cavern-like dungeon, complete with dark and mysterious alcoves, a mirrored dance floor, pounding dance music, a melee of frenzied dancers, and a bar manned by a barman who could have passed as Daphne’s sister.

“It’s so sleazy!” Jackie exclaimed, putting her martini down on one of the many upturned beer kegs that served as tables.

“Sister, what d’you think of the music?” Daphne, who hadn’t budged from Jackie’s side, asked.

“It’s loud!” Jackie roared, causing two nearby snoggers to come up for air.

Neil, Liam, Redser, and Dave stood around in a circle chatting. The boys over here, the girls over there, Redser joked. Neil felt his bottom being pinched, but by the time he looked around, the culprit had melted into the throng. Then two blokes with shaved heads, one of whom was Dave’s brother, came over, their arms draped around each other’s shoulders. Dave broke away from the group to chat to them.

“What d’you think?” Neil asked Liam.

Liam smiled and nodded approvingly. “Best music I’ve heard in a long time.”

It was true, Neil thought, they were already playing remixes of tracks that were considered brand new in Hollies. But he was too busy keeping his eyes peeled for white T-shirts to concentrate on conversation. When Dave rejoined them, Redser started to sing:

We are family, I’ve got all my sisters with me

“That brother of mine is so butch,” Dave said, imitating Daphne’s clipped accent.

“Bitch!” came Daphne’s reply from five yards away.

“Rhino ears,” Dave retorted.

Nearby, Jackie and Daphne clung onto each other, both squealing with laughter. Another one of Daphne’s high-camp jokes, Neil presumed, thinking how irritating Daphne and his type would get after a while. It was all right for Jackie; this was all a novelty for her, she wouldn’t have any long-term association with the place. She would get married just like the rest of his friends. But for him it was different; this was his life. He’d have to come in here on his own if he really wanted to meet someone.