The Second Husband (part 1 of 2)

Given our cramped living circumstances, it was something of a surprise to return from afternoon teaching to find an unfamiliar man sat on the sofa bed in our lounge-kitchen.

'This is Tom,' Lana introduced him with open palms, as you might a new piece of furniture. Which Tom already resembled, sunk into the the busted sofa, a charity shop job that in bed mode gently slid your head towards its rusty folding mechanism. His arm lay protectively on a large black suitcase, nestled in the one empty space of the room, the right angle between the sofa and green paisley armchair. Tom's polished shoes sat atop the suitcase, a polite but unnecessary gesture.

'Tom's an old friend from university,' said Lana.

'Is that what you call me?' laughed Tom.

I needed to lie on the sofa, but Tom was in the way. His presence had a calming effect on Marnie, who stood with one hand on Tom's knee, using a magazine as a hammer to test his reflexes. Calm was unusual for Marnie who, due to her now domesticated existence, woke for crying jaunts between short bursts of sleeping in our one bedroom, the only remedy for which was 3am burns around town in the van, until the axle broke. I was no stranger to staying up all night, but on the free party scene I hadn't had to make random, delusional decisions about how to keep another human alive, or at least not often. We only learned about 9/11 on 12/11.

'I wasn't sure what Marnie would like,' said Tom. 'Is Sudoku okay?'

'How did you know I had children?' said Lana. Her tone implied better, more pertinent questions, such as, how did you know where I lived?

'I work in IT,' said Tom. 'It wasn't so hard.'

Here Lana might have excused us to the kitchen, to explain why this shirted man was bouncing our daughter on his lap. But this was not possible in a flat with a lounge-kitchen, as described by the estate agent. We used the phrase 'dining room' ironically, as you might ask if the butler can serve tea.

'Did you get the shopping?' asked Lana instead.

'Your text said come straight home,' I said.

'I sort of meant with the shopping.'

'Why don't I get us all a takeaway?' said Tom. 'To say thank you?'

I considered informing Tom of our economic ban on takeaways, but since he was paying and this got me out of a hole I didn't argue.

*

Some hours later I woke to find myself curled around Lana on the sofa bed. My mouth was ashy, as if I'd been licking the cushion, which may have been the case.

'Marnie's up?' I murmured, to acknowledge this was my turn to be awake with her, even if Lana was already awake. But Lana was only just stirring from the movement of my arm.

'She did the once,' said Tom. 'But then went back to sleep okay.'

Behind me on the sofa bed lay Tom in a neat line. I noticed he had changed into green pyjamas.

'How did you unfold the sofa with us on it?' said Lana.

'I'm pretty handy,' said Tom.

It was difficult to think straight, since Lana and I had consumed so many of Tom's artisan beers. The sight of a dozen or so empties, lined on the fold-out table, made me want to throw up. Lana looked even worse, one of her plaits sweat-glued across her forehead.

Lana dragged herself upright. 'You must have noticed our flat is very small, Tom,' she said. 'We don't really have any kind of spare bed.'

'If you don't mind just for tonight,' said Tom, 'I can sleep right here. I'll be gone in the morning.'

'But this is where we sleep,' I said.

'Who's in the bed in Marnie's room?' said Tom. 'I could go in there?'

We let him, as they say, make his own bed and lie in it. I was glad to have the sofa to ourselves, and pulled the blanket over me, remembering with despair the morning had my name on it, literally, written on the calendar, and in a couple of hours I'd be awake again with Marnie.

*

When Lana woke we were all out on the balcony – Marnie, Tom and I. This was some time after the sunny hour at breakfast time, and now the shadow from by the neighbouring block of flats plunged us into darkness. I saw little to be gained by telling Lana I had missed the sun altogether, and had only woken half an hour earlier, to find Tom creeping around the kitchen with a silent Marnie, making her breakfast. Despite my hangover, the novelty of a whole night's sleep left me more refreshed than I could remember.

'Look at all of you,' said Lana.

Tom ripped a hunk of croissant and offered it to Marnie, which she grabbed, eating half before sliding the remainder through her hair.

'You've been out for croissants?' Lana asked me.

'I always carry croissants,' said Tom.

'Marnie seems to like Tom feeding her,' I said, by way of explanation for my texting.

'I'll be out of your hair when I'm finished here,' said Tom. An ironic turn of phrase since it was going to take a while to wash the chocolate from Marnie's. Luckily today was one of my work days.

'You said you have to be somewhere this morning?' said Lana.

'Unless there's anything else you need help with?' said Tom.

'There's plenty of washing up,' I joked.

'Of course I'll wash up,' said Tom.

'Where do you have to be?' said Lana.

'Nowhere in particular,' said Tom.

'Well, some of us have to go earn a living.' By which I meant that Barbara Tovey, the manager of English First Language School, would be waiting at the school's entrance to once again check I was punctual for classes. Due to money problems beyond my control I'd been forced to focus less on my music and more on teaching classes at English First, as a necessary evil to save cash for a new van in time for summer. I had a headful of ideas for new tunes, and once I'd acquired a sampler and synthesizer to replace the ones I'd sold for the flat deposit, I would lay down tracks for a more up-to-the-minute promo CD, a sure-fire passport for a return to techno slots on the festival circuit. Lana was gearing up for a return to jewellery production, to bring in additional income when back on the road.

I motioned my mug towards Tom so he could pour more tea to see me out the door.

*

I arrived home to find Lana on the balcony, arms splayed along the rail, staring down at the traffic below. Marnie was nowhere to be seen.

'Here we are,' said Tom, entering the room with Marnie in his arms, who held a complicated arrangement of wool around her hands. 'We were keeping out the way.'

'Can you say the catechism, Daddy?' said Marnie.

'We've been to church baby group,' said Tom.

'I thought we didn't do churches?' I directed this at Lana. During her pregnancy we had pledged, at a dawn fire ceremony in the healing fields of the Paradise Moon festival, to resist exposure of our child to the superstitions of mainstream society.

'Tom offered, so I could make a start on some new jewellery lines,' said Lana. 'It's the opportunity I need to get started again.' Though one, it appeared, not seized upon, since the jewellery workbench was still folded behind the sofa. 'Which meant I didn't leave the flat, and couldn't buy food.'

'Let me take you out for a meal,' said Tom. 'My way of saying thanks for everything.'

'I work Thursday nights,' I said. 'Teaching English pays the rent, but my real work is a weekly 2am slot at Cable. A techno club.' In truth it was Simon's slot at Cable, but since he had secured it with my promo CD, and I played all the music, it was fair to regard the work as mine. Simon took half the money, which I guess was fair – his contribution to the partnership was maintaining relationships with key people on the music scene. We'd bonded when I first encountered him asleep under the decks in a field off the M25. 'Tonight's when I'm showcasing my set to Fazman. A promoter,' I indicated to Tom. 'I need to craft my set.' It was good to remind Lana this was working towards our future.

'Then why don't I just treat Lana?' said Tom.

'We're not really into meals out.' I said.

'I'd quite like a meal out,' said Lana.

'But what will I eat?'

Tom resolved the situation by popping out to buy me another takeaway, and I slept for a solid four hours til they returned, with Marnie waking only once.

*

When I woke around noon the following day, the flat was quiet and empty. My set at Cable was something of a disappointment, since Fazman hadn't showed, and the audience consisted of six people, two of them wrapped around each other in a heap on the dancefloor.

Lana ushered Marnie through the flat door. Both had fingers to their lips.

'Daddy's awake?' said Marnie. 'We can shout now?'

'No, sweetie, because Tom's asleep. In the bedroom,' she said to me.

'Tom's still here?' I said.

'Tom tom,' said Marnie.

'Tom slept in with Marnie again. I needed a proper rest.' Lana looked gorgeous, in a long patchwork dress I hadn't seen in a while. I pictured her naked, an image absent from my mind for weeks. I attempted, perhaps unsuccessfully, to convey this thought to her. 'I slept the whole night,' said Lana, as though a feat of Olympic expertise. 'Didn't even wake when you came in.'

Tom appeared in the bedroom doorway in pyjamas, red this time. 'I heard you all home,' he said. 'Do you want me to take Marnie since Vincent's only just surfacing?'

'I thought you had to work,' I said.

'My work's pretty flexible,' said Tom.

'Tom offered to build me an online shop,' said Lana. 'For my jewellery. Which is exactly what I need to start making van money.'

'How much does an online shop cost?' I asked.

'I'm happy to work pro bono,' said Tom.

'It's good to involve Tom in an artistic pursuit,' said Lana. 'Everyone needs a creative outlet in their life.'

'What about Water Babies?' I said. Lana worked a few hours a week helping new parents, or rather their tiny children, retain their birth ability to swim underwater, by submerging them in a warm pool and photographing every step of the journey.

'I don't know how much longer I can work there,' said Lana. 'We have very different ideals.'

'What is your work, anyway?' I asked Tom.

'I write weather forecast algorithms. For oil companies.'

'I've only worked two days in an office in my entire life,' I said.

'I don't work in an office. Weather can be analysed from anywhere. And I only work half-a-day a fortnight. My visible work, anyhow. I have other stuff going on behind the scenes.'

'I could predict weather,' I said. 'I have almost a year of a geography degree. If you heard of anything going outside the fossil fuel industry.'

Marnie and I took off to the playground, to give Tom and Lana time for the online shop. In one corner of the playground were a series of upright metal pipes, which made organ tones when hit. I tried to teach Marnie a bassline, but she was more interested in bashing one pipe over and over, not even in time.

I left her to it and sat on a bench, daydreaming about the future. If Tom could build the shop in a couple of days, and Lana start jewellery production in the same time frame, we could see revenue only a couple of weeks hence. There was a chance to make it through the winter and hit the road again come spring, to station ourselves at plenty of festivals where I could showcase my music in person.

I hoped we could persuade Tom to stay around a while longer, for all our sakes.

*

Since Tom worked so little it made sense that he stayed awake with Marnie in the night. Lana and I briefly discussed whether one of us should take a shift the night before Tom had work, but we concluded that since Tom's bed was in the same room as Marnie he'd wake up anyway, so we didn't bother. Besides, it wasn't clear he woke in the night at all, since I never heard Marnie cry. Though I couldn't be certain, because of my club-grade earplugs. Plus Tom didn't seem to have anything else going on in his life for which sleep was important. Everyone was happy.

We settled into a symbiotic relationship, where Tom drew the benefits of company and home-cooked meals – he had quickly became a very good cook – whilst Lana and I slowly returned to our normal selves, as functioning, creative adults and thus better role models for Marnie. Even though parenthood constrained us into a domesticated routine, we took seriously our vow to be examples of an alternative to plowing the mainstream furrow.

To inspire the creation of more inventory for her jewellery shop Lana signed on for evening classes, whilst I spent more night hours with Simon, dreaming up new tunes for Fazman, since the old ones were no longer a proper showcase of my skills. At first we spent planning time in the pub, to finalise a schedule for hiring studio space. I could sense my music evolving now that the Cable set was my sole domain, since Simon chose to hang out in the chill out room fraternising with the ketamine kids. Though he may have just been sitting near them, since there was never much talking.

*

It was a Tuesday afternoon, and Lana and I had taken the opportunity to laze around the flat whilst Tom was out with Marnie. It might have been a sensuous occasion, but Lana's mood had turned dark. We lay on the sofa bed under an Aztec blanket.

'It's the middle of May,' she said. 'And once again festival season is upon us. What happened to pinning down Fazman to confirm those gigs?'

We had spent the previous winter in something of a daze. I partly blamed this on Tom's passion for expensive wine, but in addition our indoor life had disconnected me from a natural sense of the seasons.

'There's no point meeting Fazman until my new tunes are finalised and mixed properly,' I said. 'I can't afford studio space right now. Not since Barbara Tovey cut my Tuesday classes.' The van fund had likewise suffered from Lana's dismissal from Water Babies, since she had not survived a second formal warning for dunking.

'How's your hunt for a new job going?' I said, though I was aware of the answer.

'How many jewellery-maker ads have you seen?' Lana swirled her hair into a knot behind her head. 'Perhaps,' she said, 'we aren't charging Tom enough rent.'

'Three hundred a month seems fair,' I said. 'He only occupies the one bedroom.'

'Maybe a temporary increase. Just until online sales pick up.'

'Maybe if you started some new lines.' I patted the jewellery workbench in its long-term residency behind the sofa.

'Jewellery doesn't do it for me any more,' said Lana. 'I'm transferring to a new class, to develop a range of neon-sequinned festival shorts. They'll sell like hot cakes.' I didn't mention that such a move meant fresh financial outlay for equipment and materials. 'Although,' said Lana, 'I'm not sure I can really cope with another English winter. Maybe we go join Stan and Mel in Andalusia. There's a good market for jewellery down there.'

'I thought it was sequinned shorts.'

'Jewellery, shorts. I'm versatile.'

'Stan and Mel came home. Not together, though. I saw Mel in the supermarket. She said Stan had become a fascist.'

'Well anyhow,' Lana lay horizontally across the sofa bed, which meant on me. 'Why can't we just cash in now for a new van and head south?'

I wasn't entirely sure what she meant by cash in, but our time alone came to an abrupt end with clattering sounds in the communal stairwell. As Tom carried Marnie into the flat, I pretended I had woken from some much needed rest, and tried to take Marnie so Tom could fold the pushchair. She was being difficult, so I took the pushchair instead.

'We're going to head to Spain,' said Lana. I hadn't realised we'd arrived at a decision. 'A road trip to rejuvenate our senses.'

'Before you make any hasty decisions,' said Tom. 'Let me show you something Marnie and I found today. It's outside.'

'Will this take long?' said Lana. 'I have inventory to make.'

'Just a couple of roads away.' Tom lead us back downstairs, out the flat and around the corner towards the park.

Opposite the park gates he stopped by a garden wall, and proffered a hand in the direction of a large Victorian terraced house. 'I thought we needed a bigger place.'

'Can we go see again?' said Marnie.

'The lady's gone now,' said Tom.

'I don't know if you realise,' I said. 'But not everyone has the finances to rent a place like this.' I kept a check on the sarcasm, though was quite incensed at the way in which the wealthy are blind to the economic straits of others.

'No rent. I've bought it,' said Tom. 'I thought the flat had become a bit cramped.'

Read part 2 here

Photo by Troy Ozuna on Unsplash