The Second Husband (part 2 of 2)

[This is part 2 of this story: read part 1 here]

It was, of course, Tom's presence that had contributed to the cramped situation, but it wasn't the time to mention this.

'My room has a round window,' Marnie pulled at Lana's hand.

'You know the country Spain, don't you sweetie?' said Lana. 'We might go there instead. Wouldn't you like to speak another language?'

'I thought the road trip might be on the back burner,' said Tom. 'As you don't currently have a van.'

'We've been saving.' Lana peered in the front bay window. 'Actually that's something we wanted to talk about.'

I noticed brick steps leading down to another door under the main entrance. 'Is there a basement?' I asked. I pictured an entire underground floor given over to a soundproofed studio.

'It felt like time.' Tom ran a hand down the front door. 'A new marital home.'

'We're not married,' I reminded him.

'Not you,' said Tom. 'Lana and I.'

Tom held out his hand to Lana. Lana took mine instead.

'Tom,' she said. 'What did you think was going on here, exactly?'

'I thought we agreed,' said Tom.

'That I would marry you?'

'At fresher's Christmas Ball. December the eighth, 1991.'

It was hard to imagine Lana, once anointed festival-queen, ever considering Tom boyfriend material.

'How do you think it feels, Tom,' Lana picked up Marnie, 'for me as a modern woman to be part of such a chauvinistic institution? To be thought of like a piece of chattel?'

'We don't believe in marriage,' I said, trying to soften the conversation. I was afraid Tom might change his mind about the house. I pictured myself hunched over samplers in the basement, Marnie developing her appreciation for music through imitation, as from a carpenter parent in previous generations. 'Think of the money we'd save in rent,' I whispered to Lana.

'I didn't mean to offend anyone,' said Tom.

'Can you give us a moment to think about it?' I said.

*

Tom had taken Marnie to the park playground, as per the schedule for Saturday mornings. Which was fortunate, since although today was her birthday Lana chose the previous evening to get paralytically drunk on Tom's wine cellar, and we now lay side-by-side on the sofa, staring out the bay window at the apple tree, hungover. Heavy drinking had become a regular Friday night replacement for Lana's textiles evening class, ever since she was asked to leave for referring to the course tutor as a pawn of Big Pharma for vaccinating her child with the MMR.

'What are we doing?' moaned Lana. I was pleased that Lana was, at least, wearing my birthday present, a woollen poncho.

'We're waiting for Tom to bring Marnie back from the park,' I said.

'I meant in general,' said Lana. 'In life.'

'You've applying for that jewellery degree.' I wished Lana wouldn't be so miserable, especially on her birthday. 'How's that going?'

'Pressuring me is not going to help.'

'I thought it started in September?'

'It takes time to get all the material together,' cried Lana.

'You could be excited about my meeting Fazman this morning,' I said. 'This could be the big break for my new tunes.'

'Which new tunes would these be?' said Lana.

'Well, thanks for the encouragement.' Though perhaps this was smarting at the grain of truth within. When you have ample time for making new music there never feels like a good moment to start. Back in the days of Marnie's feeding/waking/screaming, ideas poured out of me, scribbled or recorded on scraps of paper that were promptly lost or dribbled upon. Now that Tom had loaned me money for a new synthesiser and sampler, this pristine new equipment simply goaded me, and the sight of the basement provoked a particular brand of artistic depression.

'I want Marnie home,' said Lana. 'It's my birthday.'

'Wait for Tom,' I said. 'Enjoy your day.' Not only did I need to be at home for Fazman, but Tom's note, tucked behind my morning croissant, had requested I keep Lana in the house for the morning, I guessed for some kind of birthday surprise. Fazman had been due to arrive since eight that morning, when I woke to a barely comprehensible text from Simon, relating news of encountering Fazman in a club in the early hours when he, as any good manager ought, forced my tracks upon him. Now they were on their way over, pronto, for gig discussions. Apparently my old tunes still hit the spot, techno-wise. Though it was now noon and they still hadn't made an appearance.

Lana's phone rang. I lifted my head, painfully.

'You can't say now?' Lana held her hand to her eyes. 'Okay. Give us a few minutes.' She rested the phone in her neck. 'Tom and Marnie want to show us something. In the park.'

We dragged ourselves outside to the park across the road. It was a beautiful August morning, and though its burning rays hurt my eyes, I was glad of a day out, with my family, in the sunshine. I texted Simon our location.

Arched over the park entrance was an arrangement of pink and white roses, twisted round a frame to spell LANA.

'Happy birthday, Lana.' Tom stepped from behind a hedge and kissed her on the cheek.

'Happy birthday, Mummy.' Marnie held out a plate carrying what might have been a hedgehog, fashioned from pine cones and grass stalks.

'Thank you, sweetie,' smiled Lana. 'Where did you get that pretty dress?'

On the grass adjacent to the playground a crowd of parents sat or stood on picnic blankets, attempting conversations whilst watching their children on a huge bouncy rainforest. A young lifeguard guarded the river that ran down the centre. Parked near the fence was a silver Airstream, a woman languishing in the doorway with a large snake coiled around her neck.

'You know I'm not really a birthday-party-organising person,' I said.

'That's okay,' said Lana, though I hadn't meant it as an apology.

'Who are all these people?' I asked Tom.

'Most of us met at toddler groups,' said Tom. 'Anders, Naomi, this is Marnie's mum, Lana. And Vincent.'

We shook hands with a man in a blue-striped shirt and a woman in very large sunglasses.

'I'm Marnie's dad,' I said.

'You seem to have this party pretty sewn up,' said Anders.

I was about to indicate I would never organise a party without a hefty stack of speakers and darkness, but he wasn't talking to me.

'I've catered parties before,' said Tom. 'It's all about timing.'

'On the subject of parties I beg to differ.' Simon appeared at my shoulder, exuding a feral heat as though in high fever. An affliction he found hilarious, if his massive grin was anything to go by. Out in natural light his skin was the texture of soot.

'Where's Fazman?' I asked.

'Faz Man. Two words,' said Simon. 'He couldn't make it all the way, despite his best efforts. I put him in a cab at the edge of the park.'

'So why are you here?'

'I was headed in the direction of your mansion to wish the lovely Lana happy birthday,' Simon bowed.

'I don't think I've seen you at toddler group,' Naomi said to Lana.

'I've kind of slipped out the routine,' said Lana.

'Where did all these kittens come from?' said Naomi.

'Sorry. They were meant to be a surprise,' said Tom. 'I asked the handler to keep them in the caravan.'

'Why are there kittens at all?' I said.

'Every child gets one in their party carrier.'

'There's no such thing as a party carrier.'

'You can't put kittens in bags.'

'You've certainly upped the ante for future children's parties,' Naomi raised her thick black eyebrows above the sunglasses.

'This isn't Marnie's birthday,' said Lana. 'It's mine.'

'No one bought kittens for my birthday,' Naomi told Anders, and wandered off to watch the snake charmer show. Marnie pulled Lana away, and I was left with Anders, Tom and Simon.

'Setting the husband bar pretty high there,' said Anders.

'I think there's some confusion,' said Tom. 'I'm only the second husband.'

'Lana and I may not be married,' I said, 'but that doesn't make you second husband.'

'But as we know, it takes a village to raise a child.'

'Three people is hardly a village.'

'Think of me more like the au pair.'

'I'd never think of you like the au pair,' said Simon. 'Though there are some women here whom I'm definitely imagining in that fashion.' He nodded in the direction of Naomi's back.

'That's my wife,' said Anders.

'Then full marks to you, sir,' saluted Simon.

A man wearing a bow tie and headset handed a microphone to Tom.

'Excuse me. People.' Tom's voice boomed over a PA – he must have hidden speakers in the tree foliage. 'If I could have your attention for a moment. I have just a few words for the birthday girl.'

'You never mentioned a speech,' I said.

'I'm sorry,' said Tom. 'There was so much to keep secret. The cake has been a nightmare.'

'Is that the lorry over there? A cake lorry?'

'That's the marquee.'

'What for?' said Simon. 'The regal banquet?'

'Who told you the schedule?' said Tom, and frowned at Marnie.

Tom stood on an upturned wine crate and said some very complimentary things about Lana to the gathered crowd. I might have said something similar myself, had it been my speech, though in less sentimental fashion. I was a little embarrassed for him.

'And here's a small birthday something from me.' Tom handed Lana an envelope.

'I've already given my present,' I explained to Naomi.

'It's a letter of acceptance,' said Lana, reading the letter. 'For a degree in jewellery design.'

'I applied for you,' said Tom. 'As a surprise. I created a portfolio from all those photos I took for the website.'

The applause quietened and people began to disperse.

'It's at the University of Dundee,' Lana brandished the letter at Tom.

'If student loans are the worry, I have that covered,' said Tom.

'I can't move to Dundee,' I said. 'Not with my music taking off.'

'I thought as much,' said Tom. 'The house is yours. I'm amenable to discussions about rent. Marnie is already excited about Scotland.'

'Are you?' I asked Marnie.

'You never said Vincent wasn't coming.' Marnie punched Tom's leg.

'That's Daddy to you,' I said.

Lana folded the letter and put it back in the envelope. 'You can't do this,' she said.

'But if Vincent isn't doing it,' said Tom.

'I don't want you to do this,' said Lana.

'But what about Vienna? Meeting on the train, walking the city all night. Our first kiss on the Ferris wheel? I always knew it would work out eventually. We just needed time.'

'I've never been to Vienna.'

'Are you not thinking of the film Before Sunrise?' said Anders.

'I can't live in Scotland.' Lana thrust the envelope at Tom. 'I can't take the cold. And this kind of – attention. Do you not see how demeaning this is?' Lana began to cry. 'Can I make it quite clear that we're not going to have sex again?'

'Again?' I said.

'As in, any more than that one time at university.'

'I never meant anything about – that,' said Tom. 'I just thought we were having a nice time.'

'I'm going home now,' said Lana.

'What, you don't like elephants?' said Tom.

'What elephants?'

'There aren't any elephants. That was a joke.'

Nobody laughed. I felt sorry for him.

'I'm going to tell the caterers we're ready,' Tom said with a wave, and wandered off toward the lorry at the park entrance.

*

Since the move was Tom's idea, and I had given up a career at English First, it was only fair he support me whilst we setted into a new life in Dundee. With Lana at art college all day, and due to the combination of the rain and my lack of DJ breaks (the music scene there was pretty young and cliquey), Tom and I spent a lot of time together. I didn't even mind when he introduced us as Marnie's two dads in the school playground, especially as he suggested, that Marnie refer to me as Daddy One.

With Simon off the scene, as in dead, along with my contacts in the music industry, the only opportunity music-wise was the late Friday sitting at a town centre pizza bar, serving up low tempo ambience. The pay was two quattro formaggio eighteen-inchers, but money was not a problem since Tom had agreed to be my artistic patron. It left me free to experiment, untainted by commercial pressures. Many diners gave me discerning nods on their way to the bar.

Towards the end of that first year that Tom called another of his house meetings. In theory any of us could have called a meeting, but only Tom did so.

'I don't think I'm mistaken,' said Tom, 'in sensing discontent in our household.'

'Not from me,' I said.

'I was meaning Lana.'

'What's the point in all this studying, just to spend a working life touting establishment crap to marriage fiends?' said Lana.

'The endless conundrum,' I said. 'Art versus commerce.'

'I think it's time I air my suggestion to Vincent,' said Tom.

'Let me say!' said Marnie.

'Say what?' I said.

'I my opinion,' said Tom, 'this is an ideal time for a brother or sister for Marnie.'

'Woah, there,' I said. 'This particular subject is perhaps a Lana and I discussion.'

'You said I could discuss this with Vincent before you said anything,' said Lana. 'Particularly before you told Marnie.'

'It kind of slipped out,' said Tom.

'This is not the place I want to be right now,' I floundered. 'Not when I'm getting back into music.'

'To cement us as a family.' Tom placed a small, labelled plastic container in the middle of the table. At the bottom was a small amount of white viscous liquid. 'Via IVF, of course,' Tom held up his hands. 'My apologies if I didn't make that clear.'

'My body my choice?' said Lana.

'Absolutely,' said Tom. 'Though this is something of a deal-breaker for me. Money-wise, that is.'

Lana said she wasn't feeling well and went to bed.

Each evening that week Tom placed a fresh container in the middle of the dinner table, sometimes wordlessly. For my part there was no position to take – the situation was, so to speak, out of my hands.

As Daddy Two to Thomas Junior I learned to appreciate the value and beauty in worldly entities aside from music. The sights and sounds of a newborn child, one that did not wake you at all hours, produced a variety of meaning for me, the kind of meaning I'd only experienced previously in the realms of music, such as when a trumpet melody lodges in your brain and later becomes a killer tune programmed into the sequencer. Here was another child to whom I would endow my wisdom and experience of the world – of how to seize the day, to plow the path to a future that aligns ever more with your dreams, that permits the full flourishing of your talent and manifestation of your values. For some of us this is through music, for some jewellery or costume making or birthing attractive babies. And, I had come to learn, for others it is through a genius at earning, in a very short space of time, more money than one person needs in a lifetime.

Photo by Troy Ozuna on Unsplash