That story isn’t exactly wedding-speech material, so I just tell people we met on a dating app like everyone else.
‘Oh Lauren, my pet, how wonderful,’ Mum is saying coolly, examining her ring with a hint of disapproval as I join them. ‘I’m sure you’ll be very happy together. It’s about time Charlie proposed. How long have you been together now? Five years?’ She doesn’t wait for an answer before continuing dramatically. ‘I had a chance to be happy once, but your father –’ she shoots me a look – ‘ruined all that. The fat twat.’
I ignore her, leaning in for a hug and a kiss on the cheek. ‘Hey, Mum, nice to see you,’ I say as she pats me distractedly.
‘It hasn’t put me off marriage, though,’ she goes on, tittering prettily. ‘If anything, it’s made me more sure about getting re-married one day. After all, any man I meet now is going to seem absolutely fantastic after my previous experience. He will seem kind, loving, generous, and – at the very least – not a disgusting degenerate.’ She glances nonchalantly over at the stairs, where my dad is re-emerging empty-handed and looking bereft. No luck withLoadedthen.
Mum clears her throat and adds in a loud stage whisper, ‘And whoever I date next is bound to have a much, muchBIGGER PENIS.’
I take a long, slow, resigned breath. I don’t need to look over at Dad to know he can hear. As can all of my brother’s agog friends, who have fallen silent.
Mum opens her mouth to go again and Lauren takes a small, decisive step forward.
‘That’s enough now, Alice,’ she says firmly. ‘You don’t need to say things like that in front of your daughter. Or, indeed, the whole room. No one needs to hear about Harry’s willy, especially when Harry is their father. Not under any circumstance, really.’ Lauren puts a protective arm around me and I feel a rush of gratitude – and a rush of fear that Mum will kick off.
‘Oh, but I barely mentioned hisTINY WILLY,’ Mum starts, and Lauren gives her another hard stare. She harrumphs and blusters, ‘I’m just saying that marriage is a wonderful thing and you’re very lucky to be able to experience it with a man who isn’t a dumpster fire of a human being.’ She looks at me penetratingly before continuing. ‘And make sure when you have children with him, Lauren, that you firmly agree on a namebeforeyou go into labour.’
Ah, yes. Thanks for that one, Dad.
So yes, my full name is Delilah Mary Fox. Which, yeah, I know, sounds like a character fromThe Animals of Farthing Wood. Or maybe porn. Depends where your brain’s at.
My dad, Harry, is an obsessive Tom Jones fan and my mum was still high on gas and air when they registered the birth. She didn’t realise what was going on until about a week later. Same thing happened with my little brother, who is even less subtly called Tom Jones Fox.
I don’t want to be ungrateful, but I am really incredibly ungrateful. I hate it. My name draws attention and laughter wherever I go, and I’ve spent my life trying to convince people to call me Lilah instead of Delilah – or worse still,Delly. That was what the idiot boys at school always called me and I fucking hate it. Sometimes they would get even more creative and call me Delly the Belly, if they felt like maybe I’d temporarily forgotten that I was fat and needed a reminder.
But that was obviously all ages ago, and is very much long-forgotten history. I’m totally not holding on to a hundred different grudges that I can never fully avenge.ABSOLUTELY NOT.
At least Facebook lets me see how terribly their lives are all going now.
Lauren shakes her head. ‘Alice...’ she says warningly to my mum. She’s heard all these speeches before, as have I.
Mum tuts. ‘There’s no need to be snappy, Lauren. I’m not even talking about Lilah’s father necessarily, just...’ She pauses, noting my friend’s unchanged steely expression. ‘Congratulations on your engagement. I hope you’ll be very happy.’
Lauren smiles broadly and starts talking about veils, as across the room, I make eye contact with Will. We are barely twenty minutes in and he already looks defeated, grimacing as my dad talks animatedly, hands gesticulating wildly. I don’t need to be able to hear the conversation to know my dad is currently justifying the size of his penis to my boyfriend. Poor Will. We share a little helpless shrug and I try to silently communicate that I will make it up to him later by going on top. Usually I can’t be bothered – who has the energy for that, especially post-burger binge? – but he’s earned it. Will nods, perking up like he gets it, and I turn back to my mum, who is telling Lauren about her own veil – which she set ablaze in a symbolic bonfire when she got her decree absolute.
Hmm, maybe the penis chat across the room would be better...
4
‘I’m afraid we really do need someone here right away, if at all possible. It’s an emergency.’
I’m using my nicest, most professional phone voice, and wishing I could muster more authority, but I don’t think I have it in me.
‘Yeah, see, I dunno if it’s poss, though,’ says the girl on the line, who clearly has me on loudspeaker in her office, and is simultaneously texting on her mobile while I plead. I can hear the clicking of the phone’s keyboard noises she hasn’t bothered to turn off.
‘Did I mention I’m calling for Rex Powers? FromQuiz Monsters?’ I try again but she doesn’t seem impressed. ‘He says you usually do this for him at his home and are often able to accommodate his last-minute requests?’
More text clicking.
‘Is there someone else I can talk to, maybe?’ I say, trying to be strong, but wimping out of saying the dreaded ‘your manager’.
‘Nah,’ she says, and it’s barely a word, more of a noise. ‘The others are all the way downstairs, so I can’t ask them, and I’m not going down there to get ’em. I could do Rex at his place on Thursday?’
I lay my head on the desk in front of me, the phone hot on my ear. I can feel the cancer waves creeping into my brain.
‘You see, the trouble is,’ I say, my voice muffled by the wood on my face, ‘we’re going on set in an hour and a half, and Rex says he really needs his chest done before the cameras can go on. He says you guys know exactly how to wax and style it to perfectly accentuate his man cleavage. Those are his words – I don’t know what they mean.’
She’s silent for another long moment. ‘Yeah, we do do that,’ she says. ‘Loads of men love that one. But my boyfriend usually drives me to outside appointments and he’s at the football.’
