After that, there was little the school could do. They did an assembly about porn and how no one at the school should be watching that sort of stuff anyway (I remember that assembly as the physics teacher, Mr Simmonds, blushed quite hard) and Sonny and I were told to ignore the comments, the laughter, the jokes. If we moved school, the scandal would follow us, so the best thing to do was just survive it. It’s probably why Sonny and I are so close. We armed ourselves with comebacks for the playground bullies. A boy once asked me if I could work a cock like my mum. I made that boy cry by telling him I’d make his penis work by sticking it in a pencil sharpener. I was fourteen. We always felt the warm protective stance from Mum and Dad, who hated themselves for how it transformed our formative years, but we never hated them. They’re hard people to hate.
These days, it’s more common knowledge about who we are and what we do. It’s on Sonny’s Wiki page for a start, but people react to it differently. Some just want to give youallthe details of their sex lives. They’ll tell you about the time they experimented with some tea tree oil and a courgette. I’ve literally just met you, Ingrid, but thanks for that. Others just let it sit there so it’s the elephant in the room. You can tell they don’t know how to bring the conversation to the table and if I think about it properly, it’s most likely because they’re scared of sex and exposing themselves, in every way.
That is the feeling I get from Ruby’s parents, who I’m meeting tonight for the first time.
‘I get it now. Your dad is Johnny and your mum is Susie, so both your names are amalgamations of their names. JO-SIE and SO-NNY… that is bloody adorable,’ coos Ruby’s mum from the end of the table, a little worse for wear.
Ruby’s mum is Anne and she’s lovely if excitable in her chiffon scarf, smart denim and blazer combo. Take a breath, Anne. She keeps glancing over to my mum and dad like she wants to ask them everything, but it’s obvious she’s been told not to bring it up. Ruby’s dad is in windows. Anne teaches history. She’s told us stories about students and mock exams and, blimey, they’ve really been quite dull. Today, I ordered some sex dolls, Anne.
That said, it’s been a cosier evening, a world away from Halloween. Brett and Tina have allowed us to use their chic restaurant to celebrate over bistro lamb shanks and there’s still a warm, loved-up energy from recent engagement news that carries us through. Sonny and Ruby are getting married. There will be a wedding. My mother’s already hired a hat maker for the day and offered to get Anne decked out. If she could, Mum would go full Carmen Miranda, feathers, fruit and all. I have a suspicion it will be my job to ensure she doesn’t.
It’s been an evening to chat, eat and the celebratory champagne has flowed like a river, which is down to my mum, who is one of those people who likes to refill a glass when it’s half full so you never quite know how much you’ve drunk. I’m aware of this trick, so I know to hide my glass and watch my mother like a hawk. Anne doesn’t know this, though, so Anne is very very hammered.
‘And my Rubes will be Ruby Jewell. I bloody love this!’ she says, pouring half her glass over her hair.
I glance over at Sonny. You’ll soon be related to her, be kind and help a girl out. He offers her a napkin, a smile and does a quick switch, putting a glass of water in front of her.
‘Oh my god, Mum,’ Ruby mumbles, sitting next to me.
I take Ruby’s hand to distract her. ‘I thought the alliteration of Josie Jewell was bad. My name sounds like a bad country music star, drowning in rhinestones.’
Ruby grips my fingers. Aesthetically, everything about Ruby is perfect, it’s the mask she wants to show the world, but behind the scenes, the anxiety, the insecurity shines through. Who’s watching me? Is it out of place? How does it make me look? It makes me grateful for the shadows in which I’m allowed to stand and observe the world.
‘She’s not normally such a lightweight, it’s just she was a bit nervous about meeting your parents,’ she whispers to me.
I know why, but I don’t say anything out loud. That said, she’ll get to know them and find out they’re just normal people. John Jewell and Susan Beaumont, raised in London, they’re human, just like us.
Ruby puts her head on my shoulder. Ever since we’ve met, she’s always been very tactile with me and it’s been lovely to embrace her as a little sister of sorts.
‘Is this milk dairy?’ the man next to me interrupts. This man I am less keen to embrace. He holds up a milk jug to the table and smells it, his face creasing with disgust. ‘I think it is. Oh dear…’
The man next to me is Ricky Reynolds, Ruby’s brother. Although I requested not to be sat next to Ricky, I’ve ended up with him to the other side of me. I try to summon up some interest in what he’s just said.
‘I might see if they have rice milk? Most don’t. They have almond milk, but did you know that the farming of certain types of nuts is terrible for global warming… The water used to farm the nuts is ridiculous…’ he continues.
Ricky has not stopped talking about his alternative lifestyle since he sat down. As my halloumi starter came out, he was telling me that he’s stopped using shampoo, he’s letting his natural oils do the work. I made a joke he could use those oils to dress his salad. He didn’t get it.
‘So, do you have a girlfriend, Ricky?’ my mum asks from across the table. Whilst I am glad for the interruption, don’t you bloody dare.
‘I don’t actually,’ he replies.
I like milk. Milk from a cow. I like men who don’t lecture me about milk. I don’t want anything to do with his nut milk.
‘My Josie is single too.’
I narrow my eyes at Mum, who knows exactly what she is doing. This interests Ruby’s mum and they link arms and stare at both of us. You can see it in their eyes: a double wedding, families completely joined in union, we could have one of these photo sessions where we all wear white and light denim on a beach.
‘Susie, we’ve spoken about this,’ Dad pipes in from the other end of the table. ‘Leave her be.’ I send Dad a grateful smile.
Mum sticks her tongue out at him for spoiling her fun. I give her evils instead. She met Dad in her early twenties and I know she wants the same for me. To feel that magic, to find someone to share everything in life with.
‘Yes… but she’s been single for a long time,’ Nan adds. My grandmother is also here, she’s Dad’s mum and when her and Mum gang up together to question me about my love life, it feels like an interrogation of the worst kind. These girls should work for MI6.
‘At least a year,’ Mum pipes up.
I take a large gulp of wine and let it sit in my throat. This is the adult equivalent of my mum telling the dinner table that I still wet the bed.
‘That was because of Mike,’ loud-whispers Sonny, drunk, from across the table. I think the whole restaurant heard that.
