Between The Lines Ch. 06

14

Okay, for those who haven't really been paying attention, I'll go over it again very quickly.

My name is Jack de Ladd. It used to be Bert Smith but I had it changed.

I'm a comedian (although a lot of people who've paid to see me perform may dispute that), and I've had a few ups and downs. Actually, I've had very few 'ups' and a ridiculous number of 'downs' -- but who's counting?

As I'm driving down the great highway of life I gaze at the sign saying '30' -- but that's only when I'm looking in the rear view mirror because the reality is that I'm very near to 40. I've been married twice; the first time was an error that both parties moved on from without too much damage, and the second time around I ended up married to a pornstar (Okay, good judgement has never been my strong point).

I met up with up a very classy striptease artist (I know that sounds like an oxymoron, but I promise you it isn't) who asked for some help with a script she'd written. I fell deeply in bed with her - even though she'd told me that she was gay -- and a happy ending seemed to be in sight.

At that point, however, my ex-wife turned up -- the pornstar, that is -- and, believe it or not, it caused a few complications! Not least of them was the fact that I was still (unknowingly!) married to her and she was the money behind producing my new love's script. Then, to top even that, I found some evidence (later disproved) that my lesbian lover had deceived me.

Naturally, being a first class arsehole, I went into a real hissy fit and disappeared from their lives for a while by getting a gig on a cruise ship. By the time all that was sorted, my 'wife' was in the process of dying and leaving me a substantial fortune and, shortly afterwards, my 'one true love' was announcing that she was pregnant (but still mentioning that she found other females attractive!). So, as you can see, it's a tale of ordinary, everyday folk quietly going about their humdrum daily lives.

Yeah... right!

**

14.

The wedding was a surprisingly enjoyable affair. No, I don't mean Penny and me -- this one was her former partner's wedding. This was the big day for the lovely Deidre - formerly one half of the 'Penny & Paula' striptease act - and her true love. He was a nice guy; his name was Dean Harris and he owned a small chain of sports equipment shops.

I knew him -- or at least 'of' him -- because he'd been a county cricketer on the verge of the international team at one time, but an injury had forced him into an early retirement. Obviously, he'd done okay for himself.

When I first met him I was surprised at how tall he was. I mean, I'm six foot tall but he towered over me and had the kind of athletic build to carry it off. I suppose I shouldn't have been so surprised; anyone who can send a cricket ball down at 90 mph has to have a pretty impressive physique.

The wedding service was held in a Bedfordshire church that dates from the 12th Century, and it was traditional in almost every way. The bride looked beautiful in a kind of cream-coloured dress and the bridesmaids were in pale pink. Naturally, the star of the show as far as I was concerned was the maid of honour -- she was truly stunning. It probably sounds blasphemous to some, but I sat in the church barely listening to the exchange of vows, the sermon, or anything else really. My mind was totally devoted to looking at Penny in that clinging, satin gown; thinking about how I wanted to spend a leisurely hour or two slowly uncovering the beautiful body beneath and exploring every part of it.

Another tradition was faithfully followed at the reception -- the one in which the best man tries to hit on the maid of honour. He was, of course, entitled to at least one dance with her and I tried not to laugh as he clumsily attempted to make the most of the opportunity by sliding his hands down on to her delightful derrière. Penny was an excellent dancer and easily managed to evade his moves without even seeming to be doing so but, by that time, the guy had taken a few drinks on board and I saw him whisper something in her ear. She frowned momentarily, then smiled again as the song ended and took his hand to bring him over to where I was sitting.

"Frank... I'd like you to meet Jack," she told him with a look of innocence so blatantly evil that it frightened me, "He's my co-writer and he's helping with the entertainment this evening." Frank looked totally disinterested in meeting me, or anyone else for that matter because he clearly had other things on his mind, but he held his hand out in greeting and, as I shook it, Penny went on sweetly;

"Frank wants me to meet up with him later for an hour or so, Jack. He's staying at this hotel, too."

I managed to keep a straight face -- I can do deadpan -- despite the mischief I could see in Penny's lovely green eyes. It was Frank who suddenly looked a bit uncomfortable.

"...But didn't you say you'd be helping me with my clothes or something?" she added, looking at me and still managing to look so bloody innocent.

"No, Penny," I replied, "I told you I'd be getting into your pants."

"Oh, yes... that's it!" she declared, and clapped her hands like a little girl who'd just been promised an ice-cream, "I knew it was something to do with my clothes! Sorry, Frank... but thank you for asking."

Poor Frank; I almost felt sorry for him. He blushed, made his excuses, and left us alone while Penny grabbed my hand and dragged me up to the dance-floor. It was the first time we'd actually danced together and I think I surprised her a bit. I'd taken dancing lessons in the early days of my career; the idea had simply been to learn a bit of 'tap' and a few other useful bits and pieces but I'd ended up going on to do the full ballroom bit, and I'd had a good refresher course on the cruises, so I didn't let her down and we stayed dancing through several numbers.

"You were a bit hard on poor Frank, weren't you?" I grinned as we were dancing close.

"Hard on him?" she said, "Well... Let's just say that 'meeting up later' was a euphemism for what he actually said! I'm afraid he's had a few 'pops,' enough to start thinking he's 'God's gift' and I wanted to make sure he wouldn't come bothering me again. I don't think a simple 'no' would have been enough to put him off. Anyway, thanks for following my lead on it."

"No problem, Honey," I said, "We worked well together. We could be a double-act."

It was just an off the cuff remark - and it would be a good while before I recalled it - but it's from such little acorns that mighty oaks can occasionally grow.

"This spot you're doing this evening, Jack?" she said, with raised eyebrows.

I had a pretty good idea what she was going to say. The large restaurant where the reception was being held had a small dais and Deidre had decided it would be a good idea to entertain the guests with a short variety show. Apparently, there were some decent singers available and an amateur conjuror, so she'd asked me to act as compere and do a bit of stand up. Well, I could hardly refuse could I?

"Yes, my love?" I replied, proving that I could do 'sweet and innocent' every bit as well as she could.

"You are going to keep it clean, aren't you?"

"You know me, my darling!" I grinned and, just at that moment, Deidre arrived to claim a dance with me while her brand new husband whisked Penny away -- with a very concerned look on her face.

**

15.

"I see the bride and groom are sitting close together at their table. Who said it wouldn't last, eh? Okay, Dee... I'd like you to put your right hand on the table. Yes... just like that. Dean, if you'd be so kind... I'd like you very gently to place your hand on top of hers. That's very good.

"Everyone... I'd like you to witness this very tender moment."

There were a few 'aahs' and little whispers, but the place was otherwise silent before I went on:

"And Dean... I'd like you to treasure the memory of this moment. You're a married man, now... so this is the last time you'll ever have the upper hand!"

The burst of laughter surprised even me. I hadn't expected something so corny to go down so well; and it gave me a bit of confidence in the rest of the material.

"Don't worry, Dean," I said when the laughter died, "the truth is that you'll always have the last words when the two of you disagree. Seriously... that is a fact. Unfortunately, the last words are 'yes, dear,' ...but you'll have to live with that." Corny and old -- but it worked okay.

"I was at a wedding recently where the bride was really nervous about forgetting what she had to do. So I told her, just remember that you walk down the aisle... then you swap vows at the altar... then you sing a hymn... okay? It was fine... but you should have seen the look on his face when he heard her muttering; aisle, altar, hymn... aisle, altar, hymn!

"Then, at the reception the photographer asked for all the married men to stand next to the one person who'd made their life worth living. The barman was nearly crushed to death!"

It was enough. The laughter turned to applause and I made my escape while I was still ahead and left the stage to the final act - Penny and Dee. I'd no idea what they were going to do -- although I was pretty damn sure it wouldn't be anything like the last time they'd appeared on stage together!

What they did, however, was to sing 'Up Where We Belong,' and that was when I discovered that both of them had beautiful voices and could harmonise perfectly. I was totally enchanted and could feel tears of emotion trying to escape because, as she sang, Penny was looking directly at me in just the same way that Dee was looking at her Dean.

It finished to rapturous and well-deserved applause, far eclipsing anything that I could have hoped for. All I wanted to do was to take Penny in my arms and crush her against me, but I had to get back on stage to close the show and leave the band to provide music for dancing. I ended up with:

"Okay folks, I was going to leave you with the final thought that there are two ways to handle a woman... and no man alive knows either of them!" I paused for the laughter that it produced, and then said;

"But I won't. Instead I'll remind you all of the difference between success and happiness: Success is getting what you want... but happiness, my friends, is wanting what you get. Thank you, goodnight... and enjoy the dancing."

I'd barely stepped down from the little stage when a pair of arms went around me and a kiss was planted on my cheek. "Thank you, Jack... that was perfect," Dee told me.

"Hey, steady on," I heard Penny say in mock annoyance as she drew me away from the new bride, "you're a married woman now! Put him down... you don't know where he's been."

"Actually, Penny... I rather think that she...."

"Shut up and dance with me, Jack!" she said, and I realised that both of them were starting to giggle and to blush.

Initially, we were jiving to some classic rock 'n' roll -- the band did pretty good versions of Jerry Lee Lewis, Chuck Berry and, of course, Elvis -- and having a great time, but people were getting tired and the hint was taken to slow things down. Soon afterwards, we were just clinging to each other and barely moving around the crowded floor to the strains of 'Behind Closed Doors.'

"You can tell me now if you want to, Jack," Penny murmured.

"You sang beautifully," I whispered, and felt a slight stab of pain on my shin as she gave me a little kick. "Okay... okay... but, can I have your autograph?" I thought she was going to get annoyed so I added the second part. "I mean... on a marriage certificate?"

"Not yet, Jack... not that. We need to talk about that," she answered, which made me wonder if I really was heading for the happy ending I wanted. I stopped dancing, leaned back so I could look into her eyes, and said:

"I love you Penny."

"That's all that matters for now," she said, "I love you, too, Jack. The rest can wait."

"Jesus! I think I may throw up!" we heard Dee's laughing voice declare right beside us.

**

16.

I didn't have much experience in the way of meeting a girlfriend's parents or other relatives. It was something that hadn't happened in my teenage years; most of those had been spent in Juvenile Detention and it was also because the girlfriends I met after that wouldn't have dared to present me to their nearest and dearest. In fact, the only time I could remember it happening was with my first wife. We met her folks for an evening meal at an Indian restaurant which, for me, was also something very new. In fact, eating in any kind of restaurant was a novelty.

Alfie and Dora had been decent, hard-working people and they'd done their best to hide their obvious dislike of the wise-ass young man who thought he was going to be a star before very long. It was embarrassing to recall the way I'd tried to ingratiate myself with far too many corny jokes, and even more embarrassing to recollect how, never having eaten Indian food before but not wanting to show my ignorance, I'd confidently ordered a Vindaloo curry without realising how hot it was. Even now, thinking about the way beads of sweat had rolled off my forehead as I forced myself to swallow each blistering mouthful is still painful. But not, I should add, as painful as the experience of the following day when I discovered that curries are not only hot when they're going down! I made the mistake of telling one of the lads on the building site about it and, at lunch time, the whole bloody crew were regaling me with their version of 'Ring of Fire.' No -- not funny!

At least on this occasion I knew I wouldn't have to worry about what I was eating, because the 'admirable Mason' and his wife would be doing the cooking and serving. No, what I was more concerned about was meeting the people Penny had described as her 'family zoo.'

Penny's attitude had been that, if we were going to be partners (she was still side-lining any talk of marriage), I would have to meet them sooner or later and it was probably best to get it over with. Even so, on the evening in question, she seemed to take an inordinate amount of time in getting herself ready. The fact that she emerged from the bedroom dressed very simply in a white top with a long, beige skirt and matching low-heeled shoes might have made me wonder why; well, it would have done if I hadn't already known, of course. I'd worked out that she didn't want there to be too much chatter before sitting down to dinner, and was timing it so we'd arrive just before the appointed hour of 8 o'clock.

She did it well, because there wasn't even time for aperitifs (just as well because she'd begged me to stay sober and she never drank when she was driving). So there was just time for brief introductions before we sat down to the most delicious Scotch broth I'd ever had. Knowing that I was being closely observed, I had to resist a childish but very strong temptation to slurp it noisily.

"We normally 'dress' for dinner, of course," Penny's father said, referring to the extremely English fetish for wearing a dinner suit (that's a tuxedo to some of you), to eat their evening meal, "what do you think... err... Jack?"

What I actually thought was 'pompous twat,' but that probably wouldn't have gone down too well, so I said; "Dress for dinner? Oh, definitely... I don't like the idea of hot soup falling onto my naked lap."

Penny glared at me, even though I could tell she was longing to giggle. Her sister spluttered and nearly lost a mouthful of soup, while her sister's husband gave a loud braying laugh. Her father merely stopped with his spoon halfway to his mouth, looked piercingly at me, as if I'd just crawled out of an extremely mature piece of cheese, and said; "Yes... quite."

There was a short silence, which I was really, really tempted to break with a loud slurp, but it was Penny's mother who got in first.

"Tell me, my dear," she said in her well-modulated, upper class tone, "Are all of your jokes as old as that one?" She was pretty sharp for a septuagenarian, and I couldn't help but smile because her timing and delivery had been perfect.

"Only the clean ones, Lady Pendlebury... only the clean ones," was the best response I could manage.

"There's no need for the formality, Jack," she said, and then, "Please... do feel free to call me... your ladyship." I spilt some broth off my spoon with surprise, then looked and saw a big grin on her face as she went on: "Got you! Call me Mary, Jack."

"Very well, I'll be delighted to... Mary-Jack."

"Will you please cut it out, you two?" Penny begged, looking a bit strained, and we all returned to the delicious broth.

As we ate, I cast a few glances at the aged 'ladyship' and saw a good deal of Penny's features reflected in her looks. In fact the thought occurred that if Penny looked that good in forty years' or so, I'd definitely want to still be with her. Mind you, if Penny did what she'd told me her mother had done, I wouldn't be so certain.

Part of the briefing that I'd been given had consisted of an explanation that, in basic terms, her mother had become 'a bit of a goer' once she'd reached middle-age. She'd started dragging her husband (Sir Walter - he never encouraged anyone to call him anything else) away on all kinds of excursions to exotic locations in the name of doing research for her romantic novels. In actual fact, she'd known that he'd quickly tire of visiting the picturesque and charming places she'd earmarked and would stay by the hotel pool or the bar while she went off on her own. Whether he was aware of it or not (who can tell?), those were the occasions when she set off in search of her own 'romantic' adventures.

Apparently, according to a diary that Penny had once managed to get a glimpse of, there had been quite a number of what her mother referred to as her 'peccadilloes,' one of which - with an Irish barman in Buenos Aires -- had led to a late, and unexpected addition to their family; that is to say, the arrival of Penny.

Walter, of course, had wanted to avoid any kind of scandal because he was still in the process of climbing the social ladder and getting close to receiving his knighthood. So he'd just had to bite the bullet and keep a much tighter rein on his wife's romantic leanings. Whether 'her ladyship' had then curtailed her amorous leanings or not was unclear; the only thing that was certain was that the two of them had never slept in the same bed since then.

In the interests of research, I'd actually read one of her novels. It was written under a pseudonym, of course -- one of several she used -- and was what is best described as a real 'bodice-ripper.' Set in the reign of King George IV, it revolved around his attempts to divorce his queen consort, Caroline, on the grounds of adultery. The heroine was a lady-in waiting (no, I don't know what that is, either) in Caroline's court, and there were loads of pounding hearts and heaving breasts, quite a few strapping thighs and rapier thrusts, and more synonyms for 'yielding' than I ever knew existed. It wasn't exactly my cup of tea (I tended to favour Loren D. Estleman tales of the old west), but it was better than I'd expected because it was written in simple English, filled with action, and contained quite a number of humorous touches. It gave me a feeling that Penny had inherited more from her mother than she probably realised.

The main course that night was roast pork with roasted apples and sage and onion stuffing, served with creamy mashed potatoes and roasted root vegetables flavoured with garlic and onions. It was, of course, perfect -- as was the simple apple crumble and custard that followed. I half-expected the ladies to retire to another room while the gentlemen sampled some fine vintage port, but maybe I've watched too many movies. Instead, we all moved to the 'drawing room' where I found myself seated on a very grand but surprisingly uncomfortable Chesterfield sofa.