PAUL

I was surprisingly calm. No, honestly, I really was. We were just going to bed on Christmas night, still sluggish from too much food and chocolates and after an evening slumped before the TV watching the usual festive fare. Mum and Dad were locking up and Sonia had already gone to bed. I was sitting in the chair, thinking about Christmas in the sun, barbecues on the beach and wondering who he was spending the day with. I'd sent him a card but he hadn't reciprocated. I guess I was going to get the cold shoulder from now on.

"Paul? Can you get Mum? I think the baby's coming..." Sonia was standing half way down the stairs looking white faced and scared. That's all she said, kind of quiet, nothing like my usually brash, confident little sister.

From then on, it was action stations - but I kept my cool. For once. Honest. The rest of them made enough fuss - it's an O'Gallagher thing - so someone had to keep his head. Compared to them, I'm pretty calm and composed.

Dad and I paced the waiting room. Sonia wanted her Mum with her. It was understandable. She hadn't got a fella and she couldn't have been left alone. That would have been too cruel.

In the early hours- after a relatively simple labour of only six hours - little Joey was born. He was only minutes old when I first saw him. I fell totally in love right there and then. Sonia looked exhausted, cried a little, held him a while and then asked them to take him away. I thought that was a bit odd even then but I explained it away as her having had an emotional time and needing her rest.

Mum and Dad made me come home with them to get a few hours' sleep myself; there was nothing more I could do for now, they said. Sonia would need me fit and lively later that day.

I couldn't hang around long anyway and had to get back to the pub the next day. It was bloody hard dragging myself away but I had no choice.  Sonia arrived with the baby a few days later when she had been passed fit and had had enough of Casa O'Gallagher and my mother's smothering. Mum and Dad were still trying to make us hand over Joey to them but Sonia was adamant. She wanted me to be his dad. It made me very proud.

So we brought the little fellow home and settled into a chaotic existence. Joey's a little livewire and seems able to exist on just tiny amounts of sleep. On the other hand, his main pursuit in life seems to be drinking as much milk as is humanly possible for a tiny baby so that is obviously what is keeping him awake. He must be scared he's missing something when he closes his eyes. Sonia decided not to breastfeed which upset me a bit because all the books stress how much better it is for the baby's growth and immune system but she correctly pointed out that if she was the milk bar, then I couldn't really do much to help her. This way we could share the parenting and that was cool with me.

I do what I can during working hours. The bar is usually pretty quiet in the mornings and for most of the afternoon, so I keep him with me - Angharad won't leave him alone and there are always plenty of other willing nursemaids - Astrid has shown a surprising motherly side to her nature. Those breasts of hers were made for milk, in my humble opinion - lucky baby, huh? Of course, I hate him to be around the bar in the evening - too much noise and smoke - but Sonia is generally in at that time, so she takes over. The nights are hard work though. I offered to take him in my room to give her the chance to get a good night's sleep early on and she has never asked for him back. Childbirth is pretty hard on a woman, I guess, and she needs to recover. But Joey's such a fractious baby that he's up every hour or so and by the time he goes off properly, it doesn't give me much chance to catch up myself.

Frankly, I'm exhausted. Something's got to give. I can't keep this regime up much longer. Another thing that's been keeping me up at night too is Jeff. I still haven't called him. I suppose he's found out about Joey on the grapevine by now but that's not good enough. I should have contacted him personally the day Joey was born but I was an emotional wreck then and I avoided making the call. Pretty shady of me, I know, but I just took the line of least resistance and did nothing.

So, I'm going to call him today. I've had a stiff belt of whisky and am all set up for it. I'm going to ask him to come and see the baby. He really needs to. Sonia wouldn't mind. She doesn't seem to bother much either way these days. But that's another story...

 

 

JEFF

December 27th and I've got nothing better to do than go to work. I decided this year, I bloody hate Christmas. It wasn't always like that. I can remember Christmas as a kid when Mum and Dad were still alive and it was magic. Even when there was just the two of us - and we both were really nostalgic missing Mum - Harry did his best to make it special. Later, after I crossed, it was a bit tricky at first but then along came Paul and suddenly Christmas took on a whole new meaning. Especially last year. We had a ripper of a day - well, it was more than a day to be honest. We made a whole season of it and did some crazy things, including a rather raunchy night down at a gay club which ended up with a very naughty incident involving the two of us and another few lads...sorry, you don't really want to hear about that, do you? It is a bit off...

So, you can imagine that this Christmas was something of a damp squib by comparison. Apart from my fucked up life, we were trying to celebrate the festival in the wake of tragedy. Maximus was dead and Uma and Andy were helping to take care of Ann. I was there as much as I could be as well and, although we tried, it just seemed to reinforce to us all about the people we had all lost along the line. I stayed for the two days and then I needed a break. So here I am, having a break.

At work. Alone. Well, who else will be in this week, except a gay loser like me with no social life and no dependents? The renovations of the new restaurant are still in the early stages and I might as well move it along as best I can. It takes my mind off my lonely flat with a few miserable Christmas cards. I didn't bother with a tree or decorations this year - couldn't face all the fuss, to be honest - but it just looks so sad and quiet that I can't stand being there at the moment.

Toby called me on Christmas day. He's living in Los Angeles now and his singing career is taking off. It was nice of him to ring and wish me a Happy Christmas. He's got a girlfriend over there now and they seem to be getting on well. He asked me not to turn up unannounced or let the cat out of the bag about the two of us. I wondered if that was more the reason for his call than anything else but I could be unfair on him. He's a bloody good bloke and it wasn't his fault that we broke up. It was mine. He took a big step moving in with another man and accused me later that all I had wanted was sex while he had been looking for love. He said he could have got the sex from anywhere. Too right. Toby claims he's not gay, not even bi-sexual really. He just fell for me and was free-thinking enough to try a homosexual relationship. It had been love for him.  But not for me.

I still feel bad about Toby. He was right in many ways. I was never in love with him. I did need a friend, however, and enjoyed my time with him. It helped me over a bad patch in my life. But I'm not sure it was right and proper to use someone else to hide behind, especially when for him it was such a pivotal step in his life. I wish Toby all the best. He deserves it - and I hope he'll be happy with his new girl.

 

 

ANDY

I had thought in advance that this Christmas would be the best one yet. Uma and I have so much to be thankful for and so much to look forward to, yet when it arrived it came amidst one of the worst times either of us had ever known. The events of the past months had been gruelling to say the least and since Maximus had died, we have all been dragging ourselves round from day to day, trying to get back to normal life but with that feeling of doom looming over us. What next? Who next?

Ann's done a remarkable job of coping, or at least of coping in public, but having her with us has not been easy. Not that I'm complaining. It's a privilege to be taking care of her at this time and I wouldn't have it any other way - but it has taken its toll on us both. Uma is worn out with nervous fatigue, trying to keep strong for Ann and yet struggling with her own crushing grief which she believes she must suppress for the sake of others. I just sit on the sidelines wishing that I could do something for her - yet all I can do is feel helpless and just hold her when she needs it. She's lost weight - and she can't afford to do that - which makes her look fragile and wan, like a little doll. At least I thought I could try and fatten her up at Christmas and tempt her to eat some of the seasonal fare. I can cook. Sometimes I think that's about all I can do of any use to anybody.

I've been keeping an eye on Jeff too. He breezes along much the same as ever but he doesn't fool me. The more genial he appears, the more I look for that trace of sadness in his eyes that his easy-going manner is trying to conceal. I can understand why. Christmas is not a good time to be alone. Imagine also lying night after night in a lonely bed trying to deal with what has been thrown at us recently as well? I don't know what I would have done without Uma by my side and I know she feels the same way about me. That's one thing I'm not in any doubts about anymore. She's my girl and I'm her man.

I saw my parents over the holiday. I apologised and explained we were spending Christmas day with a friend whose husband had recently died. They could hardly protest about that but I still think Mum wasn't too happy. She has this way of making everything I do look like a secret plot hatched by Uma to draw me away from her. My mother is the Queen of Passive Aggressiveness. Uma calls her La Passionata. You know how irreverent she is.  It's pretty ironic really as I used to be the family embarrassment at Christmas parties in the past, turning up with washed-out jeans and a baggy T-shirt among all her smart country club friends. One year Mum insisted on cutting the bandages that I wore round my wrists off or she wouldn't allow me to have my Christmas dinner.  Funnily enough when I told Uma that she retorted that was the first thing Mum had ever done that she agreed with. Scary really. You know what they say about marrying your mother? Or was it your mother-in-law...? Anyhow the ironic point is that now suddenly I am depriving them all of my presence by being with my girl. That is just so typical of how perverse my mother is.

Mum and Dad are also nagging me about getting married. They don't approve of co-habitation. Not that they approve of Uma either but I think they have accepted that she's a permanent fixture now in my life, so at least marriage would be socially more acceptable. They think we should be starting a family too.

Mum put it very succinctly in her usual direct way: "You're still young enough to wait a few years but SHE (she always calls Uma SHE) better hurry up at her age...or is she the sort who doesn't want children? That will be a problem down the line, mark my words, Andrew...A virile young man like you will want a few kiddies sooner or later..." At least she didn't say it in front of Uma this time. Sometimes I have to agree with Uma when she calls my mother 'an old cow'. I might not have put it quite like that myself, but she has a point. But Uma says nothing to her these days. I feel like the fight has gone out of her recently. I long for the return of her former spirit.

When Jeff didn't come round that day after we found out about the baby, we tried his flat but he was out. It didn't take us long to work out that he was at work. He has been throwing himself into the renovations as if it blocks out all the things he doesn't want to deal with. So we went round together to tell him. Both of us felt that he should know straight away, secretly hoping that the news would make him go and see Paul and the little one. The pub was only a portal away these days.

Jeff was down under the floorboards in the kitchen when we got there but pulled himself back up as soon as he heard the door.

"Hey, mate...it's Christmas...!" I said as we joined him on the floor.

"Yeah, well...it is for some people," Jeff replied vaguely. "What's up then?"

"Brought you some coffee and sarnies..." Uma replied. "Go wash your hands and I'll find us a place to eat. I'm afraid it's turkey salad..."

"Mayo?" he asked with a grin.

"What else?" She smiled back while he loped off to wash up. While he was gone we exchanged a nervous glance. How would he take the news?

Gathered round an old bar table in the main room, we had our lunch, chatting about nothing much. Finally, I decided we had to take the plunge.

"Jeff...there's another reason why we came today..."

"Yeah? What?" He stared at us both but I had a suspicion he had worked it out already.

Uma reached over and took his hand in hers, smoothing down the calloused and scuffed skin gently. "Jeff...Sonia had her baby yesterday. He's called Joey. You're a dad now, sweetie..."

He swallowed hard but his face otherwise showed little emotion. That in itself was unusual for Jeff. He hasn't exactly got a poker face. "Everything go alright? Mother and baby doing well?" he replied in an expressionless voice, like he was just going through the motions.

Uma smiled. "Yes. He's a healthy little fella. Almost eight pounds and bright as a button, so they said. It was a relatively easy labour and they're both doing fine..."

"Great. That's a relief. Well, thanks for telling me. Appreciate it..." He stood up as if to go back to work.

"That it?" Uma asked. "Is that all you're going to say?"

Jeff turned back; his face looked stormy. "What the bloody hell else is there to say? It's got nothing to do with me, Uma. It's been made clear enough all along. I'm not the father. I'm just the sperm donor. I'd rather forget all about it. I wish them well. I hope he grows up a happy little boy. But I haven't got anything else to say..."

"Jeff! Sonia said you could go and see him! Paul came here and tried to reason with you! Come on! Stop being so stubborn! How can you let all this pettiness go on in the face of what we've been through recently? Life's too short!"

"I am not going to see him. What would be the point of that? I'm not to be allowed a role in his life. All it would do was make it harder for me to get past this. Uma, I know you're trying to help but can't you just butt out for once in your life? This is not something you can solve with your bloody magic wand..."

"That's enough..." I spoke up for the first time. I could see Uma was hurt. She choked down a retort and gathered up her belongings.

"I think I'll get some air..." she said as she ran for the door. I waited until she had left before I walked up to him. This time I stuck my face threateningly in his.

"You made her cry, ya bastard. Does that make you feel better?" It was obvious from the look on his face that he regretted what he had said but I was not going soft on him.

"Look, mate, I'm sorry. She's the last one I want to hurt..."

"...But you did anyway. Look, mate...it's pretty obvious to me and everyone else that you're not happy. I know Paul is very cut up about the situation too. He needs you. It isn't just the break up or the baby but everything else that's happened. He's taken on a great deal of responsibility in the past month or so. And he's all alone. Give him a break, hey? He loves you. Can you afford to turn your back on that? How many chances for love you going to get in your life? Go and see the baby. It will change everything. I'm sure it will..."

Jeff shrugged.

"Is that an answer?"

"I'll think about it," he added grudgingly.

"Not too long, eh? He might not wait forever. Good looking bloke like Paul...someone's bound to snap him up sooner or later. He's a bloody good catch for any guy...." I decided I wouldn't spare him either. I care a lot about Jeff; he's a really top bloke but where Paul is concerned - he's a flaming mess. I'm sick of treating him with kid gloves. And no one makes Uma cry and gets away with it either.

 

 

JEFF

You know how it is - you think about something long enough and the moment passes when you should have acted. I didn't contact Paul. I thought about it a lot though, lying on my bed, imagining a romantic reconciliation where we fell into each other's arms; the baby was there and Sonia had somehow disappeared, stupid, naïve fantasies that just made me feel more angry. It was nine months later and here I was still just as raw as the day it happened. Was I ever going to feel any better?

Outside events then took over. The renovations on the new restaurant had started and Terry wanted them to be finished like yesterday so we were working day and night - and I was glad. It gave me something to throw myself into that left me worn out at night - and thus I could actually get some sleep. Then the really amazing news. Maximus just walked into the restaurant one day, in broad daylight. Not dead. Well, obviously not dead or he wouldn't have been able to walk in, but you know what I mean. I'm still not quite sure how that worked out as he hasn't really sat down and explained. I think I stopped expecting any of this to make sense a long time ago.

A big pow wow was called in the restaurant and everyone was supposed to be attending. I know it sounds crass of me but all I could think of was that Paul would be there and I would get a chance to talk to him at last. I almost forgot what the meeting was about because I got myself so worked up about maybe this time we would be able to see each other without throwing a metaphorical punch.

Everyone turned up - almost. It was awesome to see the solidarity and determination to protect us all that existed in that room. Talk about circling the wagons. We were like Maximus' bloody Felix legions.

"Paul's holding the fort. At the pub. And then there's the baby and Sonia to consider..." Uma began when she saw me searching the crowd. I was embarrassed that I had made it so obvious and as usual snapped back at her.

"Yeah, right. Give him a fuckin' long service medal..." I walked away before I could see the look in her eyes, mostly because I knew she could see right through me. I couldn't stand the disappointment that would be clear on her face.

For the rest of the meeting I stood at the back of the room sunk in my own personal pit, ashamed that amidst what we had all faced recently - some more than others - I could summon up so little enthusiasm. My life had fallen apart long ago.

 

He called me today. It was not a very promising conversation. It went something like this: "Jeff? It's me. I know I probably should have come round to tell you this but I just can't leave the pub what with having so little bar staff these days. I hate to talk on the phone over something as important as this but I've been looking for an opportunity to talk to you for days and..."

"Just spit it out, Paul, I'm on my way to work..." That was a lie. I was going in late that morning, still lying in bed, daydreaming.

"Right...well, the thing is...Sonia had a baby boy on Boxing Day. December 26th...We've called him Giuseppe....or rather Joey. That's what everyone calls him anyway..." He sounded embarrassed, hopeful, nervous, needy. So I shot him down just because I could.

"Took you two weeks to get round to telling the baby's father? Thanks a lot, mate.  Appreciate it. Actually, I already knew. Apparently news travels fast...so that' s that then, huh? Tell Sonia I'm glad everything went okay...I really am. Maybe you could send me a photie or something? I'd like to see the little fella...Look, I need to shoot through, mate. Gonna be late for work. Some other time, eh?"

 

I had to get off then or he would have known. I threw the phone across the room in temper. What's the matter with me? 

 

 

PAUL

Everything began to fall apart about the time that Ann brought little Bennett round, the night Maximus and the rest of the boys got hammered. To be frank, they'd actually already fallen apart long before that. To be perfectly honest nothing had really been right since the day Joey was born. I tried to turn a blind eye to Sonia's indifference to him, devouring all the 'Self Help for New Fathers' guides, trying to convince myself that this was just a matter of post-natal depression which would soon be put to rights. I suppose it was seeing Ann - let's face it, the unlikeliest maternal icon in the world - totally besotted with her son. I realized then that you don't have to be mother material to be a good mother. It's different with your own. The bond is there from the start.

It was just that Sonia had never bonded with Joey or even made any attempt to do so. She didn't actively dislike the poor little mite or anything and she was proud of him in her distant way, but she seemed at a loss quite what to do with him. She found the idea of breastfeeding gross, avoided changing nappies at all costs and seemed awkward and ill at ease when she held him. Sonia had this strange belief that Joey hated her and when he turned that slightly cross-eyed quizzical look of his in her direction (I'm convinced it's wind, to be honest), she thinks he is wishing he had a proper mum. One who could love him as he was supposed to be loved.

There had been a lot of tears, quite a few tantrums and Sonia had also taken to spending increasingly longer and longer periods out of the house during the day. She often apologized for dumping me in it, told me to hand the care of the baby over to our mum who was dying to get her hands on him, but beyond that she wouldn't take responsibility. If he cried and she was around, she would pick him and make some feeble attempt but it was only until I could do the honours - or one of the others. Angharad saw a lot of what was going on and didn't hold her formidable tongue on the subject: she and Sonia were at loggerheads all the time. You can imagine how those two spitfires could blow.

Astrid also observed a lot. She was more discreet, however, aware that it was not really her place to interfere. I talked to her now and again when I was down about what was going on - or rather not going on. She was pretty helpful, refusing to condemn Sonia out of hand. I think Astrid herself understood the plight that my sis had found herself in and put another case to me.

"She never wanted to be a mother. That was what you and your parents talked her into. Paul, she's tried but it's a myth that every baby is automatically loved by its mum. Joey, even if he is the cutest little boy in the world, reminds her of how Jeff hurt her. He reminds her of how she drove a wedge between you and your lover. Every time she looks at him she thinks of a whole bunch of negativity. It's a hard truth to accept when you see him lying there - but she would have gotten rid of him had she been alone. And for some women at certain times in their lives, that is the best decision, however unpalatable it might be now when he's lying there all snug and sweet and adorable..."

Astrid was right. We were expecting too much of a girl who was not ready to settle down and assume responsibility even for herself, never mind a child. Sonia was a free spirit, a bohemian, who longed to get away from this domestic grind and explore herself. Little Joey was like a heavy chain around her ankle binding her to all the things she had always wanted to escape.

That night, after Ralph had taken Ann home and the pub had emptied early when the men all took themselves off to more salacious delights than the Come On Inn was offering these days, Sonia slipped into my room late on. It's like baby heaven in there now, my previous uncluttered hip designer chic now festooned with the paraphernalia that seems to have a life of its own when a baby arrives. Joey was wakeful, his routine disturbed by all the new faces who had wanted to peer at him or give him a cuddle earlier. I suppose he had been over-stimulated.

I was walking around, singing something totally inappropriate softly into his ear. I don't have a repertoire of lullabies so I rely on cheesy ballads and anything that floats into my mind. That night it was that old disco classic, "Let's Hear It For The Boy!" I don't think he much minds what I sing. It's just the reassuring sound of my voice that is what he needs. Joey thinks I'm his dad - or whatever new born babies term the man they recognise as their own. I don't care what anyone says. In the absence of any other parent who seems to give a damn about him, I defend my right to call myself whatever I like. What is a father, anyway? A mother either? I doubt it has very much to do with an act of unprotected sex and the lottery of genetics. It's what happens nine months later that shapes a life.

"Paul?" I heard her voice and stopped singing, turning around and seeing her standing shyly at the door. "Can I come in?"

"Sure...want to give him a cuddle before he goes off?"

For once she nodded and came over to me, taking him rather more lovingly than I have ever seen her touch him before. He looked up at her, probably seeing just a blur but their eyes made contact. I felt a little lump in my throat. "He's a beautiful baby, isn't he?" she observed as she rocked him gently in her arms. "Paul, is there something wrong with me? I look at him and he just seems like a baby. Any baby. I was watching Ann tonight. She looks at Bennett like he's the whole world. Why am I so different from her? Am I a monster that I don't want to be Joey's mother?"

I put my arm round her and held them both close. "Not a monster. You're just a kid who got into trouble and never imagined she'd find herself here...Sonia...it's okay...you'll get used to having him in your life soon. We'll work it out together. You know I'm always here for you both..."

"...Here for us both?" She exclaimed. "Are you nuts? You've done more than just be here for us! You're the main carer of this child. I've done bugger all for him... Paul.... It's too much. You're a man alone and have a business to run...this can't go on...I can't think of anyone I would rather ask to raise my son but it's not fair of me to expect it of you. Give him to Mum and Dad...they know what you've done for him. They're really proud of you for trying...and you can visit any time..."

I winced. "He's not an untrained puppy who can be passed around willy nilly, Son! He's your baby...he's Jeff's baby...and he's the only part of Jeff I'll ever have now..." I filled up with tears and bit my lip to stop myself crying. I'm a man. I don't cry like a girl. Except that I do. But then, I'm not actually much of a man, am I?

She went very quiet then, stroking my forehead, giving me time to compose myself. "Paul...I'm leaving tomorrow. I know what they'll say. That I'm a selfish cow and that I take advantage of you...and they may very well be right about both...but I won't do him any good by staying. And maybe if I go, I'll discover that there is a place for him in my life. But I won't change my mind, Paulie. So don't try and persuade me to stay. Here's my advice for what it's worth. If I were you, I'd take him to Mitchell and see if you two can't patch things up. I won't be in the way anymore..."

"I tried. He told me to piss off..."

"...Then try again. You're unhappy and you love him. I'll bet he's feeling just the same. Don't give up on him, Paul. Jeff's a great bloke. Even I know that. And tell him if you do that I' m not accepting the half share in the pub he gave me. I've signed it back to him. Joey is his son. If he wants to put it in trust for him, it's up to him..."

I didn't know what to say. The truth was I wasn't even surprised. Somehow I knew that this was going to happen eventually. I think I always had done. That was my Sonia. She never hung around long. But she wasn't a gold digger. And she never lied to herself. "Where will you go?"

She shrugged. "I've got a few ideas. Had a few offers. I think I'd prefer not to say just yet. I'll mail you when I get wherever it is I finally decide I'm going...deal?" She smiled sadly, bent down and kissed little Joey, before handing him back. "He smells so sweet. I will miss him, Paul. Really I will. But not enough, you know?"

Personally, I think her decision was probably right and very brave. She knew society would blame her for checking out on her tiny baby but what does society know about these things? Look at the mess people make of their lives - and how they drag innocent children along with them. Maybe honesty was the best policy here. There are some people who should not be left in charge of impressionable minds. The trouble is, I was probably one of them - but what else did the little darling have left now?

I toyed that night with giving him over to my parents as being the sane and rational course of action. They would give him a traditional upbringing, plenty of love, and even more religion. But had they done such a great job with us for all that? Not really - and now they were older and shouldn't have to take on the hard task of raising a little child when it was their turn to enjoy a bit of freedom now their own children had grown up. And Joey was almost mine. He was Jeff and Sonia's - you couldn't get much closer than that to me.

And I loved him so much already. How could I walk away from him now?

Despite my exhaustion - or maybe because of it - I lay awake tossing and turning and forming a plan of action. But every time I came to the conclusion that I should take the bull by the horns and go and confront Jeff with Joey, the same problem rose up at me. He would just accuse me of using him. Sonia dumps me, so I suddenly decide he does have a place in my life after all. The last thing I wanted Jeff to think was that this was just about Joey. Jeff needed to believe I loved him for himself - oh God, how could I not! - but I know the state of mind he's in. I just couldn't approach him now like he was the last choice and this was just because I couldn't cope on my own.

So, the morning came and I dragged my carcass out of bed, looking worse than Maximus and Terry and the lot and never even having had a single bevy, and climbed back onto the treadmill of my life, still with nothing really resolved.

 

 

UMA

So the little bitch has run out on him, has she? Angharad was on the phone, totally doing her nut about that Sonia sodding little bloody bitch O'Gallagher and her disappearing act. I mean, what kind off woman walks out on her month old baby leaving her gay brother to pick up the pieces? It's a good job the bitch wasn't anywhere near me when it happened. I'd have slapped her silly spoiled face, the stupid little cow. How come some people seem to sail through life doing whatever they damn well please - and get away with it - while others are always on the receiving end of the shit?

I stormed around the apartment that evening, banging pots and pans as if one of them was concealing the missing runaway mum. Andy let me rant on for some time before he sat me down with a cup of tea and told me to close my mouth for a few minutes and give him a chance to say something.

"It's not your business, Uma. I know that sounds harsh but it simply isn't anything to do with us. I understand how close we all have to be as a family these days - but Uma...! Paul and Sonia aren't strictly speaking 'in the gang'. Paul might have a role no one suspected but Sonia is absolutely nothing to do with us all. She hasn't even made any attempt to get to know anyone, and even cut herself off completely from the rest of them. Let it rest, sweetheart. You'll just make yourself all uptight and it won't change anything..."

"How can a mother leave her baby?" I asked, incredulous still in the face of that simple fact.

"I don't know. But some can. We don't know her situation or what's in her mind so we shouldn't try to second guess her..."

"Why are you always so damn nice to everyone? Can't you ever just see the bad side of anything for once? I swear you would even make a case for Adolf Hitler..."

Andy grinned. "I would not. Do not exaggerate. Uma, I think it's really sad that she walked out. Sad for Sonia. Sad for Paul. Sad for Jeff. Sad for baby Joey most of all. But the fact remains..."

"...Why doesn't Paul get in touch with Jeff? Surely there's nothing stopping them getting back together now with the stupid cow out of the way..." I suggested hopefully.

Andy shrugged. "The trouble is it's been a long time. There have been other failed attempts at reconciliation on the way and they've made them both entrenched. Plus, Paul may be feeling like he doesn't want Jeff to get the wrong idea. Like he's just taking advantage of him now that he's been dumped right in it by Sonia..."

"That's stupid. He can't go it alone."

"Maybe, maybe not. Many women do when blokes walk out on them..."

"...Yeah, well that's different..."

"Is it?" Andy asked. "I'm not sure. Paul's bound to be feeling pretty fragile and Jeff has shut the door in his face so many times..."

"So we should leave it? Is that what you think? Just let them make this terrible mistake with their lives - and leave that sweet little baby without the two parents he should have...?"

"No. It is not what I think at all." He pulled me off my chair and onto his knee, holding me close to him. "I think you should go for it. If anyone can talk Jeff round it has to be you. Paul's hands are tied and he's already done all he can do. Get through Jeff's thick skull and make him go see them. I swear if Jeff Mitchell meets that little baby of his, he will be a changed man. I even think that's what he's waiting for. Someone to push him. Uma...this is where your talents lie. Talk to him and don't let him wriggle out of it this time..."

"He might start on me again..." I muttered, not looking forward to him turning on me like he did the previous times.

"You're tough enough to lob it back at him then. And anyway, I won't be far behind you. If he upsets you again, he can discuss it with my fist..."Andy muttered menacingly.

"You wouldn't...you're not a fighter..." I played with his messy hair, brushing it back off his face

"I might. I'm a man when all's said and done..."That made a little shiver run through me. Andy's not exactly a tough guy but he has moments when he is very macho. I think the fact that they are sparing has a better effect. It makes me go all weak at the knees knowing that there are some things in this world he would be prepared to fight for. Like me.

 

I took Jeff a cold beer down later. He was installing the laundry equipment in the utility room. It was terribly hot and stuffy down there, no air conditioner and in the middle of the annual January heat wave. The radio was blaring out; he didn't hear me come down the few steps.

Watching him work for a while, I ran through what I wanted to say. It was all a matter of hitting the right note. I coughed. He turned round and gave me a beaming smile. "That better be for me, lady...my throat's as dry as a dead dingo's donger..."

I raised my eyes and handed over the bottle, settling down on the floor cross-legged, sipping at my own.

"How's life?" he asked as he wiped the foam from his lips after taking a long draught.

"Okay...not bad at all these days. Andy and I have even had a night out this week. Caught a movie and a burger. Nothing special but..."

"I know. Sometimes they're the best nights, eh?" he smiled a little wistfully back. I nodded.

"Jeff...I've got something to tell you and I know you'll probably think I'm interfering but..."

He had the decency to look a little abashed, remembering the last time I had broached the subject of Paul. "Fire away...I'm not quite as hormonal today..."he grinned.

I took a drink. "Sonia's walked out on Paul."

"Took the baby?" he gasped.

I shook my head. "Left him behind. Which is almost worse really, when you come to think of it. Paul's struggling, Jeff. He's too proud to ask for help after what went down but...realistically, Jeff, what's to stop you two trying again now? Joey's your son and you and Paul always wanted to be parents. Genetically..."

"I know. Genetically, Joey's about as near to a child the two of us could produce. Why didn't he call me? You know I would have helped him if I'd known..."

I decided not to bullshit him. "Do we know that? I mean, you've been pretty shitty about stuff recently. I don't know why he hasn't asked. But it might be something to do with the fact that he has his pride too. He's also tired of rejection and at the moment the last thing he needs is psyching himself up for another approach and facing you slamming the door in his face again. He's really fragile, Jeff. Lower than he's admitting. He loves Joey to bits and wants to raise him but it's bloody hard work what with the business and everything..."

Jeff looked down at the ground, silent. I paused to give him a chance to speak but for a long time, he said nothing. I wasn't sure if it was because he was affected by what I had said or struggling to let me down gently. At last he looked up, straight at me. I remember noticing then that he looked older. There were a few wrinkles and lines that I hadn't remembered. I was surprised that it surprised me; we were all getting older. But somehow Jeff always seemed eternally young to me, the nice lad who just happened to be gay. "I know how hard it must have been. Paul's been standout throughout this. Sonia's bloody lucky to have a brother like him. I can't think of a single bloke who wouldn't have thrown her out on her ear for the way she's messed him about...Uma, when did I become such a bastard?"

I knew then that my job was done. Jeff's eyes filled with tears and I slipped onto my knees so I could hold him in my arms. He put his head on my shoulder and cried softly. I could feel the loosening of tension running through him; he had been sitting on this emotion for a very long time. I cuddled and soothed him, stroking his hair like he was a child, letting him get it all out. Finally the crying jag subsided and he choked out: "He kept coming back and I kept pushing him away. Why did I do that? All I wanted was to be back where we were before all this mess happened..."

"Guilt. He made you feel guilty. Even when he wasn't trying. You knew in your heart you'd wronged him badly and that it was he who was being the better person. It's not easy for any of us to accept blame. Well, I think we do inside but admitting it is the hard part. And I also think you were punishing yourself. Somewhere along the line you decided he could do better than you. Or maybe that you would never want to go through what had happened again...?"

He nodded sadly. "All those things. You know, all my life I just wanted to find somebody to love. Time after time I lost it all. My confidence took a knock back every time but somehow I eventually got back on the bus and started again. Paul came along and every dream I had came true. And you know what? I couldn't handle it. It was as if I was always looking for something bad to happen. I just couldn't believe that a man like him would ever stay with a bloke like me..."

"Andy and I. Look at the two of us. You ever in your life think we would make a couple? I nearly had kittens the first morning when I woke up with a hangover and realised I'd had sex with him the night before. I thought it was the worst mistake I had ever made in a long list of very unwise one night stands. He was devastated. But he hung in there and convinced me that he was right for me. But he suffered a lot of doubts too. Even now he has his moments when he thinks he's not good enough..."

Jeff smiled. "I know. What a pair of losers, eh, Andy and me? We've spent many a night bemoaning our mutual failings...I once told him he could dream on where you were concerned. I hurt his feelings then. But he proved us all wrong in the end and he got the girl of his dreams..."

"He sure did. And the girl wouldn't let him go now even if he wanted to..." I chuckled. "Jeffrey Mitchell...go get the boy of your dreams...You know something? Nobody ever won the lottery unless they bought a fucking ticket, mate...and there's a sure prize at the end of your rainbow. A little boy called Joey who looks like the both of you...and doesn't give a hoot if you're only Jeff the plumber. In fact, a little domestic would suit him just fine..."

There was nothing else that needed saying. Andy - my smart intuitive Andy - had known that Jeff had really only needed a tiny push. The rest he could do himself. Now all we needed to do was keep our fingers crossed, hold our breaths - and wait for the miracle to happen...

 

 

JEFF

It was early morning his time when I finally took the step across the portal and re-visited the pub that had once been my home - and my future - so long ago. I had waited until the last of the work crew left at the end of the day, endured the ribbing that came from me wearing a clean pair of jeans and a white shirt under my leather jacket, my hair tamed as best I could and a liberal dose of aftershave. Paul always used to say I was dangerous with cologne. Looks like I still haven't learnt how to use it sparingly.

The pub was quiet. I could hear the distant racket of a radio playing pop music, no doubt Angharad in the kitchen singing along as she always does while she's creating whatever the day's menu requires. For a moment or two I just stood there drinking in the atmosphere, remembering how it used to be. I must have spent half my life for a couple of years, sitting at that bar, nursing a pint, just hanging about while Paul did another night's work. This place was my world back then. Just listening to the others, chatting, catching up and knowing that Paul was near - and mine - and when the evening finally came to an end, we would climb those stairs...That's always where I can't proceed with my memories. It's just too painful to recall what it was like alone with him. I just have to blank that out.

It's not the sex. Okay, I miss it, sure I do. Paul was pretty far out between the sheets - and any bloody where else he got the notion to do it, too. To be frank, I might look like a bit of a nice guy, but I have a taste for the wild side as well. He took me places I'd never been before - as Maximus might have said but surely did not mean that way- but always wanted to go. And I do miss that. I'd never take those chances with anyone else these days, not like I did with Paul.

But it's not just the sex. I miss stupid things. Like how he always made cocoa for us in the winter before we went to bed. I used to say; "Cocoa? Who drinks cocoa? My grandma used to drink cocoa....!"

"Come on, your grandma was a raving dyke, mate...! Cocoa's a nice drink, anyway. It's not like you ever say no to a mug, is it? It helps me sleep...it's the warm milk, you see. And the chocolate releases dopamine..."

"Crap...so does sex and you get enough of that. And it sends you to sleep right after. Do you really need cocoa?"

"You want a mug or not?"

"Okay....if you're making..."

Then there was the doing stuff together. Going to the supermarket, choosing DVDs, watching sport sprawled out over each other, swearing and drinking beer, eating chips and just being guys - then being gay guys for an encore. Fellas, it beats mucking about naked in the bath after the game, believe me. You should all try it some time. I think you might be surprised - or at least you would be if you got to play with a guy like Paul.

My thoughts were beginning to drift. I shook away the ghosts of the past and took a step forward into the deserted bar only to find I was not quite as alone as I had thought at first glance. Over at the bar Paul was going through an inventory, ticking off items, humming to himself. Then I saw the pushchair that he was jerking with his foot as he worked through the order, wheeling it to and fro as if rocking the baby to sleep.

The unexpected sight of the evidence of my son, right there across the room from where I was, jolted me back to reality. I was a father. In that baby stroller was the little boy himself. From this moment on, he was real, no longer just an abstract notional child but a real live baby, an individual with his whole life in front of him.

A whole life that I wanted to be a part of it. That I needed to be a part of it. I had been kidding myself thinking otherwise. 

"Hey...how's it going, mate...?"

Paul's head shot up at the sound of my voice and for a second or two his eyes showed total disbelief. But he quickly regained his cool and smiled back. "Not bad... you come to see your boy then?"

"Is it okay? I mean, you did say..."

"It's fine. I'm delighted actually. Just got him off to sleep but come over and have a gander...he'll be awake soon enough, 'specially if he thinks he's missing something...."

I rubbed my palms self-consciously across my jeans, aware that was hardly hygienic, and advanced slowly over to the stroller. Joey, my son Joey, was lying on his back stretched out like a little king, dressed snugly in one of those fleecy blue all-in-one suits. It had a rabbit on the front. On his head he had a woollen cap that was too big for him. I looked - but didn't really see anything at first. My eyes were too misty and my brain had difficulties with comprehension.

But for all that, I knew he was mine. I'm not sure why. He looked like just about every other baby I had ever seen but yet I felt an immediate tug at my heart. How the hell did I have a hand in making something so perfect? I made an unwise foray into unprotected sex with a woman, buggered up my entire life, lost the man I loved - but all the while this little fella was growing inside his mum, oblivious to the consequences of his conception. Good for him. Tough little bugger. He was going to need to be, considering what life had already thrown at him.

"Who's he look like then?" I muttered. "Looks just like any other baby to me..."

Paul chuckled. "That's what I thought at first but when you're with them all the time you see stuff that reminds you of people you know. Family resemblance...He has this little pout he makes with his mouth that always reminds me of you.  His nose reminds me of Sonia. There there's his colouring..."

"How can you tell? He's bald..." I commented.

Paul stroked the downy fuss on his head. There was such delicacy in his touch on the tiny head. Joey wriggled slightly. He already knows the feel of the person he loves most in the world. "His hair's dark already. Most babies are fair. He'll stay dark, I should think...but his eyes are like yours. Very pale blue-grey. Open. Trusting...not like me and Son with our brown eyes...although that could change. Did you know all babies have blue eyes when they're born?"

I shook my head. I knew bugger all about babies and had studiously avoided reading up on them. Even looking at a picture of a baby in a magazine had caused me too much pain all these months. "What I know about babies could be put on the back of a postage stamp. They cry a lot. And shit even more. They drink milk..."

Paul laughed. "Essentially that's all you need to know for starters. The rest you soon pick up." 

I carried on looking at Joey. I don't think I would ever tire of looking at him. I never believed in love at first sight until that moment. I would never be the same again after this.

"Why didn't you tell me about Sonia?" I asked him directly. There was no use beating about the bush on this one.

Paul shrugged, stood up and opened up a bottle of Scotch, pouring two healthy measures and pushing one glass across the bar top for me. It was not yet midday but I doubt anyone would have quarrelled with this being the moment for something stronger.

"I dunno. Last time I saw you, you told me to piss off out of your life for good in no uncertain terms. It bloody hurt, Jeff. More than I'll ever tell anyone. But in the end, I decided that as I had no choice about you then I would have to simply give the little one all I had left to give. He's not your responsibility. We took that away from you when we drove you out..."

"That's not really an answer to my question. Things changed when Sonia left. You should have told me..." I argued.

Again Paul simply hunched his shoulders. He had a defeated look that hurt me to see on him. I felt that he was on his knees and long past even knowing how to hide the fact he was struggling. How could she have done this to him after all he had done for her?

"I was tired of having the door slammed in my face, Jeff. I tried to make amends to you. I tried to get you back. That's what everyone else told me I ought to do. But I messed it up, and anyway you had a new life and a new guy. You didn't need me anymore..."

"Doesn't stop you from needing help from the father of the baby when you got dumped..."

He drained the Scotch and filled his up again, grimacing at the bite of the liquor. "Truth?" He looked up at me and I nodded. "Truth is I knew you would help if I asked you to. But I don't want a sympathy fuck or whatever the paternal equivalent of that is. I want a partner. I want you to love me like you used to. I'd rather be alone than have to see you in any other way..."

"Did you have the right to make that decision about my son when deserted by his mother?"

Paul hung his head. "Probably not. But I did anyway. Self-preservation. And pride. I thought, why shouldn't I be able to do what thousands of women do, raise a child alone...?"

I put my hand out to stop him as he went to fill his glass again. "That's not the answer. You've got a baby to look after...Paul, you can raise him alone. It will be bloody hard work but there's no earthly reason why you can't do it just like any woman if you set your mind to it. But you don't have to do it the hard way. I'm here and I'm Joey's dad. Whatever I can do for you both, I will..."

Paul stood up and walked away, keeping his back to me for a while. I knew why. He was overcome emotionally. I wasn't far behind him. Words. I fucking hate them. They never say what we mean.

Through gritted teeth, his back still turned, he spat out. "Love us, Jeff. If you would only love us..."

That finished me off. I ran over to him, paused nervously, unsure exactly what I was supposed to do with my hands, then I simply put my arms round him, leaning on his back, my face buried in his hair. He rocked back and forth, and I knew he was crying. Nights without sleep, days working hard, worry, loneliness, the stress of the recent near tragedies, fear of failure...Paul had been wracked with it all for too long. He couldn't keep a lid on it anymore. He didn't have to. I was there.

"I do love you. I never stopped loving you. That's why I was so hurt. That's why I drove you away..." I stammered out.

"Funny fucking way of loving someone," he muttered, sniffing and trying to quiet the sob that was involuntary.

"I know. I've messed up at every step of the way..."

"You didn't mess up with Joey. You got it right first time with him..." Paul laughed softly. "He's bloody perfect. The most beautiful little boy that was ever born - bar none, even including me. And I was a beautiful bambino, if I say so myself..." Irrepressible Paul was already re-emerging. He has such spirit that it's impossible to keep him down for long. But even his spirit sometimes masks his feelings. It's just another way of hiding.

"Must take after Sonia then. Can't be me."

"You're a great looking bloke, Jeff. It's about time you got over those hang ups you've got. Even you must accept that if you look like Russell Crowe, you've got to be on the reasonably attractive side at least...My advice is you learn to dress. Crowe seems to have. Or maybe his wife just nags him and leaves his clothes out?"

"Then why don't you do that?" I said. Paul turned and we looked at each other, still in a loose embrace.

"I'm not you're wife..."

"Then be my husband...or whatever the PC word is..."

"Partner..." Paul said in a whisper.

"Too cold. I want something more passionate than partner..." I murmured as I ran my fingers down his cheek, brushing away a stray tear that had rolled down.

"Lover?" Paul tried tentatively.

I tilted up his face and leaned in, inhaling his scent, so familiar and yet so long since I had known it. "That'll do for now...but we've got to find something more permanent. Because this time, Paul, we have to get this right. Joey's life depends upon us acting like mature adults..."

"This time?" Paul repeated my words inanely as if he couldn't quite take it all in.

"I mean, we are going to try again, aren't we?"

"Try again? You mean for the baby's sake?" Paul pulled away slightly, frowning.

"No, I mean for our sakes. The fact that it will also be good for our son is a bonus. A very important bonus, of course. But Paul, parenthood begins with two people who love each other and want to make a family...Wasn't that what we talked about endlessly back then?"

He nodded. "We knew shit about anything back then though..."

"Yeah well, we fucking well know it all now, mate..." I retorted.

"Too right, mate, too right..." he added.

His unconscious use of Strine made me smile. I stroked back his unruly brown curls - thank God he grew out that shaved head look. He looked like a little thug with that, not my glorious dark-eyed boy. "We going to sit down and work a few things out, Paulie?" I kissed him then, soft and slow and felt the soft exhalation of his breath into my lips in something between a sigh and a sob.

He broke it off and put his hands on my face. "Talk? Maybe later. I want to do something else first...You think we could ask Angie to keep an eye on him...? Because I was thinking that... maybe..."

"...You were thinking of sex at a time like this?" I asked, astonished.

Paul pulled a face. "Why, weren't you?"

I burst out laughing. "Got a hard on that would cut glass already, mate. Surprised you didn't feel it..."

Note to women. Guys don't fuck about pretending to do the love talk first to make the sex seem permissible. We just have the sex and then when we're feeling all mushy afterwards we do the love bit. It works better because we don't talk first. Talking's where all the fucking problems start in the first place. Someone says something and the other partner misinterprets and so on....just fuck. It's so much simpler.

Mind you, a guy wouldn't misinterpret probably anyway. Unlike women, a bloke only hears the words said and hasn't a bloody clue about hidden meanings. You girls should all think about that sometimes.

But as it happened we didn't have sex. Joey took that moment to wake up, gave a roar of annoyance at being deserted in a pushchair that no longer rocked (boys love the up and down motion, this much I know already) - and that was end of erotic interlude number 1.

"What's wrong with him?" I gasped as I ran over to the chair. "Is he ill?"

Paul lifted him out easily and slung him over his shoulder, while he searched for the dummy. "He's hungry. Or thinks he is. As he has a limited choice of activity at the moment, he tends to be rather predictable. Here, hold him while I go make a bottle up..."

"Hold him?" I gasped but Paul had already dumped him in my arms. 

"Support his head. Jig him up and down. Talk to him. He likes singing..."

"Singing? I don't know any nursery rhymes..." I protested, following Paul into the kitchen helplessly. Joey was looking up at me curiously. But at least he had stopped crying.

"He doesn't happen to like nursery rhymes, fortunately. Possibly because he's never bloody well heard one. I think cheesy pop from the 80s is the best thing for babies. Drowns them out, shakes them about and even a month old baby can follow the lyrics..." Paul said as he began mixing the odd concoction of powder and water that was apparently milk for babies.

"80s pop? He'll grow up musically challenged..." I said.

Paul flashed me a look. "We can save George Michael for next year, Mozart...try 'Let's Hear It For The Boy'. It's his current favourite..."

"Let's Hear It For the Boy? I don't even know the words..."

"Yes you do. Everybody knows the words. They were genetically implanted when we were kids. Here, take this bottle and stick it in his gob while I go and find it on the jukebox...it will all come back to you...like a horrible bad taste nightmare...much like your clothes..."

I settled down and tried to offer the nipple thing to Joey but he just spat it out with his tongue. Angharad sauntered past in her nonchalant Welsh way, leant over and lifted up the end of the bottle, securing my hand around it, saying: "He can't suck air in, you moron...upend the bloody thing! Good to see you back by the way, Jeffrey. 'Bout time you two got it on again...Want me to babysit later while you get a bit of afternoon delight...? Let's face it...you wouldn't be long, either of you..."

She might be bad tempered but she's got a great heart, if a tongue that could cut glass. Just then Paul came strutting in with his imaginary microphone in hand, the song in question blaring in at us from the bar.  We sat in the kitchen, fed Joey and sang it at the tops of our voices, all three of us with the accompanied suckling and burps of the boy himself as a backing track...

 

 

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