The push and the pull, the ebb and the flow. The feel of her in my head.
Oh, Daddy, you picked one with balls to be your awful wedded wife, who would have thought you had it in you? Look at her standing here in the wine cellar, and that man behind us as silent as a stiff, and me and her, and her and me, oh, imagine it Daddy, if only you could see the way she looks at me.
Mrs Jackman, I am not your husband.
Yes, you are.
Yes you are, she says and it’s me she’s talking to, Daddy, me. Calls me Tom, she does, but that’s your name. I’m not Tom, you’re not me. I’m starting to doubt whether she’s grasped the facts yet, Daddy, you know what I mean? Not that I’m not happy enough for her to just think that I’m ill, you’re ill, we’re ill, if that means we get to play doctors and nurses.
Want to play doctors and nurses, darlin’?
Oooh, but check out the way she looks at me. See the flash in those eyes, the tilt of those hips – not to mention those legs – oh my, Daddy, but who’d have dreamt you had such taste. Not me, and I’m in your head, ho-ho, and she calls me her husband.
Want to play happy families, darlin’?
Oh – but if you could see us now, Daddy.
If you could see us now…