Walking on Thin Ice: Chapter 29

It was hard to imagine walking onto the set without John there. Clearly the group would be suffering, and a small part of Mike wanted to believe he was just being selfish, or maybe so selfless that not even he would be benefitting from the man's absence. Any way he cut it, the idea was just hard to put up with. Since cutting down the last script, the boys had been under pressure to try to make a film. The show wasn't going to last much longer without John and the constant bickering he brought with him. Terry was going to have complete and utter dictatorship if someone didn't fill John's place. Nobody wanted to fill John's place because, as Eric had said when John hadn't showed up for the first rehearsal as they'd all been silently hoping he would, nobody could take Jonesy's beatings as well as John.

"Mike?" Gray asked, tilting his head at Mike as he stood, his hands in his pockets. He felt like he was crawling along while everyone moved at the speed of light and it wasn't right.

"Yeah?" He looked up and over his toes.

"C'mon, mate. Let's record this and get the hell home. Any day now and you'll be getting a phone call to go to the hospital with your wife; you won't even miss him you'll be so busy with it all." Gray grinned. "Or maybe you'll miss him even more. Or maybe I'm making all this up and you're just pissed he thinks he's better than us."

"He doesn't think he's better than us." Mike said softly, and before he could add the, "Does he?" waiting on the tip of his tongue, he repeated himself, and this time with heavy conviction.

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"Please."

"I'm telling you nobody wants to see a pregnant woman, not even if I say something humorous." She leaned back against the door again and Mike grabbed both her hands, yanking her away from the door as she leaned back again, wailing. "Nobody!"

"Come ON, Gemma!" He growled. "One line, all you say is one line!"

She howled like a wounded animal before they dragged her on the stage. Being on maternity leave, she didn't really like staying at home with pets all day, and opted to linger around the set while they filmed. She and Carol were really starting to get along, but Gemma never strayed on-stage or added to their humor. She didn't mind being asked for input, but this kind of input was unnecessary.

"One line!" Eric chorused and gave her shoulders a quick rub, as if copying the way the boxers' publicists would urge them to go out into the ring and knock the other boxer senseless. "C'mon, we all know you can do it!"

She stood, wiggling uncertainly, and then put on a very quick and cheesy smile as they turned the camera on. As she stood in the background, Mike nibbled his fingernails off camera and wiggled as well. Gemma appeared not to be paying much attention to what was going on until the men on stage started to make fat-lady references which were just mistakes. Comments such as beached whale and wide load were used mercilessly to describe some object that was not human, or pregnant, and Gemma sort of started tuning in until one of the men said the "beached whale" thing again. She stomped his foot and caught the other's ear, smiling sweetly at Eric.

"BEACHED WHALE?!" She shrieked, and as Terry turned off the camera, howls of mirth filled the hall. Gemma stomped her foot, her pleasant demeanor fading. She stuck her tongue out at Mike and sat down in an empty chair, folding her arms and legs unhappily.

Being on telly wasn't Gemma's favorite idea. She and Mike didn't usually tune into the show, but Mike wanted her to see the cinematic value of her "performance." Not wanting to pay attention, but unable to do anything but observe, Gemma watched herself, standing in overalls and a peasant top, stand in the "shop window," glancing at the goods inside. She watched her ears perk, and every ounce of her body language screamed she was offended. A small smile graced her face as she watched her sweet smile descend before the screaming rant that was all of two words. The effect was astounding.

"As you all know," Terry cleared his throat happily, straightening up a little more as Eric threw paperclips at him. "We credited Gemma on last week's show so that she would be given due appreciation for her performance."

Gemma rolled her eyes.

"Well, I have here sixteen fan letters addressed to a Mrs. Gemma Palin."

"No joke!" Gemma accepted the sixteen letters all bound by a rubber band. "Well, the dumbasses think I'm a regular, don't they? Of course--"

"No, they just wanted to say they're fans, or you're cute, or whatever it is when they write in." Eric shrugged. "Maybe they sent you some scripts they want us to use. We never do."

Gemma opened the first one. "This girl says she doesn't think I look like a beached whale and she's jealous I'm married to Mike."

From the corner of her eye she could see him turning red and he didn't even sputter to defend himself.

"And this one?" Eric pulled one from the middle. He opened it and cleared his throat dramatically.

"Dear Mrs. Palin,
My name is Harvey Richmond and I'd just like to say that my roommates and I think you're a valuable asset to this programme and we hope we'll be seeing more of you on telly soon. I know this letter sounds awfully rigid, especially since I should be a gushing fan-boy, but it is not I that has the crush on you. If you get a letter or ten from a Mr. Tim Watkins, be afraid, be very afraid.
Sincerely,
Harvey Richmond."

"Cor, sounds like I've got some middle-aged wackos on my ass already." Gemma laughed and opened another letter.

"This one's from the Beeb!" Eric exclaimed, looking quite unnerved. He noticed Gemma and Mike were already nose-deep in the fan-letter they had opened, and slit the envelope without pausing to wonder if she minded he was opening it at all.

"Dear Gemma,
As you know, we have been huge fans of this show since its conception. It does our hearts good to see the boys coping so well without John Cleese there, and it would do no harm to have you as a part-time staff member, assuming you are willing to take only a fraction of the normal money allotted and do not infringe on Miss Cleveland's role in the programme. With Mr. Cleese gone, we find you to be a veritable asset to the Python team and hope by the time a film is written you will be a larger part of their comedic circle.
Sincerely,
The Staff"

There was a pause all around, and then all six Pythons exploded into gales of laughter, Mike supporting Terry as he screamed with delight, Gray nearly falling over backwards in his chair as his mirth expanded, and Jonesy may or may not have shot hot coffee through his nose. When the last of the giggles died down, Gemma pressed her hands into her stomach.

"Sorry, boys. Can we put off this part-time staff member salary negotiations?" She paused as the faces filled with mirth again and regarded her carefully. "I think I'm going to be busy all night having a baby."

Mike wished he had a hearing aid to take out, adjust, and place back in his ear to ask her politely to repeat herself. No such luck. The puddle around the chair she was in, the look on her face, her uneven breathing. Five of the six boys all took a collective gasp and stepped back, eyeing her with horror.

Graham helped her to her feet with an encouraging smile. "There you go, girl! Right on time! Wasn't today the day they expected it?"

Pale, Gemma replied. "Yes, but--"

"But nothing! Let's get you in a car and drive you to the hozzy. They'll check you out and put you in a nice bed, pump you full of yummy drugs and put a baby in your sweet little arms. You just relax."

Her face seemed uncertain if he was talking down on her to reassure her she was going to be okay, or to prevent them from getting a hysterical first-time -pregnancy-woman on their hands. "Well..."

To her surprise, Graham kissed her cheek and lifted her from her chair, one arm looping underneath her hip carefully to hold her up. Her knees wobbly, she started to walk with him, feeling quite dazed but not quite dazed enough to mention it to anyone. For a moment she and Gray paused in the doorway, him checking her for signs of complications and her checking her stomach for signs an alien life form was about to eat a hole through her stomach.

As soon as they left the room, Eric cuffed Mike upside the head. "Git!"

Mike gave a start. "Wait! Wait for me!"

Terry stood beside Eric with his sketchpad firmly under his arm, sighing as Jonesy stood on the other side of him and watched Mike stumble as he burst into the hallway, shouting again for Gray and Gemma to wait for him.

"He'll be all right, boys. I think he'll be all right." Eric said with a nod.

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"But can't I go in now?" Mike asked, exasperated.

"You saw her born, you saw your wife was all right. They're both being bathed and redressed so you can go in and see how they're doing. No, you can't go in and see them right this instant." The nurse blew a grape-flavored bubble.

"Hey! You're that bloke from Monty Python, aren't you? The one that Georgie went to speak to about money?"

Mike was in no mood to greet fans. Male ones, at that. He turned his back on them to glare at the door his wife was behind and then felt a clap on his shoulder. He turned, freezing as his eyes met a long-haired, grinning Beatle.

"Hey, mate! What are you doing laid up in the hozzy?"

"My wife. Baby came." He muttered stupidly. Gemma would have a heart attack.

John, long hair, glasses, and Yoko-less, squinted his eyes and glowered. "Won't let you in to see her yet? Cor, I'm here because Paul's brother's wife is havin' a baby and they let ME in and I'm not even related to them!"

The elevator door burst open and two men came running. One ducked into the room where a woman's screams were echoing, the other ran right up to John, murder in his eyes. "You left the room! I told you--"

"She doesn't know me! What was I gonna do? Hold her hand and yell 'push' ?" John asked incredulously, staring at the livid Paul McCartney.

"Honestly, mate, you don't think of no one but yourself these days. Gone straight to yer head! Why did you even come back? I can't stand you anymore!"

Mike started to look at his shoes, sensing he was walking on forbidden territory, hearing their private row. As far as touring and making albums went, after the concert on the roof, the Beatles had been done for. John had moved to New York and was commuting for some purpose of moving his belongings and recording things. Getting a Visa, setting up a worker's permit and the like. Why they were still on speaking terms appeared to be for the sake of squeezing some life into some unfinished tracks before they were kicking a dead horse.

John didn't seem miffed. Moreover, he seemed amused. "Calm down, Paulie-Waulie Doodle! This here is that bloke Georgie spoke to at the BBC about money for Monty Python."

Paul's look of murder and dislike dissolved into a very wide smile. "Hi there! Paul McCartney, pleasure to meet you--"

"Michael Palin." Mike shook the man's hand, feeling if he could just roust Gemma, her Beatle-senses would go off and she would come to him rather than him having to go to her.

"Palin!" John and Paul exclaimed, looking at each other in a rare moment of mirth.

"Yes?" Mike started to frown, noticing the nurse was now hyperventilating behind her glass box enclosure.

"Your wife, she was the pregnant woman on the sketch about the whale, wasn't she?" Paul gibbered excitedly.

"Oy now!" John was starting to scowl.

"John thought she was just the prettiest thing! We finally had to tell him she wasn't wearin' a fat suit, she was really preggers, and he was horrified he thought the girl was pretty, and then George said he'd met her and she really was quite pretty, and John..." Paul dissolved into singsong giggles. "John went all to hell and Yoko was pissed as all get-go...oh, it did me heart good to see them row over a pregnant, married woman he'd only ever seen on telly."

"Like you didn't agree with me until George said she really was preggers!" John defended, his face turning pink.

Paul coughed and abruptly turned a faint pink himself. "Well, she's pretty and all, but I wasn't drooling like SOME people--"

"It isn't becoming of a woman to wear a fatsuit anyway." John grumbled.

"May I see my wife yet?" Mike asked the nurse, who was still speechless with awe.

Paul turned and flashed the woman a dazzling smile. "Luv? Whaddaya say? Can a couple of us lonesome lads go visit a dear friend?"

She nodded silently and stifled a scream as Paul winked and straightened, looping his arm into Mike's. "Come 'head then, mate. We'll see to yer Judy!"

John raced ahead. "She won't be a beached whale, mate! She's had her baby!"

Paul laughed and shook his head. "Pardon his manners, really. He means well, but he's gone all to hell and that woman of his has gone to his head. You should hear the shit he's writing now. I mean, really...you'd think he was trying to be a fairy tale book writer..."

Mike managed to separate from Paul and John and get to the door first, sliding inside. He was tempted to keep them out somehow, but not seeing a lock and lacking the courage to lock out the only people that had helped him get inside the room to begin with, he sulked as they let themselves in. He could hear her singing a Joni Mitchell song softly to the baby girl, and the baby squeaking and laughing as Gemma did so. Her wet hair was softly scented like cinnamon. Mike floated towards the smell and sat in the nearest chair, sighing softly.

"Hello, luv."

She turned and smiled, kissing his cheek as he leaned to observe their baby a little closer. "Glad you could make it, luv."

"I uh, had to bring some visitors. The nurses weren't too keen on lettin' me in, so these blokes were kind enough to help."

She turned to see just who would have been able to bypass hospital security. She froze upon noticing Paul McCartney and John Lennon standing frozen in the doorway, both grinning like fools, waving ecstatically as she took notice.

"Hullo there!" John bellowed. "Look at that, Macca! Almost looks normal, don't she?" He elbowed his friend in the side, wagging his eyebrows.

Paul coughed and elbowed John back, frowning for just a second before bursting out with, "You're a fab singer, luv! Do you like to sing, then?"

Gemma's throat appeared to have completely closed in on itself. Mike cleared his throat and played with his daughter's hands as he replied for her, "She loves to sing. She's a great guitar player as well. She used to play in the little clubs near London."

"I wonder if I've seen her before then. I used to sneak around the little clubs there to have a good look at the local talent. I never paid much attention to names, though. Just liked a little night out on the town without bein' bothered, y'know?" Paul sat opposite Mike and let out a little sigh. "Oh, and a new baby. They're just so tiny, aren't they? Precious things. May I?"

Gemma squeaked as Paul helped himself and lifted the tiny thing right off her lap and into his. He seemed to be an expert. Her little head didn't roll off, she didn't cross her eyes and scream. In fact, the instant she was settled on a warm body, she seemed happy. Paul made funny faces at her until she was positively screaming with delight.

John leaned on the foot of the bed. "You sing, but you don't talk. Overwhelmed."

"Might have wet myself. I'll find out later when the feeling in my legs has returned." She breathed.

Mike smiled, pleased with her wit.

John reached down and squeezed her leg, smiling when she recoiled with a ticklish squeak. "Seems to me you're a horrible liar. But you are a good singer. Do you like Joni Mitchell?"

"A bit. I have an LP."

"How about the Beatles? Those long-haired freaks. I'd be surprised if anyone listened to them at all anymore."

"Well, you know. If they were to walk in here right now I'd probably be surprised and more than a little overwhelmed, but I assume they'd be normal and crass like the rest of us."

"Crass?" Paul sniffed back a rather large amount of what sounded like phlegm and grinned at John. "Not us!" They chorused.

"So, your verdict?" Mike asked, indicating her visitors.

"I'm jealous you managed to snag some in-hospital entertainment for me when I've been to two concerts and wasn't even able to sneak backstage then." She settled back in her bed and watched as Paul lifted the baby and made a big-eyed surprised face.

"Cor, her dimples are big as craters...lookit 'em!"

"Didn't get that from 'er mum." John agreed and then looked at his watch. "Ah, Yoko's expecting me ten minutes ago. I have to go. But Paul, you might want her number. Show her to George and take the credit for finding a new and rising rock star?"

Paul's face darkened somewhat, but he grinned. "We found her, mate. Lennon-McCartney all the way."

"Damn right Lennon-McCartney." John said with a poorly hidden smile. He clapped Mike and Paul on the back at the same time and paced out.

Gemma, seeming not to notice John was gone but Paul was not, exhaled. "How does he do that?" She didn't wait for Mike's confusion to become verbal. "Making poetry out of stupid small-talk...that was a conversational orgasm!"

John dipped back in. "Oh, and congratulations, Mrs. Palin. You're much prettier without that big whale tummy." He winked and ducked back out.

"Gack!" She rubbed her hair down. "I look...I look--"

"Great, now stop your gawpin'!" Mike laughed and kissed her quickly. "You look great, really. And you were singing so pretty before I brought you an audience. She seemed to be enjoying it."

"Yes, well...babies love music."

"Boy do they." Paul handed her to Mike and began to dig through all sorts of cupboards and drawers until he unearthed a pen and pad of paper. "Can I have your digits, then? I'd like to bring you in to meet our producer. We've been starting some new people up on Apple and I'm sure he'd love to hear your stuff."

"Ah, well, I can't be in very soon. I've got her to take care of and all--"

"Of course." Paul grinned and reached into the bed, squeezing Gemma's hand quickly. "I just can't let this opportunity go. Even without backup and guitar you sounded heavenly. Imagine what a pro recording job would do to your gorgeous voice! And John and I found you! Cor, what a pisser...the two of us havin' to share those rights when we're already havin' a hard time sharing a room..."

Gemma's face showed the smallest signs of concern before Paul shot her another winning smile, pen poised and at the ready. Her face melted into a smile and she gave him her best stern voice as she gave her phone number and told him she needed some time to recuperate.

Paul stood, pocketing the paper and pen. As if on a second thought, he pulled the paper and pen back out. "Sign it."

She wrote her name and carefully observed as Paul stared at the handwriting. "John may have discovered you on telly and George may have met you first, but I got your first real autograph and I'm gettin' the first kiss, too." He dipped low, grabbed her hand, and laid a very gentlemanly kiss on it, his eyes locked on hers as she covered her mouth with her free hand. With a very confident wink, Paul strode from the room.

As the door closed she lifted the kissed hand to her face and stared. "His spit is on my hand. I have Paul-spit on my hand."

Mike kissed her face, hard. "Now my spit is all over your bloody face."

She crossed her eyes, looking at her nose. "I have Mike-spit on my nose."

Grinning, he knew she was just trying to make him feel better. Still, he was grateful they had given him what he had, even if John had been the first to get a smile from his wife and Paul had been the first to hold the baby. It seemed all women couldn't resist but lift skirts and smiles for them wherever they went.

"So, Melody, Harmony...what'd we name her?"

"Melody. Another girl? Harmony. A boy? Manfred." She sighed in a tired way. "And I still have Paul-spit and Mike-spit all over me. I need another bath."

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Could something so utterly normal be so utterly abnormal? Mike held the dirty diaper at arm's length, frowning uncontrollably as he did so, trying not to breathe through his nose or mouth, as if his ears had lungs of their own. He dropped the thing into the sink full of hot water and nearly threw up. What unholy mess this whole thing was making--

"Now look what you've done!" Gemma laughed and held up the freshly made up baby girl. "Splashed the yuck all down your front."

Mike stared at the clean baby, his clean wife, and then at his own shirt. The yuck from the sink had gone and splashed on him. With bared teeth, he stripped his shirt off and threw it into the sink with the rest of the mess. "I'm so done with this! I'm ready to do those horrible disposable things...it isn't worth the mess and the smell, it really isn't!"

Gemma pushed baby Melody into his arms and went to work in the sink, humming softly. Mike's whining died as soon as the precious girl laid her tired head against his shoulder. The break in the filming, the break in the writing, John missing, the Beatles all seeming to hit on his wife shortly after she'd given birth to their first child...the messy diaper and now this. Holding a baby in his arms and knowing she was his. Women could come and go, but babies were babies as long as they were babies. He clutched the child tighter, hoping to solicit a sigh from her tiny lungs. She squeaked as she yawned, and then laid her head back against his bare shoulder, lolling helplessly for a moment. He slipped warm fingers under her head to support her wobbly neck and clucked his tongue softly, watching as her dark eyes fluttered and then crossed, falling shut at last. Her mouth fell open and she slept.

"Not worth the poo and the sleepless nights!" Gemma exclaimed as she let out a held breath. "Look at you, Palin! About to get all soft on me over that baby!"

"Over the baby?" He cried back. "Have you noticed how cute she is? Have you?"

"I've only had her attached to my boob since she came home from the hospital." She gritted her teeth, turning her back on him before her smile could give her away. "Complaining about the smell and how she isn't worth it, then gettin' all soft on me..."

Mike gripped Melody tightly, knowing somehow she must be toying with him and not liking it at all. He kissed the top of the sleeping baby's head and stuck his tongue out at Gemma's back. "All right, she's worth the mess and the smell, all right? Just don't tell me this isn't the single most gorgeous baby girl on the planet!"

Gemma turned and flashed him a playful look. "She's got dimples and they aren't from my side of the family."

Mike grinned, unable to hide a flash of pride. "Angie always said I'd make a pretty girl."

Giggling, Gemma stripped off the rubber gloves, let the sink drain, and started up the load of laundry, dropping in the mostly soggy, gross cloth diapers. As the washer filled and frothed with soap and bleach, Mike watched his shirt swirl around with the rest of the mess. Gross and reusable. He sighed and patted his baby girl's back a moment before handing her back to Gemma. "Let's just pop into the Beeb and see if John didn't stop in like he said he would."

"What do you wanna bet Jonesy and Gilly are there already?" Gemma asked as she pulled a coat on and juggled Melody.

"I bet no money. Only my dignity."

"No fair." Grumbled Gemma. "I already got that."

At the building, Gemma walked inside with Mike just behind her, whistling jauntily. He expected to find John there, maybe Graham there just to catch up with John, but not this. Certainly not all this. Eric was playing his guitar, laughing as Jonesy and John traded insults to music, and Gilly was there scribbling away on a sketchpad, Gray, predictably, drinking as he giggled. He appeared to be the last one to join the party. He stepped in and grinned, accepting the cheers and shouts of approval. He turned and indicated Gemma, who held baby Melody up for them all to see.

"And a girl for the man with the girlish face!" Eric toasted with an empty bottle of beer.

Mike fluttered his eyelashes and grinned. "Don't you tease this face! It's landed me in a matrimony too sweet to give up for the lot of you!"

"Aye, aye!" John chorused with the others boisterously, laughing as they all clapped each other on the back and shared beer or six.

They'd all seen Gemma and Melody just two days after Melody was born, and then the show had been canceled (or so it had felt). Its death had been imminent, though that took no sting from the end of a great run. Now, having John back after their first film had gone over very well, felt like an omen. 1972 had opened with him leaving and with Gemma being pregnant, and now, the end of 1972, a mostly newborn baby and John back on the side of justice. What was next?

As if this particular itch had been filled with a venom so poisonous one could not help but succumb to its deadly coma, Mike felt himself nodding, committing, and larking about with the boys, and writing little bits of sketches. Within days, they had planned a film and Eric was preparing a polite inquiry for the needed budget. It was just a lark, honestly...but Mike knew that the poison was spreading. Before he knew it, he was standing in the Scottish country-side, no help from any ex-Beatles needed, wife at his side, baby standing on new legs at his knees, and somehow sensing the horror of it all.