Time to make up

On the building site, Dan was macho, but at home he had a secret side¼

Everyone has secrets, don' t they? Stuff they don' t tell anyone else. No one' s totally honest, and why on earth would you be? People are so flipping judgmental these days.

So I keep my secret to myself. Don' t tell a soul.

For now, anyway.

Coming down the boozer tonight, Dan?' Swifty asks me.

It' s been a tough week.

The new flats are a headache, if I' m honest with you.

I put the scaffolding up three times before the council was happy with it. And now the guy from the planning committee is turning up every day to snag our work.

Good job I' ve learnt to control my temper these days.

So a few pints would go down pretty well right now.

Nah,' I tell the boys. Not tonight. Defo next week, though.'

Used to love the pub, I did. Got in a few scraps though, I won' t lie. Even did a spell inside, back in the day.

But I' m different now. A changed man. And it' s that thought which starts me smiling¼

What are you grinning at?' Swifty calls out as I climb into my van.

I don' t reply. Just keep grinning as I slam the door and pull away.

Back at home in the bathroom, it' s not long before the transformation begins.

It' s magical in a way.

My face is more stubble than skin. I' m one of those blokes who just has too many hormones buzzing around. You could strike a match on my chin if you needed to. But in the mirror, I watch myself change.

Foundation first. Too much of it really, but that' s what it takes. Huge dollops of the stuff on my cheeks, then gradually smeared across every contour of my face.

There' s a couple of dark grey tattoos on my neck too. Nothing too extreme, just a pair of starlings flying up to

ear. These are tougher to cover, but eventually they' re gone. And I like that.

It was the old me when I had those done.

Next it' s my eyes. I was nervous about these at first. It takes a steady hand to apply mascara and eyeshadow, and an eyeful of either wouldn' t be much fun.

But a few minutes later, my eyelids are a deep emerald green, and my eyelashes look like they' ve doubled in length.

Finally, it' s time for my lipstick. A bright crimson gloss that reflects the cool fluorescent tube in the bathroom and turns it to fire.

I lean forward and pout, and as I do, I think to myself:

What would the blokes on the building site think if they could see me now?

I guess the thing is, we all have a story and not everyone knows that story.

Mine is a pretty simple one. Grew up with a dad who was never around and lost my way in my teens.

When I was 20 and met Cath, I nearly sorted myself out. But then she got pregnant and my bottle went.

How could I be a dad to anyone? What if I was as useless as my own dad?

That' s what I thought then. Until four years later, my dad got sick. He reappeared in my life and, although the end was mercifully quick, we had three months to realise what we had missed out on.

After that I found Cath again. And now I owe her everything. I don' t know how she could forgive me for walking, but she did. And I' ll do anything to make sure I never lose her, or my daughter, again.

Even the make-up.

Are you two all right up there?' Cath calls from downstairs.

Ella' s five now a fiveyear-old beautician.

She giggles when she calls back to her mum: We' re great. Dad looks fabulous!'

As I gaze at my reflection, I decide that even though

I' m going to tell the blokes on the site about Cath and Ella soon enough, I might leave it a while before mentioning the make-up.

Even though I' ve got to agree¼ I do look fabulous!

My eyelids are a deep emerald green and my eyelashes look like they've doubled in length