by Paul Kelly
He hesitated and bit his lower lip as he looked up at the sky and a little bird flew down from the oak tree and settled at our feet. I wondered if he or she was as curious to hear the story as I was …
“O.K.” he said quietly, “But I’ll have some of that lemon juice now, if I may?”
I went into the kitchen and returned with the jug of squeezed lemons and a piece of gauze to strain off the seeds that lay on top. I poured him a glass and he screwed up his face as our little feathered visitor returned to her bough on the oak tree. I could see the tiny head move to and fro in what seemed an attempt to get the best position for what was to come.
“Oooh!, that’s sharp... but lovely, “ he said and smacked his lips.
“Well now... come on... how did you two meet?”
Jeremy studied his glass, turning it around in his hand, as if somewhere in that cloudy liquid lay the answer to all my questions.
“Do you really want to know? I mean, you may well be pretty disgusted with me, but I can only tell you the truth... if you still want to know. I’m fed up hiding things and telling one lie after another. My life has changed now and I don’t want to do that anymore regardless of what people think of me. I loved another man... that’s all... and I’m not ashamed.”
“Darling, I wouldn’t want you to be any other way.”
I really meant what I said to him then. I had never ever known Jeremy to tell me a deliberate lie and I didn’t expect or want him to do so now, when everything he was about to tell me was of such importance to him.
He licked his lips and looked again at the sky, squinting as though the memory was too painful
“I met him in a public toilet, off the Waterloo Road... I liked his cock... and it went on from there.”
Jeremy’s truth took the wind out of my sails. I had hardly expected to hear what he had just told me, but I had asked him to tell me and he had warned me....
“It started as a purely sexual thing, I guess... Well in the beginning anyway,” he went on, “We just liked what each other had... simple as that, but I began to want more. I didn’t want it to be just a casual thing... a one night stand... or even a quick rub off... now and again and Sebastian... well, Charlie felt the same.”
I could hear the frog plopping merrily again and some feathers fell from the oak tree on our heads, but I couldn’t take my eyes off Jeremy. His face was a picture of innocence and beauty... and I am well aware that you might not believe that, but it was... it truly was and that’s the only way to describe it.
“We arranged to spend a weekend,” he giggled again, “In Brighton of all places. Corny old me … It was at that time that I fell in love, for the first time in my life. I was just turned seventeen then and as you know, Charlie wasn’t much younger. I knew without a doubt that I loved him, but it was a strange, if wonderful experience. One that I don’t think many people would understand... It was more than just sex for us Frannie. We were both young and we realized that if it was only sex we wanted, we could get all that in a world, largely populated with Gays… young, old, not-so-old and the very old. The garden was ripe and the fruit was delicious. We took our time, talking through how we felt about each other and trying to understand why we were made as we were. But you know... the answer to that is an ever-increasing circle... that ends nowhere. Nobody can tell you what makes a person homosexual. It’s just something that is... It’s a fact... or a statement of nature, if you like. We argued how could this love, which we shared and which was so beautiful to us, be debased and ridiculed by society when it was bordering on the spiritual. I remember once, trying to imagine God was looking at me in those days, and I could never understand that He could not understand how I felt. I only know that I felt a love for this man, that I could never have felt for a woman.” He sipped his drink and inhaled deeply. “Sorry Frannie... “ he went on, “I know that’s not what you wanted to hear, but you did ask me for the truth... and that’s just how it was... and besides, I’m fed up imagining things were different. They weren’t... I love Sebastian, it’s as simple as that,” he said and I sat back speechless with tears in my eyes. In that one moment, I loved Jeremy in a way that I had never known before. I envied him. I wanted someone to say that about me. “I LOVE FRANNIE... IT’S AS SIMPLE AS THAT,” but nobody ever did.
We went for a walk on Sunday evening. The air was cool, with a light northerly wind blowing through the trees; making them whisper their secrets to the deep red and purple skies. I thought at one point, I felt a spot of rain on my arm, but we walked on, in the hopes that we would accomplish our intended hike and back, before the rains came down and as I have already said, the winds were light, but would probably allay any fears of soaking before we got home. In those moments, we were content to enjoy the beauty of the countryside, regardless of its mood... and each other’s company.
“I wish I’d told you years ago Frannie when I was dodging around thinking I was the only one in the whole wide world with the feelings I had. It’s very isolating, you know... this being different, “ he said and I squeezed his hand as we walked. “Do you think you would have reacted in the same way then, Frannie... had you known?”
The wind blew my hair across my face as he spoke and I pulled a headscarf from my pocket and tied it around my head like a bandanna.
“I don’t really know, Jeremy. I suppose I was very narrow-minded and prudish in those days,” I answered and I remember he laughed when I told him that I hadn’t known much at all about men’s ‘things’ before I took up nursing.
“You must have been a real right virgin and no mistake then,” he added, but he squeezed my hand in return.
“I saw and learned a lot with the Q.As. of course. After a while, bodies became common place; things to be cared for without actually ‘seeing’ them, if you know what I mean.”
He nodded and blinked in the wind.
“Was it very much of a shock to see men... Frannie, I mean... MEN... with no clothes on?” he asked and I blushed a little... I remember so well doing that, although I see no reason why I should have done.
“No... not really... “ I said, “We were trained with books and diagrams and plastic models, of course, then we were slowly and systematically introduced to the wards and by that time, we knew all there was to know, I guess.”
Jeremy laughed again and pushed his hair back from his forehead.
“Very clinical of you Madam... and did you lift their ‘things’ with sterilized forceps?”
I poked him in the ribs and told him not to be so rude, but he only giggled.
“Wouldn’t I have been in paradise?” he went on and giggled rudely again.
“I can see the fresh air is having a good effect on you, young Sir.”
“Weren’t there any females at all Frannie? Surely, there must have been.”
“Well of course... we had the occasional WREN or ATS girl, but not in Iraq. It was too hot out there for females, other than nurses and even they were kept to the minimum. It could be 120 in the shade, you know”
I pulled my coat collar around my neck as the wind started to blow harder.
“I think it’s going to rain Jeremy... I can feel a few spots on my face. Perhaps we should start walking back, eh?”
“Yes, I think you’re right Frannie. We don’t want to get soaked and I don’t know about you, but I didn’t bring much with me and I’m standing in all I’ve got.”
We quickened our step and arrived back at Rowan Trees about 9.35, as darkness was beginning to fall. The rain came down heavily just as we got inside the door and we could hear the kettle-drum patter on the roof about five minutes later, but by ten o’clock, when we were listening to the news on the radio, it had subsided. The smell of the rain drenched trees and the fresh scent of the evergreen and dripping privets reminded me very much that I was certainly not in Iraq. To me, these were pure delights, not to be found in
the blazing suns of the Orient. I was reminded too, that I was with Jeremy in Rowan Trees and. not with Darius... Jeremy dried his hair in a rough towel.
“I often wonder if I’ll ever be free of myself Frannie... I mean, really free...with a will of my own, to make my own decisions, without the pull of the flesh throwing me about all over the place, at will ...Sometimes, I hate myself Frannie... “ he said sadly as he bit his lip.
“Oh Jeremy... dear, dear Jeremy... is it as bad as that?” I asked, but he kept looking at me through the towel that he had wrapped around his head.
“Every bit, I’m afraid, dahling... and my healthy little erections don’t help. Maybe when I’m ninety-four I’ll have conquered it all.”
“Well, I don’t know about that my love... I’ve nursed some old men, with some funny old ‘things’ so don’t be too sure.”
We giggled together and he pulled the towel from his head and wrapped it around my shoulders, pulling me to himself.
“Oh Frannie... you are so wonderful. You make me feel so happy when I’m down. Maybe your own freedom will come soon too.”
He looked at me for a moment and then turned to stare out of the window. It was dark and gloomy outside and we were glad to be home and have the warm fire to cheer us.
“Perhaps sooner than you think, Dahling,” he said.
Chapter Twenty
There was a full list of operations waiting for me when I arrived back at the Theatre on Monday morning. We did try to keep particular days for specific surgery, but it was always difficult. Almost impossible, in fact, because of the number of emergency cases that came in. We called Monday, the ‘Belly’ day, as it was mostly abdominal operations on that day. Tuesday was the ‘bone yard’... the orthopaedics. Wednesday, simply what it was, E.N.T. (Ear, nose and throat,) Thursday was the ‘Babies’ where the time was given over mostly to children’s complaints and Friday, we tried to reserve for the O.A.Ps or Senior Citizens... but the daily list was never rigid ...we used the curriculum as a guide to prevent us going haywire, as you could very easily do in a large hospital. Various surgeons would arrive daily; specialists in their own field and would perform their crafts on the uninformed public and happily with great success for the most part.
I had had a particularly busy day with two hernias, a complicated gall bladder and a couple of abdominal investigations, followed by a multiple of other internal examinations that required general anaesthetic, so I was fairly whacked when I arrived home at the flat that evening, later than usual, around 8.45. I had a shower and got myself a quick meal of scrambled egg on toast with a few tinned mushrooms that I found in the fridge and was just about to sit back and relax, with Mantovani playing serenely on the record player, when there was a knock on the door. I wasn’t expecting anyone. Monty was away and would not be back until the following Thursday and besides, he had his own key... so I knew it couldn’t be him. I clutched my dressing gown close to me and sat very still, hoping that the caller might go away... and staring at the revolving disc, wishing it would stop of its own accord... Wishful thinking ! ! The damn thing went on... and on... and on, regardless of my plight. Mantovani was a very persistent musician. ...
The knock came again and then a voice called my name.
“Frannie, Frannie, are you there?”“
I was sure that Jeremy was at the Manse and it wasn’t his voice anyway, yet somehow, I felt I recognised it, as I moved slowly towards the door and looked through the peephole. It was impossible for me to get the door opened quickly enough and throw my arms around my dear friend, with, delight.
“Garry … oh Garry... How wonderful to see you again.”
I threw my arms around him and smothered him with kisses, forgetful in my joy, the respect and dignity that would normally be shown to a Catholic priest. He was like an angel in my eyes as he stood there before me in utter surprise and showing his crooked front tooth of happy, happy memory.
“Well, well... I should come to London more often if this is the kind of welcome I’m gonna get, baby yeah....”
“However did you find me? A lot has happened since we last saw each other.”
I wasn’t aware that I was only dressed in my housecoat after having had my shower. We looked at each other for a moment and then he waved his hand in the air, as I blushed and apologised.
“You look perfectly respectable to me Frannie... and just as beautiful,” he said and touched the tip of my nose with his finger, showing that twinkle in his eye that he always had when he was pleased.
“I phoned that number you gave me and spoke to Miss Shackleton, really thinking that you would probably have long since moved on from there and wondering if I should ever get in touch again, but I’m glad I did now. She was very nice and gave me your new address and telephone number. I think she was a little surprised when I told her that I was an old friend... and a Catholic priest. You see, I didn’t want her to think you would have any competition, if you had already gotten yourself a young man... did I?” I could see his eyes sparkle again as he spoke.
“Yes, yes … that’s my Aunt... well Jeremy’s aunt really, but I’ve always regarded her as my own...oh, never mind that...I’m so delighted to see you again, Garry. Come, sit down... let me take your coat. You must be hungry... let me fix you something to eat. Have a drink whilst I get you something, eh?” I nodded to the drinks cabinet, but he shook his head.
“Just tea would be nice Frannie... an’ a cookie, if you have one? By the way, thanks for all the Christmas cards. It was nice of you to remember.”
“Thanks for yours too Garry. I always think you Catholics have the edge on us, non- Catholics, as I know that’s what you call us, with your beautiful cards with such lovely Christmas sentiments and absolutely adorable pictures. I keep them all, you know,” I babbled in my excitement as I made my way into the kitchen to make some tea and he followed me. “Look Garry, I could rustle you up something to eat. You must be hungry. It won’t be the slightest trouble... please? We have plenty of everything, bacon, eggs... what about some spaghetti on toast?”
“Just tea will do nicely Frannie. I had dinner before I got here,” he said as he looked about the kitchen with admiring glances and I reached into the biscuit barrel and put some ginger snaps on a tea plate.
“Ah ! Cookies... yeah, I’d like a few of them, please.”
Garry popped his head out to look at the lounge as I was fumbling with the tea-pot.
“You have a very nice apartment here, Frannie and such excellent taste. So high up too, I thought I would need a resuscitation kit when I got to the top and then I discovered the elevator... silly me!”
I made the tea and returned to the lounge where he was already walking around admiring the decor and handling a few of the ornaments we had on the mantelpiece.
“It’s not my taste actually... it’s my husband’s. He had this flat before we were married,” I replied, feeling guilty talking about the place and even more so having to tell Garry that I was married but he turned around and his face lit up.
“Oh, congratulations Frannie. Did you marry the love of your life after all ...what was his name again?” he asked with an excited voice as his eyes widened and the teapot shook a little as I poured.
“No Garry... not him... not Darius. I never saw him again after I left Iraq for the last time... that was nearly seven years ago,” I said and I thought I could see a look of disappointment in his face as I passed him the cup.
“Sugar?... oh No, I forgot, you don’t take sugar, do you?” I grinned and he laughed, spooning five spoonfuls of sugar into his cup and stirring vigorously.
“I’ll die of nothing but sweetness, that’s for sure,” he said, “Do you think I may have diabetes, Nursie?”
I passed the biscuits to him without comment and he grinned.
“Yeah... Now, I’ve always been partial to cookies. Can I hav
e two please?
He sounded like a little boy waiting to be chastised, but I was happy for him and even happier for his company and if by any remote chance he might be thinking about the rationing, he could well think again... for Monty didn’t suffer in any way from that prohibition. Garry looked at me as he munched contentedly on his ‘cookie’, as if he wanted to say something but could not find the words. There was a silence in the room, which seemed to go on for ages, until I heard him snap a biscuit in two and dip it in his tea.
“You don’t mind, do you? ...I love them like this... the warmth of the tea seems to bring out the flavour.”
I shrugged my shoulders and smiled my total approval.
“You’re not very happy , are you, Sweetie?” He asked out of the blue... as he went on munching and I could feel my lips trembling and tried to bite my lip to stop my show of nervousness. I had hoped he wouldn’t have asked me that question, but it’s what I should have expected, I guess. Father Garry Gillespie had the unusual knack of hitting the nail right on the head and then standing back to see the results of his action. He broke another biscuit and some crumbs fell on his plate.
“Is any marriage one hundred per cent?” I asked, trying to appear casual as if his question was of no great importance to me and he dunked his cookie again.
“No, No, I suppose not,” he said very slowly as he crossed his legs, “but if it’s below sixty-five per cent... there’s usually something wrong....”
“More tea, Father?”
“Frannie ?”
I broke down when he said my name the way he did and tried to change the subject.
“Your in black now Garry... Civvy Street, yes?”
He nodded solemnly, still chewing.
“But that purple below your collar... oh God, you’re not a Bishop, are you?”
He nodded again and swallowed.
“Congratulations Garry... How long have you been... er... ‘made up’?” I couldn’t think of a better expression to use for the occasion and he laughed.
