by Chris Cheek
The terminus was near the last of the houses on the estate. Alan left the bus and set off up the hill. The sun was shining now but the wind was still chilly. He wandered aimlessly across the turf for a while, before coming across a path that seemed vaguely familiar.
He followed it to the summit of the ridge and was immediately captivated by the view northwards. He found a limestone outcrop on which to sit and took in the sight that lay before him. It was a beautiful late winter’s day; the bright blue sky was criss-crossed by aircraft vapour trails, whilst the sun was bright but quite low in the sky. It flooded the dale below with a subtle, pale golden light; its rays highlighted the bumps and ridges in the fields, and especially the drystone walls that divided them, bringing all the features into sharp relief. Way down in the valley, he caught sight of a little streak of white as one of the season’s earliest lambs tried to find its feet.
Alan drank in the view; he had forgotten how spectacular it was. Even in the industrial heartlands of the county it was not all dark satanic mills. Suddenly he had another memory, this time of his aunt bringing him up here not long after the death of his parents. It had been a warm summer’s day. This formidable woman, clad in a formal lavender coat that had once been fashionable, with a rather battered toque on her head, had held his hand and pointed out the names of all the distant hills.
“Whenever I wonder about the world and my place in it, Alan lad, I come up here. It refreshes me and reminds me of what a jolly good job God did when He made Yorkshire. Because of that, it renews my faith in Him and all His works, despite all the rotten stuff that happens in the world. Remember, lad, God has a purpose for all of us. If you ever lose sight of yours, come up here and look out over that view.”
All these years later, he had no idea what God’s purpose was for him, especially as he didn’t believe any of that stuff anyway. But his aunt had had faith, and he knew how much it had meant to her. Now she was gone. They’d argued a lot but he would miss her terribly. She’d been the rock in his life; now he felt rootless without her and very, very lonely.
For the first time since he’d felt the life drain from her, he wept for his aunt.
Chapter 9
David
With the morning came more worry, more mind-numbing internal debate. Mona was too busy with household chores to take too much notice of David before lunch, and made it clear that she would rather have him of the way. He decided to try another long walk in the hope that the physical activity would help him sort himself out.
He headed for the moor at the top of their street. Given that he had some time to himself, he could indulge in some “what if?” scenarios.
What if he did decide to come out? Go off to live in London? Suppose he could go and live with Alan? Yeah, sure: nice fantasy, but the fallout would be massive. For a start, what about Mona and the boys? That would mean leaving them and possibly never seeing the boys again. And how could he do that?
He’d have to tell everybody, too: his parents, sisters, work-mates, the bosses, the boys, Mona’s mum and dad... They’d all have to be faced, and told ... well, told something, at least.
Yes, he’d have to give some sort of explanation. What other job could he do? Where would he go? How would he maintain Mona and the boys financially? Above all, what could he say to Mona? How could he tell her that he preferred men?
Suddenly, he was almost overwhelmed by fear. It was all very well for Alan; he was used to it by now – being gay was fully a part of his life. Surely what David was now facing only happened to characters in books or TV soaps, not to real people. And certainly not to people like him. He was an ordinary bus driver with a family.
He simply did not know what to do.
It was the loneliness that frightened him most. Who could he tell? He had never experienced anything before that he couldn’t talk to somebody about. He thought of trying to get in touch with Alan, but Alan wouldn’t be bothered now, especially after being left in the lurch the previous night. Anyway, he was too far away, and wouldn’t understand what David was going through. After all, Alan had made his decision six years earlier, and without the additional problems of a wife and children.
David left the estate behind him and walked onto the hillside above the town. He was enjoying the sunshine; the view from up here was marvellous and usually he loved it, but this time he was oblivious to it, wrapped in his awful cocoon of fear and dread.
He rounded a bend in the path and saw another figure ahead of him, sitting on an outcrop and looking across the valley. It slowly dawned on him that it was Alan – that he wasn’t hundreds of miles away in London but here in Sedgethwaite, dealing with his aunt’s final illness. Of course he was.
David walked towards him but Alan did not move.
“Hey. You okay?” David asked.
Surprised by the voice, Alan looked up. His face was a picture of misery and distress. David immediately realised why. “Auntie Mary didn’t make it, then?”
Alan shook his head, still unable to speak.
“Oh, Al. I am sorry.”
At last Alan was able to get some words out, his voice rough with emotion. “Thanks, Davy. You know, I loved her so much and she looked after me for all those years. I never wanted for anything, and she loved me as if I were her own. I shall really miss her.”
David sat down on the rock and put his arm across his friend’s shoulders. He felt Alan relax into the embrace and let himself go, covering his face with his hands and sobbing quietly. David said nothing, simply held him; he was also remembering the formidable but kind woman who had welcomed him into her home so often over the years.
Eventually Alan calmed down, his emotion spent. He raised his head and looked David in the eye, still sniffling a little. Wiping his eyes with the back of his sleeve, he gave a small, weak smile. “Sorry about that. I know we Yorkshiremen aren’t supposed to cry.”
“I don’t know where that idea came from,” David responded, “but it always seemed bloody daft to me.”
“Exactly what I was thinking,” Alan said, blowing his nose and pulling himself together. “Anyway, what are you doing up here at this time of day?”
“I’m on late turn this week – don’t start till three. Mona’s cleaning, so I got out of the way. And I needed to think.”
“What about, Davy?”
“Us, you daft bugger,” he said with gruff affection. “The other night. What happened between us and what it means for the future.”
“But nothing did happen, Davy. Surely that’s the point.”
“I know, I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have run out on you. I hope I didn’t hurt you too much. I just panicked. Were you totally pissed off with me?”
“No, no. I understood,” Alan replied, shaking his head. “Anyway, it was my fault. I shouldn’t have let matters get that far.”
“Why ever not?”
“Because I’d told myself I mustn’t. All day after I met you in Leeds, I kept thinking about my last night here all those years ago ... and about us. What happened, I mean. And I wondered about you, how you’d felt – you know, afterwards.”
“Bloody terrified, I can tell you. And so lonely, once you’d gone.”
“Is that why you married Mona?”
“Aye. How did you guess?”
“It didn’t take much working out, lad. She and I were the only two friends you ever had.”
“True. I’d never thought of it like that.”
There was a pause, then Alan spoke again. “I’m sorry I didn’t come to your wedding, Davy. I just… I couldn’t, that’s all.”
“’S’okay. I understood.”
“Anyway, back to the other day. I decided that you’d made your choice by marrying Mona and it wouldn’t be fair to barge back into your life and spoil everything. In fact at one stage I decided not to turn up at the pub that night.”
“You’re kidding! You rotten bugger.”
“Shall I tell you why I changed my mind?”
�
�Aye.”
“I remembered your face that morning. You’d seemed so pleased to see me in Leeds. And later, in the café, you were so anxious to tell me how happy you were.”
“Is that what you meant the other night when you said you’d expected me to remember your last night here?”
“Spot on. I had a gut feeling that you hadn’t actually chosen Mona at all but run away from what happened that night and bumped into her on the way, so to speak.”
“Got it in one.”
“And now what?”
“God knows, Al. It’s all such a mess. I do know that we can’t put the clock back, and I mustn’t pretend the other night didn’t happen like I did before, six years ago. What I do know is that I want you. I want to do what we almost did the other night before I panicked.”
Alan turned to look at him, wide-eyed. “Gosh, Davy, that’s a lot of decisions for a little fella.”
“I know,” said David with a smile. “Quite good for a bear of little brain, isn’t it?” But his expression grew serious again. “But knowing that doesn’t help with sorting out the rest of my life. I don’t know where it leaves me and my job, or you, or Mona, or the boys.” He paused and gave a short bark of laughter. “You could say that, other than thinking about my dick and what I want to do with it, I haven’t made much progress.”
“Don’t be too hard on yourself, old lad,” Alan replied. “It’s bloody difficult stuff, all this. And don’t forget that doing nothing is still an option.”
“How do you mean?”
“I’ll be gone in a few days, after Auntie Mary’s funeral. You could try to forget it – us – and go back to being a good husband and father.”
David felt a cold stab of fear. “Is that what you want, then, Al?”
“No, it fucking well isn’t, David Edgeley,” Alan replied sharply. “I realised the other day how much I’ve missed you and I don’t want to go back to that. But I would, for you if that was what you decided you wanted. Say the word, Davy, and I’ll get out of your life for ever.”
“Christ, Al. No. You can’t! We’re only twenty-five, for fuck’s sake. I can’t spend the next forty or fifty years living a lie, hiding my real self – throwing away a chance of happiness because of a mistake I made six years ago.” He paused. “It’s just… I know what I want to do, but I don’t know how to do it. I’m frightened, Al. Fucking terrified.”
“I know, Davy, I know. I wish I lived nearer.”
“I might be able to see you a bit more often in London. We’re starting a new contract for an express service next month. It involves an overnight turn and I’ve applied for one of the jobs.”
“Davy, what fantastic news! I do hope you get it. You can come and stay – and I’ll show you the sights.” Alan waggled his eyebrows, before adding, “All of them.”
David raised his own eyebrows and smirked at his friend. “That would be great. Fingers crossed, eh?” He looked at his watch. “I must go in a minute. Mona’s making me some dinner before my late turn. Are you feeling better now?”
“Yes, thanks,” Alan replied with a broad smile. “You’ve given me a shoulder to cry on and some hope of us working things out. What more could I ask for?”
“What are you going to do now?”
“Go to the house, I suppose. I’ve got to face it some time. I need to find Auntie Mary’s Will and see if she left any instructions about her funeral.”
“You’ve not been then?”
Alan shook his head. “I couldn’t face it, and I still really don’t want to go. Too many memories.”
“Leave it for today and I’ll come with you tomorrow morning.”
“Davy, I can’t ask you to do that.”
“’Course you can. Don’t be daft. I’m on late again tomorrow, so I could meet you there. What do you say? Around nine-thirty? I’m sure Mona won’t mind.”
“Okay, done! Thanks, Davy. That would mean a lot to me. I’ll see you in the morning.”
David left Alan on the moor and went home, feeling considerably more cheerful than when he’d left that morning. Seeing Alan and comforting him had helped to clarify his own thinking. It confirmed his own feelings, and the fact that Alan wanted him in his life fitted another piece of the jigsaw into place.
The best plan, he decided, was to take it one step at a time. He’d see Alan again in the morning, and the decision on the London service would be next. He would steer his way forward from there.
Chapter 10
Alan
Bumping into David like that certainly improved Alan’s mood. He remained where he was, sitting on the rock, for a few minutes after his friend left to go home. If he wasn’t going to visit his aunt’s house this afternoon, he could afford to relax a little.
The prospect of seeing David again the following morning cheered him a little and took the edge off his nervousness about visiting Auntie Mary’s house. Having somebody else there would, he hoped, dull the pain, not only from the loss of his aunt and before that his parents, but also from the memories which the house held for him: the night of his first arrival as a very frightened nine-year-old, followed by his teenage years. These had on the whole been enormously happy, mainly because of David – he had such fond memories of their times there together, playing insane computer games, doing homework and watching TV. And then, finally, that last night, making gentle love to him as he had dreamed of doing for at least the three previous years.
He closed his eyes and yet another tear escaped the corner of his eye.
He stood up, shook his head as if to clear it, and set off back down the path. Time to be up and doing, he told himself, not sitting there wallowing in your own self-pity.
***
He spent the afternoon productively, visiting a couple of undertakers and making a choice, booking the funeral for a couple of weeks’ time. After that, he called in at the offices of the local newspaper and placed a notice about his aunt’s death in the current week’s edition, to be followed by a notice of the funeral a week later.
He returned to his hotel around four and spent the rest of the afternoon immersed in work, catching up with e-mails and making a start on a project for a client. He found the task both stimulating and diverting; it took his mind away from his loss and the unaccountably hard way in which it had hit him.
Driven from his laptop by hunger, Alan headed downstairs for dinner. He took a book with him for company but, almost inevitably, fell to reflecting upon his own situation.
The problem was that everybody left him: his parents in that blasted air crash; his grandmother a few months later, and now his aunt. Even his closest friend Tris had become more distant since he’d met Ian.
It had been Tristan’s generosity that had enabled Alan to buy a home and he was hugely grateful for that but, on the whole, he would have preferred things to have stayed the way they were. No, that wasn’t true; he could not begrudge Tris and Ian their happiness together, especially since he’d worked with Ian for several years and was so fond of both of them.
All of which brought him back to his Davy. In a way, even he had left him by declining to move to London six years ago and marrying Mona instead. Alan could get quite cross with him about that. The marriage had been an act of disguise rather than love, and Davy was now facing the consequences of his decision.
But Alan found it impossible to be cross with David, who was clearly anxious to do the right thing now and terrified by the possible consequences of his available courses of action. Indeed, Alan surprised himself about just how sentimental he felt about his friend. The feelings seemed to spring from nowhere after such a long time apart; they certainly did not fit his self-image. He had not been brought up to show his feelings, and his sudden outpouring of grief that morning had surprised and unnerved him.
On the other hand, being held by David whilst sitting on the moor, getting all his grief out, had felt exactly right, as right as their brief embrace in the hotel room. He remembered once again his disappointment at Dav
id’s abrupt departure after they’d been out for a drink; this morning had made up for that. It had given him hope that they might grow closer in the future.
Meanwhile, he could not blame David for the decisions he’d made six years ago: it had no doubt seemed the best thing at the time. He had clearly worked very hard to make his marriage a success and was devoted to his boys. Quite what that meant for the future of any relationship between David and him, Alan wasn’t sure.
The whole thing would probably get very difficult and possibly quite nasty, he supposed. All he could do was to be there to offer love and support. The question was whether that would be enough. He fervently hoped that it would be; having rediscovered his relationship with David, he was not sure that he could stand it if it didn’t work out. If somebody else walked away and left him…
He shuddered at the prospect, and forced himself to stop thinking such negative thoughts. He would see David again in the morning and for now that was enough.
Meanwhile, he needed to speak to Tris and bring him up to date about his aunt’s death. He wasn’t sure whether he would tell Tris about David yet. He had a feeling that Tris would not think that restarting a relationship with a married bus driver with two children was an inspired piece of decision-making.
***
Alan walked from his hotel to his aunt’s house and shivered as a bitter easterly wind swept off the moor. The previous day’s glimpse of spring had been replaced by a sharp reminder that winter was not yet over. As he neared his destination, he saw David getting off the bus. They greeted each other and headed for the house round the corner.
The street was an attractive one, tree-lined, sloping gently upwards away from the town centre. The road had been laid out in the late-Victorian era, though the house itself was Edwardian. It was a terraced property, typical of millions built across the country during the decade prior to the outbreak of the First World War in 1914.
