by Chris Cheek
“It’s Mozart’s twenty-first piano concerto, and we’re listening to the slow movement. And it’s K467, because that’s the number of the work in the catalogue a man called Kirchel compiled of Mozart’s complete works – hence the K.”
“Thanks! Now I’m beginning to understand.”
“Good. And now it’s time to take you to bed. You’ve got that big coach to drive home tomorrow. I don’t want you falling asleep at the wheel.”
David grinned salaciously, before adding, “And I’ve got something else to drive home tonight.”
***
The first northbound departure on David’s route was later on a Saturday morning, so he and Alan were able to have a lie-in before David had to report for duty. David took the opportunity to update Alan on his visit to his sister and her husband, and to pass on their greetings and invitations both to get in touch and to stay whenever he needed to.
Alan took this as a positive step forward: coming out to anybody was a big step, a boundary crossed. That David had done that as soon as he had, and without urging, showed how brave he really was, despite his gentle, rather diffident character. It helped, of course, that Jennifer and her husband had been so supportive and understanding.
He knew how hard it was for David to cope and was determined not to push him into one decision or another. He’d decided on his role of reassurance and support, and that was what he was going to deliver; he was determined not to turn into a whiney boyfriend, always demanding affection and pushing for more. If there was one thing he was certain of in this whole sorry mess, it was that whining would drive David away very quickly indeed.
Alan returned to the empty flat after dropping David at the coach park, and it felt desolate. He drifted for a while, feeling at a loose end, but eventually roused himself and did some domestic chores. His mind kept wandering, especially when he changed the bed linen and remembered holding David in his arms the previous night. He buried his face in the sheets as he removed them from the bed, inhaling their odours.
However, he was awoken from his reverie by the ping of his mobile with a text from Tris.
TRIS:>> Hey, I’m a grass widow for the day. Fancy lunch somewhere?
ALAN:>> What’s a grass widow?
TRIS:>> Ian cricketing, am on my own.
ALAN:>> Understood. Lunch sounds gr8.
TRIS:>> Pick you up in 20.
Twenty minutes later, Alan heard the throaty noise of Tris’s elegant sports car in the road outside and ran downstairs to meet his old friend. Tristan greeted him with a broad grin and a kiss. “Hello there, dear boy.”
“Hi. Where are we off to?”
“I thought Richmond, if that’s okay. Lunch and a wander in the park. Got some news for you.”
Alan laughed. “Judging by the big grin on your face, I’d say somebody might have been plighting their troth last night. Who proposed first?”
Tris laughed. “He did, damn him! Champagne and roses and a very romantic dinner. He did very well, the boy.”
“And you accepted him, I trust?”
“Of course! How could I not spend the rest of my life with him?”
Alan reached across the console of the car and patted Tris’s hand. “Quite right too. I’m delighted, Tris. Wonderful news. Congratulations.”
“And then the bugger pisses off to play cricket!” Tris said with mock indignation. He grinned. “Still, at least I get to have lunch with my second favourite man.”
Alan laughed. “How very kind. Why Richmond?”
“I don’t know. It seemed right. The river, the park, maybe look at the view from the top of the Hill.”
“Sounds grand. Perfect for lonely old me.”
“Lonely? I thought you and Davy were going great guns! Wasn’t last night the great Dinner Party?”
“Take no notice. It’s all fine, really. I miss him when he’s gone, that’s all.”
“I can understand that. It can’t be easy for you both.”
“It isn’t,” Alan responded with a sigh. “But enough of me. This isn’t a consolation day out for me, it’s a celebration for you! Are you going to have some form of ceremony?”
“If and when they change the law. We do want to have a party to celebrate though, but I want your Davy to be there. Do you know his schedule? Is he likely to be down on a Saturday night any time soon?”
“Two weeks’ time, actually. But won’t that be too soon?”
“Not at all, that would be fine. It was actually our favoured option. We want it to be fairly spontaneous, not like some bloody debutante ball, planned for months and all stuffy and formal. No, that’s good. Considered yourselves invited for that Saturday night.”
“Tris, that’s a lovely thought. Thanks. I do so want you to meet him.”
“Mmm. Me too.” said Tris. “Now where are we going to eat?”
“There used to be a nice Italian near the river. I wonder if it’s still there.”
“Sounds ideal. A big bowl of pasta. Just the job!”
***
The Italian was indeed still there and as good as they both remembered. The pasta was followed by affogato, Alan’s favourite desert, and he felt content as they sipped their espresso.
“You’re looking very sombre today, Alan,” Tris commented. “Did last night not go well?”
“No, no, the dinner was fine and Davy enjoyed himself. He was a bit stressed, though. He was late in because there was a problem on the M1.”
“Oh, no! Poor lad. What time did he arrive?”
“He got to the flat about a quarter to nine. He was a bit wound up about it.”
“I’m sure he was. And how did he cope with the gay company?”
“I thought he was doing okay, but he said afterwards that it was like listening to a foreign language.”
Tris laughed. “Don’t tell me – with those four you had ballet, opera and Mozart, probably in that order. Right?”
Alan let out a guffaw. “How on earth did you guess?”
“I know Gerry and Andrew – bought some stuff from them. That’s how I came to meet Simon and Peter.”
“Of course, I understand now. Anyway, you were spot on. Poor Davy was a bit like a spectator at Wimbledon, watching those four bat back and forth. His eyes got wider and wider as the evening wore on.”
“Poor dear! Did he mind?”
“I think it made him feel a complete ignoramus. I can understand it too, because it’s how I used to feel – especially dining with your parents.”
Tris laughed. “Yes, I remember those sessions. You looked a bit like a frightened rabbit sometimes. And yet they think the world of you, you know. Mummy always asks after you.”
Alan blushed slightly. “That’s nice to hear, thanks. I am very fond of them. Have you told them yet about last night?”
“Ian and I are going for lunch tomorrow for the big reveal. Why don’t you come? I’m sure they’d love to see you.”
“Actually, I very well might – a nice family occasion would cheer me up, I think.”
Alan settled the bill – he’d insisted on it being his treat as a celebration. Tris went off to phone his mother, so their conversation was suspended. Tris was relentless when he wanted information, though: it was inevitable that the subject of Alan’s state of mind and relationship with David would come up again. It did, as they stood on the top of King Henry’s Mount and admired the view through the trees towards Central London.
“I’d forgotten how lovely this place is,” Alan remarked.
“Not half bad,” Tristan agreed. “Shame it’s not clear enough to see St Paul’s. And it’s not as good as that pic you sent me from Sedgethwaite the other week.”
“Oh, you mean the one from Town Moor?”
Tris nodded. “It looked absolutely lovely up there.”
“Yes, I’d forgotten how spectacular that view was.”
“How did it feel? Going back after six years.”
“Very strange. That first afternoon and evening on my own
, I felt completely at sea. Not my world any more. That’s why I went to a hotel and not back to Auntie Mary’s house. I was on home ground in a modern four-star hotel. Stupid, wasn’t it?”
“No, I don’t think so. You coped the best way you could. It’s all we can ever do in those situations.”
“True. Anyway, I bumped into Davy the next morning and the world shifted.”
“Really? How come?”
“It was like finding a missing part.” Alan paused and laughed, half to himself. “You know, that moment when you were a kid and you found the last Lego brick and slotted it in place. The model was complete, and you stood back to admire it.”
“Yes, I know exactly, Alan. Because that’s how I feel with Ian.”
“I thought so. You could see it happening, even on that night when I first introduced you. It was uncanny.”
“And is that how you feel when you’re with David?”
“Yup. Scary, isn’t it?”
“What? The fact of it, or what might happen?”
“Not the fact of it. I’m fine about my sexuality, and he’s been a part of my life for so long. No, it’s what might happen.”
“What are you worried about?”
“Well, he’s coming to terms with being bi or even gay. He’s had a glimpse of a whole different lifestyle down here – which he says he wants – but he’s got to confront the fact of his wife and the two boys. And he’s facing that on his own, two hundred miles away from me. Why wouldn’t I be worried?”
“When you put it like that…”
“See what I mean? Plus it’s all so intense. He comes to me for no more than twelve hours once a week, we make love and chat a bit, I give him lots of cuddles, and off he goes again. We never get the chance to relax together, to be ourselves, wander like this in Richmond Park holding hands ... you know. There’s not much room for joy, Tris, and I’m terrified that it can’t last if there’s no joy.”
“Surely there’s joy in being with him, in making love?”
“Of course, and that’s all new and exciting for him … and me, come to that. But if we’re to build a life together, there has to be more to it. There has to be spontaneity and fun. Plus the fact that London life can seem very glamourous and exciting but, as you know, it can be absolute bloody hell too sometimes. What if he can’t cope with it?”
“The rest I get, but I think worrying whether he’d like living in London or not is going a bit far, old love. Don’t you? Be careful not to overthink it all.”
Alan laughed. “Yes, I suppose you’re right, Tris. But you can’t deny that it’s a bit scary – especially when there’s so much riding on it, for me at least.”
Tris’s expression changed to one of deep concern. “How do you mean?”
Their walk had taken them to the top of Sawyer’s Hill and Alan stared out at the view. The mist had cleared a little by now and he could see London’s ever-changing skyline clearly.
Eventually, he spoke. “Funnily enough, I was thinking about this in Sedgethwaite the other week: somehow losing my aunt crystallised the thought. Ever since my parents were killed in that bloody air crash, I’ve been cast adrift and people leave me all the time. Starting with Mum and Dad, followed by my gran a few months later, and now Auntie Mary. Even you, Tris, to an extent, when you met Ian. If Davy goes as well, I don’t honestly think I could cope.” His eyes filled once more and threatened to overflow.
Tris moved and took him into a hug. “Hey, that’s not going to happen, all right? Even if David can’t get away, he’ll still love you, I’m sure. And you’ll have us – Simon and Peter, and Ian and me – we’re your family now.”
There was some harrumphing from two or three people also admiring the view at the idea of two men hugging. Tris fixed them with a haughty glare but nevertheless let Alan go. “All right now?” he asked, his voice full of concern.
Alan nodded. He couldn’t trust himself to form a sentence yet but managed to say, “Thanks.”
“Good. Right. Now I think we deserve some tea and a big squishy cake – and I know just the place. Come on, race you to the car. Last one buys the tea.”
They made it to Tris’s favourite teashop in Kensington with minutes to spare before they closed and managed to capture the last two cakes. They hadn’t returned to the subject of David during the drive or over, tea but did so briefly just before they parted.
“Now, we’ll see you tomorrow – usual time, twelve-thirty. Do you want a lift?”
“No, thanks, Tris, I’ll be fine. I can either drive or pick up a cab.”
“And on the other thing – all I can say is be patient. I agree with you about the joy thing, and I’ll try to think up a way of doing that. And the only other thing is that if you need anything, you must call. That goes for both of us – even if it’s only a chat in the middle of the night, call for Christ’s sake. All right?”
Alan nodded. “Thanks, Tris. Thanks for a lovely day and, once again, congratulations.”
Tris beamed at him, before drawing him into another hug. “Thanks for my lovely lunch. See you tomorrow. And don’t worry. Everything’s going to turn out all right. I can feel it in my bones.”
Chapter 25
David
When Alan dropped him off at the coach park, David stepped out of the car and back into his own world. After the events of the previous evening, he was more conscious than ever of the gap between them.
The contrasts occupied his mind for much of the drive back to Yorkshire. He kept coming back to the dinner party and how he had felt that the others had been speaking another language. Surely he could never be a part of that rarefied world. And, in any case, did he actually want to be?
It had all been completely alien. He wasn’t sure that he really liked classical music much, not that he’d ever heard a great deal other than the stuff his mum played on the radio. But it always seemed to him that opera was all wailing and caterwauling. And ballet? Was that really for him, an ordinary bus driver from Yorkshire?
He shook his head. But he liked some of the tunes that Mum listened to, and he had certainly liked those piano concertos that Alan had played for him on Friday night. One bit had even made him cry a little. Most pop music didn’t do that to you.
He began to laugh at himself. None of that stuff was for the likes of him. It was for educated people, who’d been to a good school or university, not somebody who’d quit the education system as soon as he possibly could. He liked some of the tunes, but he didn’t understand what was going on. All that talk of codas and cadenzas. What the hell were they?
On the other hand, Alan had been in the same position a few years ago but his friend Tristan had cared enough to help. He’d widened Alan’s horizons and now Alan was offering to do the same for David. There was no doubt that Alan had changed and, on the whole, David thought it was for the better. He was calmer, more considered. Part of that came from maturing, he supposed. But Alan had seized whatever chances he’d been offered – and look at him now.
Was that what he wanted for himself? Or was he content with the way he was now? Well, he knew the answer to that question. Apart from anything else, he’d effectively given it to Jennifer and Mark the previous Thursday and received their blessing.
Now he had to tell Mona. But what could he say? How would he ever get the words out?
Any immediate attempt to talk to her was forestalled by the fact that she’d taken to the boys to see her mum and dad. When the opportunity arose later that evening David hesitated, telling himself that the time wasn’t right and he could wait a few more days. He knew he was being a coward; he was also conscious of Mark’s advice the previous week. But he told himself it was Saturday night and it was unfair to ruin their weekend. That was his justification.
Saturday night passed, and Sunday came and went too. David still couldn’t think what he would say. What made matters worse was that even if he came up with a form of words, they would probably stick in his throat and he would not be able to utt
er them. And there would be the questions and accusations that would inevitably follow. How would he cope with those?
Once the new week started, the days flew by and he still look the line of least resistance. True, he was thinking about it, virtually all the time, in fact, coming up with possible phrases and tossing them away, as if screwing his thoughts up and throwing them into a virtual waste bin. But actually saying anything? No, not yet. He had to find the right words, wait for the right moment.
The week rolled by. Saturday came, and it was time for his next overnight trip. It was the night of Tris and Ian’s party.
As with Simon and Peter’s dinner party a couple of weeks earlier, the timings allowed for David to get to Alan’s flat, have a quick shower and change before leaving for the party that was taking place across the river in Kensington. Just as on that Friday night, though, the vagaries of Britain’s motorway system intervened.
A serious accident on the M1 closed the road at one of the places where the diversionary route was at its narrowest and most congested.
Chapter 26
Alan
Alan was very keen that David should attend the party. He had already explained how important Tris was to his life and that Ian was also a very close colleague at work as well as a friend. He wanted David to meet them both.
It seemed to Alan that as many of his friends as possible should meet David and hopefully like him. He was concerned that David’s lack of confidence about a future life in London should not frighten him so much that he stayed in Yorkshire. If he met and liked people, especially gay people other than Alan himself, surely a move south would seem less scary.
The other aspect was an instinctive feeling that the pair of them would need lots of support in the not-too-distant future. Alan was sure that a crisis was bound to come at some point; it would help if they had people at their backs. He knew how much Tris in particular had helped to change his own life and was sure that he could help David too.
Alan had been catching up with some work on Saturday afternoon and was about to finish when he got David’s text message. He was delayed on the bloody motorway again, poor lad. Alan fired up his laptop again and called up his favourite traffic website. He immediately saw what the problem was: a multiple pile-up on the M1. The road would be closed for hours. Depending on where he was, David would either be sitting on the stretch of the road that was closed or edging his way southwards on a heavily congested diversion. Either way, there was no way that he would be on time for the party.
