The Boy I Love

by Lynda Bellingham

  ‘Shush now. Come on, Eddie, all is not lost. We may be OK. Come on, be strong. We will fight this together. Please don’t cry, my love.’ Jeremy held his lover until finally Eddie fell asleep. Jeremy turned over and tried to fall asleep himself, but his mother’s face was right there in front of him; her warm, lovely smile reassuring him when he was frightened, or insecure as a child.

  ‘It is all right, Jeremy dear. You will be fine. Mummy loves you very much. You are a very good boy.’

  The boys found themselves a room in a B&B near Euston the next evening. It was not the most salubrious of areas, but this particular establishment was down a side street up near Camden Town in a shabby Georgian terraced house. The room was clean and the landlady a very jolly lady, born and bred locally.

  ‘Just make sure you have no visitors. All right, darlings?’ She wagged her finger at them. ‘There are plenty of “ladies” out there willing to oblige you with a bit of fun, but they do not belong in my house. Do you understand?’ She stood in front of them with her hands on her hips waiting for their response. It would have been funny if things had been different, thought Jeremy. He smiled at her and promised.

  ‘Oh absolutely. We have no intention of bringing anyone back. We just needed a place to sleep tonight before we get the train back to Crewe tomorrow morning.’

  They had arranged to go and visit Robert that evening. Neither of them could talk about it or what they were going to do or say. Jeremy had so many questions for Eddie, as he had had no idea that Robert and Eddie had once had an affair. Or was it just a one-night stand? How many others were there? But he could not bear to open that can of worms just yet. There was too much at stake. For now they were simply doing what Giles told them.

  They had been given the number of a new organization called the Terence Higgins Trust, which offered advice to anyone who needed it regarding the disease.

  ‘Let’s see Robert first and then we can ring them and ask questions,’ said Jeremy.

  ‘I hate hospitals,’ muttered Eddie as they made their way through Reception on the ward at St Thomas’. It was not a good place to be, Jeremy had to agree. The neon lighting was harsh against the dark windows and outside, a cold damp December evening was pressing up against the glass. The nurse showed them to a side room on a ward.

  At first, Jeremy thought the bed was empty as there was no sign of a body under the covers, but as he moved further into the room and round the corner of the end of the bed, he gasped, and pulled back. Robert’s head was just visible above the sheet but it was more like a skull. The skin was stretched so thinly across the cheekbones and the eyes were sunken, lost under the brow, like two black stones at the mouth of a cave.

  Jeremy had to use every ounce of strength to pull himself together.

  ‘Hi, Robert.’ He tried to smile. ‘We have come to say hello, and to wish you better. I am so sorry this has happened.’

  Robert opened his mouth and tried to speak but there was nothing. He then pushed the covers down and struggled to lift his arm.

  ‘What do you want?’ asked Jeremy. ‘Water? Hang on, I will get it for you.’ He went to the cabinet at the side of the bed and found a beaker with a spout. He leaned in to Robert and tried to place the spout in his mouth. He felt so clumsy and was terrified he would break Robert’s arm trying to sit him up, as it was as thin as a twig, and covered in sores. He could feel the revulsion in himself, then the fear that he would, somehow, be infected. He pulled back and said, ‘Shall I get the nurse? Sorry, I am being useless, aren’t I?’

  Robert shook his head, and a ghost of a smile brushed his lips. He looked past Jeremy to Eddie, who was transfixed. He could not move from the end of the bed.

  ‘Robert . . . I am so sorry. I . . . Sorry, I can’t cope with this, I . . .’ Eddie turned and fled from the room.

  Taking a deep breath, Jeremy took Robert’s hand in his and squeezed very gently.

  ‘Take care, lots of love.’ He could feel Robert trying to squeeze his hand back, but the tiny, bony sticks that were his fingers just lay inert. It was like touching a skeleton, and Jeremy had to grit his teeth to stop a scream pushing its way up from the pit of his stomach. This was his worst nightmare. He managed to extricate his hand and step back. Every fibre of his being was pulling him towards the door. He just wanted to follow Eddie and run. Run for his life, literally.

  ‘Goodbye, Robert,’ was all he could murmur, and he slowly moved backwards towards the door, keeping his eyes on the man in the bed until the very last moment, when he turned and staggered from the room. Eddie was nowhere to be seen so Jeremy went to the exit, hoping to find him on the way. He discovered Eddie outside, sitting on a wall, hugging himself for warmth.

  ‘I am so sorry, but I just couldn’t take it, J,’ he said hoarsely. ‘He was like a skeleton, there was nothing left of him. Oh my God, what a horrible way to die. It’s like he just disintegrated. Fuck this!’ He stood up and paced in circles.

  ‘Come on,’ said Jeremy. ‘Let’s get out of here. We need to eat.’

  They found a little trattoria and had a plate of pasta and a carafe of red wine.

  ‘So tell me about you and Robert. When did that happen? Before me or after me?’ Jeremy was determined to keep calm and objective, although his heart was pounding. What other secrets had Eddie been keeping from him?

  Eddie did not answer straight away but sat very still staring at Jeremy. Finally he said, ‘I love you, Jeremy, I really do. You are the first person I have ever felt really close to in my life. But I love sex. I love the excitement of pulling someone. That first kiss. I can’t help myself, and it is going to destroy everything for me in the end. Robert was just a fling. He was at the Queen’s one night with a whole load of faggots, and they were all such fun and there was lots of champagne flowing and we had an incredible night. It is what I love, Jeremy, and I have basically been doing it for the last three years. I am not proud of who I am or what I am becoming, and my love for you has made me realize it is not the way to live my life. So now I am going to reap the terrible rewards of my actions, aren’t I? I am probably going to die a horrible death like Robert.’ He took a sip of wine to stop himself from bursting into tears.

  Jeremy pushed his plate away. He felt sick. Sick and incredibly hurt and shaken. How could he have not seen what Eddie was like? He had had his suspicions when Eddie had first taken him to the Queen’s and everybody seemed to know him. But this was a whole different person talking now in front of him. The boy was in a different league. Jeremy had thought theirs was a romance. A love story. The two of them finding each other and building a life together. But how could that ever happen if Eddie needed these ‘diversions’? It was never going to happen now anyway, because they could both be infected with this deadly virus.

  ‘I cannot understand how you can say you love me and then go and have an orgy with other men. Sorry, Eddie, I am obviously not in your world. I am disgusted. I feel betrayed and demeaned and very foolish. How naïve am I? You must have had a laugh about good old Jeremy coming out of the closet.’

  ‘Stop it, J! Please, I love you. I know I am a mess but I can change. I want to change – that is the most important thing. If you are there for me, I can do anything. Please, Jeremy, don’t abandon me now,’ he implored.

  Jeremy could not deal with any of it; he was just lost. He called for the bill and they went back to the digs. Jeremy lay on top of his single bed and tried to put his thoughts in order. Eddie lay beside him on the other bed, waiting.

  ‘Look, I am sorry, Eddie, but I don’t know what to think at the moment,’ he said in the end. ‘Let’s just get through the next twenty-four hours and then we can see where all this is going. It’s a fucking nightmare at the moment, that’s for sure. Good night.’ Then he turned off the light and lay in the London night feeling as though he was hurtling down a ravine into nothing but blackness.

  Chapter 45

  Sally woke with a start and lay still, listening in the dark for a few seconds befor
e she dared move, or dared to remember last night. Had it really happened? Suddenly the bed shook as something heavy beside her moaned softly and then settled down once again. Sally turned over as slowly as she could so as not to disturb the covers, and came face to face with the sleeping Rupert. Her heart did a somersault and she had to stop herself from planting a kiss right there on his luscious lips.

  Then the panic set in. What must she look like? Last night’s make-up streaked the pillow and she could smell her own stale breath. This was not how she wanted Rupert to see her when he opened his eyes.

  She slid from the bed and tiptoed round the bedroom collecting her dirty washing, and then opened her chest of drawers very carefully and retrieved her one pretty nightdress. She slipped through the bedroom door, closing it silently behind her, and set up camp in the bathroom. It was still early so she had time to make herself look presentable before Rupert or Dora surfaced. She had a lovely scented bath, washed her hair and lavished half a pot of Dora’s body lotion over herself. She even put some mascara on as her eyes were looking decidedly piggy this morning. When she felt presentable, she went into the living room, tidied up a bit and washed up last night’s debris, by which time she was wide awake and starving. However, she didn’t want to start breakfast without Rupert. Yes, Rupert – right. She crept back into the bedroom to find him quietly snoring in blissful ignorance of the world around him. Sally climbed back into bed and moved as close as she dared so that when he did awake, she would be in grabbing distance. She lay there for ages and finally dozed off herself, to be suddenly awoken by a yelp as Rupert jumped out of bed.

  ‘Oh shit – what time is it?’ he said, looking round the room and trying to understand where he was. ‘Sally, are you awake? Listen, what time is it? I have to get the train to London this morning, and I have probably missed the only direct one there is!’ He was pulling his jeans on and searching for his socks and shoes. Sally scrambled from the bed feeling her world beginning to crumble.

  ‘But you never said anything last night. You never said you were leaving today. What about all your packing and everything?’ Sally stood in front of Rupert and took his arm to keep him still. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ Her eyes were bright with tears.

  Rupert stopped and looked at the girl in front of him in her crisp white nightie, and light dawned.

  ‘Sally, I am so sorry – it never occurred to me. I have been packing all week and I have got a mate at the Manchester Library Theatre who was driving down this weekend to take a load of my stuff for me, so now I just have a couple of cases. The thing is, I wasn’t expecting to be here – you know, this morning. So I need to get back to my flat and pick up my stuff, and leave the keys, et cetera.’ He looked again at Sally’s face and realized he had made a huge mistake. Completely misread the situation. He took Sally’s hand and led her to the bed, and they sat down on the edge.

  ‘Sweetheart, I had a fantastic time last night, it was a hoot. You are my best mate and I know we will be friends forever, but I hope you feel the same, and that you didn’t think there was anything else . . . well, anything stronger. I mean, last night was great but maybe we shouldn’t have confused the issue – you know . . .’

  Sally was hardly listening to him. There was just a loud buzzing in her head. Why didn’t he just go? She hated him, hated herself for being so stupid. God, she must look ridiculous sitting here in her fucking virginal white nightie! She wanted to scream and kick and punch him, and everyone! Just leave me alone, she wanted to shout, but she only managed to stammer, ‘Don’t be daft, of course I understand. It was great fun. Thanks. But you must go. I think you will be OK for the train if you hurry. Do you want to ring for a taxi? I can do it.’ Sally went and dialled for a cab and managed to pull herself together. She put the kettle on and filled mugs with coffee.

  Rupert joined her in the kitchen.

  ‘Five minutes for the cab. Here, have a sip of coffee while you’re waiting.’ Sally wandered into the lounge and plumped a few cushions and generally made sure there was a huge space between her and Rupert.

  ‘Sally, I do hope we will keep in touch. You’ve got my number, and hopefully you might consider understudying in the play? It would be great to have you in the company.’ Rupert waffled on until he was saved by the doorbell. ‘Ah, that will be the taxi. Well, goodbye for now, Sally, and thank you again for last night.’

  He advanced towards her and Sally felt herself go as stiff as a board. She practically pushed him away from her, saying as brightly as she could, ‘Yes, it has been a wonderful experience all round. Thanks, Rupert, and good luck.’ She turned to open the front door, and as he passed her Rupert leaned in and gave her a kiss on the lips.

  ‘Maybe another time, another place?’ And he was gone.

  Sally turned and ran to the toilet, where she threw up. She sat there on the bathroom lino for a long time, sobbing into the roll of toilet paper. If only I could throw up my heart and start again, she thought to herself. It can’t get much lower than this. How did I get it so wrong?

  Chapter 46

  ‘Good morning, everybody. It’s another Monday, and another opening of another show. I hope you are all well rested and ready to raise the roof with our Victorian Music Hall delights!’

  ‘Blimey, whatever she’s on, I want some,’ whispered Simon to Pete as they swigged their habitual post-weekend Lucozade.

  Sarah continued with obvious delight, revelling in her newfound role as director.

  ‘There is an air of the Butlin’s Redcoat about her though,’ commented Charmaine, none too kindly.

  ‘I have been asked by Giles to mention a couple of things this morning. Sadly, Robert will no longer be with us for the rest of the season due to ill-health. We will be sending him some flowers from the company, and Heather will be coming round with a card for you all to sign. We wish him well. Secondly, Giles will be commuting between London and Crewe a good deal, finalizing the plans for the production of Hamlet in the West End. He apologizes profusely, but what with the run-up to Christmas, and losing Robert as his assistant, he is very pressed for time. However, I will be stepping in wherever possible, so if you have any queries, please feel free to ask me. Finally, I have the casting for Wind in the Willows which I will pin on the noticeboard. So now, down to business. There will be a vocal warm-up with Tim, and then we will start the technical dress rehearsal and work through the numbers. Hopefully there will be time for a dress rehearsal tonight, then one tomorrow afternoon as is normal, and then – curtain up! Throughout the day Gwendoline will see you about your costumes, and anything you have offered from your own wardrobe should be given to her today. Thank you! I will be in the Royal Box if anyone wants me.’

  Sarah swept off the stage as though she had owned and run the theatre all her life. Sally watched her take her large briefcase and script up to the box, calling to Heather to bring her a coffee.

  Sally followed Heather to the props room. ‘Blimey, this is a bit of a turn-up, isn’t it?’ she asked Heather, who was trying to find a clean mug in the sink.

  ‘Bloody Lady Muck,’ grumbled Heather. ‘It has been a nightmare taking orders from her. She has got Giles wound round her little finger. Mind you, that was not difficult as he is in a terrible state. Have you seen him? I don’t know what the matter is, but something is up. He was in Manchester all weekend, only got back this morning, and now he is holed up in his office with Lord Graham. Anyway, Sarah has taken over and that’s that. Be interesting to see if she really does know what she’s doing. Tim says she is spot on with all the musical stuff, so let’s hope so. Now how are you, my little flower? You are looking a bit forlorn this morning.’

  Sally really did not want to tell anyone of her humiliation, so she explained away her abject misery as a bit of a cold.

  ‘Well, take care of yourself because we are going to need every hand on deck this week with all the comings and goings.’

  Sally then went to find Jeremy who had seemed very distracted at the company me
eting. He was in his dressing room, clearing up as usual after the others.

  ‘God, Jeremy, do you never stop tidying up?’ Sally embraced her friend.

  ‘It makes me feel better,’ he explained. ‘I need to have calm and structure in my surroundings, especially when my life is falling down round my ears.’ He crumpled suddenly and sat down with his head in his hands.

  ‘Whatever is the matter?’ asked Sally, alarmed, pulling up a chair beside him.

  Jeremy began to cry. He was taking in air in great gulps, trying but unable to stem the flood. Sally held him, and passed him a tissue from time to time, but there was nothing else to be done except let the man cry it all out. Finally, Jeremy sat back exhausted. Sally fetched him some water and he drank it gratefully. They rested for a few moments in silence until Jeremy seemed to make a decision and started to speak, his voice thin and shaky.

  ‘Sally, have you by any strange coincidence heard of HIV or AIDS?’

  ‘No, I don’t think so. What are they?’

  ‘Basically it is a disease a bit like cancer. It attacks the cells in the body and destroys its immune system. It is relatively new in this country and doctors don’t know much about it at this stage, but the trouble is, it is a killer. Once infected, a person will almost surely die.’ Jeremy bit back another surge of tears. ‘It seems to be transmitted sexually, but they don’t know for sure, so everyone is panicking and frightened to touch anyone or share anything. It is horrific, Sally. They think it is spread by gay men, but I have been talking to doctors in London and they are saying this is not true, and people must have all the facts before they accuse people of causing such havoc. But so far it seems to be only gay men who are dying, and . . .’ He started to weep again.