Soul Music: Love Encountered - 6. Home Truths

“What d'you mean, you're pregnant? You stupid cow!”

The loud, irate male voice could be heard right across the floor of the concert hall, just as the first of the audience were returning towards the end of the interval.

Tony winced as he heard it. Boy, somebody wasn't happy. He couldn't stand men like that – they used insults, implicit threats, domineering behaviour, all to make themselves appear powerful. Instead, they were only bullies, really. Tony made his way back to his seat, glad to be able to get there without the likelihood of stepping on people's toes. As he settled down, Tony looked in the direction the voice had come from, searching for the likely candidate. A red-faced man in his late fifties looked a possibility. He was holding a phone to his ear, listening to something with a thunderous expression on his empurpled face.

The man was casually, but expensively dressed. Tony wondered who he was, what he did – normally, he enjoyed people watching, imagining some part of their lives. It was difficult to guess who the unfortunate woman was on the other end of the call. Daughter, perhaps? Partner? Or, bit on the side … Tony mentally shrugged. Whoever it was, she'd timed her call really badly. Not that her news was ever going to get a good reception, by the sounds of it.

“I haven't fucking got time for this now.”

Yep, it was definitely him. There was a brief silence – presumably the woman was explaining, pleading, wanting to be heard …

“End of conversation. We'll continue this later.”

OK … Without being too obvious, Tony tried to watch the man as he returned to his seat. He seemed completely unaware that pretty much everyone present in the auditorium had been listening to him, open-mouthed. Some people had no idea of what was appropriate behaviour in public … He tried to imagine the difficult conversation he'd had with Geoff before Christmas, taking place on the phone, like that, in public. He simply wouldn't have allowed it to happen.

“Ouch. That was uncalled for.”

The couple sitting in the seats next to him had returned. They'd evidently heard the rant as well.

The woman glared in the ranter's direction as she continued. “Wonder if he's the father? That poor kid's gonna have a really good home, if he is …”

She and her partner were continuing with their speculations, but Tony zoned them out. He had enough of his own to think about. Geoff, for starters. Tony opened his concert programme to the list of players. There was Geoff's name – timpanist. Tony looked at it with affectionate pride – it was a big deal for any amateur orchestra to be playing in the modern, purpose-built concert hall in their local city. Geoff had mentioned it the last few times they'd spoken. So far, it had gone well. They weren't professional players – that particular gloss wasn't quite there – but they were bloody good. When had he last been to a concert? Tony wasn't sure. But he was there tonight – that was what mattered.

Their talk, following his spectacular piece of idiocy, had been frank. Not confrontational; it had, in fact, been quite friendly. They both concentrated on making things clearer between them. They'd both aired their thoughts and feelings from that evening, how his actions had affected Geoff, and how disappointed and upset Geoff was. Insulted was one of words used. Abandoned was another. Tony re-lived parts of it, including his repeated apology, and flushed slightly. Why had he thought Geoff was … passive? That wasn't the right word, quite. More, often happy to be guided by someone else.

When it came to it, Geoff could state his case forcefully as well as the next man. Tony shook his head in self-recrimination – there, another feeling that was new. Lesson learnt, the hard way. Yet, Geoff wasn't like his previous boyfriends. That was where some of tensions came from – they had been more sporty, confident, and engaging. If he'd pulled the darts stunt when Stuart had been around, then Stu certainly would have followed him.

Geoff was different. Geoff stirred many more emotions inside him – not just the 'you look great', 'you're fun to be around' and 'I want to fuck you' kind. Rather, they were surprisingly gentle, more giving – a wish to protect him, make him feel more secure, bring love into his life … Which was what made his actions that evening in the pub even more stupid. Tony sighed. He was definitely on probation, and wasn't sure how to reclaim the ground he'd lost with Geoff. Unbelievable, really – he'd spent more time being unsure since he'd met Geoff, than he'd done for the rest of his life. Tony tried to think of it as enriching his life experiences.

They'd spent Christmas apart, as planned – though they'd talked to each other and communicated electronically every day. The chats were pleasant and friendly, but they weren't about him and Geoff, as a pair. Geoff came over as reverting to his previous reserved self. That invisible barrier had returned. Their talks seemed to consist of the 'what's the weather', 'things that happened' kind of chat which saddened Tony, as much they occasionally entertained him. That ability of Geoff's to tell a story against himself was priceless. Tony grinned, but only briefly. Any time he'd tried to steer the conversation towards what they'd like to do together in the New Year, Geoff had made vague noises, and returned to other subjects.

What with the usual struggles to get back into routines after the New Year celebrations, this was the first time they'd been together – kind of – since before Christmas. Tony rubbed the side of his nose. He hoped to see Geoff after the concert. They needed to talk again, properly. Being kept at arm's length was what he deserved, perhaps, for a time. But he had so many more hopes for their relationship. Geoff was someone he could love, he was certain of it now. He'd never before had a boyfriend who could share in his artistic side – playing music with Geoff was a delight, a real pleasure. It gave him a buzz in all sorts of ways. Much as he enjoyed visiting his friends at Christmas, he couldn't stop thinking of Geoff, and how his own celebrations were going. He dearly wished that they would be together for next time.

Ladies and gentlemen, tonight's concert will resume in two minutes. Two minutes.

Pulling himself together, Tony looked at his long-forgotten programme. What was the second half?

“Where d'you want these putting, Geoff?”

Geoff turned awkwardly in the cramped trailer until he was able to see what it was that Helen was holding.

“Err … those aren't mine. They're Phil's, aren't they? … In fact, where is he? He should be helping.”

Helen carefully placed the instrument cases in a separate heap, away from the rest of the kit which was being loaded. Coming back to the trailer, she shrugged.

“Last seen heading in the direction of the bar with half the brass section.”

Geoff scowled. “The lazy git. He didn't help much at the start either.”

Helen looked at him. Something wasn't right with Geoff – hadn't been all day. It was the percussionist's lot to be first in, last out at virtually any concert. Sometimes, she wished she played the flute, or violin, but it wouldn't be half as much fun. Geoff was now rearranging stuff in the trailer, muttering all the while. Helen sighed. Whatever it was, it hadn't stopped Geoff from doing his customary excellent job. Although he hadn't appeared to enjoy any of it.

They hauled the remaining timpani into the trailer, and slotted some of the smaller stuff in-between. Then, it was a question of getting the last few things into Geoff's estate car. That was another thing about being a percussionist – many of the instruments were large and heavy, even when disassembled. Geoff was crawling around in the back of the car when he banged his head on something.

“Bloody hell!” Geoff manoeuvred himself back out, then sat on the ledge of the boot space, rubbing the back of his skull.

Helen looked up from tightening the straps on a cymbal case. The illumination coming from the concert hall's loading area was adequate, but nothing else.

“You OK?”

Then she noticed Geoff's eyes glistening. There was an audible sniff.

“Oh, Geoff, love. What's the matter?”

Helen joined her friend on the ledge of the car, and put an arm around his waist.

“Come on … You can tell me.”

Silence, punctuated by the occasional sniff.

“It's not … err … Tony, is it?” Typical. Her memory for names was notoriously bad. “You two were getting on so well …” Though come to think of it, she hadn't heard anything further since before the New Year. “Whatever it is, you'll feel better for telling someone. Like me, for instance? I'm available.”

That produced a brief, watery smile. Geoff eased her arm away to allow him to scrabble around in his pockets. Looking for a hanky, probably. One having been found, Helen gave him another quick squeeze.

“We can't be too long, though – security'll be round to lock up soon. OK? … I'm all ears.”

Geoff gave one final sniff, then cleared his throat. “I don't know what to do. Tony and I had a … problem just before Christmas …”

“Ah.”

“I've forgiven him, I genuinely have, but I don't know how to get back to where we were. How to let him come close again.”

“OK … What kind of problem was it?”

“Ehm …”

“Geoff, you don't have to go into details, if you don't want to. But I'm gonna need something to go on.”

Geoff stared down at his shiny concert shoes. He took a moment.

“I … He … Tony made a crass snap decision one evening when we were out somewhere together. What then happened upset me a great deal, and made me feel ignored. As if I wasn't worth spending time with.”

“OK … So, you talked to Tony about it. And you must've accepted his apology, explanation, or whatever. Sorry, Geoff, I don't get it. If you've forgiven Tony, and told him so, what's the problem?”

Helen gave Geoff another gentle squeeze of encouragement.

“Come on. What's at the bottom of all this? I've never seen you so upset.”

Another watery smile. “This is nothing compared to …” Geoff sighed.

He started to get up, as if to continue with the packing.

“Oh no, you don't.” Helen pulled him back down again. “One last effort, then I'll shut up, and let you get home.”

Geoff looked at her. And then away again.

“You're a good friend, Helen.”

“Yeah? I thought I was being a pain in the arse.”

That produced a chuckle. Then another sigh. Geoff ran his fingers through his hair.

“I'm … disappointed in Tony, I suppose. It's partly my fault – I thought he was as good as they came …”

“Geoff! For god's sake. No wonder. You place him on a pedestal – and see, this is what happens. Tony may well be a good man, but he's not perfect. It's not fair that you expect that of someone.”

Geoff's gaze became even more fixed on the ground in front of him.

“How d'you think Tony feels?” Helen tried to look at Geoff, but his head was down.

“I know … There's another thing. It's just … I don't want to be hurt like that again.”

“Then give the poor man a chance. Hnh? Otherwise, you'll be hurt far worse when he gives up on you, and turns his attentions elsewhere. … Look up, Geoff. Please?”

Geoff reluctantly sat more upright, but still wouldn't meet Helen's eye.

“Is that what you want?”

Geoff silently shook his head.

“Well, let him back in, then. It's quite simple. There has to be give on both sides, you know. Don't cut off your nose to spite your face.”

“What?”

“You know what I mean. Geoff, I have past experience of you and your defences. If you still want Tony as your boyfriend, you're gonna have to make it clear to him. What's he meant to think, if you're for ever keeping him at a distance?”

Helen smiled at Geoff, trying not to let too much of her exasperation show through. Men … From what Geoff had said, and how he'd changed in such a short time, they were made for each other. He'd been much more at ease with himself, and happy.

“Anyway … end of lecture. It's up to you, now.”

Geoff nodded slowly. Helen's brisk but affectionate approach had been the one he needed. Relationships were so new to him. Had Tony been in the audience? He hadn't bothered looking, he'd been so pissed off. It had been a real job concentrating.

Helen eased herself off the ledge. “Owh …” She rubbed the back of her thighs. “Right. I'm just going for a quick stroll to get some circulation back in my legs. Only be a couple of minutes.”

She hobbled off for a short way, in the direction of the main concourse in front of the concert hall. As she came up to the stagedoor area, there was a man waiting around. Oh well, she'd better be helpful. He wasn't obviously a spouse or friend of anyone she knew in the orchestra.

“Hi, there. You waiting for someone? Most people from the orchestra have already left.”

As Helen got closer, Geoff's description of Tony suddenly came to mind. It'd been very general – 'fit and outdoorsy' – but it did match with the man in front of her. Oh …

“Yeah … Actually, I'm waiting for Geoff, Geoff Lumsden. I'm a friend of his, but he doesn't know I was in the audience this evening.”

Bingo! Inside, Helen was grinning. Well, talk of the devil …

“We're just about finishing up loading the kit. I'm Helen, by the way. Another mad percussionist.”

That produced a smile from the man. Tony, presumably.

“Why don't you come with me. We're only over there.”

She pointed back to the loading bay.

“Maybe you'd like to give us a hand with the last few things?” The last was said with a raised eyebrow and an infectious chuckle.

Tony cocked his head, and smiled. “Yeah, why not.” He liked Helen already.

Tony was relieved. He'd been standing around like an idiot, not even seeing anyone to ask. His current nervous mood was getting to him. Thank god, he'd be able to talk to Geoff, although he hoped Helen would make herself scarce by going home.

Geoff was doing the final check of the loading bay and the space outside – he'd lost too many things over the years by not being careful enough. Satisfied there was nothing of his lurking in a dark corner, he was making his way back to the trailer when he saw Helen returning. There was somebody else with her. … It was Tony.

Shit. Was he ready for this? Well, ready or not, now was the time. He waited to speak until they got much closer, but Helen beat him to it.

“Geoff! See who's here.” She was grinning ear to ear. “I'm sure you two can deal with the trailer without me hanging around. There's a cup of cocoa with my name on it waiting at home.”

Then she disappeared off without waiting for any reply.

The two men stood a little way apart, looking at each other. The hesitation lasted for several seconds, before Tony held his arms out in mute invitation. Almost an entreaty. Geoff took a couple of uncertain steps forward. Then, his whole demeanour changed, as if he'd suddenly come to a decision. His head went up, and he strode towards Tony and his waiting embrace.

Tony felt his anxiety melt away as his arms encircled the mass of Geoff's body. There was nothing sexual in his feelings, this time – only relief. Relief that they were back together again. And that was what mattered. They would still need to talk, to take stock … But still. Geoff took rather longer to relax, his body and arms stiff with repressed tensions and emotion. Tony did what he could to help by planting several light, comforting kisses on the back of Geoff's neck.

“I've missed you, Geoff. And I've missed these hugs.”

Tony felt Geoff's head nodding vigorously, his chin hitting Tony's shoulder. Then Tony heard a sob, and another. He eased himself away slightly.

“Hey, now.” His finger gently wiped away the tears. “How about we get you and the trailer on the road? Then you can follow me, and we can continue this at my place. Hmm?”

Geoff gulped a couple of times, then finally found his voice.

“Yes, please. … I know I've been stupid …”

“We've both not exactly been at our best the past few weeks, have we? Look, I'm bloody freezing. Let's get to some warmth before we go any further.”

Geoff nodded. He looked so forlorn that Tony gathered him up in another thankful hug.

“You looked like a whirling dervish. Or a hyperactive octopus. Take your pick.”

Geoff giggled at Tony's description of his playing technique in one particular movement of Elgar's Enigma Variations.

“Whichever – I couldn't take my eyes off you. In fact, I was just waiting for one of the sticks to go flying.”

“It has happened. Only in rehearsal, fortunately.” Geoff yawned, and rubbed his eyes. “Troyte is meant to depict a large, playful dog rushing about. It's bloody difficult. I had to spend time in the garage, practising.”

Tony's eyes widened. “The neighbours must've loved that.”

The two men were settling down in Tony's living room with a cup of coffee as a nightcap. Despite feeling much more at ease, there was still a slight, unsettled edge to everything. Tony grimaced. It would take more talking, and simply, time, to dissipate completely. But they were back together – that was something to celebrate.

Geoff was about to take his usual seat in one of the armchairs. Tony patted the cushion next to him on the sofa.

“Care to join me?”

Geoff took a moment. Then he smiled. “Yeah, I will.”

He collapsed wearily onto the sofa, his white dress shirt standing out against the deep red of the upholstery. The dinner jacket and bow-tie had come off as soon as he'd crossed the threshold. Geoff yawned again. God, he was knackered. Playing, stress, worry – they'd all contributed.

Tony sneaked his arm around Geoff's shoulders, and moved a little closer.

“This OK?”

“Hmm … fine …”

Geoff yawned again, then stretched his back and legs, trying to get rid of the remaining tension. As he relaxed, Tony gave him another squeeze. Since meeting Tony, Geoff had discovered just how much he enjoyed being held, comforted.

“Somehow, I've never thought of percussionists having to practice.”

“What!” Geoff sat up. “We're as much musicians as any bloody fiddle player, or singer, for that matter. We don't just hit the things, you know.”

Tony chuckled at his companion's indignation.

“OK … OK. I'm sorry – my ignorance. You'll have to teach me to see things differently.”

“Will I, indeed?” Geoff yawned again. “Oh dear … I'll be fast asleep soon, if I'm not careful. I'd better be off as soon as I finish this.” He picked up his coffee, and took a large gulp.

“The spare bed's available …” As soon as he'd said it, Tony knew what the answer would be. Still, no harm in making the offer.

“Oh … err … thanks, but the kit's still got to be unloaded. Not a good idea to leave it in the trailer overnight.”

“OK … See you tomorrow? I've not got any plans …” Tony studied Geoff's face, looking for his response.

Geoff smiled, sleepily. “Don't you worry. I'll be round to plague you. Afternoon OK? Don't think I'll be fit for much in the morning.”

“Afternoon's fine. I'll look forward to it.”

“Me, too.”