Fidel - 8. Hylas Meets Natural Fitness

They’d left the sea behind and were cruising south on the Bruce Highway before Fidel spoke. ‘Okay, let’s recap. I got a call from my hysterical brother yesterday afternoon telling me our father had suicided two weeks ago, my mother had abandoned ship, the furniture would be gone the next day, and the house a few days later, and you didn’t know what to do. Tell me everything that led up to that phone call, starting before Dad’s suicide. If it achieves nothing else it might stop the nightmares. Dumping your problems on someone else usually helps.’

Hylas pulled his lips tight, closed his eyes and let images flood his head. ‘They’ve always argued—at least Mum would nag and Dad would sit in silence. I used to will him to tell her to shut up. But he never did. I once asked him why and he said that was what she wanted him to do. By remaining silent he fucked with her brain. She sometimes hit him when he wouldn’t answer—didn’t care if I saw or not. Usually with her fist, twice I saw her lash at his shoulders with that whip thing that hangs beside the phone. He’d just get up and go to his bedroom.’

‘So he never laid a finger on her.’

‘Never. She’d have told me if he had. She never stopped complaining about him. He was stupid, useless, an angry man. I stopped listening years ago but because of all the things she said I couldn’t like him. Never talked to him unless I had to. A couple of times in the last two years we’ve done things together in the garden, and once we went to an exhibition of old cars. He was really nice, but… I guess my brain was poisoned. And I didn’t dare be nice to him at home or Mum would have had a fit. I wasn’t going to risk that, so I always let her think I agreed with her.

‘Then three weeks ago about midnight I was woken by a loud bang. At first I thought it was a possum landing on the roof, but then decided to go and check. I got out of bed and went to Mum’s room but she wasn’t there. So I went to Dad’s and she was kneeling on his bed. It looked as if she was struggling with him. I ran forward and saw a black hole between his eyes. No blood or anything. Just a hole. Then I realised she was hanging onto Dad’s shotgun. She told me to get out and call the cops because Dad had shot himself.’

‘Was she upset?’

‘No, just angry as usual. Before the cops came I went back in again and noticed Dad was now holding the gun. She was sitting on a chair looking at him. I asked why she’d left it there after having pulled it off him. She said she suddenly realised the cops would want to see the scene as she’d found it. Then she got off the chair and grabbed hold of my hair and shook my head till it hurt and said I mustn't tell the cops about her first taking the gun off Dad because it would only confuse them. Better to let them think we'd arrived in his bedroom together.

‘When the cops arrived Mum faked hysterics so a policewoman took her into the lounge. Two really serious cops held out a recorder and asked me what had happened. I said what Mum told me. After looking as if they didn’t believe me, they told me to go to bed.

‘It wasn’t till then I realised Dad was dead with a great hole in his head. Sounds strange, but that’s how it was. I went all cold and started shaking, but didn’t dare cry out. Couldn’t sleep. Jammed earphones on and put a CD on a loop. Fell asleep eventually and woke wondering if it had been a dream.

‘When I got up Mum was in the kitchen making breakfast, humming. I went to Dad’s room. The bed had been stripped, his laptop was gone, his drawers emptied. I felt just as empty. It was as if my belly was a great hole and I ran back to my room and hid under the duvet. Kept seeing Mum holding onto the gun.

‘She came in and asked if I wanted breakfast, but I couldn’t eat. She didn’t make me go to school, but by the next day something had happened in my head. I felt nothing. I hadn't eaten since the day before so had breakfast and went to school. The death was in the paper. They called it an accident, but no one at school linked it to me, so I never told anyone and just moped around. I felt nothing. Refused to think. Just carried on as usual, came home and listened to music. I didn’t even wonder why he’d shot himself. I don’t think I cared. I remember thinking he was better off dead than living with Mum, but I was also… not sad so much as irritated that I’d never get to know him. The cops didn’t ask to see me again and Mum never spoke about it. She was away most of the time at that group she worked with. She never told me what it was and I didn’t ask. Then one afternoon she told me the coroner had decided it was suicide and he was going to be cremated. Did I want to go? Making it clear she didn’t want me there.

‘Then I began to think she might have shot him and had been putting the gun in his hands when I arrived, to make it look like suicide, and I became so frightened I couldn’t be alone with her. I bought a bolt for my door and locked myself in at night. I don’t think she even noticed. I’d never realised before that our parents had no friends. At least none who came to visit. Then yesterday when I got home from school she was gone and left that note. And if you hadn't come I was going to slit my veins. I searched the Internet and discovered exactly how to make the cuts, you do it vertically not across, and bought a new Stanley knife to do it. But you did come and you cuddled me and stroked my neck and I dropped straight off to sleep for the first time for three weeks and made me feel safe and… happy… and… Fuck, now I'm starting to cry. I didn’t cry over Dad but I'm crying because you're so nice to me. I'm so stupid.’

‘No, you're not. And you're right about Dad. It is sad. He wasn’t bad like Mum. When she told him to whip me, he refused. He never responded to her taunts and hits because he had zero faith in the cops or the courts. No one believes women do anything bad, but they’ll believe the slightest smear about men. If he’d ever hit her and she’d gone to the cops he’d have been in prison before you could turn around. I’m beginning to think he only stayed with her till we were independent. I think he might have been a really good man.’

‘But he couldn’t do anything much and your life was so horrible! I knew but couldn’t help you. It broke my heart, I…’

‘Hey! You saved me from giving up. You brought me food. You always told me that I wasn’t bad—she was. That's all I needed. It was crazy, but at the time I thought it was normal; that all families were more or less like us.’

‘So did I. But how did you live when you left home? What did you do?’

‘Lots of things I’ll tell you about when we get to my place. Traffic’s getting thick so I have to concentrate. We’ll be there in half an hour so try to relax. For what its worth, I admire you for the way you’ve coped with things. Honestly, I'm proud to be your brother.’

Hylas was too happy to respond with more than a weepy smile as he gazed at the endless traffic, houses and shopping centres, trees and parks, cars and traffic lights. In the distance a group of skyscrapers looked like a collection of rock crystals he’d once seen in a jeweller’s window.

Signs to Gateway and the Airport were far behind and the tower blocks almost upon them when a sudden left turn took them through a light industrial wasteland to emerge beside a wide, brown river dotted with small pleasure craft. Red brick warehouse conversions and modern apartment blocks on the right of the roadway enjoyed unobstructed views through treed riverside walkways to green suburbs on the far side of the river. A City Transport catamaran was pulling away from a jetty as they pulled into a parking area and Fidel cut the engine.

‘We’re almost there. Just a couple of things you should know. I work in a gymnasium patronised by wealthy people, and live in a small flat on the roof. The owner, Arnold Jurgenz, is an amazing man. A few years older than me, incredibly good looking and rich, but he refuses to act like other wealthy people, preferring to let everyone think he’s just another employee of the place. He knows how I feel about you and is keen to meet you, so we’ll go to his office first, and then up to my place. He’ll probably ask what you want to do now.’

‘Get a job.’

‘Doing what?’

‘Anything.’

‘What year are you in at school?’

‘Twelve.’

‘And you're only sixteen. Must be pretty smart.’

‘I’ll be seventeen in a couple of months.’

‘It’s September. You're going back to school to finish the year.’

‘But I want to pay my way. I refuse to be a burden on you.’

‘We’ll find you a part time job.’

‘Yes. Yes of course. I've got some savings, so I can share the cost of things for a few months.’

‘We can sort out those details later. There’s one last thing.’

‘Yes?’

‘All ten trainers at the gym, including Arnold, work naked, so don’t be surprised. I’ll explain the reasons later.’

‘You too?’

‘Yes.’

‘That's why you’ve no tan line.’

‘Are you shocked?’

Hylas grinned. ‘Turns me on. What do the patrons think?’

‘They think it’s normal—after a while… I think.’ He shrugged and grinned. ‘Whatever they think, they keep coming back for more and treat us with as much respect as we treat them.’

‘I'm getting a hard on thinking about it.’

‘That's a relief. Onwards and upwards then.’ Fidel started the car, turned right at the next intersection and drove slowly along a narrow lane between tall windowless buildings, then down a slight ramp into a car park beneath a red-brick ex warehouse, distinguished by an elegant sign informing them they had arrived at “Natural Fitness”. Fidel parked in one of the bays marked Staff Only.

‘I’m getting nervous.’

‘No need.’ Fidel removed his clothes and locked them in the car.

‘You're naked! So it isn't a joke.’

‘No joke. To preserve our Gymnasium’s unique image, it’s company policy that staff never wear clothes inside, even if off duty. Strangely enough, it also prevents recognition when we’re outside. This is the servant’s entrance.’ He slid his pass card into a slot and led the way to a green, padded door that opened into a green-carpeted stairway, at the top of which another security door guarded the slick, modern reception area. Two men in business suits were sitting talking with their heads close together, as if afraid of being overheard. They looked up when the Fidel and Hylas entered.

‘Gidday, Fidel,’ one said with a genuine smile. The other nodded, clearly pleased to see him.

A lean, fit, pale and rangy man in his late twenties with thick, wiry, dark red hair on head, chin and groin, entered through the door behind the desk. ‘What're you doing here Fidel? You’re not on till tonight.’

‘I know, Hal. Is Arnold in the office?’

‘Will be in about ten minutes when his session ends. Who’s your handsome friend?’

‘My brother.’

‘Pull the other, it’s made of rubber.’ He grinned and stood aside as Fidel and Hylas entered the office.

‘Lucky you told me about what you guys don’t wear or I’d have looked even more gormless than usual. He’s not what I expected. I mean he’s obviously fit and healthy, but I thought fitness experts had to have bulging shoulders and biceps, six or eight-pack abs and thighs like tree trunks. He looks ordinary.’

‘That's the secret of our success. Instead of feeling intimidated, the customers are delighted to realise they can be fit and healthy without turning into monsters.’

‘Very wise.’ Hylas looked around in surprise. ‘After the glamorous reception area this seems bleak.’ The room boasted a vinyl floor, two practical desks, a wall of TV monitors, shelves filled with manuals and books, and ten hard-backed chairs around a circular table.

‘This is the nerve centre where we discuss and make decisions. Let’s take a look at what Arnold’s doing.’ Fidel went to a console, flicked a couple of switches and two screens sprang to life showing a group of women dressed in the usual multicolour array of Lycra, doing all the usual things people do in a gymnasium, while a naked man assisted with an apparatus, then demonstrated something, then stood casually while another woman rested a hand on his shoulder while they discussed something on a clipboard. ‘That’s Arnold.’

‘He looks nice. You know, I thought it would look strange to see a naked man with dressed women acting as if it’s normal; but it doesn't, does it? Makes you think.’

‘It does indeed. Especially about the crap we teach our kids.’

‘Do you have jazzercise?’

‘No. Naked men get erections with all that swinging, hip thrusting and bouncing up and down. When we explain, women insist they wouldn’t mind, and that's probably true, but they’d certainly tell all their girlfriends and that's the sort of publicity we don’t want.’

‘Makes sense. But do you get erections?’

‘At the beginning I got a few, but I don’t think anyone noticed. The thing is, it’s not a sexy atmosphere. Everyone’s here for fitness, not for sex so there’s no flirting or sexual play that might make you aroused. Also, I don’t find many clients physically attractive, and wouldn’t like to do anything with them, so there’s nothing to stimulate an erection. I simply love feeling the air caressing all the bits that clothes cover and make sweaty. It feels so natural I don’t wear clothes anywhere unless it’s cold.’

‘I wonder if I’d be the same.’

‘Probably. Most men feel like that once they’ve got over the initial shyness. It’s liberating, because having to hide our genitals as if they're diseased, really fucks with our brains. And the girls reckon it’s also liberating for them. You watch. They’ll thank Arnold after the session and tell him how grateful they are that he treats them as equals. It was an enormous surprise to discover that every female I've worked with here has been pleasant, affable, and goes out of her way to be agreeable. I asked one why they were like that, and she reckoned it was because the way normal men dress is so sexless, they forget we’re totally different. They look on most men as merely fatter and more boring females. With us, however, they are very aware we are males; physically and mentally different from them, and it brings out an unconscious, sort of primeval respect. It’s a thought, and probably contains a grain of truth.’

The session ended with Arnold looking fresh; the girls sweaty and laughing. They all thanked him and ran off to the changing room while he checked everything and went out. Two minutes later he bounced into the office, perky and alert. On seeing Hylas his face opened into a genuinely friendly smile and he stepped forward to take both the young man’s hands in his.

‘Welcome! I’m not surprised your brother dumped me for you—slim, handsome and young trumps old and worn any day.’ Retaining a light grip on the captive hands Arnold grinned, stepped back slightly as if to admire the clean-shaven, tanned, symmetrical face with eyebrows as dark and thick as his tousled mop of medium length hair, then laughed softly. ‘What are you thinking, Hylas?’

‘That you looked very nice working with those women. We watched on the monitor.’

Arnold dropped Hylas's hands and turned to Fidel. ‘Not only handsome, but a charmer to boot. Are you looking for work? We could do with another body.’

‘I'm not fit enough. Beside you and Fidel I'm a runt. And Fidel says I have to finish school.’

‘An hour a day with me and you’ll be as fit as a god. But of course you must finish school. You could work here part time, perhaps? I've just thought of a job for someone exactly like you.’

‘You’ll have to watch Arnold,’ Fidel laughed. ‘He’ll have you slavering away in the cellars before you realise.’

‘Ignore him, Hylas. Would you like to earn a few dollars?’

‘Yeah! I need to earn something because I don’t want to sponge on Fidel.’

‘Good lad.’ He turned to Fidel. ‘I’ve invited Robert and Bart for a meal before the evening sessions. You must both come so Hylas can meet them and we can discuss the job. Ok? See you at five o'clock.’

‘Thanks, Arnold.’ Fidel gave Arnold an affectionate hug, then led Hylas back to the car.

‘He’s really nice, but what did he mean by….’

‘Let’s not discuss anything here. The whole place is mined with security cameras so we can never be accused by a disaffected client of abuse. Private conversations must wait for privacy.’

They took Hylas's belongings from the car and carried them up the fire escape; four flights of featureless concrete stairs sandwiched between two fireproof concrete walls. The flat roof, surrounded by a metre-high parapet, was home to a large array of solar panels that blocked the view to the south. Straight ahead, a small flat-roofed dwelling had been constructed against the eastern parapet. Ochre-stuccoed walls, a vine-covered pergola shading two patio chairs and a table, windows covered with wrought iron security screens, heavy wooden door, roof edged with terracotta tiles, window box sprouting red geraniums, and a row of pot plants lining the ‘path’ to the door, gave the impression it had been lifted from a Mediterranean tourist brochure.

‘Fidel, this is amazing! Did you build it! It’s so romantic!’

‘It’s kitsch as hell. Don’t tell me we share the same bad taste. I just converted an existing concrete block structure and tarted it up a bit. Glad you like it.’

‘What's the rent?’

‘It goes with the job, which has advantages and disadvantages, like being too close to work so I can be called on without notice. Let’s have lunch.’

Inside was neat and clean and just escaped being poky. There wasn’t much space left in the bedroom with its double bed, chair, chest of drawers and a wall of sliding mirror-doors concealing shelves and hanging space. Skylights, and a window at the end with a view of the sky and distant hills, increased the illusion of space. The pleasant, uncluttered living area had two easy chairs, a small round dining table and chairs, a basic kitchen, a desk, and shelves for electronics. A window in the end wall behind the cooking area looked over roofs and trees towards the city.

While Fidel put a meal together, Hylas stowed his gear in the empty half of the mirrored bedroom cupboards; there was plenty of room. He sat on the bed and gazed around in delight. This was a dream come true. He’d escaped his parents and was going to live with someone he liked and admired in a cosy cottage on top of a mountain—well, a brick gymnasium. He flopped back onto the bed and sighed happily.

‘Come and get it or I’ll throw it out.’

Lentils, beans, tofu in batter, a small potato, a raw carrot and two fried eggs tasted delicious, as did the plain yoghurt for dessert.

Hylas sat back and grinned. ‘That was bloody good, Fidel. You’ll have to teach me to cook, I know nothing.’

‘Are you sure you want to stay here? Arnold has a large apartment and I know he’d love to have you. He wouldn’t molest you or anything like that. He’s mostly talk.’ Fidel sounded serious.

Hylas’ dream began to crumble. Was Fidel politely trying to get rid of him? Bravely he smiled across. ‘I reckon it’s wonderful here, but if you’ve realised it’ll be too crowded then of course I’ll go wherever you suggest.’

‘No, no! I want you to stay, it’s just I realised back in the office that we don’t really know each other that well and I wondered if, now you’ve seen it, the thought of sharing such a small space and a bed might not be so attractive to you. We could probably squeeze another in, or put a mattress down in the front room.’

‘Fidel! I’ve never slept so well as last night. And yours is a larger bed than mine.’

‘So you want to stay?’

‘I've never wanted anything so much in my entire life.’

Fidel’s frown dissolved into a wide grin. ‘Me too.’

‘And when are you going to tell me what happened when you left home?’

‘Now.’

They spread themselves over a large soft yellow blanket in front of the cottage.

‘At school they kept telling us to stay out of the sun.’

‘With the result that millions of Australians suffer from Vitamin D deficiency. Recent studies indicate that only very white skins are so easily damaged. Most skins can tolerate normal amounts of sun, but of course everyone should avoid getting burned, and skins like ours are pretty well impervious to the sun’s rays.’

‘That's a relief, because I love just lying in it.’

‘And in a couple of days the darker skin you're so worried about will have vanished into the surrounding tan. ‘

‘Then I can take on that part time job Arnold mentioned. It’s Ok with you if I work here isn't it?’

‘Definitely, then I can keep a strict eye on you.’

‘What did he mean when he said you dumped him for me? Were you…?’

‘Yes, for nearly two years.’

‘And did you do… everything?’

‘Yes, we lived together, shared the same bed, even toothbrushes for a while.’

‘He’s still in love with you.’

‘I know.’

‘Then why did you dump him?’

‘Dump’s a horrible word. I still love him as the best friend possible, but not in the way he wants, because…’

‘Because?’

‘Sounds stupid, but I promised myself I’d not commit myself to anyone until I’d rescued you from Mum. You were the only person who loved me before I came south, and the only person I loved. There wasn’t room in my head for the sort of attachment Arnold wants.’

‘But now you’ve rescued me, you're free to love him or anyone you like.’

Fidel’s look was indecipherable. ‘That's what I imagined… until this morning.’

‘You mean…?’

‘Have you any idea how sexy and attractive you are? And in character you're still the same brother I knew and loved. I suppose it’s kinky, but brotherly love has morphed into brotherly lust as well. Shocked?’

Hylas shook his head; face serious.

‘Well, that’s a start. Look, I know I'm rushing things but…’ He paused, then before he could change his mind blurted, ‘I’d really like us to be real lovers in a serious relationship.’ He glanced at Hylas’s frown. ‘It’s Ok, I don’t expect you to want the same thing. It’s just that you said I was now free to love anyone I wanted, so I wanted to make sure you knew the person I want to love and live with is you. Then I’ll have no regrets at not being honest when you find someone else to love. It’s why I thought you'd be better living with Arnold away from my stupid fantasies. Then you can have boyfriends, meet other people your age, learn about yourself, and one day… who knows?’

‘Who was the first person you had sex with?’

‘Arnold.’

‘How many others?’

‘None.’

‘Then don’t you think you should have boyfriends, meet other people your age, learn about yourself and one day…who knows? We probably had different fathers so we’re only half brothers and that’s why I’m so different from you. Why would it be kinky if we became real lovers? I’m nearly seventeen and know exactly what I want; what I've wanted since I first watched you wanking in the other bed when we were kids. Since I started wanking myself, thinking about you. Have you any idea how sexy you look to me? And now I’ve discovered you are even nicer than I remembered. Fidel, I know it should be the older one who proposes, but you're a bit slow, so will you be my boyfriend?’

They lay on their sides grinning at each other in almost shocked surprise at the turn of events, wondering how to begin, then gently ran finger tips over flanks, thighs, shoulders, face, lips and chin before sliding closer so Fidel could prove his worth as a lover on the soft yellow blanket under the sun, blue sky and fluffy clouds; watched by a flock of incurious seagulls.

Later, in the afterglow of perfect intimacy, Hylas ran a smooth finger around Fidel’s navel and up to his chin, ‘Ok, no more procrastination. What happened when you left me in the lurch four years ago?’

Fidel turned onto his side and gazed into his brother’s clear grey eyes.

‘As soon as I was alone I realised I’d lived in constant fear my entire life—of Mum, of failing at school, of failing as a person. On the road I was still frightened. Terrified I wouldn’t find somewhere to live, or a job, of being mugged, being picked up by the cops and sent home as a runaway. I've learned to look and act tough, but inside I'm a wimp.’ Fidel stopped and looked at his frowning brother, wondering if he was being too honest. Too bad if he was. He knew he was very ordinary and no hero. If Hylas was disappointed, that was his problem.

Hylas shook his head in disbelief. ‘You're the bravest person I've ever met. I’d never have dared do anything like that. The first thing I did when I found myself alone was ring up a brother I haven't seen or heard from in nearly five years. That takes the prize for wimpishness I reckon.’

‘I'm glad you did.’ Something in Fidel’s voice startled Hylas.

‘You're not happy,’ he blurted.

‘Who is? Are you? Like most people I exist from day to day. Living. Drifting. Trying to be a good person, whatever that means. Not thinking too much. I've done nothing I’d like to do again, and until today I've not looked to the future with any enthusiasm. They reckon we begin dying from the moment we're born. It seems I'm unusually talented in that area.’ He grinned to show he wasn’t serious.

‘Until today?’

‘What?’

‘You said until to day you’ve not looked forward to anything much.’

‘Ah… that.’ Fidel thought for a bit. ‘When you rang it was like an electric shock. Suddenly someone really needed me and I felt excited. I’d forgotten what it felt like. I was impatient to see you—to be of use to someone just for the sake of it. Not as a job, but because it… hell, I don’t know.’

‘You're of use to Arnold.’

‘I do it for the money and because I like him and the work, but he could find dozens of guys as good or better. He doesn't really need me. But you do need me, for a while at least, and it’s got nothing to do with money. It’s something else.’

‘Friendship?’

‘More than that. I've two other wonderful friends but they don’t need me in the way I mean. We do things together, but if I wasn’t there I always feel it wouldn’t matter too much.’

‘I know what you mean. I hang out with friends at school, but afterwards it seems a waste of time. I'm always trying to be like them and never myself—whoever that is.’

‘I doubt I’ll ever discover who I am. I’ve had a really lucky time since arriving in Brisbane, but I wouldn’t want to repeat it. But now I feel excited about tomorrow and all the other tomorrows. Maybe we’ll be a team and… and I really do need you as a mate… a friend… a… and now I'm embarrassing myself.’

‘Well, that’s a relief.’

‘That I'm making an idiot of myself and have always been a scaredy cat?’

‘Fidel you are too modest. I read somewhere that it’s sensible to be frightened, and brave to overcome the fear. That makes you sensible and brave. Now having sorted that out, can we continue with the riveting tale of Fidel’s big adventure?’

‘Right. Where was I?’

‘You'd arrived in the Valley. You must have felt lonely.’

‘Holes in my heart. How’s that for melodrama?’

‘I've heard worse, but get on with it.’

Fidel was not a born storyteller; his delivery was matter of fact as if he was speaking about someone else. It was his way of not becoming emotionally involved with a past he valued for the experiences, but feared in case he should make some unconscious mistake that would render him homeless and alone again. Unaware of his brother’s internal struggle, Hylas’ head filled with images as he listened, enthralled.

‘Boring eh?’

Hylas was shaking his head in astonishment. ‘That is so amazing. Like a fairytale.’

‘Yeah, I can’t imagine why Sanjay and Monique kept me.’

‘I can. Do you still see them? And Bart and Robert?’

‘Yeah, I pop round to the Karims at least once a month, and Robert and Bart are my best friends. We all work at the gym, and Bart also has a sort of men’s help group for guys with psychological problems. Not mad or anything, just depressed and confused.’ Fidel checked his watch. ‘It’s getting late. Got to shit, shower and shave or we’ll be late for Arnold’s meal.’

‘Great. Where’s the bathroom?’

‘Follow me.’ Fidel picked up the blanket and led the way to a shower on a porcelain base behind the cabin. The walls were the view and the roof the sky. Hot water was provided by a solar panel on the roof of the cabin.

‘This is so cool.’

‘It is in winter.’

‘No walls to get mouldy, and…’ Hylas broke off to laugh loudly. ‘And the toilet’s out here too! Brilliant, no shitty smells in the house. But doesn't the toilet paper get wet when it rains?’

‘Check the bowl, it’s a combination bidet, no wasteful paper.’

‘And where does it go when you flush?’

‘It’s connected to the central sewage system.’

‘What happens if someone comes onto the roof when you're shitting?’

‘They see me.’

‘I love it!’

They soaped each other’s backs, rinsed off, ran round the roof to dry, finished off with a towel, and then donned T-shirts, shorts and soft leather sandals for the jog to Arnold’s.

‘I'm getting nervous. How do I look?’

‘They’ll love you. You look slim, sexy and intelligent.’

Impulsively, and with a hint of desperation, Hylas ran forward and wrapped his arms around Fidel’s neck and kissed him.

Fidel extricated himself and said seriously, ‘You have now set a precedent that must be followed every time we leave the house.’

Laughing gaily they raced each other down the stairs.

Hylas was impressed with Arnold and his apartment; thought Robert the most handsome and intelligent person he’d ever met; and Bart… he couldn’t fathom Bart. Tall, lean, with a calm, penetrating gaze and faint smile that revealed nothing but suggested kindness, understanding and perhaps even wisdom. Like his brother, Hylas felt drawn to him, needed to impress and gain his support. So when Bart, who’d been thinking about his own unpleasant youth and lack of rapport with his brother, asked Hylas how he got on with Fidel, Hylas blurted, ‘We really love each other! And we had sex today on a yellow rug on the roof in the sun, under a blue sky with seagulls and it was… amazing. And we’re going to…’

His voice faded as he realised what he’d said. He turned to Fidel, tears springing, ‘I'm sorry Fidel, everyone here seems so nice, I felt so relaxed I didn’t think… I…’

To his relief, Fidel was smiling. ‘You great galah, they'd already guessed. And you're right, they are nice—more than nice, I’d trust them with my life.’ He took a deep breath and faced his friends who were sitting in amused silence. ‘Ok, what’s the verdict. Is it perverted for brothers to be lovers, not just for fun, but…?’

‘It sounds like a recipe for happiness,’ Bart responded easily.

‘I can’t see why not,’ Arnold added with a melodramatic sigh.

Robert was grinning. ‘I reckon it’s romantic. I always thought it'd be great to have a brother to love and jerk off with, but no such luck so I have to put up with this gorgeous hunk.’ He plonked a noisy kiss on Bart’s amused lips, and then fixed his gaze on the two suddenly shy young men. ‘Tell me, you two, in what way could the consensual physical expression of love between two brothers be perverted or wicked? And how could a desire to share your lives with someone you love, be unnatural or deviant?’

The brothers looked at each other nervously, but were unable to speak.

‘Ok, as those questions seem too difficult, who knows best what's best for you?’

‘We do.’ They spoke as one, then looked in surprise at each other as if astonished.

‘Very well,’ Robert said solemnly, ‘Fidel and Hylas, you may kiss your lovers.’

And so, with red faces and slight embarrassment, they did.

‘Well, now that's settled,’ Arnold said brightly, what do you guys think about having Hylas work for us part time while he finishes school? He could check on soap dispensers, towels, toilet rolls, wiping bench tops, keeping the lounge neat, emptying the paper cup disposal chute, top up the coffee and tea machines… that sort of thing. It’ll be especially useful between the early and later evening sessions. He could work from five till seven, do his homework in the office, then from eight to nine.’

The idea was agreed to. Then Robert proposed what seemed to Hylas a ridiculously generous wage. Then he agreed to wear the company uniform. And then it was time for Fidel to go to work. Hylas went with him and watched the video screens, keen to learn about the gym, it’s trainers and system.

That night, the first in their bed in the sky, was the sweetest, gentlest and most loving of their lives, and set a standard they were hard put to maintain.

By the end of the month, the trainers wondered how they had coped without Hylas keeping everything spotless and equipment always in readiness. His fears about erections were unfounded and he lost count of the compliments his young body received. His favourite being compared to a sexy lemur. Paradoxically, one potentially embarrassing incident was averted thanks to his mother. A young woman came and asked him to clear a drain in the shower room. He added a plunger to his maintenance kit, ignored a dozen women under the showers or drying off, and bent to the task, only to discover the drain wasn’t blocked, but his escape was. Seven naked women were enclosing him in a tight circle. He stared up in confusion, then realised they were having fun with him.

‘You're a sexy young beast, Hylas, which one of us do you fancy?’

A lifetime of concealing his feelings from his mother to prevent her becoming angry, enabled him to maintain a bland, innocent expression, despite a racing heart. He stood, gazed calmly around and with a slight shrug and smile said, ‘No offence, but I don’t fancy any of you.’

‘Don’t tell me you're queer?’

The other women stopped laughing and looked worried.

Betraying none of his anger, Hylas replied evenly, ‘It would be very queer if I wanted to have sex with a woman so much older than me.’

‘Everyone laughed a little more wildly than necessary and told him he was brilliant. They hoped he wasn’t offended. He was such a sexy guy they wanted to tease him a bit. He grinned and bowed and calmly completed his usual inspection, checking for soap, wiping the mirrors and replacing a couple of toilet rolls, making every one adore him the more for not taking offence.

Upstairs in the men’s gym he usually received the same treatment from patrons as the trainers. He was tall for his age, but boyishly slender, smooth, and sleek as an eel. One evening while wiping the bench where patrons served themselves coffee, a soft hand stroked his buttocks. He stopped, turned his head and wondered what to do. The man was a regular who had once greeted Hylas in the street. In his forties, slightly shorter than the object of his desire, but tougher, with stringy shoulder, arm and calf muscles and a tanned face. Hair in a crew cut. Neatly trimmed black beard. The stroking had felt sexy, so Hylas just carried on working, wondering what would come next. The hand slid down a thigh then encircled his abdomen, coming to rest cupping his scrotum.

‘How old are you?’ the deep voice resonated in Hylas’s chest.

‘Sixteen.’

‘Do you mind my touching you?’

‘No. You’re clean and have soft hands. What do you do?’

‘Electrical contractor. I’d like you to come home with me when you finish.’

‘Why?’

‘So I can lick you all over, kiss your sexy nipples, suck on your cock… the usual.’

‘Why me?’

‘Because I dream about you every night, and you’ve got an erection.’

‘I know.’

‘So what about it?’

‘I have a boyfriend half your age who does all that and more, so thanks but I really must get on with my work or they’ll sack me.’

With a short, barking laugh, the man withdrew. ‘You really are a remarkable young man,’ he said with a huge grin. ‘Most guys would have slammed me down and complained.’

Hylas turned; his expression mildly curious. ‘I’m not most guys. I know you. You are attractive, clean and pleasant, and I knew you meant no harm, so I saw it as a compliment, not something to complain about.’ With a grin to match his suitor’s he collected his gear and ran off.

He started the new term at a Roman Catholic Boys High School because it was the nearest. Their reluctance to take a pupil for one term was reversed when handed the school fees in cash plus a late enrolment bonus. The uniform requirement was also waived, on his promise to wear only grey long trousers a white shirt and black shoes. The work wasn’t difficult as they were using the same curriculum as his previous school. Pleasant and quiet in class, his teachers left him alone, although his youthful, but ponderously serious English teacher was profoundly upset when Hylas said he thought Peter Carey’s novels were pretentious, confused and confusing garbage that everyone bought but no one could read. The titters of agreement from other pupils didn’t help.

For the first time he was enjoying life. School wasn’t too bad; he was making plenty of money, not only at the gym, but also occasionally as a waiter when required for a wedding breakfast or funeral wake at functions on the first floor.

When the manager of the reception lounge asked if any of the Gym trainers were prepared to strip for a woman’s fortieth birthday party, Robert jumped at the chance. Hylas, who was a waiter at the event willingly accepted the job of collecting the garments as Robert discarded them during his sexy capering and dancing, ending up naked while partnering the birthday woman in a rousing polka that everyone else joined in. When Robert discovered the pittance earned by the four waiters, he gave his fee to them to share.

Success breeds success and every week one or two other parties required a stripper, which Hylas and Arnold were also delighted to provide. Like Robert, they did it for the fun and also donated their fees to the waiters.

Thanks to the dedication of the six other trainers, the five friends were able to take off at least once a week to the beach or the countryside. They also went to concerts at South Bank; visited gay dancing clubs and ate regularly at each other’s apartments.

One evening when all five were gathered at Arnold’s flat, Hylas told them about his father’s death and his mother’s odd behaviour. They already knew about Fidel's abuse and this was the final piece of the puzzle for Robert.

‘Your mother is obviously a mad, selfish, nasty murderess. Was your father insured, Hylas?’

‘No idea. But if he was that'd explain why she took off. Then she wouldn’t have to share it with me.’

‘Do you want to find her?’

‘No way!’

‘I do,’ Fidel said quietly. ‘I want the amulet she stole. And I want to see if she’s in trouble.’

‘Why?’

‘So I can refuse to help.’

At that moment Arnold received a phone call. His jaw dropped and his frown lines deepened as he listened.

‘What is it, Arnold?’

That was Herb, the guy who took over from me at the Cop shop. I asked him to keep me in the loop regarding Lance Osbairne’s appeal. He’s just learned that it succeeded and he’ll be released in two months.

Robert paled and Bart looked severe.

‘Who’s Lance, and why is it a problem?’ Hylas asked.

‘He’s a murdering bastard who tried to kill Bart and me several times. He was sent to prison for murdering the headmaster, but insists I did it and set him up. Apparently he’s vowed to get me for it. He’s dangerous and slightly mad.’

‘Why would he want to kill you?’

‘Because we’re queer. And I openly criticised his bashing of a gay kid in the playground. He murdered that kid a few months later by forcing him to drink weedkiller.’

‘Wasn’t he punished?’

‘He sucked up to the headmaster and they convinced the cops it was suicide. And now he’s getting out.’ Robert looked at his hands as if wondering why they were waving around, and put them in his pockets out of the way.

‘And unless he’s changed his spots, he’ll be looking for revenge and possibly to finish the job.’ Bart gazed thoughtfully at his guests. ‘Fidel, no one criticised you when you said you wouldn’t assist your mother if she was in trouble. I’ve been wondering why. In my case it’s because I think it is her character to be so vile, and if you helped her, she would then treat you badly again.’ He paused to gather his thoughts. ‘Knowing Lance’s past record, what do you think we should do if he tries to kill Robert and me again?’

‘When I came to your place with Arnold that first time,’ Fidel responded, unable to keep a note of criticism from his voice, ‘you didn’t tell me he’d tried to murder you both. Why not?’

‘Didn’t want to sound melodramatic. Thought you might go off us if we knew people like that. Sorry, we should have told you but it didn’t seem so urgent then, the appeal had only begun and we hoped it’d fail.’

Fidel nodded. ‘ I understand. Well I agree with you. People don’t change. Clearly he’s a deliberate assassin, not a spur of the moment murderer, so if you give him a chance to do it again, he will. I say if he turns up and threatens you, get rid of him permanently.’

‘Arnold?’

‘Bart, I'm an ex cop. A Queenslander. Therefore I believe in punishment rather than efforts at rehabilitation. I'm with Fidel. If he shows up,’ he mimicked the Daleks, ‘Exterminate, exterminate, exterminate.’

The laugh was general but nervous.

Robert turned to Hylas. ‘What's your opinion?’

Hylas’s face was white with tension. He was breathing heavily, imagination on overdrive. He was a follower of several Internet essayists whose writings on government and religious corruption, financial rorts, abuse of power and the deliberate creation of poverty and ignorance inflamed him daily. ‘Kill the bastard!’ he ground through clenched teeth. ‘The world is overflowing with evil because we are too cowardly to get rid of it. If there’s no doubt of guilt, then kill the fucker.’