Soul Music: Love Sustained - 1. Unwelcome Surprise

Geoff Lumsden walked along the village street towards his mother's bungalow. He swallowed several times, attempting to make his mouth less dry. This was it. In a few minutes, he would reveal his true self by telling his mother he was gay. Geoff felt the nerves pooling in his stomach as they always did – he hadn't eaten much all day. The ploughman's he'd forced down at lunchtime sat uneasily in his gut. And as for concentrating at work … Geoff rolled his eyes. The hours had passed so slowly, he'd almost convinced himself time was standing still. Now he was almost there, he wished it over and done with.

He tried to take some pleasure from the warm sunshine and from the late spring flowers in the gardens he was passing. May was a time many gardens really got going. His own looked good – spring bulbs transitioning to annuals, herbaceous perennials, and foxgloves, one of his favourites. Geoff attempted to get his head in order, repeating under his breath certain key phrases which were crucial to his plan. Luckily, there wasn't anyone else around, otherwise he'd be getting some strange looks. When giving his mother the news, old news, that he was a gay man, Geoff had decided to be direct. Nothing coy or open to misinterpretation, just the facts. Depending on how that went down, he might tell her about his boyfriend. Or not.

Part of him still wished that Tony was walking alongside – not to be in the room, but close by. Talking about it the previous evening, they'd agreed again that it wasn't a good idea. It was something he needed to do, and when he'd done the deed, Tony would be there for him as he always was. Geoff felt the warmth from the unaccustomed walk. Normally, he parked on the road outside the bungalow; today however, he needed a short time to settle himself. So he'd parked in the small parking area at the village hall. Doubtless that would be something his mother would pick up on. Once she opened the front door, the absence of his estate car would be obvious.

Geoff pulled at his tie, wishing he'd left it and his jacket in the car. It wouldn't help matters if he arrived hot and bothered, sweat running down his face. Taking his tie off first, he shoved it in the jacket pocket and then carried the jacket, slung over his shoulder. What would his mother's reaction be to what he had to say? Geoff sighed. He wasn't optimistic. If he'd been certain she'd approve, then he wouldn't have left it so long.

Saying that to Tony had surprised his boyfriend no end. Geoff shrugged slightly as he continued walking. Tony hadn't met his mother. He hadn't been witness to any of their fortnightly chats – superficial, friendly enough, but never trespassing onto anything deeply personal. Until today. This conversation was likely to plumb depths neither of them would forget in a hurry.

Geoff arrived at the small, ornate metal front gate. He imagined it was like a gate to one of Tony's National Trust houses, only in miniature, and leading instead to an ordinary, 1960s brick bungalow. As usual, he had trouble getting the latch to work. Geoff sighed. If he were a proper man, he'd get his toolkit out and fix the wretched thing. Not that he knew what was really the matter. Both he and Tony avoided jobs around the home for as long as possible. He snorted quietly. Tony had been putting off repainting the living room in his house. They both always had more pleasurable, or urgent, things to do instead. Yet Tony resented paying a decorator to come and do it for him.

Taking a deep breath, he walked up the short path and rang the doorbell. As he stood there, it became clear that his mother was taking her time responding. It was usually so; as if he didn't warrant any haste. He'd been in the house with his mother when the doorbell had rung. She'd got up fast enough on those occasions. Geoff swallowed his resentment. He needed to be in a positive frame of mind. Calm, rational, unafraid.

Finally, the door opened and his mother appeared, dressed in her usual carefully matched M&S separates.

“There you are, Geoffrey.”

She leant forward in anticipation of a kiss on the cheek. Geoff obliged.

“You sneaked up on me. I was listening out for your car. Diesels have such a distinctive engine sound, don't they?”

Geoff didn't know what to say. His mother had never taken any notice of cars before. She led the way inside, leaving him to close and secure the door. Automatically, he turned to go into the lounge, but stopped when he saw his mother wasn't there.

“I'm in the kitchen, son.”

He followed the sound of her voice to the back of the bungalow where she was waiting for the kettle to boil.The inevitable tray was waiting on the kitchen table, already partially taken up by a plate of sultana scones, some butter, and a small jar of jam.

His mother looked round. “I imagine you'll have to replace that car soon, won't you?”

Geoff frowned.

“All these new regulations that seem to be coming up. The Daily Mail's been full of it recently. 'Environmental nonsense', they call it.”

Geoff wished his mother read a more balanced, factual newspaper. During the last election, he suggested just that and got slapped down. 'I've read the Mail all my life, and I'm not about to change now'.

“The car's fairly new, Mum. New enough to escape most of the penalties. The main problem will be when I come to sell it on. Resale values have fallen badly. I can't afford to buy another car just yet.”

And if he and Tony started living together full time, there'd be the question of whether they needed two cars.

His mother filled the teapot. “I didn't like to make it earlier. Normally, I switch the kettle on when I hear you parking the car.”

His fault again. Geoff held onto a sigh.

“Where is it, by the way?”

She was now arranging everything on the tray. Geoff got ready to pick it up.

“The car? I left it down by the village hall. I fancied a walk.”

“Hnh … I've never known you be interested in taking exercise when you didn't need to.”

Geoff took another steadying deep breath as he carried the laden tray into the lounge. He was puzzled, and a little unsettled. It wasn't unusual for his mother to needle him, but not this much. Anyway, why did she offer him scones every time, if his weight was an issue? Briefly, Geoff wondered whether she was nervous about something as well.

They both made themselves comfortable, the low coffee table between their two chairs. His mother poured the tea, and made to put some sugar into Geoff's cup before he intervened.

“No sugar for me, thanks, Mum.”

“Since when?” She looked at him closely. “You'll be telling me you don't want one of my scones either, I suppose.”

He didn't, but diplomacy dictated he take one, butter it, and try to eat at least some of it.

“No jam? It's my home-made blackberry from last year.”

“No, Mum. I need to lose some weight.”

He'd managed to wean himself off some things with Tony's support. Was it making any difference? Geoff stared at his midriff. Nothing obvious yet. Perhaps he should weigh himself when he got home?

“Maybe you're right, son. You'll never keep a girlfriend if you don't look after yourself. Young women are very weight-conscious these days and they expect their boyfriends to follow their example.”

Geoff twitched at his mother mentioning a girlfriend and his stomach tightened.

His mother spread jam liberally on her scone. It didn't appear to alter her appearance in the slightest. Geoff gave a mental shrug. At least he was trying. He took after his father – he'd always been following one diet or another, though he never took any exercise.

His mother took a sip of tea, then sat up straight. The atmosphere in the room changed.

“I'm glad you're here, Geoffrey. It saves me having to make a trip into town. I've something important to tell you …”

“Yes, so have I …”

Geoff's attempted interruption was overridden by his mother's own voice increasing in volume and emphasis.

“Something important about the house. Not this house, of course. I mean the family home. Where you're living.”

Geoff's stomach lurched. Wide-eyed, cup of tea forgotten, he waited to be told. It was hardly going to be good news.

“Well … My friend Douglas – you haven't met him – says I'm sitting on a gold mine there. When I left to come here, it was turning into a desirable area, not like when your father and I first moved in. Douglas reckons if the house were put on sale now, it could fetch well in excess of three hundred and fifty thousand. I'm getting to the age I might need the money.”

Geoff felt the blood draining from his face. He'd never seriously considered the possibility of the house being sold under him.

“But … but I live there. You can't just turf me out onto the street.” His blood pressure rose rapidly and his anxiety spiked.

“Geoffrey! You know very well you live there because I allow you to. When you came back after finishing university, I could've left you to rent a room somewhere like so many of your generation. Instead, I used your father's life insurance to move out here, and offered you the chance of temporary, temporary, accommodation there. You don't pay any rent.”

“You never asked for any! And I love that house and the garden.” That was an understatement.

Geoff's hopes of steering the conversation, and telling his mother his own important news were fast dying. The shock had driven all his prepared, memorised phrases out of his head. His carefully-built confidence disappeared into a cloud of dust. He needed to focus on the present danger.

His mother smiled at him, her appearance of sympathy not disguising the air of determination in everything she said.

“I know you do, son. But things change. When you and your girlfriend decide to …”

“What girlfriend? What effing girlfriend?” His tongue took on a life of its own. His colour was flooding back, red and hot. “What the hell are you talking about?”

His mother banged her cup down on its saucer, spilling the tea out onto the table top.

“Geoffrey! I expect you to be civil when you're in my house.”

Geoff grabbed hold onto the remaining tatters of his temper. Just about. A single deep breath. “Sorry, mother.” If it didn't sound as though he meant it, too bad.

“You have a girlfriend, don't you? Strapping, handsome young man like you. You haven't told me about the young woman, more's the pity, but Douglas says you must be in a 'relationship'. It's the only thing that explains why you don't tell me about so much of your life. And you're hardly ever at home when I phone. You've no idea how much time I waste, listening to your phone ringing out. So who is she, son?”

His mother was looking at him, waiting for the answer which she hoped would make her day.

Geoff opened his mouth. “Who is he, mother. He.”

Geoff couldn't keep in his seat a moment longer. He sprang up and started to pace up and down the short distance between the fireplace and the window. The nausea was almost overwhelming, and his head was pounding.

His mother was frozen in position for a moment, processing what he'd said. A series of passing glances showed her expression flitting from anticipation to shock, disbelief, and then to puzzlement.

“What? Did I hear you correctly? Now isn't the time to be playing games, Geoffrey. It's not fair to me. As your mother, I think I have a right to know.”

Geoff stopped his pacing to deliver the coup de grace. He stood directly opposite her. “You heard perfectly, mother. I'm in love with a man. I have a boyfriend. I'm gay.”

At that moment, time ceased. The image was burnt onto Geoff's retinas. Him, furious, hurt, red-faced, but also desperately trying not to throw up all over his mother's cream-coloured carpet. His mother, motionless once more, her face pale with shock, the pallor emphasising her characteristic red spots of intense anger. The only moving thing was her mouth, opening and closing of its own accord, like that of a fish. The silence had a textural quality to it – a thick, enveloping blanket woven from mutual hurt, betrayal, and incomprehension. Inexplicably, Geoff found himself studying the carpet. He'd always hated it for its pretentious impracticality.

“Get out!”

Geoff flinched as his mother's icy, barely-controlled demand sliced through heavy stillness. He looked up and saw she was gripping the arms of her chair as if it was her only hold on reality.

Geoff's tongue took charge again. “His name's Tony, and he works for …”

“I want you to leave now.” His mother cut off his attempt to make his boyfriend more real.

Geoff gulped, but stood his ground.

“Now, I said!” The shrillness of his mother's demand almost hurt his ears.

His mother pushed herself out of her chair with difficulty. She stood right in front of him. Although she was a good six inches shorter than he, her quivering fury made Geoff step back. Behind her glasses, his mother's eyes were bulging, and she was breathing heavily. Geoff had never seen her like that before.

Geoff tried again. “We've got to talk about the house …”

His mother squawked. “You seriously expect us to continue with that conversation after standing there and declaring yourself to be a … homosexual? A filthy, disgusting queer. No. Never. Geoffrey, you're a complete disappointment to me. Your father would've had a fit.”

She stalked to the lounge door and held it open. Her deep pink nail varnish stood against all the other pallor. Geoff was fascinated by it, contrasting the colour with that of her anger spots, and the vein throbbing in her temple.

His bizarre meditation was broken by his mother's voice. “You can see yourself out. I want nothing more to do with you. Nothing.”

Geoff didn't move. Instead, he stared aghast at his mother, speechless, until tears forced him to look away. She was his only close relative. His family, however much they didn't see eye to eye.

Sniffling, he made a plea. “Can I phone you in a few days. When you've had a chance to think. … Please?”

His mother pursed her lips as if sucking lemons. She was at least giving his request some thought. Geoff dared to hope.

“I don't know that I'll ever want to speak to you again, Geoffrey. Maybe, once I've got over this terrible shock and the shame of the whole thing, I'll consider it.” She sniffed loudly and fished a hanky out of her skirt pocket. “As you say, there's still the matter of the house to discuss.”

Geoff opened his mouth, but his mother shut him down immediately. “No more talking. You're disgusting. Get out! Out!”

Geoff's legs refused to move. He stared mutely at his mother until with a fury-laden sob, she turned and hurried out of the room. Moments later, he heard the bedroom door open and close. He continued to stand where he was, feeling gutted. What a complete, fucking disaster. Why hadn't he spoken first? Controlled the conversation like he'd planned to? He was useless, a complete disappointment, as his mother said.

Now the immediate threat was gone, Geoff started to tremble all over, breaking out into a cold sweat. His stomach rebelled again, expelling bile into his throat and mouth, making him swallow hard. He had to get outside. Geoff stumbled towards the front door, only just missing one of his mother's precious vases as he lunged for his jacket. He wouldn't get anywhere without his car keys.

“Where are you, you bastard things? Why can I never fucking find you when I need you?”

Finally he retrieved them. Geoff slammed the front door shut behind him – more to let his mother know he'd gone than expecting it to be an effective way of relieving his feelings.

For two long minutes, he stood out on the pavement, in full view, tears streaming down his cheeks, before his common sense kicked in and he set off in the direction of his car. He could barely see where he was going. As fast as he brushed the tears away with his shirt sleeve, they kept on coming, dripping slowly into his beard. Geoff prayed he wouldn't meet anyone on the way. He must look a mess. He was a mess. A complete, useless mess.

What was he going to do? Where was he going to live? Shit! An audible sob or two made him jump. Geoff tried to calm down, to regain control, then his mother's voice got going again in his head. Your father would've had a fit. … I want nothing more to do with you. … You're a complete disappointment to me.

Finally, he reached the village hall. In the car park, Geoff gave up the battle to control his stomach. He leant down by the bins and retched until the entire meagre contents of his guts was on the tarmac in front of him. When the gasps and heaves had subsided, Geoff stood up, supporting himself on one of the wheelie bins. Not having anything better, he again used his shirtsleeve to clean up his face and beard. Fortunately his shoes had been spared. When his head stopped spinning, Geoff stumbled towards his car. Once he got into the driver's seat, Geoff just sat there, staring blankly into nothingness, unfelt tears restarting their course down his face.

After a while, Geoff became aware of his surroundings. He was cold, sick … And …Tony! Fuck! He hadn't given his boyfriend a thought since he left his mother's house. Geoff checked the time. It was half eight, much later than he'd expected. Finding his phone, he tapped the much-used shortcut, hoping to hear Tony's loving, confident voice. He did so desperately need to.