Soul Music: Love Sustained - 6. True To Life

That same Thursday evening, Joy Lumsden sat in her living room, re-reading the rental proposition from her son. She scowled. More likely it came from the other man, the one who'd corrupted him. His name escaped her; it wasn't important. Geoffrey never did have much of a head for figures. She got out her calculator and ran through the sums yet again. Why she bothered, she didn't know. It would cause less trouble if she threw the letter back in the bin and sent a reply to finish the matter. A sigh escaped. A week without any contact with Geoffrey unsettled her though, despite who he'd turned into. She missed not having to keep up a front when she talked to him. Their chats allowed her to be herself – without varnish. Her friends demanded high standards. Sometimes she struggled to meet those expectations – always being polite, careful not to offend. Always having a smile.

Apart from that lunch with Gloria, so far the week had passed without her having to perform. Which was good, but she still missed the contacts. She had enough trouble keeping her temper with Gloria. Joy stabbed at the calculator. In doing so, she pressed a wrong key, ruining everything that went before. She swore. The cheek of the woman, barging in without an invitation and presuming to lecture her. A couple of Gloria's phrases bubbled up in her mind. They would keep on doing so, no matter how hard she tried to forget them. 'Geoffrey is a respectable, hard-working young man.' 'Geoffrey's as much your son now as he was.'

The second statement was manifestly wrong. The first? She thought so too before he changed. Not a highflyer – her hopes of that soon disappeared – rather he was a steady, middle-of-the-road performer. And the 'respectable' part of it? That went out of the window when he said what he did – those shameful, distressing things. Joy put the calculator down. Her lack of concentration made using it a waste of time. She found it difficult to remain focussed on any task. Only the previous evening she allowed a pan of milk to boil over. Twenty minutes wasted clearing up the mess.

What did other people think of Geoffrey? It wouldn't change her mind, but it might be enlightening to discover. Joy pursed her lips. She would have to find a way of asking that wouldn't excite their curiosity. That shouldn't be a problem. As his mother, she had a right to know what her son got up to. They weren't to know she disowned him. She would start by asking Douglas. It would be like seeking corroboration on things she wanted to tell Geoffrey's girlfriend. Girlfriend! Joy bit on her knuckle to stop an anguished wail erupting. That was the Geoffrey she wanted. Not this one.

For something to do apart from dwelling on the subject of her son, she went to pick up the phone. Anything was better than brooding. She craved a phone call to Douglas. His good manners and attentiveness were soothing and very flattering. He could almost be described as suave. Joy patted her hair. She always wanted to look her best when he was around. Not that he would be able to see her now. She smiled to herself – the first smile for a long time. Reaching out for the phone, she heard a faint pop, followed swiftly by another. Two light bulbs had failed, making the room significantly darker. She looked upwards. It had to be the ones flush with the ceiling, of course. The ones she couldn't reach.

Geoffrey came and changed them on the last occasion. Even he needed to stand on a chair. She didn't know what type of bulb they required. After a moment's thought, she remembered – they were halogens. Did that help? She went into the kitchen and opened her store cupboard. Derek always dealt with electrical things, and after he died, the duties passed on to Geoffrey. The cupboard contained one solitary lightbulb – not the right sort. She wasn't even sure where to get them from nowadays. More reason to phone Douglas. Men knew about these things. And he would be tall enough to reach the light with only a stool to stand on.

Happy she had a solution, Joy returned to the living room and settled down for a chat with her newest friend.

He took an appreciable amount of time to answer and she heard a lot of noise in the background. Loud voices, the chink of glasses, and music.

Hello?

“Hello, Douglas. It's Joy here.” She wondered where he was.

Sorry? Who?

Then she overheard him talking away from the phone.

Course I'll have another Scotch, darling. And be sure to get something for yourself. Just come straight back here. OK, princess? I don't want you wandering off.

This was followed by a high-pitched, feminine giggle. He sounded not drunk exactly, but his words were already slurring and it was only nine o'clock.

She tried again – louder and clearer this time. “It's Joy Lumsden, Douglas.”

Oh … Hello, my dear. How can I help?

“Is this a good time?”

A short laugh. It's always a good time where business is concerned. His voice cleared somewhat. I take it you've decided about the house. Shall I tell my pal to get it on the market? He's a top-notch seller. The best.

Was that all she meant to him? A source of business? She never asked him why he wanted to get involved in the house sale. Joy felt uncomfortable.

After a second, she decided to continue with the call. “I've still to make a decision, Douglas. Something else has come into the equation. No, I'd like your help with another thing, please …”

The feminine giggle returned. A brief sotto voce comment from Douglas followed before he came back to her call.

Sorry, Joy. Got to go, my dear. Phone me when you're ready to sell. Always happy to help. Bye for now.

And the call ended.

Douglas Foreman tossed his phone down on the table and snuggled closer to the blonde young woman who was one of the hostesses for the evening. The golf club often held private events and as chairman, he always made sure he got an invitation. This one was turning out to be a corker. Unlimited booze, pretty girls … What more could a man want?

“Hey, Dougie?” One of his golfing friends leant across the table. “Who was that? One of your latest squeezes, is she?” A knowing guffaw followed.

“On the phone, you mean? God, no.” He grimaced in disgust. “That woman's an ancient, dried-out widow who looks and sounds as though she's sucking on lemons.” He turned to the hostess. “The polar opposite of you, darling. You're young and gorgeous, aren't you?” He groped her. Nothing too vulgar, just feeling up pretty, young flesh through her revealing costume.

For a moment or two, she didn't resist. Then she moved away slightly, flashing him a smile to show she wasn't taking offence.

He took a gulp of his drink and continued with his conversation. “She wants to sell one of those Edwardian terrace houses in town. Should fetch a pretty penny, and the cut I'd get from my pal, the estate agent, will come in very useful.”

His friend leant back against his seat and eyed him speculatively. “That's all, is it? No other plans? Can't imagine that money's gonna last you very long.”

“I've no idea what you're getting at. She thinks I'm a gentleman.” He winked.

“Yeah. She wouldn't be the first one to discover otherwise, Dougie.”

He merely smirked and wrapped an arm around the hostess to gather her back in. The night was still young.

Joy stared at the phone. That wasn't the Douglas she knew. He always made time for her. And where was he when he answered the call? She frowned. It sounded like some den of drunkeness and debauchery. Could it really be the golf club? She always imagined it to be a respectable, refined place. Putting the phone back in its charger, she chewed at one of her thumbs as she did so. She stopped as soon as she noticed. This was what he and Geoffrey were driving her to. She sat down again and took stock. So, could she rely on Douglas for anything apart from selling the house? She edged round the question of how much she actually knew about him. Maybe she'd better phone again in the morning. Not too early by the sounds of it. Replacing the light bulbs could wait until then.

Geoff jerked out of his uneasy doze when Tony poked him in the side. He'd lost count of how many times they went round the car park until they finally came across another car pulling out of a space. The joys of a busy Saturday morning in a neighbouring town neither of them knew very well.

“We're here.” His boyfriend leapt out of the driving seat and opened the rear passenger door to grab his concert clothes. “Still late, but at least we got here.”

He checked the time. “Half twelve. You should make the start of the rehearsal if you hurry. Down beat at one, did you say?”

Tony was now ferreting in the boot of the car. “Yeah.” He cursed.

Geoff turned in his seat. “What you looking for?”

“Blasted choir folder. Why we have to keep them, I've no idea. Oh for fuck's sake!”

Hurriedly, he joined the other man in the search. Thirty seconds later, he found the folder under the first aid kit. Tony shrugged in disbelief and took it off him.

“Just as well. Ted would doubly kill me if I turned up late and without this.”

Geoff sniggered. He had yet to be introduced to Tony's singing partner. “Where's the gig again?”

“Up in the town centre.”

The car park was at the foot of a fairly steep incline which led to the town nestled at the top.

“St. John the Baptist's. I assume that's the main parish church.”

Geoff looked into the distance. He could see the stone spire with the sun glancing off it.

Tony checked he'd got everything. “I need to stride out. And I've still got to pick up something for lunch on the way.” He locked the car and picked up his stuff. “Mind if I leave you behind?”

He smiled ruefully. “Course not. I know I can't keep up with you when you're in fast mode. Anyway, I told Helen one-fifteen for lunch, so I'm not in a hurry.”

They had tickets to the late afternoon concert, but neither he nor Helen wanted to sit through the rehearsal as well. And she threatened to do him damage if he held out any longer on the subject of the encounter with his mother. He shook his head. The chances of a public outburst when he told her were still quite high.

Tony took a quick look around. Then he pulled Geoff in between the cars and gave him a peck on the cheek, while his one free hand briefly fondled his behind.

“See you later, love. Say 'hi' to Helen for me.”

“Yeah. Hope it goes well. Bye.”

He stood and watched as Tony's beloved, athletic form took off in the direction of the town. A couple of minutes later, he set out at his own, more sedate pace.

Helen Doherty panted a little as she came to a stop outside the eatery Geoff had chosen. The late-running train finally deposited her at the station which then proved to be further from the town centre than she would've liked. She told herself she needed the exercise. She hurried up the steep slope, panting, persisting even when her legs grew heavy. Maybe less of the sweet stuff for a while would be a good idea. She peered in through the window. Geoff was already there, occupying himself with his phone. Before going in, she took a moment to have a look at the menu card, stuck inelegantly to the window with adhesive tape.

When he phoned, her friend sounded cagey about what food the caff offered. 'Good, hot, plain stuff' was how he described it. Now she saw the menu, she understood why. Did Tony know, she wondered? It wasn't a transport caff exactly, more a toned-down, high-street version. The bulk of what it offered were combinations of grilled – or fried – bacon, sausages, eggs, and tomatoes, with scarcely a fresh vegetable – apart from potatoes – in sight. She shook head in amusement and went in.

Geoff didn't notice her until she stood right at his elbow and leaned in. “I'm here!”

He nearly dropped the handset. “Bloody hell! You startled me, Helen.”

“So I see.”

They grinned at each other. They didn't need conventional greetings.

Helen sat down opposite. “Don't suppose there'll be too many vegetarians round these parts, unless they want a meal of boiled spuds with the odd tomato.”

Geoff blushed faintly.

She smirked. “What's to stop me from telling your boyfriend when we see him later?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Tony doesn't run my life. Yes, he makes suggestions about what I should eat, but after the week I've had, I deserve something different. Comfort food.”

She couldn't stop a snigger. “This is a treat? Takes all sorts.” She stared at the brightly lit menu above the serving area. “No cakes, or puddings. That's a disgrace.”

She got a snort in return. Geoff shook his head. “And you presume to lecture me on my diet?”

Helen rolled her eyes. “Anyway, what you having?”

Her friend turned to join her in looking at the delights offered. “Dunno. I can't decide which combo to have.”

She looked at the various pictures of improbably coloured plates of food. “They all look enough to feed a family of four.”

“Rubbish.”

“Well, I've decided on the cheese and ham toastie.”

“Where's that?” Geoff scanned down the list.

“Right at the bottom. 'Lite bites'.”

“Oh … No, I need something more substantial. I'll go for number three, I think. I don't fancy egg today, for some reason.” He stood up. “I'll go and put the order in. It looks like they do the cooking from scratch.”

That was something in food's favour, she supposed.

Down a side street in the centre of town on a bright Saturday afternoon, Joy approached an old-fashioned hardware shop. She hoped they stocked the light bulbs she needed, otherwise she would be at a loss. Several phone calls to Douglas the previous morning failed to make contact. Every time she tried, the call went straight through to a messaging service. In desperation, she recorded something. She wasn't used to leaving messages, but he should have got the idea she needed him to phone back. Nothing. In the afternoon, determined not to appear feeble, she balanced on a chair and craned her neck until she could see the shape and size of the bulb. It took several enquiries to neighbours before an older man mentioned the shop she now stood in front of.

Even if she bought the right kind of bulb, how she would change the wretched things was something else altogether. She wished she could turn the clock back, have everything as it was – Geoffrey, a pleasant, helpful boy who liked nothing better than to please his mother. If she admitted to her friends she needed help, they'd ask why her son couldn't do it. She would have to think up some plausible excuse. When she opened the door into the shop, a bell tinkled. One side of the shop held a promising display of lighting sundries. She moved closer.

“Hello. Are you looking for something in particular?”

A middle-aged woman now stood behind the counter.

Joy turned. “Yes. I need two halogen bulbs for a pair of recessed ceiling lights.” She hoped that would be enough information.

The woman bustled over to one of the many shelves. “Here they are. Do you know exactly which size and shape you need?”

Rapidly, Joy ran her eyes over the packs, seeking the one with the closest resemblance to what she recalled. She took a chance. “Err … That one, thank you.” She pointed. “I need two of them.”

The assistant them off the shelf and returned to the counter, putting them in a paper bag. Joy paid, then went home, not knowing what she was going to do with them.

Geoff and Helen ate most of their meal before the serious conversation commenced. She watched as her friend put away enough food to feed her for half the week, eating with evident enjoyment.

“Back to the diet after this?”

“Pardon?” Geoff's fork hovered in the air.

“This.” She pointed at his plate.

“This, as you describe it, is making up for the lack of food the rest of the week. My guts have been off.”

His defensive answer made her smirk. She took a slurp of her tea. “So, why were you and Tony late for the rehearsal? That's not like him.”

Geoff turned a shade of traffic-light red and swallowed hard to get his food down.

She sniggered. “Come on. Your face tells me it was something exciting. Let's see … Did you rob a bank on the way? Or maybe you flattened some poor soul who didn't get out of Tony's way fast enough?”

“Helen!”

“Well, spit it out. Otherwise I'll just continue speculating.”

His eyes swivelled, checking out who else might be within earshot. She noted only two men, bolting their food down as if it were time-limited.

Geoff leant forward to keep his voice down. “Recently, we made real progress when we're in bed, having fun. Tony showed me how to suck him off properly. … God, it's amazing. I love doing it. You know, pleasuring him? When he cums, I feel so good. And he does me as well. That's pretty special too, but not in the same league.”

He sat back up, an expression of horror appearing on his face. A hand covered his mouth. After a couple of seconds, he removed it. “I can't believe I just said that out loud. Bloody hell! Sorry, Helen.”

His redness returned with a vengeance.

Helen smirked. “OK … That bordered on too much information, but never mind. You're happy – that's good. What you didn't tell me is how that's related to being late for a rehearsal?”

She liked seeing how Geoff gradually changed. A year ago, if she mentioned any sexual topic, he'd have nearly crawled under the table to avoid it.

He toyed with his last sausage before he looked up. “Tony gets nervous before a performance. It's not the 'scared' sort of nerves I get, it's more his adrenaline has got going.”

“And?”

Geoff's shy smile appeared once more. “In bed, I offered to show him what I'd learnt. When I brought him off, he came back with another of his masterclasses. God, I don't know how he does it. Anyway, it would've been fine except we both fell asleep afterwards.”

She hooted with laughter, eyes streaming with merriment. After a minute, speaking became possible. “Shagged out, the pair of you. Oh, dear. … When did reality kick in?”

Geoff rolled his eyes. “Well over an hour later.”

“Ouch.” Helen winced. “Bet that was fun.”

Geoff took a swig of his cola. “Tony's language made my ears burn, and I swear quite a bit. Don't think I've seen him get dressed so quickly. I made breakfast while he got himself sorted. The pair of us ate it in five minutes flat.”

“Worth it?”

His face took on a dreamy expression. “Oh, yes.”

He stirred, pushing his plate away. Then he picked up the cola can and fiddled with it. The atmosphere between them changed. “OK … I suppose you want to hear all the gory details?”

“Yes – I'll be honest. But only if you want to tell me.”

Geoff ran his fingers through his hair. The weariness was back. It confirmed what she suspected. Good news would've travelled fast. Bad? All she really needed was confirmation of the degree of awfulness.

He growled. “The whole thing's a fucking disaster. She not only disowned me, but she wants to sell the house from under me as well.”

Helen's jaw dropped. “What?! Bloody hell, what the fuck does your mother think she's doing?” She made no attempt to disguise her anger. She looked up to see the counter staff exchanging glances.

Geoff shrugged. “I'm a disgrace to the family apparently.”

“The fuck you are!”

“Keep it down, Hel. That's not going to change things.”

She took a calming breath. The red fog dispersed a little. “OK. So what happened exactly?”

Geoff sighed and launched into what she guessed was now a well-told tale. “I prepared as much as I could. Tried to get myself psyched up. Then I walked in the door and she ambushed me. There's no other word for it.”

Helen sat and listened as her friend re-lived an excruciatingly painful episode in his life. God, it made her so angry. It still upset him. She watched as Geoff fished a hankie from somewhere and dabbed at his eyes.

“So there you have it. We're waiting for her to reply. Or not.”

She sat up straight. “Your mother needs a good talking-to and I'll be happy to do it.”

“Hel …”

“No. I'll behave, I promise, but no way is that ignorant cow gonna mess up your life.”

“But …”

“Geoff, love. If neither you nor Tony can talk to her, who's left? Me.”

Her friend still didn't appear convinced.

“You can thank me after.” She stood up. “Right, what are we gonna do until it's time for the concert?”