Never Too Late To Explore - 3. Just Desserts

Why did Monday mornings always feel so rushed? No matter how well prepared he was, Andy hated the start of the week. Even if he worked with clients over the weekend, there was still something about Mondays. Just as well he tried to avoid having appointments then. Unlike Adam who always had the joys of a commute every working day unless he was on holiday. At least the work that morning was local: he had a meeting scheduled with his supervisor from A Helping Hand, the charity he volunteered for.

As he strode towards the town centre, Andy felt his face flush red briefly as he recalled his first catch-up meeting. It took place soon after the charity gave him Eric's case. He didn't disguise what a mess he made of the first visit. His supervisor, Claire, was about his own age, but that didn't stop her from making her views very plain. His ears tingled with the memories. 'Crass' was one word she used; 'ineffectual' was another. She and Adam, between them, set him on the right path, and fortunately, their following two meetings were much better. Hardly a surprise given he had only good things to report. Progress was being achieved, if only slowly.

Strange … he'd never thought to ask whether Eric was encouraged to give feedback. As the client, he must be; though he obviously didn't do so after their opening encounter, otherwise Claire would've added that into her complaint. Andy spent an uncomfortable few seconds imagining some of the choice phrases he would've used if he'd been in Eric's position. That was long gone – he and Eric got on very well now. Both their lives were changed for the better.

Andy arrived outside the non-descript door to the charity bang on time. Fit as he was, he found himself panting slightly after the brisk walk against the clock. The side street was quiet – the other buildings were occupied by small firms, or self-employed professionals. He tapped the code into the door entry mechanism, opened it, and hurried up the flight of stairs to the two small offices that constituted the charity's headquarters.

As he opened the outer door, he was greeted by a cheerful, female voice. “Morning, Andy. Come through. Welcome once more to our sumptious abode.”

Andy grinned. Claire had a famously dry sense of humour.

“Hi, Claire. I don't know … Maybe I should congratulate you on not using your operational budget for your office décor and other such essentials?”

“Hnh … A working fridge would be good.” She looked round at the battered, 1990s furnishings and shook her head. “Anyway, let's get down to business. You're the first of several appointments for this morning.”

Andy smirked inwardly. Claire was also well-known for not wasting time on preliminaries, like offering coffee. If he wanted a drink, he knew he was welcome to use one of the motley selection of mugs lurking next to the battered kettle.

“Where's Mike this morning?” Mike was her second-in-command.

“He's taken a couple of days off.”

Andy grabbed a seat, sat down and got out his tablet.

There were some seconds of silence as Claire quickly re-read his last report to refresh her memory. A Helping Hand wasn't a large charity, but it had a sufficient number of clients and volunteers to make remembering every detail impossible.

She looked up. “Remind me, Andy. Have you retaken that course yet?”

Andy felt himself flushing slightly. “Err … Yeah. First week of January, and I passed properly this time. I did send you the certificate.”

“Good. OK … when we last met, just after Christmas, you told me about the proposed works on Eric's cottage and his garden. What's happened with these?”

“Everything went pretty much according to plan …” Andy spent a couple of minutes detailing the renovations, and the work on Eric's garden and the path.

“Great. That's a real achievement. Making Eric's life better in a material way. Well done. The work on the cottage should save him money as well.”

“The quarterly bills have yet to come in, but that's certainly the hope.”

“Good. Anything else?”

“Eric now has his own laptop computer. Second-hand – I managed to get one of the government grants which all but paid for it. And he's very recently had an internet connection installed.”

Claire nodded with approval as she typed.

“It'll mean he can build on the experience he gained on the library computers in using the internet. More particularly, it allows Eric to have privacy to explore what it means to be a gay man in today's world, and how he might fit into it.”

Claire's eyebrows shot up. “Ah … Even my limited experience of the gay world suggests Eric is going to be in for a shock. Or several, in fact.”

“Yeah, that's pretty likely. I'm happy to answer any questions that Eric may have.”

“Excellent, Andy. Really good. Eric has taken some very big strides forward with your help.”

Andy beamed with pride – both for him and for Eric.

“And how's Eric coping with life generally? Has the extra bathroom equipment been delivered yet? You don't appear to have said so.”

Andy took a moment to gather his thoughts. “No, it hasn't. Bathing is still an issue. Adult Social Services are severely understaffed and significantly under-resourced …”

There was a weary nod from his supervisor.

“Of course, you know this already. I'm still pursuing the bath seat, and the hand-held shower attachment. If I'm there long enough during a visit, Eric takes a bath, because he knows I'm around to help. More generally, Eric is feeling happier, I think. Certainly, he's more engaged with people and the wider world. I get an impression of a life with more purpose. He's coping well with the changes that have happened to him and his surroundings. As the weather improves, his increased pension payments should mean that his life is less restricted.”

Claire looked surprised.

“Yeah, I know. He's not exactly rich, but compared to what he was surviving on before, Eric says he feels quite well off.”

“OK … It's the first time I've heard a single person's state pension described in those terms. Still … Right, I think we're pretty much done here. Any future plans?”

“Err … not as such. There'll be questions resulting from his use of the internet, and his first looks at the wider gay community. I hope he'll resume a hobby he had of sketching. My fiancé and I will try to include Eric in some of our social activities. Otherwise, I guess I'll wait to hear from Eric.”

“You've really grown into the job, Andy.”

“Thanks. It's made me a better person. More aware, more … resourceful?”

“Yeah. I'd agree with that. Would you be interested in taking on another client? Now, or in the future?”

That was unexpected. But Andy didn't hesitate. “No. Or at least, not until Eric is much further down the road. And being self-employed, I've got to be careful how much time I spend outside my paid work.”

Claire nodded. “Understood. That's fine. If you change your mind at any time, you know where I am. … Thanks for coming in, Andy. I'll see you in six weeks or so?”

“Yeah. You mind if we leave fixing the date for a while? I'm getting busier with work.”

“No problem.”

Andy stood up. “See you, Claire.”

“Yeah. Bye, Andy.”

He went out the same way he came and strolled in direction of the High Street and some coffee.

Eric considered taking advantage of the sunny Monday morning before he settled down to have another fight with the computer. Was he getting any better? It was difficult to say. He had a shock the previous evening when he tried to turn the computer off: it wouldn't do it like Andy had shown him. Instead a blue screen appeared with a message of some sort, about … updating, was it? Startled, he left the computer alone until finally it shut down. He didn't know whether it would be OK to turn it on later. Maybe he'd give it a go? Or it wouldn't hurt to leave it 'til tomorrow when Andy was due to visit. There was still so much that he didn't know. A walk would be good to clear his head.

He strolled down the path, enjoying the sunshine, looking at the plants on the way. It was so good not to have to watch his feet all the time – though the path still caught the frost like the old one. Eric stopped for a moment at the gate to take a lungful of fresh air. The computer might have its attractions – and frustrations – but it would never beat being out on a fine, sunny day. People didn't know what they were missing when they spent most of their lives stuck indoors, bent over a screen. And they were usually much younger than he was when he read about them in the paper. They should be more able to be out and about than he was.

The old man closed the gate behind him and turned left, out of town. There wasn't anything he needed to buy urgently, so a walk for the sake of it was what he fancied. Until that is, he saw his neighbour, Mrs Turner and her Pekinese coming towards him. They had just finished their walk. Eric sighed. He'd enjoyed several weeks without an encounter so she'd be bursting with things to tell him. Things he would have no interest in hearing.

“Coo-ee! Mr Whitehouse, isn't it a glorious morning?”

Eric didn't reply, but reluctantly made himself smile slightly. As his neighbour got closer, he noticed she was looking very tanned. Maybe she'd been on holiday?

She smiled broadly as she stopped to have a conversation with him. “You know, I was dreading coming back from the cruise. The weather was absolutely glorious, sunshine every day. I spent so much time sunbathing – on the ship, the beaches, everywhere …” She bent down to pat the dog, then straightened up, looking at Eric expectantly.

He recognised the cue – she wanted to tell him all about her holiday. Well, he could hardly claim to be in a hurry, given the direction he was heading. Eric decided against his better judgement to give his neighbour a few minutes of his time. Only a very few minutes.

“You've been away, I can tell. I was only thinking the other day I hadn't seen you for some time.”

“Oh, yes. Ever since my dear Mr Turner died, I haven't been able to face the January gloom without his help. So I book a cruise every year with one or other of my friends. It makes it so much cheaper if you go with someone else, you know. And they're company.”

Eric had absolutely nothing to add to the conversation. He just continued to stand there, leaning slightly on his stick. January was just another month, like any other. To be got through as best he could. As for holidays … He'd never been on one, never mind a cruise. When he was working, he had the odd day out at the weekend, and that was it.

His neighbour didn't seem at all put out by his silence. “The Caribbean islands are so beautiful at this time of year – warm and sunny. We visited Barbados, Martinique, St. Lucia – so many places. And the people are so friendly. It was all marvellous. Have you ever been to Barbados, Mr Whitehouse?”

Eric snorted. “No. Never been to London, never mind abroad.”

“Oh …” Before Mrs Turner could say more, fortunately the Pekinese chose that moment to lunge forward, almost snapping at Eric's ankles. “Bella! Come away. Bad dog. She's missed me, while I've been away. I make sure she stays with a friend, but then she's spoiled. Aren't you, Bella?”

The dog started yapping. Eric decided to make a move, aiming to give the dog a wide berth.

“Would you spare me a minute or two longer, Mr Whitehouse? If you don't mind, of course.” A winning smile. “On my walk past your cottage today, I couldn't help but notice how much better it all looks. The path, your garden … Of course, I wasn't able to see all of it from the road. Especially the cottage …”

Eric shrugged. “Nothing much to see there. Nothing you'd be interested in seeing anyway. Just the landlord catching up on a decade's worth of repairs.”

“Oh, indeed? Is it something to do with that handsome young man who helps you? What's his name? It's on the tip of my tongue.”

Eric stared at her, not sure whether she was joking. Or fishing for information again.

“It's when the young man arrived at your cottage with his partner at Christmas. I was outside for some reason when they pulled up in their car. I thought the other young man looked familiar somehow, but it wasn't until one of my friends put two and two together that I knew who they were. It's not as if there're many gay couples hereabouts. What are their names?”

Eric wasn't too bothered that his neighbour had discovered Andy and Adam. Not that he was going to put Mrs Turner out of her misery by supplying their names though. He was proud to be their friend, both of them.

“They've both been a great help. … Now, I'd better be going or I'll lose the sun completely before I've had my walk. Bye, Mrs Turner.”

This time, Eric walked up the hill with determination, towards the river on the other side, leaving his neighbour behind, frustrated. She was still trying to remember the names of his friends as she returned to her pristine cottage.

Adam came back to the dinner table bearing two small dessert bowls and an ice cream tub.

Andy's eyes lit up. “Pudding!” It wasn't something they often had.

“Yeah. I saw you'd bought some of that ice cream that's made locally. Unusual flavours, to say the least.”

“Aren't they? I'd never have thought savoury flavours would be good. But they are. Some are meant to be eaten with other things. The goat's cheese and honey should be with ham really.”

Adam peered at the tub. “Still strikes me as being wrong somehow. Never mind. Let's give this one a go. Peach and sweet cured bacon?” His eyebrows went up. “We can always go back to the raspberry ripple next time.”

Andy frowned. “Where's your sense of adventure?”

Adam started scooping the ice cream into the bowls. “Here. In a bowl in front of me. OK?”

Both men laughed, and set to, Adam with a fair amount of caution.

Andy ate several spoonfuls with gusto. “What d'you think?”

Adam stared at his spoon. “Ehm … interesting? It might grow on me.”

His partner chuckled. “Or not. Don't worry. The packs are quite small. I'll finish it up if you don't like it.”

“Hmm … Haven't decided yet.” Adam ate what was on his spoon. “Anyway, how'd the meeting with your supervisor go? What's her name again?”

“Claire. Claire Watson. She was very pleased – with Eric and me both.”

“No surprise there.” Adam smiled with affection at his partner. “In fact, it would be good to meet her.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Anyone who can keep you in line must be pretty special.”

Andy poked his tongue out.

“Seriously. She does good work, and I'd be genuinely interested in meeting her.”

“Awesome. She is quite fearsome sometimes. That first time I reported back to her still gives me the shivers.”

Adam smirked at the thought. “Deservedly so. Back to Claire. A meal with her might be something we could invite Eric to perhaps? A low-key supper?”

“Yeah! That's a great idea.”

Adam smiled as Andy's usual enthusiasm bubbled to the surface. It was one of the things he loved about his fiancé.

“There'd only be one new person, and she has a direct link to him. Wonderful.” Andy frowned slightly. “I've been thinking how to introduce Eric to other gay men, but I haven't had any inspiration at all. It's the one area where I feel I'm failing him.”

“You are not failing him – in that respect or any other.”

Andy turned slightly pink.

“Think about it, love. Three or four months ago, Eric was a lonely old man with no purpose in his life. Look how much has changed for him in that time. He needs time to adjust fully to what's already happened. There's no rush to add more things into the mix. Anyway, how many gay men of his age do we know? His social skills need more work, which is where the supper with Claire comes in. And allow him time to look around on the net. Let him get used to what he sees and reads there. I imagine he'll have all sorts of questions.”

“You always have good advice.” Andy stood up to take his bowl and the tub back to the kitchen.

“Hmm …” Adam shrugged. He put his spoon down. “I've had enough of this, I think.”

“Coward.” With a grin and kiss. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”