Never Too Late To Explore - 5. Happenings

Eric stared gloomily out of the window at the wintry weather. So much for thinking that spring might be on its way. Sometimes the beginning of March could be worse than January. There was a hard frost overnight and many surfaces outdoors were covered in a thin layer of glittering white. Some parts might be icy as well. He opened the front door and took a step outside. Even though the sun was shining, it was still very cold. Eric quickly retreated back inside, closing the door behind him.

Wasn't it typical? He said to Andy that he'd be OK for food until the end of the week, only he'd done so without thinking. Now here he was on the Thursday without bread or milk once he had his breakfast. Could he manage without? No, not really. What would he have at midday if he wasn't able to make a sandwich? With a sigh, Eric gazed at his computer. Andy regularly mentioned buying his groceries from the supermarket online. Now he was a little used to the internet, why shouldn't he give it a go? How difficult could it be?

He looked at the clock – it was still quite early. He had plenty of time to catch his usual bus if he failed with the computer. Either way, he was going to solve his own problem without calling Andy. The young man was a good friend, but it wouldn't do to presume on his help. And if he was busy, Andy might not be able to call round. Eric frowned. Anyway, he was perfectly able to get himself into town, even if the weather wasn't great. By taking things slow and steady, he would be fine. He wasn't some old codger, fit only to snooze away his life in an old folk's home. Part of his independence was showing he could look after himself when it was necessary.

Sitting down at the computer, Eric straight away found the task harder than he'd expected. As soon as he was faced with the search page, the name of the supermarket slipped away. He had no reason to remember it usually – it was the only one in town. By concentrating, he pictured the storefront in his mind and gradually he managed to grasp hold of the name. He typed it in. Buoyed by his success in finding the right page, Eric grappled with trying to create an account for himself. He got as far as the password before he ground to a halt. Frustrated and fuming, he stared at the two boxes. How was he meant to know what he'd typed if he couldn't see any letters? At the fourth time of failing to match up his passwords, the old man gave up and slammed the lid down on the computer. Andy was a better man than he if he relied on that site to get his food.

Right, that settled it. He'd get the bus into town and buy his few bits and pieces the old-fashioned way. Eric found his sturdiest pair of shoes, a cap, and his warmest scarf. The coat was the same one he wore any time of the year except the summer. When he opened the front door, he discovered the weather had clouded over and it was sleeting. Eric peered down his path. It was difficult to see how slippery the surface was. Slow and steady. Other people managed. People less mobile than he was. He took a firm grip on his stick and set off.

Brian Metcalfe wiped down the nozzles of his basic coffee machine. His customers wanted none of the High Street chain store fripperies here. The café was almost empty. He served the construction workers earlier, and apart from the odd brave shopper, his usual clientele had stayed away. The weather was hardly the sort to tempt people out if they didn't need to be. He tidied up the food counter, making sure he was prepared for the lunchtime rush: office workers and others, for whom the weather couldn't be an obstacle. He wondered what to do next when the door opened and he noticed Eric Whitehouse walking in.

He stared at the other man as he approached the counter. “Morning, Eric. What are you doing out on a day like this?”

The older man frowned. “Don't know why everyone's so surprised. The woman on the supermarket checkout asked me about it as well.” He brandished a shopping bag. “Food isn't going to buy itself, is it now?”

Brian's eyebrows went up. “It's not so good underfoot, that's all. Or so I've heard. Certainly kept my other regulars away.”

The man on the other side of the counter looked pinched with the cold. His coat wasn't anything like thick enough for the weather.

“Anyway, what can I get you? Something to warm you up?”

“Just a mug of the usual, thanks. And a toasted teacake.”

After fishing around for the right money with fingers blue from lack of circulation, Eric Whitehouse gestured in the direction of his habitual table.

“I'll be sat over there”

“Right you are. I'll come over with your order shortly. I've time for a chat as well, if you'd like?”

“It'll only be a quick one – the bus is due in half an hour or so.”

“OK. I'd better get your teacake in the toaster then.” And Brian bustled off.

Eric sat down, glad to be in somewhere warm and dry. He had a couple of close calls on the cobbles down to the café. The frost and ice got down between them, making them very slippery. They were always uneven. He hadn't expected it to be so difficult. Why hadn't the council gritted the street properly? Or the pub and the other businesses, if it was their job? It shouldn't be a reason for him to be so short with Brian Metcalfe though. He was a friend, and a help to him. Eric remembered the first day he tried to use the library's computers when Brian came to his rescue. He smiled to himself. As he looked up, the cafe owner approached with his order.

Eric thought he'd better apologise. “Ehm … I'm sorry I was a bit sharp earlier, Brian. It's not been so easy to get around today.”

Having given Eric his full mug and toasted teacake, Brian Metcalfe sat down. “That's why I was surprised to see you. Those cobbles don't get much sun at the best of times. Anyway, I've missed you the last Tuesday or two. You given the library up?”

Eric stirred his tea. “Yes, in a way. Well, for that, at least. I've got my own computer now, and the internet at home.” A thought occurred to him. “Sorry, Brian. I could've sent you an email.”

The other man sat back. “Blimey. You've had a lot going on. The last time we talked, you were only starting to think about buying a computer.”

“Yes, I know. The young man who helps me, Andy, was very good about getting me set up. He even managed to get me a grant from the government to buy the machine. And the internet people were very keen to get me going. They rewired the phone and did everything.”

Eric buttered his teacake and started to eat it.

The other man looked thoughtful. “That wouldn't be Andy Harper by any chance? He's a landscape gardener or some such.”

Eric nodded – his mouth was full.

“Ah … a couple of people have said to me that he was doing voluntary social work locally. I know you said you were receiving some help, but I didn't like to ask who it was.” Brian leant in confidentially. “You do know he's … gay?” He almost breathed the final word.

Eric used chewing his food as a delaying tactic while he made his mind up. Then he gave his tea a quick stir and took a gulp.

Having come to a decision, he looked the other man in the eye. “Yes, I do. In fact, that's why he's helping me, rather than anyone else. … I'm gay as well.”

Eric found himself trembling as he made his declaration. It was only the second time he'd said it out loud. Did it ever get any easier?

Sitting opposite him, Brian was rendered speechless for a moment, his mouth open with shock. Eric grimaced with dismay. Was he going to lose his friend? He didn't regret saying what he did – he'd spent most of his life hiding who he was, but Brian was a friend from his new life, one he wanted to keep.

It was a few seconds before the other man visibly gathered himself. “Oh … OK …”

Eric felt he was being scrutinised as he tried to finish his teacake. He found it quite difficult as his mouth was very dry. Neither of them seemed to know what to say next.

Brian cleared his throat self-consciously. “Sorry, Eric. You rather took the wind out of my sails there. Well, I never …”

Eric stared at his half-empty mug of tea. “We're still friends, I hope?”

“Yes, of course we are.”

To Eric's ears, alert and defensive, this sounded too bright, too quick. Not false; more a knee-jerk reaction to his question, said without thinking.

It must have shown in his expression because Brian hurried on. “No, I mean it. It's just … I've … I've never really known a gay man before.”

Eric snorted. “How can you be sure of that? We haven't got two heads. We're just like other folk.”

Suddenly the atmosphere seemed to have soured. Eric's agitation had got the better of him. Brian looked taken aback by his reply. The pair of them were sitting in an awkward silence when the door opened. Another customer came in and was waiting by the counter to be served.

With obvious relief, Brian leapt up and went to take the new order. Eric looked at the clock on the wall. He swore: it was nearly time for his bus. The old man abandoned the dregs of his tea and stood up, clumsily pulling on his coat, scarf, and everything else in his rush to leave. The clock hands seemed to be moving faster than he was. Finally wrapped up against the cold, Eric hurried out of the café without saying goodbye.

Andy pulled into a quiet layby. He wanted a few minutes break before going on to his next client. Turning the car engine off, he got his phone out, intending to check his emails. Instead he remembered a call he needed to make. The reception wasn't brilliant, but he could risk making a quick call to Adam's mother about their wedding arrangements. It was funny – his own mother was interested, but happy not to be hands-on. Felicity Partington had been keen from the outset to help in any way she could. Andy's smile faded as he wondered whether it was a ploy to help her forget about her husband for short periods. That was a marriage certainly not made in heaven.

With a sigh, he called her number.

She answered after a short delay. Hello, Andy. It's good to hear from you.

“It's always my pleasure.”

There was a quiet chuckle in reply.

“Is it OK to talk?”

Yes, I'm doing the ironing. One of my least favourite occupations. Talking to you'll stop my mind from going completely into neutral. So, is this about the venue for your wedding? Adam said the two of you were out looking at places last weekend.

“It is indeed. Adam and I have decided on Croome Park …”

Oh, nice. Very nice.

“In October.” Andy held his breath.

There was a pause. Oh … I thought …

“There's no space in the calendar over the summer for either of the places we preferred. So rather than make it a time when people are due to be away on holidays they've already paid for, I suggested October. Adam took some convincing, but now he agrees with me.”

Yes … I can see that working.

Andy was relieved that Adam's mother sounded OK about it.

Funny how you get so fixated on one idea. A summer wedding is just that – no deviation allowed. July was what I'd got in my mind. That's sounds fine though. It's just a bit of a wrench to give the summer up in favour of autumn.

“You're not the only one, Felicity. We've had more time to adjust to the idea, that's all. Adam and I were thinking of the first or second Saturday in October. Any preference your end?”

Err … Hang on a moment, dear. I need to put the iron down to check the calendar.

Andy smiled to himself as he waited. Adam's mother treated him like a second son. Unlike her husband – the best he'd ever been was distantly polite. And that mask disappeared at Christmas. A sigh replaced the smile. The question of whether Adam's father was going to be invited to either the wedding or the reception was still up in the air. It was Adam's call, not his.

Andy? Either looks fine, though I can't speak for Adam's father, of course. He will not put his engagements on the joint calendar, no matter how many times I ask him to.

Andy didn't have a reply to that. After a second or two of it hanging there, he decided to move the conversation on.

“My parents aren't fussed either, so I think we'll plump for the second weekend. I'll confirm with Adam later and let you know. Once I've got Croome Park at least provisionally booked, we can move forward with the other arrangements.”

Oh, yes! That's what I've been looking forward to.

Felicity's enthusiasm made Andy grin.

You know, when Fiona got married, she was adamant she didn't want any fuss. Of course, it was their choice, but it left me so frustrated.

Andy's grin widened. Adam's younger sister and her husband were up in the Scottish Highlands, crofting. The family hardly ever met up as a whole. Again he wondered if they moved up there to escape her father as much as anything else. Adam rarely talked about her – from the little he knew, Andy had the impression of someone very different from his fiancé. She didn't appear to be interested in material things, earning much, or exhibiting any appreciable concern about the wider world around her.

“How about we meet up in the next week or two to get things started?”

I'm looking forward to it already.

“OK. I'll check my commitments and sent you a couple of dates. We could meet in one of the coffee shops on the High Street?”

Yes. Parking isn't usually an issue, unless it's market day.

Andy realised he'd been chatting for longer than he'd intended. “Right, I'd better get back to work. My next appointment awaits.”

Bye, love. Give Adam a kiss for me.

“Of course. Bye.”

Eric made his way back up the cobbled street to the main road as fast as he dared. The sleet had made the stones greasy. The events in the café and their fallout were whirling around inside his head. Why should he have to deny who he was to keep his friends? It was Brian who would have to do any adjusting necessary. Maybe he'd come round properly after a while?

One of his feet slipped, the shoe losing its grip on the cobblestone. Eric managed to keep his balance by means of the pub's front wall and his stick. After a moment, he took more of his weight onto his stick and left the security of leaning against the pub behind him. A few seconds later, he started walking again. He wouldn't catch the bus otherwise. Eric tried to concentrate solely on where his feet were going. That only lasted until he looked up and saw his bus passing in front of him, along the High Street, slowing down in preparation to arrive at the bus stop.

The old man put on as much speed as he could muster, bag banging against his leg in his haste. He was fine until he reached the kerb onto the High Street's pavement, then somehow he tripped over his own feet, or his stick, and lost his balance completely.

Brian Metcalfe stood behind his counter, eyes focussed on nothing in particular. He was mulling over the conversation he just had with Eric Whitehouse. The older man's statement came out of the blue. So Eric was gay? How did that arise? Since when? His quest for answers led him nowhere. He simply didn't have enough to go on. Turning his mind to what needed to be ordered for the following day, Brian polished the counter surface while he ticked everything off. Cheese, ham, sliced chicken … He was interrupted by the outer door being slammed open. A stout, motherly woman, one of his regulars, rushed in.

“Mr Metcalfe! There's been an accident!”