Soul Music: Love Sustained - 14. Getting Ready

Getting back early from work on Thursday, Geoff stood in the hallway and debated what to do next. They were off on their holiday the following morning, and things needed to be done. What though? He tried to recall what they discussed the day before. Some of it came to mind: primarily those things Tony said he would do. Route planning, food, and other supplies were his boyfriend's preserve. Which were his? Geoff shook his head. As it so often did, indecision removed the capacity to think logically. He sighed. What were the basics? Clothes, of course. That was better. A smile re-appeared. He ran upstairs and opened the wardrobe to be faced by not only his belongings but Tony's as well. Another wobble was quashed before it got a hold. His boyfriend was perfectly capable of packing his own clothes.

Having cleared that up, Geoff left the wardrobe as it was for now and moved over to the chest of drawers. Opening one drawer out, he stared at the contents, not knowing how to start. His bag: that would give him an idea of how much space was available. That led to the question of where the bag was. He frowned. When did he last use it? He felt that any answer would have to be found by delving into ancient history. A hunt in the spare bedroom produced nothing. He went as far as opening the door into the instrument store before closing it straight after: he was in and out of there so often, there was nowhere for anything like a bag to hide. That only left the loft. With Tony moving in, more stuff had found its way up there. It was better organised than before though. With another sigh, Geoff went out onto the landing and prepared for the ascent.

A few minutes later, he returned, bag in hand. A fabric carry-all, it was definitely not airline approved. He regarded it for a moment. Would life with Tony mean buying a new suitcase? Might they go abroad? Before he got lost in a fantasy, Geoff gave himself a shake. Clothes. They would be away for seven nights, so he'd need…

His phone rang. Putting a hand out to pick it up, he was on automatic, mind elsewhere. “Hello. Geoff here.”

A familiar chuckle made him blush.

Everything OK, love? I don't normally get the official greeting.

“Sorry…” He ran fingers through his hair. “I'm not used to this packing for a holiday lark.”

OK. Maybe I can assist. You got something to put it all in?

“Yeah. That barrel bag kind of thing I told you about yesterday. Took ages to find, then I had to blow the cobwebs off once it'd been rescued from the attic. The wretched thing still looks grey.”

He heard another amused snigger.

Don't worry. Next time, we'll kit you out with a bright, daisy-patterned suitcase on wheels.

His jaw dropped. “Pardon?”

The teasing stopped. Only if you'd like to, of course. No? Oh, well. The dust'll fall off your current bag soon enough.

Geoff was still focussed on the image of him pulling along some plastic, technicolor monstrosity.

Tony broke the short silence. Need any more words of wisdom?

“Err… yeah. If you've time.”

For you, love? Of course.

Geoff glowed. However hackneyed it might sound to someone else's ear, he cherished moments like that.

Tony cleared his throat. Well, what I do is plan the basics. Make sure you've enough things to last the time with the odd spare.

Geoff nodded to himself. “I kind of got that far.”

Then add in a sufficient variety of other gear to cope with likely temperature variations. Layers are good. Don't forget Northumberland can still be chilly in June if the weather turns.

“You make it sound so attractive.”

Rubbish! It's worst-case preparations.

They both laughed.

“The packing'll be fine.” With an effort, Geoff dragged his mind away from practicalities of going away. “Good day?”

So-so. That's why I'm phoning. Tying up the last few ends will take another thirty minutes or so. Should've phoned sooner. Sorry.

“Hmm?” He wasn't sure what caused the apology.

Wanted to catch you before you started supper.

“Oh!” Eyes blinked. “Ah… completely forgotten it's my turn. Shit. Err…”

It's fine, love. Let's treat ourselves to a takeaway.

“Sure?” A quiet sigh of relief escaped, followed by some rapid thinking. “How about that Indian place that keeps on getting good write-ups?”

D'you mean The Golden Balti? Sounds fine to me. … Don't sweat the packing. It's gets easier with practice.

“If you say so.” He glowered at the still empty bag. “I'll give it forty minutes, then order the food. Collect, or deliver?”

Deliver, I think. It'll be easier.

“What kind of thing d'you want?”

Hang on.

Geoff heard tapping sounds from a computer keyboard.

I've got the menu here. Let's see…

After a couple of minutes' discussion, Geoff scrabbled around to find a piece of paper and something to write with.

Want me to text you?

“No. I've got it.”

Great. See you later.

“Yeah. Bye.”

With a lack of any other displacement activity to get between him and the packing, Geoff squared his shoulders in preparation. It couldn't be that difficult.

In the office, Tony eyed up the remaining unanswered emails. He forwarded a couple on to a colleague; the others were internal requests and comments by people who knew he was going away. Those could wait until he got back. If impatience made his co-workers send a reminder, they'd receive an out-of-office notice in reply. A finger hovered on his mouse to close the program when another damn email appeared, marked urgent. He swore. His manager knew very well he was on leave once he left for the day.

Debating whether to turn a blind eye or deal with it, his phone rang.

He answered that instead. “National Trust. Tony Marshall speaking.”

Oi! Where's my ringtone gone? Aren't I on your bleedin' contacts list any more?

Zoe. Tony grinned to himself. It showed how much he needed a break: why else answer a personal mobile in his work persona?

“Sorry, Zo. I made much the same comment to Geoff earlier. We're both suffering the usual last minute, pre-holiday madness.”

He heard a snort.

Well, if you're gonna splash the cash on a romantic holiday for two…

“Don't act all deprived, Zo. I haven't been away since the autumn. And Geoff hasn't been on holiday since he was a teen.”

What?

He heard spluttering.

Jesus! Why the fuck hasn't he been on holiday before now?

“Can you see Geoff taking a singles package tour, or spending a week alone on the Costa del Whatever?”

No, but…

“I guess it takes some self-confidence perhaps, to organise a holiday for yourself? Anyway I'm determined to make this one as enjoyable as possible for him. Though I left the poor sod struggling with choosing what to pack earlier.”

That's like sad for Geoff.

“Yeah? Well, things are changing. … How about you? Any plans? You may not send postcards, but I know you go away.”

There're a couple of metalhead meet-ups I might go to later in the summer. The prices are outrageous though. And that's before they confirm the headline acts. Fucking sharks.

He sniggered. “All for the privilege of camping in some muddy, overcrowded field with zero facilities.” Living in a tent never appealed, even when he was a kid.

Course there're facilities. Duh. Guess you're too old for festivals?

“Less of the old. I'd easily book to go to Glastonbury or Reading for the day if I wanted.”

Are those even like, your kind of music?

Tony rolled his eyes. “Just because I mostly enjoy classical, it doesn't mean nothing else appeals.”

That go for Geoff too?

Strangely, he realised exploring his occasional interest in folk, jazz, or world music with Geoff was something still to happen. Classical music gave them such satisfaction and connection, they hadn't looked beyond. “Good point, sunshine.”

What?!

“'Sunshine'? Doesn't it suit your sunny, outgoing disposition?” He couldn't stop a snort; his sister didn't deign to respond. The one remaining email came to mind. “Anyway, the particular purpose of this call?”

Is only to wish you and Geoff an awesome time away, dear brother.

“Really? How positively civilised of you.”

Yeah. Whatever.

They both giggled.

After their usual brief, affectionate farewells, Tony returned to the screen and the unopened message. Taking a deep breath, he clicked, in the hope his manager sought something quick. It turned out to be a wind-up which contained nothing more urgent than wishing him a good break. Bastard. With a roll of the eyes, he closed the computer down and checked his desk.

God, it would be good to get away from work, and other matters, like bloody Stuart. Tony frowned. Things had gone very quiet on that front. He couldn't decide whether that was good news or not. Somehow it was doubtful Stuart would just give up and walk away. When they got back from holiday, he'd have to give some time to it. A shake of the head and he was out of the door, on the way home.

Geoff regarded the chaos on the bed. It seemed virtually all the clothes he possessed were there, and none of it was appropriate. Old, familiar friends showed their age; others, though newer, he wasn't sure about. None of it was helped by his shedding a little weight since he met Tony. Although it was only a centimetre or so here and there, trousers and jeans felt loose. Saggy. A sigh escaped. He didn't want to show up Tony by being even less well-dressed than usual. It wouldn't matter when they were visiting places, but going out for meals was different. And they discussed going to a concert at the oddly-named Sage, followed by a drink or two at one of Newcastle's more gay-friendly bars. That threw him into even more of a spin. What did he have suitable for an evening like that?

He stared up at the ceiling, trying to regain some equilibrium. The phone in his pocket rang. Dragging it out, his barked “Hello.” made the person on the other end pause before replying.

Is that Geoffrey?

He rubbed his forehead. “Sorry, Gloria. Didn't mean to snap at you. I'm packing for the holidays and it's proving more difficult than expected.”

How exciting! When are you off?

“Tomorrow morning. Northumberland.”

I won't keep you. There must be a lot to do before then. Really, it's just to mention your mother and I had another of our little chats.

Geoff grimaced; he wasn't in the mood.

We continue to make progress, which is all to the good.

She paused as if expecting him to ask for details. Checking his watch, the decision was made for him.

“I'm pleased to hear that, Gloria. Sorry, but I've got to get on. These clothes aren't going to pack themselves. We'll talk more after the holiday. Thanks so much for your efforts though.”

Oh... alright. Yes, do phone me. I look forward to hearing about your adventures.

“Thanks. Bye, Gloria”

Cutting the call, he looked at the bed. The heaps of clothing stared right back at him. Again he put off the necessary decisions; this time by ordering the food for later. At least he could get that right.

Walking up the path, Tony opened the front door to be greeted by the spicy, aromatic scents of Indian food. He breathed in deeply, mouth watering; it had been a hectic afternoon. On the assumption Geoff was in the kitchen, he headed there first. It was empty; only the takeaway packages sitting on the table. Thinking back to their earlier conversation, he moved to the bottom of the stairs and stood, listening.

Faint noises drifted downstairs of things happening – quite what, he wasn't certain – all accompanied by an undercurrent of Geoff's voice. Again, Tony couldn't distinguish anything except for staccato, marked interjections he assumed were swear words. Weren't his clothes packed yet?

With a wry grin, he ran up the stairs. “Hi, love! It's only me.”

Geoff's head, face flushed, poked out of their bedroom. “Thank god! Help is at hand.”

Chortling, he approached and gave his boyfriend a kiss. “OK… do I assume your packing is the present emergency?”

Geoff growled, while also managing to look abashed. “Didn't realise I owned so many bloody clothes. How about these?” He held up an ancient pair of rugby shorts.

Tony's eyebrows soared. “School?” He got a nod. “Hmm… bin, I think.”

“I've emptied nearly every drawer onto the bed and still haven't got anything to wear for the Sage.”

That sounded somewhat ominous. He smiled. “A spot of shopping could cure that. How about we take a quick look at the bombsite? We can come back to it later, 'cause the food's getting cold.”

His boyfriend's hangdog look nearly provoked a smirk, which wouldn't have been kind in the current situation.

“Yeah, please.” The other man peered back over his shoulder at the not-yet visible packing. “The food'll be OK for another couple of minutes. It was only delivered a short while ago.”

“The microwave'll come in handy, if we need it. … Right, let me at it.”

Having woken up yet again, Geoff lay in bed, marvelling: not long after four, and it would soon be full-on morning. He loved the time around midsummer. Though if he lived in Shetland, he'd like it a little less: night had to mean some darkness; proper, no sun blackness. Taking care not to wake his bed fellow, he got up. Already wearing a tee and sleep shorts, there was no need to get dressed any further. He kneaded his belly. The general air of excitement around their impending holiday had, as usual, found its way to his guts. A quick cup of tea, followed by a few moments in the garden might settle things down. Geoff crept downstairs, taking care not to step on those floorboards known to creak.

He sat at the kitchen table drinking tea, with the blind up, and watched the garden coming to life. Blackbirds and robins were just starting the hunt for food. They had nests nearby and probably fledglings. Putting the half-empty mug down, Geoff padded out the back door onto the partially-covered tiled area where he kept the sack of bird food. They'd miss the food over the next few days. Taking the scoop, he filled the feeders and left more loose on the ground nearby. Some people decried summer feeding, but the house was hardly situated in open countryside.

Scent from the old-fashioned roses drew him further away. Barefoot, he enjoyed the cool grass, still damp from an overnight shower. Both eyes kept a sharp lookout for snails though: squashing one without wearing shoes was not something he wished to experience. After a while, he remembered the tea. Yawning, he turned and his gaze fixed on the kitchen window. A figure, Tony presumably, was also awake and moving around. With a smile, Geoff headed back. It seemed neither of them could sleep.

On the way back, he disturbed birds as they feasted, then spied Tony in a dressing gown at the kitchen table, munching a couple of chocolate biscuits, Alarm bells rang in his mind.

He hurried in. “Everything OK?”

Tony rubbed his eyes. “Yeah. Woke up with a hypo coming on.”

In reply, a frown appeared.

The other man smiled. “It's alright. I'm used to this; and soon you will be, since we're living together.”

“But, the insulin pump?”

Tony laughed. “God... Haven't you noticed I don't use it at night?” He ate another biscuit.

Geoff flushed. His boyfriend's naked beauty in bed still blinded him to other things. “Sorry.”

“Come here.” A hand was held out. “It's nothing to be ashamed of. Sometimes I don't see the pod either.”

He allowed himself to be drawn onto the other man's lap. Sitting together, his head rested on Tony's shoulder.

“And what's your excuse for being up at this time?” Tony's arm tightened round his middle.

Geoff shuffled a little: it wasn't the most secure of positions. “I couldn't sleep. The excitement got to me, as usual.”

“Hmm? You are feeling a little uptight.” A slight squeeze followed. “We both know a cure for that, don't we?”

Yes, he did. Geoff broke free and in turn, held a hand out.

Tony accepted it, though he didn't move. “Just got to test my levels: see if I'll survive 'til breakfast.” He kissed the hand. “Go on up, love. You know I'll be with you very soon.”

Geoff felt the other man's appraising, hungry look travel up and down his body. He shivered and the sleep shorts suddenly became tighter at the crotch. “Yeah. I'll be ready.”

“Good.”

They exchanged smiles.

Geoff locked the front door. There was a steady stream of questions running through his head. Was the back door locked? Had he closed all the windows? How would the garden fare while they were away? Should he let his mother know they were on holiday? This last made him sigh. Tony slamming the rear door of the 4x4 shut made him turn round.

His boyfriend strode up the path. “That's everything. You ready?”

Geoff gave himself a shake. Why let the thought of his mother spoil something else in life? “Yep. Northumberland, here we come.”