No going back - 3. Colin 1

>Where were you on Sunday, Colin. Mum was upset that you didn't go to see her. She was relying on you to take her to the church fete.

"Couldn't you have done that Miles?

>You know that Sundays are difficult, Annalisa likes me to spend time with the twins and last Sunday we had a party to take them to.

"I'd told you and I'd told Mum that I had to work on Sunday."

>Come on, kiddo, surely you deserve a day off.

To fucking drive 90 minutes each way in order to take his Mum to a church fete that she's only bothered about because of how it might look if she's not there. And as for you big brother, why couldn't you do it. With your cushy 9 to 5, Monday to Friday job, and nice house 30 minutes’ drive from Mum. Of course, it's too, too much bother and is far better for kid brother to do it. Single, unattached kid brother who, as far as you are concerned, has nothing better to do.

But of course, Colin didn't say any of this. He never did. His brother had caught him just as he was driving home after seeing a client; things had run on late. But the result was a new job, an attic conversion, dormer windows, new staircase for access, the lot, all he had to do was put together a quote, that could wait until tomorrow. He was looking forward to getting his tea, finally. Miles would be sitting comfortably at home, having been fed by his wife, Annalisa, after helping to put their twin daughters to bed.

At least talking to his brother whilst driving the van meant Colin wasn’t wasting time. Usually, Miles had the knack of timing his call just when Colin was trying to get his evening meal ready. Not that Miles called often, only when Colin was slacking as Miles saw it.

Colin felt guilty if he missed helping his Mum, not just because of her emotional blackmail or big brother Miles' guilt trips. But because if Colin didn't do it, he knew that no-one else would. His Mum wasn't old, she was only 70 for goodness sake. But since his Father had died, she had got dependent. Or rather, he and Miles had learned quite how dependent she'd been on their Father, a dependency now transferred to them. Which Miles was doing his best to shift onto Colin.

"I have a business to run, Miles. And clients to see. If I want the work, then I have to see them when it's convenient for them. That's the way it is, big bro. I don't have anyone paying me a salary, I have to make the money myself. And that means evenings and weekends if the client wants. Folk have jobs, can't take time off to meet me, so I have to suit them or they'll take their business elsewhere. Last Sunday was a big deal, if I can get the job, then it will make a real difference. It's not just a one-off, but an ongoing maintenance contract. Will give me a bit more security."

>You have to make time family, Colin. After all, it's ages since Annalisa and the twins saw you.

Colin knew what was coming next. He could probably have written Miles' script for him.

>It's the twins birthday next week, they are looking forward to seeing their uncle Colin.

"Sorry Miles, but this week is rammed. I have two jobs to finish. A new client to see on Thursday.

>Kiddo, you need to make time for family.

"How about you and Annalisa bring the girls to see me on Saturday then?"

Colin had a broad grin on his face, he knew how well that one would go down.

>You know that Annalisa has her class on Saturdays, and the twins are starting too. Besides, they still don't do very well in the car.

Colin let it run on, tuning the whole thing out. He'd go spare otherwise; he had always preferred the quiet way, rather than arguing. He hated arguments, and Miles had long ago learned that if he argued with his kid brother then at some point Colin was bound to give in, whereas their Mum simply went at it with a steady drip of emotional blackmail, starting at look at all I've done for you and working up (or down) from there.

As a teenager, Colin had avoided them both by disappearing into his shed. Or rather into his Dad's shed, that he'd shared. Miles, of course, had no interest in getting his hands dirty, it was all figures and numbers for him, even then. Now, Colin didn't have a shed, instead it was a whole business, Reliable Renovations. The firm was only a few years old, but thanks to some hard graft, he'd managed to make a success of it. Yet to his Mum and to Miles, it was still Colin retreating to the safety of his shed, his excuse to avoid real life. And by avoiding real life, they meant anything they wanted Colin to do for them. They saw it as his duty as an unattached son to help his Mum.

Colin had been shocked when she'd announced, after his Dad died, that she would be staying in their old family home. No, she didn't want to move to be close to Colin and it would be inconvenient to Miles and Annalisa with their growing family for her to be too close to them. She wanted to stay in the house she’d brought her family up in with the garden that she and their Father had created. She didn't want to be a burden, or rather she saw herself as Colin's responsibility. So she knocked about in a house that was far too big for her, and if Colin slacked in his duties, then there were hectoring calls from Miles or calls from his Mum where she laid on her infirmities with a trowel.

Colin sighed, he had very little personal life, what with needing to give everything to the firm and then much of the remainder to his Mum. She had accepted, with bad grace, that work meant he could not come up in the evening, though every so often Miles would go on about Colin's need for a personal life, i.e. he should spend hours on the road in order to come and see them.

The idea of a boyfriend was so far on the back burner as to be invisible, but that was partly his fault. No-one at home knew he was gay, and he was scared of being out at work in case it put clients off or somehow antagonised the guys that worked for him. He’d witnessed enough homophobia, casual and deliberate, in the building trade without needing to put things to the test himself. So, he was firmly in the closet, viewed the new dating/hookup apps with extreme distaste and restricted his occasional sexual forays to trips to London and the odd holiday.

He had managed to stick to his guns and have some social life away from Miles and his Mum. He went to choir once a week, signed up for their concerts and even went on a choir trip to sing in a festival in the Royal Albert Hall in London. That had been hard work, but complete magic. He managed a drink at the pub most Friday nights, but he reasoned that without that outlet he'd not stay sane. But Saturday was devoted to chores at home or doing stuff for the firm, finishing off jobs or doing the ever-present paperwork. Saturday night rather had the mockers on it because he had to get up early the next day to drive to his Mum's.

And yet. He loved the job, had great satisfaction in what he'd achieved.

Miles finally finished maundering on, and Colin pulled the van into his allotted parking space in the development and walked across the antiseptic green that pretended to be a garden and put his key into the lock. As he turned the key in the front door of his flat, all Reliable Renovations' own work, he was not only home but it was his, he owned it (thanks to the mortgage company). He felt a glow of achievement.

It wasn’t grand, just a few rooms in a modern development. His firm had done all the updating and renovations the place had needed, but he’d not had time to do much regarding décor and furnishings, yet it was all his own. He had friendly neighbours, a retired couple on one side and folk his own age on the other and above him, people he could say hello to without having to disgorge his whole history.

A month ago, his Mum had taken herself off for a few days to stay with her friend Violet in Scarborough. To hear her, you'd think that she was doing Vi a favour by going. But despite much anxiety and worrying, including a suggestion that Colin might drive her there, she had actually left. Colin had managed to squash the idea of him driving her by pointing out that she'd not like spending four hours bouncing around in the van, and he certainly wasn't going to the expense of hiring a car for the occasion, unless she fancied paying. Or perhaps Miles would run her over. That shut her up.

He'd taken advantage of her absence to take himself to London. He'd stayed in the Premier Inn near Euston on Saturday night, it was safe and reliable, clean and quiet. Then he'd taken himself to Ten Tons of Fun in Southwark. The club wasn’t fancy, it was only a gussied-up railway arch and the professional in him tutted at the shoddy workmanship on display. But for a couple of hours it was paradise. A club for big men and their admirers. He'd read about it in one of the gay magazines he followed online. Mostly the pictures of gay night-life showed the young and pretty enjoying themselves, but this club had seemed a bit different.

Once he had got over his basic diffidence, he had had a whale of a time. He was amazed at seeing guys dressed like him, just vest or t-shirt and jeans, and who looked like him, big, bulky and hairy. Some went even further, wandering around in jockstraps; there were plentiful signs up warning that nudity was not permitted, but clearly the limits were stretched. And certainly, some of those jockstraps were indeed stretched, leaving little or nothing to the imagination. Colin wouldn't have dared to go so far, but he felt comfortable in his vest and jeans. He had had a drink or two at the bar, danced without feeling like a whale among porpoises, and had chatted to guys too. He'd even got chatted up, which was nice, and managed to get flirty with a couple of cute guys. Colin preferred his guys on the slimmer side, slight even, but at least here you had the satisfaction of knowing that the smaller guys were there deliberately, that the club was for big men and their admirers. He had even gone as far as going through to the rear where the darker fringes of the outside area doubled as a sort of darkroom where bodies could couple in a semblance of privacy. And he'd dropped his knickers and done the nasty, there in the dark. No question of it being anything but a one-off. The guy, a slim red-head who had seemed to find Colin’s belly a distinct turn-on, had kissed him afterwards, thanked him and said maybe see you around next month, and that was it.

It wasn't real life, but it sure as hell made a fun time out. Sunday morning he'd been up late, and after a great breakfast (another good thing about the Premier Inn), he'd gone walking through Bloomsbury, looking at all the old buildings, historic brickwork, fancy details, as well as assessing all the different ways of doing places up.

Funny thing was, when he'd gone over to a house in Pocklington to look at work there, the guy, Owain spelled the Welsh way, had reminded him of someone in the bar at Ten Tons of Fun. The sheer idea had made him go cold. No-one up here knew he was gay; he certainly couldn't face telling his family. Goodness knows what their reaction would be. Miles would have a field day, another thing to belittle Colin with, whilst his Mum's views seemed to have been fixed in the 1950s.