They may not mean to, but they do - 34. Thirty-Four

A message from Alison set Keith in a panic, the restoration was on. And as a result, on Saturday he and Thomas drove up to the school and proceeded to dismantle and wrap up the Atkinson. Thomas disappeared to his office and reappeared with boxes and tissue paper for the more delicate items. When asked where they came from, he grinned, ‘Don’t ask!’ But had then explained that they had been donated by a sponsor for a project and not used.

Nico’s workshop was probably what had been intended as a morning room of the large Victorian house that he and his wife lived in. A large end of terrace, it had an enviable selection of extra rooms in a rear extension, a rambling collection of spaces that were originally for maids or servants, but which were now given over to Nico and his wife’s activities. His wife was a potter who also did weaving, so the brief glimpse of the main rooms in the house was of lovely hangings and interesting pots, with occasional pictures which were evidently by friends. It was a world away from the clean lines of Keith’s flat, but he could see that Thomas was rather attracted to the look.

The workshop was a mass of small motors, a couple of little models in the process of being dismantled and an impressive array of mismatched cabinets with small drawers containing electrical components and other useful bits and pieces. Thomas stared at them, whilst Keith marvelled at some of the stuff Nico had, components that were old-fashioned when he was an apprentice. However, there wouldn’t be any work today. Instead, Nico insisted they stay for a drink.

So, he dragged them to the conservatory which sat in an angle between the kitchen and his wife’s pottery and seemed to be an adjunct to both. There was a view of a verdant, rather wild-looking garden, a pair of cats who seemed determined to enjoy the new visitors, home-made cake and tea from lovely tactile pots. Nico’s wife was sat in the pottery and contributed to the conversation from afar. And Keith came away with a pair of mugs like the ones he’d admired.

-oOo-oOo-

“What shall I do about Maria, she wants to meet up?” Keith had had a text from his former girlfriend the previous day and it was bothering him, burning a hole in his phone. Having already been out for a run, he and Thomas were now having a lazy Sunday brunch, using the new mugs from Nico’s wife.

“What does she want to do?”

“It’s just coffee, evidently, she’s up here a lot because a friend lives nearby. She’s keen to talk, to make bridges I think.”

“It may be bothers her, that you’re gay and were seeing men when you were still together.”

Keith looked a bit embarrassed, “Well not seeing as such, just the occasional furtive wank in a nearby cottage.”

“Not too nearby I hope.”

“Christ! I never thought of that, thank God I never met anyone I knew.”

Thomas smiled, “Perhaps you did and never knew it.” They smiled and took the fantasy further, but then went back to Maria. “I think you should go this time, say that you’re happy to clear the air just the once, but that’s it. After all, it’s not as if you want to be friends”, he grinned. “We could do stuff as a foursome, you, me, Maria and her husband!” That did indeed provoke a nervous laugh.

Keith texted her saying he’d meet up this once, to clear the air. But he worried that Thomas might be right about Maria wanting to settle old scores.

It was with some trepidation that he met her for coffee a few days later. They met at a café in another shopping centre, one looked very much like another to Keith, but it was suitably anonymous and quiet. Maria insisted on showing him pictures of her boyfriend Gavin. A great lump of a man, if truth be told, but judging by the pictures of the house, he was loaded. Keith decided to retaliate and found some of Thomas, as well as of Greg and Bart’s house. Despite herself, Maria was impressed and curious.

“What does he do?”

“He’s director of an arts charity, doing projects with kids in Yorkshire, before that he worked in Africa, in Zimbabwe and Ghana.”

“A do-gooder.”

“I suppose so, but he’s well regarded.”

She sniffed, “How’d you meet up?”

Keith smiled, “At a pub. Just ordinary like.”

“Hmm. You going to these gay pubs when we were together.”

“Not likely, I didn’t dare. It took a long time before I could accept it. Greg and Bart helped?”

“They more blokes of yours?”

Keith smiled, trying, and failing to imagine sex with them, “Nah, Greg’s an architect and re-built an old farm-house to live in. I did all the electrics for them and got friendly. There’s a pool and they let me use it. We talked. They’re open about being gay and, well, it just clicked into place.”

“So, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I told you, it took time.” She stared at him. “For fuck’s sake, because me Dad beat the crap out of me about it until I left home. As far as he was concerned, the only way to deal with a queer son was with the back of his hand, and all I needed was a decent girl and I’d be all right. And I believed it. At first.”

“But doing stuff like that behind my back.”

“It’s hardly as if I wanted to”, he thumped the table, “For fuck’s sake, you were seeing blokes.”

She looked mulish and determined. It had always been like this, she riled him, and he got frustrated. Not this time, he thought of Thomas and the way he stayed calm. Instead of saying anything, he took a good swig of his coffee. Christ, it was disgusting.

“My Dad fucked me up good and proper. I didn’t know who I was, and I certainly didn’t want to be attracted to blokes. It was wrong, it was disgusting, and it was queer. And I wasn’t queer. But there it was. Have you never had something that you want to do, are desperate to do, but you know is wrong, you know you’ll regret it, but the pull is so strong that you do it?” She was quiet. “Well, that was it. And you’re right, some of those places were disgusting, but I went. A lot of the guys I met were sad bastards, but others were just blokes, like me, struggling with something. I’m sorry it happened like it did, but it wasn’t planned, and after all, we neither of us behaved well.”

She started to speak, but he held up a hand, “I know that one wrong doesn’t deserve another, but I don’t think we were ever going to be for the long run, were we? Be realistic. I’m happy now, with a bloke, I love. You’re engaged to a great bloke.”

“I expect so, it’s just…”

Keith stood up, “No more buts, Maria. I don’t want one of those arguments, we’ve had plenty as it is. I certainly don’t want to be the one who starts throwing crockery in this place. Let’s just agree that it was a mess, but that we’ve each got to a good place. OK?” She nodded and he left.

-oOo-oOo-

“Sounds like the relationship with the bloke, Gavin, might not be up to the snuff.”

Thomas and Keith were sitting in Thomas’ flat, feet up, eating a takeaway and Keith was bringing Thomas up to date. “You reckon?”

“Might be, she’s restless because life’s not what she wants, and she scratches at old itches.” He shrugged, may-be.

“Or maybe she’s just a homophobic bitch.”

“Now, now. Be nice, you had good times. After all, it can’t be much fun to find your boyfriend left you for another bloke, and that he preferred sneaking off doing things in dodgy toilets to being with you.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Remember the good times”, Keith kissed Thomas and they forgot Maria for the moment.

Whilst the meeting with Maria hadn’t exactly cleared the air, it had helped settle things a bit for Keith. It was still a sore he felt the need to scratch, but not as much and the need was receding. He was able to turn it into a funny story for the guys after footy. They were sympathetic about ex-girl-friend problems and knew Keith well enough to know now quite what turmoil he’d been through.

-oOo-oOo-

Keith spent the whole of Saturday working with Nico on the Atkinson, carefully dismantling everything, and making notes about what went where. Nico thought he had a source for some viable bulbs for the piece if they needed them, and he was planning to see if he could rewind the transformer. The rest of the piece was primitive in the extreme, Nico laughingly described it as being made with a Meccano set, and all it would require was a bit of cleaning and greasing. That would be Keith’s job when Nico had finished.

Jonty had come over to photograph the process and seemed content to spend the day taking photographs of whatever was happening. Communication with him had been by phone, and in-person he wasn’t what Keith had expected. Tall and gangly, with floppy brown hair, he was rather retiring and quiet, seemingly permanently rather stooped into a question mark shape. He certainly wasn’t the offspring that Keith expected from his rather posh, pushy Mother. Perhaps photography was a way of avoiding that pressure. Whatever, with a camera in his hand Jonty was well able to express himself. Content to photograph and watch, he managed not to get in the way, though he seemed to photograph the oddest of things. Nico tried to get Jonty talking, but though the boy was polite he was hardly forthcoming.

Around mid-morning Nico’s wife brought them coffee and biscuits, Nico grinned and said it was a luxury reserved for visitors, usually he had to fend for himself. Jonty was polite but eager and happy to wolf down the spare biscuits. But he also gathered up the empty cups and plate and returned them to Nico’s wife in the kitchen. Clearly, she had the gift of getting the boy talking, as their conversation seemed remarkably lively. They found out afterwards that she’d been asking him about photography, not because she was interested but to get him talking and talk about it, he did.

There were sandwiches and beer in the kitchen at lunchtime, a real treat especially as it was homemade bread. Keith mentioned some of the photographic work he’d seen in the African art exhibition, which got all four of them talking. Jonty picked up on the African connection, and Keith explained about Thomas’ previous jobs, and Jonty admitted he’d love to go over there to photograph things.

By the end of the day, it hardly felt like work at all, and Jonty downloaded some of the photographs to a tablet and showed them. They looked striking already, but he simply gave a little smile and said that there was some work still to do.

When Keith got back to the flat there was a note from Thomas to say that he was with Greg and Bart, and Keith was to join them if he had the energy. Keith quickly showered and went round. Thomas had spent the day at work and had been caught by Greg when he came home. It was intended to be a quick drink, but the four of them seemed content to stay there catching up. Whilst Greg and Bart were sympathetic about Keith’s concerns about Maria coming back into his life, they had no new insights and the conversation moved on to other subjects. Indeed, Jonty’s appearance at Nico’s and his interest in things African seemed to perk interest and curiosity.

Greg also had questions about Alison and the school. It seemed that he had been doing some research. Bart smiled wickedly, “He’s finally paid attention to what us ordinary mortals are doing and realised that it's of interest.”

Greg nudged him, but both were smiling, “Hardly. But I have finally put things together, the Atkinson, your friend Alison, the place Thomas works and the Edward Hawkins Academy. That’s a place that I’ve heard colleagues talk about, and somewhere I’ve always been meaning to go and see. I just didn’t make the connections.”

“See, that’s what I said. You weren’t paying attention!”

But it seemed that Greg already knew more than Thomas did about the building, and as they left, Thomas suggested that they ought to try and get Alison together with Greg.