They may not mean to, but they do - 37. Thirty-Seven

Keith had been going over to Nico’s when he could, to help Nico’s rather slow and painstaking work on the motor and the transformers. But this weekend was the big push, Nico had virtually finished and so Keith was going to clean and re-assemble. Left to himself, Nico would probably have just wiped the piece with a damp cloth, but Keith was determined to do it properly.

So, he got there early and set up his stall, going over everything as had been recommended to him by the museum people in Manchester. It was absorbing work, and Jonty appeared mid-morning to continue capturing their efforts. As before, Nico’s wife seemed to feel it was her job to cater for them, which left Keith regretting that he’d forgotten to bring a contribution. He’d thought of it earlier in the week, but what with worrying about a couple of jobs he was doing, he’d managed to forget.

Mid-afternoon, Thomas appeared, completely unannounced. He’d been working at home and decided to come and see what they were up to. He’d found that he could do the journey by bus. He grinned at Keith’s consternation at the mention of the bus. Keith had never used public transport since getting his first motorbike, a dreadful old thing with a tiny engine but which gave him independence.

Thomas ended up talking to Nico’s wife and helping her in the kitchen, which made Keith feel somewhat better. At a certain point, Jonty went to join them and when Nico announced that he was done for the day, he and Keith found the other three sitting in the conservatory. Soon tea was replaced by something stronger, and they discovered what Nico’s wife had been busy doing in the kitchen. There was a casserole, all ready.

The convivial atmosphere continued on Sunday when they reached the key moment, everything was ready. Nico and Keith assembled the different sections, checked things lined up, plugged it in and switched the switch. It was a magical moment, seeing the piece moving and indeed, there was something vaguely suggestive about a figure riding.

Once it was proved, and photographs and video were taken, they partially dismantled it and packed it away in boxes and packing material that Thomas had begged from work.

What with one thing and another, they weren’t able to get the Atkinson to Alison until later in the week. Thomas worked from home that day, and then the two drove over to the school in Thomas’ car, figuring that the suspension on it was gentler than Keith’s van. Thomas drove and Keith sat in the back with the boxes next to him, anxious at every corner and each bump in the road.

Alison was waiting for them outside, almost as eager as a kid and with her was Jonty. They carried the boxes into the school, and Alison led them to what she called ‘the posh bit’, a meeting room which tended to get used for the more formal governors’ meetings and a few other bits and pieces. The walls had a couple of striking posters on them, along with photographs of school events.

Alison explained that it was part of the original building and Listed, “Goodness knows what it was supposed to be for, but we’re stuck with it as they won’t let us split it into smaller rooms. Anyway, this is where the masterpiece is going.”

In the middle was now a table. She left them, and Keith and Thomas set to and started unpacking with Jonty taking pictures. Despite Keith’s anxieties, it proved straightforward, and nothing had been damaged in transit. And the movement worked first time. Thomas went to fetch Alison, who appeared with three of the governors, whom Keith recognised. And between them, they carried two bottles of champagne and some glasses. They were followed by two or three members of staff including, naturally, Therese and bringing up the rear, Jonty’s Mother who had driven him over.

When Keith did the honours, there was applause and cheers, with everyone standing around the work, watching it. Jonty had borrowed a video camera from University so there was proper video footage of the work in action. Then Alison commented briskly that they didn’t want to wear it out. They cracked open the champagne and toasted. Keith was a bit embarrassed to have his name mentioned, but he was pleased too, to have brought it off successfully.

“Thank you, sweetie, you’ve done us proud. We’re going to have a proper launch for it, but I thought we ought to wet the baby’s head so to speak, and John very kindly provided the champagne”, she waved to Jonty who came to join them. “This young man is doing wonders for our on-line presence, we now have a website devoted to the figure, and now there’ll be a video too” Jonty looked suitably embarrassed, but Keith suspected he was pleased as well and noted Jonty’s Mother discreetly observing them. It seemed that Jonty was going to photograph some of the other pieces at the school, for a young man who had needed pushing he seemed to be doing very well for himself.

-oOo-oOo-

Keith kept trying to write down what he’d been thinking and feeling when he was with Maria. At least that’s what he had tried to do. But no matter how you looked at it, it felt lame, and he kept coming back, remembering other details, which then had to be added. But thinking of his time with Maria, and before, he remembered his struggle with his attraction to men, or more like his struggle with what he’d been taught about his attraction to men. This kept bringing him back to his Father and his teenage years.

Like Thomas, there was no-one to discuss things with. Not that Keith could imagine any sort of situation in which he had a rational conversation with his Father about being gay. For a start, his Old Man wouldn’t have tolerated the word, it would have been homo or queer, and to him the sheer idea was immoral, homos were evil perverts who preyed on children and that was the end of the matter. Discussing it with Thomas, it struck them as strange that a man as non-religious as Keith’s Father who barely tolerated churchgoing in others could have such a powerful religiously inspired moral sense.

They talked in circles around both Fathers, never quite getting there but the sheer fact of being able to talk about it was helpful. To compare experiences, was Keith’s Father’s overt behaviour, even with his violence, any worse or better than Thomas’ Father’s covert behaviour, seeming to think one thing yet say another. Without anything concrete to go on, Thomas was beginning to think that his arguments with his Father whilst he was at Uni, the way the man picked on all sorts of aspects of Thomas’ life and behaviour, were either a covert campaign or a substitute for the real argument.

And Thomas was left wondering whether his own behaviour would have been different. Without his Father’s attitude, would Thomas have chosen VSO? Would he have fallen in love with Africa in another way?

It was in such a rather melancholy moody atmosphere that Nate phoned. He and Caroline had been in contact with a now elderly friend of their Father’s. The old man had been delighted that they had got into contact and was full of reminiscences. He had finished his career in the church as the Archdeacon of Cornwall and had retired down there, so he and Nate’s Father had kept up a lively correspondence. The old man had said that he had kept many of their Father’s letters and he had been delighted at the excuse to look back over them.

“Do we want the correspondence back, the old man suggested that we might like to get it back to put with the rest of Dad’s papers?”

“The rest of Dad’s papers? You’ve kept all the stuff?”

Even over the telephone, Nate sounded a bit abashed, “No, just a few bits and pieces. You didn’t want anything did you? I figured that all the diocesan stuff, the religious contacts and such would be of no interest.”

“Dead right. Does the old guy think we’re going to write Dad’s biography?”

There was a chuckle from Nate, “They’d be in for a shock.”

Thomas smiled. One of the things that had fascinated Keith was learning that despite the two brothers taking very different paths, the one into the church as their Father wanted, the other fleeing the old man’s influence, both Thomas and Nate had a similar view of their Father. Saintly, religious, and a fine pastor but unbending and inflexible as a parent. Compassionate to his parishioners, he ruled his sons with a firm fist or tried to. Neither had grown up into the old man’s image. Whilst the old man had not picked fault with Nate the way he had with Thomas, he had been no less unbending, and Nate had once admitted to Thomas that it had taken him a long time to be able to come to terms with his conscience and to forgive his Father the way he ought. Thomas admitted that he had perhaps never quite forgiven the old man.

“Did the old guy know anything about what Dad was thinking with me?”

“A little, Dad didn’t write much about it, couldn’t bring himself to say much more than something about young Thomas’ problems.” Thomas snorted at the other end of the phone. “But he evidently regretted that he couldn’t have an intimate Father to son conversation with either of us.”

“Couldn’t unbend.”

“Yes. The old guy remembered that, and once when they met, they discussed your liking for men, in that way, as he put it. I get the impression the two were of differing opinions, the old guy seemed a bit more tolerant, more forgiving. Yet Dad was also worried about losing you, you breaking free and disappearing into drink and drugs.”

“Bloody hell. He was really worried about that?”

“Moral degradation of one sort leads to another.”

Thomas snorted, “Where did you get that from?”

“A quote from the old guy.”

“Nice.”

“I could say, to understand is to forgive, but I know we’d probably never agree on that one. We are going to have to face up to it, we will never be able to have the sort of discussion with the old man that we need. We have to deal with it in our own way. I shall pray and think about you.”

“We need to move on.”

“That is coming close to psychobabble, brother but yes I think we do.”

“So? Certainly, lots to think about. When I’ve got my head around this, we need to meet up and talk.”

It was whilst talking this through with Thomas later that evening, that Keith thought again about going back. He’d been putting it off as if returning to his childhood home would somehow bring his Father back to life. Both he and Thomas had Fathers who were, in a way, demons. Thomas was going to have to come to accept his Father’s ambivalence (to put it mildly) and Keith his Father’s violence in the face of their being gay.

He pulled up a map on his computer and showed Thomas in detail where things were. Or rather, where things had been, perhaps none of it existed anymore. It was time to see.