Ralph: Breaking free - 7. Parents and Photography

Ralph stared out of the kitchen window. The twins were dutifully playing with their grandfather. They were having fun, after a fashion, though their clothes were the sort of nice girlie things that meant they could not be as active as they would like. If they got home early enough, he knew that there'd be a rough and tumble session in the local park.

Visits to his parents were always a trial, they had such particular ideas, about everything. The girls enjoyed the visits in small doses, the attention that they received; they liked the fuss being made of them, but the long lunch with best manners at the table, followed by a session playing nicely with grandad and talking to grandma. It all became a bit much.

His parents were still in Bedston where he grew up, but they now lived close to the Golf Club, on a very exclusive estate. Nice, well-appointed, beautifully manicured gardens, neat and tidy houses, everything in its place. Sterile and boring.

In a way, it was great having the twins with him, there was school and all their activities to talk about, to take the spotlight off him. Even their football, with the raised eyebrows that caused, was a topic for conversation. His Mother had asked whose idea that had been, only to have the twins pipe up 'ours'. Nolan came in for a lot of enthusiasm from the girls, which meant Ralph could keep quiet.

He'd never been quite enough for his parents; his Father had been made partner quite young and they expected him to do nothing less, preferably with a London-based firm. Instead, he'd gone down a web dark hole; a profession which they had neither appreciated nor understood. They'd liked Therese, but the rest of his life never came up to expectations and what achievements there were, just did not form part of their thinking. He dreaded his Mother politely asking about new clients, and he knew how well any description Morrie's business would go down. As it was, as they did the washing up and watched through the kitchen window as the twins and his Dad played on the unfeasibly tidy back lawn, Ralph was catechised by his Mother about is lack of wife, girlfriend or even possible candidate. How would he even find the courage to mention Nolan?

Then his Mum went very quiet, "Your Father and I went to a fundraiser for the new school."

"How come you were there?"

"Golf Club and Rotary Club friends were going."

"Aah", say no more.

"The Jamesons were there."

Ralph stared at her, "Do I know them?"

She looked thoughtful, "Maybe not. Your Father got friendly with him at the Golf Club. Anyhow, they know that boy's parents."

Ralph didn't have to ask, he knew. 'That boy' was Gordon, he'd never been known as anything else. As in, 'I don't know why you'd want to hang around with that boy'. After their split, Ralph had played down the relationship, but even his associating with 'that boy' had been frowned upon. Afterwards, Gordon was barely if ever been mentioned by his parents except as that boy.

"Seems that he lives in Parborough with his boyfriend", his Mother said boyfriend in definite inverted commas.

"His parents?"

"Live out Stevenham way, now. He's still painting." The final word was said with profound scorn; that Gordon's Father might dare to consider painting as a career was simply too much. That Drew Wilkinson might be a fine painter never seemed to come into Ralph's parents' considerations.

After the school had discovered his and Gordon's relationship, they had been warned off. They hadn't done anything wrong on school premises, and off them they had been discreet, but the sheer idea of two boys together was enough for them to be pulled into the headmaster's study and warned. Ralph had wanted to crawl under a rock and had played things down to his parents. Gordon had told his, and the Wilkinsons had exploded. Appeared at school, looking like no other parents. Ralph's enduring image of Gordon's Mother was her striding across the playground, her long hair flying, wearing an alarming multi-coloured, ankle-length skirt that neither his Mother nor his friends’ Mothers would ever have given house room to.

"I might have seen him."

"The Father?"

"No Gordon."

"You met him?"

"Saw him. He was having coffee off the Cathedral Green. A month or so back, I was taking the twins to a party, no chance to say anything."

"Did he see you?"

"Most likely."

His Mother clearly had more questions, but they didn't have the vocabulary to talk about things like that. For once, Ralph was thankful for his family's inhibitions. He didn't want to be asked and would not want to lie.

"Are you planning to see him?"

Ralph stared at his Mother, "I don't think so. After all this time. What would we say? Besides, I’ve no way of contacting him."

She just nodded.

---

Morrie was almost vibrating with excitement and delight. He had been noticed and recognised by Russ Kahn. There had been a couple of meetings with Kahn where Morrie pitched his business, and even the new website. Ralph was having dinner in town with Morrie, as the man wanted to celebrate; the potential new investment, the first version of the website being ready to go. You name it. But really, it was because Morrie was Morrie. He was sociable and regarded Ralph as a friend.

Why not? When the website properly went live, then Ralph would try and get him to take the whole team out. For the moment, it was just the two of them, at The Plain and Honest Burger where Morrie assured him that the burgers were the best. Anywhere.

What the hell?

Perhaps what tickled Morrie most was that not only had he had meetings with Russ Kahn, but that he was going to one of Kahn's parties. These were regular occurrences evidently, a chance to meet others, network, have fun and let your hair down. Kahn was a big thing locally, his business empire still had its headquarters in the new business park, rather than migrating elsewhere. And as well as running a successful business, Kahn seemed to have interest in supporting and encouraging local small businesses.

Ralph wondered whether the Morrie link might be enough to bring WebIdeal to Kahn's attention, but did he want that? Yes, investment in his business might be good, but Ralph rather liked being small, having control himself. He liked the idea of it remaining his business. He knew his parents would disagree, and that the idea of investment being able to take WebIdeal to the next level, whatever that was, would seem like a no-brainer to them, though his Mother would object to a non-word, as she regarded it, as no-brainer.

Morrie had few such qualms, he felt that he had made it. Into the charmed circle.

The burger was good, the service prompt. This wasn't going to be a long meal, and once they'd covered work issues, there wasn't much else to fall back on for conversation fodder. Morrie's life was his work. Ralph tried to resist throwing in cute stories about the twins and certainly wanted to avoid a repeat of their confidences from the other week. Then Morrie came out with a blinder. He was having another photo shoot on Friday, using a different photographer who came highly recommended. Did Ralph want to come?

"Come on, it'll be fun, just a couple of hours."

"I don't know."

"New guy, the photographer, is meant to be a bit arty. I thought we might try that. A different look."

"This isn't a ruse, is it?"

Morrie gave Ralph a 'who me?' look but then chuckled, "Even if I wanted to, I couldn't, we have a packed shoot-schedule already."

Ralph wrinkled his nose, "OK."

---

Next morning, the reaction at work was, perhaps, rather predictable.

"You're what?"

Ralph smiled, "Going to watch guys taking their clothes off and have their pictures taken."

Ivor rolled his eyes, "Do I want to hear about this?"

"We'll be dealing with the results. New pages on the website."

"Well, thank you very much, but I'm happy dealing with the end result, then, not seeing the process of creating it."

Beth returned carrying three coffees, "The photographer is Edward Hirsch?”

"Know him?"

"Of him. Friends of Corinne, two blokes, collect his stuff. Real arty, moody male nudes."

Ivor looked up, "Hey, they're not planning on nudes are they, in the photos for the website?"

Ralph rolled his eyes, "No. Morrie has his eye clearly on the product."

"Still, rather you than me."

---

Edward Hirsch's studio was impressive. Some money had been spent, it was a busy commuter village, close enough to Parborough that it was almost a dormitory village. The studio was a well-appointed barn conversion on the edge of the village. Inside was a large main room, Edward, a tall thin man whose grey hair made him look older than his 40 years, was setting up cameras and lighting. Morrie was sitting on a sofa, the spirit of bonhomie, and greeted Ralph effusively. The first model had arrived and was changing.

The model, Preston, when he appeared, proved to be a tall, 40-something man, blond and rather striking, particularly as he was wearing what looked like a vividly coloured silk dressing gown. When Morrie commented on it, Preston laughed, "This old thing. A girl doesn't like to reveal everything straight away."

His voice was low and rather smoky, sexy almost and his manner very theatrical. With a 'hello honey', Preston had introduced himself and asked what Ralph did. When Ralph explained, Preston smiled, "Ah, the wizard who is going to immortalise me on the interweb." Talking to Preston was like that.

Under the kimono, his body was lithe and smooth. He made a comment about his lily-white skin, but Edward assured him it looked fine. In the event, Preston was most professional, seemingly able to understand what Edward wanted, and not at all fazed by the skimpy, revealing costumes. During pauses he chattered, and Ralph gathered he had a career that mixed being a part-time model, 'at my age, very part-time', cabaret artist, 'my first love', and sundry other jobs, 'to pay the rent'. Then during a break, whilst Morrie and Edward looked over the images so far, Preston pulled on a surprisingly utilitarian sweat-shirt and pants and went outside for a smoke. Wanting some air, Ralph joined him.

"So, honey, you're not doing a set. I'm sure Morrie would love you to pose."

Ralph laughed, "I'm sure he would, but there's no chance of that."

"Honey, come on. You're a good-looking guy, just think."

"No way. I daren't."

Preston smiled tolerantly, "Too worried about what the wife would think? You'd be surprised." He raised an eyebrow, suggestively.

Ralph shrugged, "Ex-wife, twin daughters and a guy I'm hoping might become a boyfriend."

Preston stared at him, "Hoping might be a boyfriend. Come on, hon. My advice to you? Get your head out of your arse and go for it."

Ralph simply stared at him.

"Oh, hon. I know what I'm talking about. I wasn't always the put-together, glamorous creature you see. I spent most of my 20s pretending, hiding in plain sight. I was acting a bit, had actor friends." He smiled, "Lots of camouflage."

Ralph nodded, "I'm beginning to realise, it’s just..."

Preston gave that tolerant, I know, smile, "It's warm, dark and comfortable having your head in your arse and no-one can shout at you. Get a life, hon." With that he returned inside. Ralph was surprised at the bloke's directness, but perhaps there was a lot of truth in what he said.

Preston was a real pro, they even finished with a few minutes to spare, so he inveigled Edward into taking a few images of him for personal use. To Ralph's surprise, Preston slipped off the rather miniscule posing pouch of mock snakeskin and posed nude. He was, indeed, well put together, and entirely hairless down there.

This detail brought back the moment Ralph had first seen Gordon in the changing room. Gordon had shaved everything off, a daring act at 15 or 16 in an ordinary school. And Gordon had rocked the look, Ralph had been so smitten he'd actually found the courage to jump the fence, speak to Gordon, even kiss him behind the sports block and, well, six months of what. Bliss? Maybe.

All those years ago, all that wasted time since then. Except, how the hell would he have squared seeing guys with having Therese. With no Therese, the twins wouldn't be around then would they, and he couldn't be without them. The second model was personable, but forgettable. Ralph found himself browsing memories and thinking of Preston's advice. Get your head out of your arse.