Never Too Late To Change - 4. Rapprochement

Eric woke up with a start. He'd had one of his bad dreams again. It had been some weeks since the last one, but given the dreadful day he'd had yesterday, it probably wasn't surprising. He could taste the leftover fear.

As usual, his bedroom was bone-achingly cold. He always worried that his electricity might be cut off. After the amount of money he'd spent over the past couple of days, he'd not turned the central heating on at all. And anyway, he'd been so upset, it had been all he could do to drag himself upstairs to bed.

Over the past couple of years, he'd been finding the stairs increasingly difficult to manage. His knees were always bad. Recently, one had locked on him as he was making his way up. He'd ended up hanging onto the bannister rail, hauling himself up the remaining steps. The prospect of not managing frightened him.

Eric lay there, staring at the ceiling, feeling empty in every possible way. Had he got anything left for breakfast? Yes … Bread for toasting, and tea. Not the most filling of breakfasts, but one he had often enough. Of course, the entire place would be stinking of that effing curry. How was he going to get it up off the floor?

In his mind, he replayed the previous day's encounter with the young man. Eric tried to do so without letting the suffocating weight of his ridiculous, dashed hopes get in the way. A sigh quickly turned into a cough.

He needed someone to help him. His independence was pretty much all he had left. Andy, for all he'd come across as a bloody do-gooder, was at least available, willing, and wouldn't cost him anything. Moneywise, that was. He could see that young man costing him a lot in other ways.

Eric decided he'd phone Helping Hand when he'd eaten his breakfast. He would say that Andy was acceptable for the present – only until they came up with somebody, anybody, better. If he was asked for a reason? He'd have to come up with something before he phoned. It wouldn't be what he really felt, though. Eric sighed. The young man had rubbed him up the wrong way, but he hadn't helped. He'd have to try even harder with the next volunteer.

As for the other matter, him being gay, he was completely stumped. He could ask at the library or the community advice place, but he knew he wouldn't. A man of his age asking about such things – they'd all be sniggering behind his back. And the news would spread like wildfire, for all the supposed confidentiality.

The whole thing had been too good to be true. Why had he got his hopes up? Good things never happened to him. It was the story of his life. Eric sighed again, then prepared to get out of bed.

God, was it morning already? Andy stretched out an arm and silenced the alarm on his phone. The bed was too warm and cosy to leave. He turned on the bedside light, then realised from the lack of noise from the bathroom, that his partner was not only up and about, but dressed, and downstairs by now.

Andy closed his eyes again. Just a few more minutes.

He ached pleasurably in several places. He'd played hard to get for as long as he could the previous evening until Adam's patience had finally run out. At that point, he'd been hauled into the bedroom, draped over the end of the bed, and fucked hard. The second round was just as passionate, only more restrained, loving. They'd taken their slow, teasing, delicious time …

Oh god, he still had Eric's apology to dream up. Not that it was going to be long-winded. Short, and to the point, that was the best way. He'd better get his brain in gear. Andy reluctantly opened his eyes again.

Adam left the food cooking on the hob for a minute to call up the stairs. “Aren't you up yet?”

Guiltily, Andy sprang out of bed and called back downstairs. “I'll be down in a minute or two. Just getting dressed.”

He appeared in the kitchen shortly after, freshly showered, his hair still wet.

His partner turned away from the hob and smiled at him innocently. “Hi … You moving OK this morning? No aches, pains …?”

“If I am, it won't be any thanks to you, you brute.” Andy brushed up against his fiancé, and kissed his neck as Adam was serving up a rare cooked breakfast.

“Behave. You telling me you didn't enjoy last night?”

Andy leant round and helped himself to his plateful. As he did so, he took the opportunity to spend a few seconds whispering sexy things into his lover's ear. When he turned to go to the table, he got his arse spanked for his pains.

“You should be thinking of apologies, not what you'd like me to do you.” Adam shook his head in mock remonstrance. “Although your requests have been noted.”

Andy grinned back at him, entirely unrepentant.

They ate their food quickly, without talking much, as they both needed to be getting on. When he'd finished, Andy went to pick up his phone. He hesitated slightly because he knew that the indoor reception wasn't that wonderful.

Adam noticed. “You could always blow the dust off the landline phone. It might suit Eric better.”

It probably would. Andy grunted his agreement, and headed off to the living room to make the call.

Eric stood in his kitchen, waiting for the elderly toaster to do its job. He couldn't help breathing in the stink of the spilt, cold curry. He wasn't able to bend down to clean it up – that sort of thing was something Hazel, his home-help, had dealt with. And she'd always bought the cleaning stuff and the washing powder – they were too heavy for him to carry, even on the bus.

His pill organiser was empty. Had he taken his pills last night? He couldn't remember. Yesterday, he'd probably been first too excited, and then too upset to have got himself sorted. The morning lot he'd have after his breakfast, but he wasn't going to take any extra. Eric frowned. Even he knew that could be dangerous. Shaking his head, Eric wondered at himself. He needed to take more care. There was no-one else to do it for him.

The toaster finally produced its burnt offerings. Tea and dry toast. Certainly better than nothing – though Eric still missed the fried eggs and bacon he used to have when he was working. Like a lot of things, it was too expensive nowadays. The toast was warm, and that was about it. He'd run out of butter, and the glass jars of jam were another thing that were too heavy for him to carry.

Eric stayed in the kitchen to eat, as it was marginally warmer. Once he'd finished his breakfast, he'd phone Helping Hand. Then he'd catch the bus into town and do his bits of shopping.

Almost on cue, the phone started to ring. Eric looked at it, wondering who could possibly want to call him. Well, the only way he'd find out was by answering it. He just managed to get to the phone before it stopped ringing.

Andy breathed a sigh of relief. The call had gone better than he'd hoped. His apology, brief but sincere, had been accepted. The old man had even muttered one of his own.

They were back at the start of their relationship, and he thought that they both wanted to make it work this time. The previous evening's inquest with Adam had been his own wake-up call. He was determined to make a greater effort. Eric had even accepted his offer of lunch, once he'd made it clear that he would be paying as part of his apology.

No doubt they'd have their moments, but hopefully they'd get on better this time, and, more importantly, he'd be able to help Eric. Andy smiled wryly. He'd phone the charity later on; thankfully, now with some more positive things to report.

Eric sat in his chair, replaying the phone conversation he'd just had. He couldn't believe it. There was hope. A small, flickering flame of hope amongst the ashes of the previous day's expectations.

The lad, Andy, he corrected himself, had not only apologised, but had then offered to take him out to lunch. Someone buying him lunch! He couldn't think of the last time that had happened. He'd never been one for socialising, even when he was working. Well, perhaps he'd surprise himself.

An element of doubt crept in. Would he remember his table manners? Could he control his tongue?He'd added his own apology to Andy's earlier. Eric knew he could be sharp-tongued, and half the time, he didn't feel the need to reply if a nod would do. His social graces, such as they were, had become very rusty.

His greatest worry was his appearance. All his clothes were uniformly shapeless, old, and uncared for. Eric looked at his shoes. They were ancient, scuffed, and down at heel. He'd mentioned it to Andy in passing as he didn't want to embarrass himself or the young man.

'It doesn't matter to me and it shouldn't matter to you' had been his reply.

But it did matter to him. He couldn't help but be self-conscious about his shabby, small wardrobe of clothes. It didn't worry him so much when he went shopping, that wasn't a social occasion. In the supermarket, he saw people wearing all sorts of strange things. Some of them looked as though they just got out of bed.

The town's councillors and the local chamber of commerce didn't encourage charity shops on the high street. They thought they lowered the tone. As if twee gift shops, gastropubs, and expensive clothes shops were a boon to the town's ordinary folk like him. When had he last bought any clothes, new or old? Probably whenever he'd last ventured into the city. It was something he did once in a blue moon. He'd struggled so much the last time, he didn't know whether he'd ever be going again.

Oh well. All he could do was clean himself up as best he could, and put on his least worst clothes. Eric was nervous and excited, again. Might he even enjoy himself?

Andy pulled up outside Eric's cottage in his 4x4. He'd just had the time to go home after his appointment and change out of his work clothes into something more casual and well-worn.

He rang the bell, feeling a little nervous. The front door opened almost immediately. Eric stood there, spruced up and obviously eager to get going.

Andy smiled at him. “Morning, Eric. You ready?”

Eric nodded. He turned to grab his coat and walking stick.

Andy was watching him. “You probably won't need those, but it's fine. I'll put them on the back seat.”

Once he'd got Eric settled, Andy started driving out of town. He'd chosen a pub that wasn't far off – fifteen minutes or so by car.

As they left the town behind, Eric looked out his window with increasing interest. “Haven't been along this way in years. The villages in this direction lost their bus service ages ago.”

Andy glanced at his passenger. “You never learnt to drive?”

“No. Always been too expensive. The lessons to start with, and as for buying a car … Not likely. What would've been the point? I've never been one for holidays, or days out, or anything like that.”

Andy nodded. He knew that wages for working on the land had never been generous, even allowing for the accommodation which came with the job.

“First estate I ever worked for is coming up soon, I think.”

Andy thought hard. He himself didn't come this way often.

Eric suddenly pointed ahead. “There it is!”

Andy slowed down to allow Eric a good look – fortunately, the road had little traffic.

The old man grimaced. “They've turned it into another bloody country house hotel. Sign of the times, I suppose.”

After a short time, they arrived at The King's Arms. Andy had been careful to choose somewhere with decent food, but no pretensions. The bar staff were friendly and efficient, serving Andy to his drinks and taking his food order.

They sat at a table close to the open fire. Eric couldn't resist holding his hands to the fire. The warmth was luxurious.The two men looked at each other.

After a short silence, Andy decided to open the conversation. “You must know the land round here really well …?”

Eric nodded. “So I should do after fifty years work, man and boy. A lot of things have changed, though. Only to be expected, I suppose. Nothing ever stands still.”

They quickly passed on from his working life onto discussing 'Capability' Brown. There was one of his landscapes quite close by. Eric had some trenchant views about modern garden design. He much preferred the long-term view taken by Brown and his contemporaries.

“I may've left school at fifteen, but that doesn't mean I don't think, or look at things. Even borrowed a couple of books about him from the library once.”

Andy smiled wryly. He'd been in danger of making assumptions again. Their food arrived. Steak and ale pie for Eric, and a warm goat's cheese salad for himself.

Eric peered at Andy's choice – it looked quite unlike anything he ever ate. “You a vegetarian?”

“No – but I prefer to have some meatless meals every week.”

Eric grunted. “Well, at least you do it from choice, I suppose.”

'Unlike him', Andy finished off the sentence to himself.

Eric took his time with his food, savouring every delicious, flavoursome mouthful, trying to make it last. This was bliss. He was warm, comfortable, and well-fed.

“Good choice, this place. Thanks for asking me.”

As they both finished eating, Eric gathered up his courage to ask his companion about the platinum ring he sported on his left hand. He thought he knew its significance. This would be his first question about a gay relationship. In fact, his first about any aspect of being a gay man. It felt so strange to have someone with him he could ask. Good, as well.

“Ehm … your ring, Andy … Is it …?”

Andy obliged. “It's my engagement ring. My fiancé and I are hoping to get married next year sometime. In the summer, possibly.”

He showed the older man some photos of Adam which were on his phone.

“He’s a good-looking sort of a lad. What does he do?”

“He’s a commercial lawyer, works in the city.”

Eric made a face. He didn't trust lawyers.

“He can be rather fearsome sometimes …” Andy thought of the previous evening and smiled. “But he’s great. We get on very well. You know, he can be a real tiger in bed.”

Eric looked a little taken aback.

Andy felt the need to apologise – perhaps he was making assumptions again. “Sorry if that was too much information.”

“I’m no prude.”

There was a short silence.

Eric made an effort to restart the conversation. He was curious. “How'd you both meet?”

Andy took pleasure in retelling the story of how he and Adam met by accident in their local gym. At that time they were both living in the city. He sensed, without looking, that Eric was hanging onto his every word. He carried on, describing their life together. A pretty ordinary life, by contemporary standards. Just two gay men living together, hoping to get married.

Andy lost himself in the telling …

“... and that was when Adam proposed. Strange place to do it, I suppose, but …”

He stopped talking, abruptly. Something had changed, He sensed the mood had darkened, somehow. Andy looked over to Eric to see if anything was the matter. The old man was sitting there, opposite him, with tears welling up, and a look of such yearning and loss on his face that made Andy's heart bleed.

“Sorry. I'm being daft. I know I am.” Eric sniffed, and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

Andy dearly wanted to sweep him into a hug, but decided against it. Instead, he reached over the table and gently took hold of both his hands. He stroked them comfortingly.

“No, You're not being daft.”

I'd like to make a special mention of @Headstall's contribution to this story. At a very busy time last year, Gary made time to read and comment on the first four chapters. His detailed comments and suggestions made a real impression both on me and on the story. 
Should you wish to leave a comment, I will gratefully accept them all.
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