Never Too Late To Change - 8. Forgotten?

It was nearly lunchtime. Eric had been sitting in the living room for quite a while, waiting for Andy to come and collect him. Andy had agreed to giving him a lift to the supermarket again the last time he'd phoned. Hadn't he? Eric wasn't so sure now. Why hadn't he made a proper note of it? He should've marked it on the calendar. Today. Or was it tomorrow? Today was Monday? He'd made a shopping list out specially, even though he wasn't feeling so good. A treat of a lift wasn't something to be given up lightly.

A coughing fit made him hunch up in his chair. His throat was swollen and sore, while his head felt as though it was stuffed with cotton wool. All the more reason to get some food in.

The doorbell rang.

Finally … Eric hauled himself out of his chair to open the door, only to find the postman standing there.

“Morning, Mr Whitehouse. Couple of letters for you. Only official ones, mind.”

They were almost always official ones, bills usually, or bloody advertising handouts. Eric couldn't hide his disappointment as he reached out for his post.

The postman noticed. “You OK? Expecting someone else, perhaps?”

Eric already had his coat and scarf on, to save time when Andy arrived. “Yes, but it doesn't matter.”

“Never mind. Perhaps they're running late. Look after yourself, now. You sound as though you're going down with something. See you later.” The postman turned and jogged back down the path,

Eric continued to sit and wait, just in case. He turned the telly on to pass the time. It had to be well past lunchtime. He was feeling hungry, but he didn't want to be caught eating when Andy arrived. When the programme ended, he checked the clock again. The old man sighed, stood up reluctantly, and took his coat and scarf off. Andy obviously wasn't coming.

He'd better get a bite to eat although his appetite had now lost its edge. There wasn't going to be much of a choice. Cheese. He'd still got some Cheddar left, and there was bread, even if it was the end of a sliced loaf from the previous week. Settled. He'd have to go shopping the next day, lift or no lift. That was assuming he hadn't gone down with something in the meantime.

As he was making the sandwich, Eric started shivering. Served him right for wearing his coat indoors. His winter fuel allowance had recently arrived in his bank account, so the old man decided to put the heating on for a bit, just until the place felt warmer. Taking his sandwich and his tea, he settled back down in his chair and watched some more TV while he ate. The programme, an afternoon soap, didn't hold his attention. He still felt shivery, and now a headache was looming as well.

Even though it was only part way through the afternoon, all Eric felt like doing was going to bed. He'd sleep it off – whatever it was – and wake up in the morning feeling better. He shuffled slowly into the kitchen, and tried to think what he needed to do before he went upstairs.

If he was going to bed now, he needed to take his evening doses with him. Eric tried to follow the pharmacist's sheet, but it made even less sense than usual. He forced himself to concentrate and slowly, he managed to assemble the right number of pills.

All he wanted to do now was to get into his bed. He made himself stop in the kitchen long enough to boil the kettle and fill a hot water bottle. Then he turned the heating off, and slowly hauled himself upstairs.

Andy was standing in the butcher's shop, trying to decide what he wanted to buy out of what was left. This late on a Monday afternoon, he was lucky there was anything at all to choose from. He'd been following up on some of his existing clientele, so he'd been delayed doing the food shopping. He could've gone to the supermarket, but he preferred to support the local food specialists when he could. Anyway, the meat was better quality, and he knew where it came from.

A random thought popped into his head. He should've taken Eric to the supermarket earlier in the day. He'd promised on Saturday, after the conversation with Adam. Fuck! How could he have forgotten? It was too late now; Adam would be back from work soon. Fuck, fuck. He'd better start putting Eric into his work diary … and the one at home. Idiot.

Andy took his phone out and called Eric's number. He wanted to apologise, but also to offer the next day as an alternative. As it happened, he had a free day. It would allow him time to talk to the old man, then start to make his claims for additions to his pension. Andy knew to let the phone ring, but there was no answer. Maybe Eric had decided to go to the pub? He'd try again first thing in the morning. Apart from the apology, nothing was that urgent. Still, he didn't like letting Eric down …

“Mr. Harper? What can I get you?”

Andy was stopped mid-thought by the question from the counter assistant. “Err... Sorry, I was miles away.” He glanced at the display to make sure his choices hadn't already been bought by other customers. “Half a kilo of minced lamb, thanks.”

He fancied making a shepherd's pie with the lamb – good, filling stuff for a mid-week supper. He paid for his purchase and headed home.

Once they'd eaten their supper, Andy and his fiancé stayed at the table and started talking through their Christmas plans.

Andy was keen to make a suggestion which had occurred to him while he'd been waiting in the butcher's. “Would it be OK to invite Eric over for Christmas lunch? Just for the meal, nothing else.”

This took Adam by surprise. He took a moment to gather his thoughts. “OK … What's brought this on?”

“I don't like the idea of him being on his own for the whole of Christmas Day. We always have masses of food left over.”

Adam sighed quietly. “Hun, have you mentioned this to Eric yet? For all you know, he might prefer not to have company. Or he may have made his own arrangements.”

Andy wasn't to be put off that easily. “I thought I'd better run it past you first before I spoke to Eric. I doubt he has any family, or friends, for that matter. He wouldn't be any trouble.”

His usual eagerness made Adam smile. “I'm sure he wouldn't be. I've got a lot of time for Eric. But that's not quite the point though, is it?”

Andy frowned. Adam reached out, and stroked his cheek. “Andy, love, Christmas Day is for family. We've always done it that way.”

Andy tried not to sulk. He thought of another argument. “But isn't it also about offering kindness to strangers?”

Adam patiently expanded on what he'd said. “Yes, it is. In the right circumstances. Think it through, love. Eric knows you, so he's reasonably relaxed when he's talking to you. He knows me much less well, and he hasn't made his mind up whether he likes me or not. We got through lunch OK the other week, but I got the impression of an armed truce as far as I was concerned.”

Andy gave an indignant snort.

Adam smiled back. “I think he sees me as an upper-class toff and therefore, not to be trusted. Anyway, my point is, what's Eric going to feel like, being thrust into the middle of a family gathering? There're going to be what, six, seven of us?”

Andy reluctantly sighed his acceptance. “You're right. He probably wouldn't say a word. Anyway, the chances are he'd take exception to being the object of our charity. He can be quite touchy about some things.”

Adam made his final point. “Never mind what my father would say if a random old man appeared out of nowhere for Christmas lunch. It doesn't take much to get him going.”

They rolled eyes and smiled wryly at each other. Adam's father liked his traditions, and could be very vocal if he didn't get them. Andy found it difficult enough to get on with him, so what were Eric's chances? Maybe it was best if Eric didn't come. Andy was disappointed – he'd been so pleased when he'd had the idea.

Adam got up to clear the table. He continued to chew over the problem while he washed-up. Mindless chores were quite useful sometimes. He didn't like refusing Andy something. What else could he suggest though? Doing something for Eric was a good idea – but what?

Then he had a sudden flash of inspiration. He tried it out on Andy who was next to him, drying the dishes. “How about, on Boxing Day, we both go round to visit Eric in the afternoon? We could take him some Christmas cake, mince pies and so on. And I should have some news for him, as well. So, it would be business and pleasure.”

Andy agreed enthusiastically. “We could even take him some cold turkey and stuffing … Oh, and some fresh veg. We could prepare the veg while we're there, and start it cooking in time for his tea.” He beamed. “I knew we'd get there. Eric will appreciate it, I'm sure.” He kissed Adam on the cheek happily. “I'll mention it to Eric when I see him tomorrow. I forgot I was meant to be taking him shopping today, so it'll be good to have a peace offering.”

Adam rolled his eyes. “You have indeed got a memory like a sieve. Condemned by your own admission.”

Andy pouted, then mock-glared at him. Adam grinned back. “Come on. Let's get this finished, then we can see what Netflix has to offer.”

Eric woke up in the middle of the night. His pajamas were sodden with sweat, and the sheets were damp. He felt like death warmed up and he needed the loo. Slowly, he levered himself out of bed. It seemed to need much more effort than usual. Eric shuffled towards the bathroom, his bare feet dragging on the wooden floor. He nearly went flying as one of his feet got caught on the mat just inside the bathroom. The old man clung onto the door until he found his balance again. Blasted thing!

He was shivering badly by the time he headed back to bed. His pajamas needed changing for something dry. Eric stood at the chest of drawers, and, one by one, opened them. He couldn't remember which one contained what he needed, so he pulled things out at random until he had something that would do – a pair of longjohns and a long-sleeved pullover.

The old man almost collapsed down onto the bed, clumsily pulling the bedclothes back over his shivering frame. Exhausted, he was asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

The following morning, Andy tried phoning his client again, several times. There was still no reply. Eric wouldn't have gone out already? It was only half eight. He was starting to feel worried although he was sure there was a simple explanation. Adam had already left for work, so he snatched up his wallet, phone, and keys, then locked up and headed outside.

Andy drove the short distance to the cottage, wondering what on earth might have happened. However much he told himself he was overreacting, he still felt anxious. As he parked up on the road outside the cottage, he heard noises coming from the overgrown garden.

What the hell was going on? Whose voices were those? He thought he'd better investigate. Being strong and fit, Andy didn't scare easily. He made no secret of his movements, hoping to flush out whoever was making the row.

As he strode round to the back of the cottage, he was brought up short by the sight of two teens fooling around on the grass. They'd been smoking, by the smell that was hanging around, and there was an unopened bottle of cheap cider nearby. Another, younger looking kid was relieving himself against the wall of the cottage. A can of what looked suspiciously like spray paint was on the ground behind him. All three of them were definitely school age. No older than what … thirteen, fourteen?

Andy was getting angrier by the minute. He let fly. “Oi, you lot! What the fuck d'you think you're doing? Why aren't you in school?”

All three of them turned to look at him. One of the older pair decided to answer back. “Wha's it to you? … Tosser.” They all sniggered.

“You shouldn't bloody be here. This is private property.”

The same teen mimicked him. “You shouldn't bloody be here ...” Sniggering, again.

His companion joined in. “He means it's the paedo's. Don't ya, big man?”

The younger kid was just standing there, looking on.

The first teen butted in. “Why yeh visitin' the paedo, big man? Aren't yeh too old for him? Wha' – yeh're a' least fifty.”

All three collapsed in mocking giggles. Andy was riled. He took several deep, steadying breaths.

He took his phone out, and made a show of holding it in his hand. “The old man who lives here is just that, an old man. He doesn't deserve to be insulted by mindless idiots like you three. And, as I've said, you've no business being here. I'm calling your school, and reporting you as truants. And I'll be telling them exactly what I think of your behaviour.”

The first teen got up and interrupted him.“Me dad ses he's a fag. Fags, paedos, same thing, innit?”

Andy walked right up to him, almost standing on the teen's trainers. Fortunately, he was much the taller, and the bulkier, of the two.

He was filled with a sudden icy fury. “They are not the fucking same. You and your mates are so fucking ignorant, it's unbelievable. What d'you think you're gonna do with your lives? Bunking off school half the time … What jobs d'you think you're gonna get? If any. So, is it gonna be booze, living off the social, and doing fuck all?”

His contempt and anger were almost palpable. The teen backed off. Then he was joined by his mates. Andy made a show of phoning the local high school. As soon as he started talking to someone at the school, they ran off, shouting insults.

Why were there still kids like that? Andy was feeling frustrated. His conversation with the school's head had been useful, but he felt it needed following up somehow. Somebody to go into the school, and talk to the kids about the LGBT community? They needed to see that gay people were just like anyone else. Another thing to talk to Adam about sometime.

How often they'd been lurking in the garden? They looked as though it was one of their usual haunts. Had they been causing Eric trouble? He couldn't imagine the answer was no. Another thing worried him. How had Eric got himself labelled as gay? As far as he could tell, Eric had barely acknowledged his sexuality to himself in the past, never mind anyone else.

Andy frowned. He needed to get back to the real purpose of his visit.

He walked quickly round to the front of the cottage and rang the doorbell. There was no reply. He rang again. Then he peered in through the kitchen window. No signs of life there, or in the living room. Andy went back to the front door and hammered on it.

Then he bent down, opened the letter flap and started shouting through it. “Eric! Eric, it's me, Andy! Are you OK?”