Never Too Late To Explore - 1. Hot and Cold

Eric Whitehouse gulped down the last of his breakfast mug of tea. He needed to get a move on, otherwise he'd miss the bus into town. It wasn't as if they were every ten minutes. Tuesday meant his regular trip to the library and his weekly session on the computer. It was something he looked forward to, even if it often seemed like he fought with the keyboard, the machine, the internet … Anything, and everything. Eric sighed. Once a week wasn't enough. He no sooner learned how to do something, then by the time he came back the following week, he'd forgotten most of it. The library's computer buddies would start hiding soon when they saw him coming.

The old man peered out of his kitchen window at the dark, dismal morning. It didn't even look daylight yet, and it was wet. He hated February – it was always such a depressing month. At least it wasn't snowing unlike the previous week. He thought he'd have to miss his session, but Andy called round in his 4x4 to check up on him and gave him a lift into town. He found making his own way back tricky, but it was worth it.

Eric took a moment to luxuriate in the new warmth and comfort of his cottage. Of course, it wasn't suddenly perfect, but it had improved beyond all recognition. He put up with cold and damp for so many years, it became normal. Thank god, the workmen had finally gone away for good. The weeks of disruption really got on his nerves – the noise, dirt, and the constant stream of people in and out of his home. The bloke doing the heating repairs was the worst – in and out like a yo-yo, and not taking any notice of the soil, mud, or sand on his boots from the work on his path. Eric sighed. Every day the work went on, he hardly knew if he was coming or going, and he spent most of his time clearing up.

It was all in a good cause – catching up with however many years' worth of neglected repairs – but he was short with Andy a couple of times at least. All the fuss and palaver unsettled him. Eric told himself off. Really, he should know better than to be rude to his friends. Without Andy and his fiancé, Adam, there wouldn't have been any repairs. Or, indeed, so much that was new in his life.

After wrapping himself up against the cold, he grabbed his cap and walking stick and headed off down his newly-laid path. The evenness of the surface still made him smile – those lads from the college did a good job. In fact, to his mind, the path looked as good as his neighbour's. Mrs Turner's late husband had spent a ridiculous amount of money on their cottage and its surroundings. It was odd – now his cottage was comparatively warm, Eric felt the cold outside all the more keenly. The wind cut through his elderly coat. He didn't want to get a chill, or the dreaded flu. A stop at his favourite café in town would warm him up again, and he wanted to ask the owner something.

“Morning, Eric. Lousy weather again, isn't it?” Brian Metcalfe greeted him cheerily from behind the counter in the café. “Can't remember the last time we saw the sun.”

Eric only nodded in reply. He never believed in wasting words when they weren't needed. As usual he stood, looking at the food display, as he tried to make his mind up what to order.

“You back on the computers again? Of course, it's Tuesday, isn't it?” Having answered his own question, the café owner got Eric's tea ready. “Anything else for you today?”

Eric had trouble deciding between a Chelsea bun, and a fresh cheese scone. Hmm … the scone – that would hit the spot. He liked to eat sugary stuff occasionally, but it didn't feel right to have it every week.

He pointed at the heap of savoury scones. “One of those, thanks, Brian. You don't look too busy this morning.” He noticed more empty tables than usual on his way in.

The other man shrugged. “It's the weather. Once the shoppers get out and about, the trade'll pick up. And at lunchtime. We're always busy then – my sandwiches are a damn sight better than those over-priced things offered on the High Street. They're cheaper as well. … Take a seat. I'll bring everything over in a minute or two.”

Eric sat down in his favourite spot and unwrapped himself – the café was warm and steamy as usual. He nodded at some of the regulars. He knew them by sight, but they hardly ever exchanged more than the odd 'hello'. At that time of day, many of them were like him: older, with not much money to spend. The chain coffee shops on the High Street captured the better-off on their way to work.

Brian came over with his order and sat down opposite. “So, how're you getting on? Sent any emails yet? That's where you'd got to the last time we spoke.”

Eric smiled at his friend. “Oh, yes. I've sent four, no, five emails. Not all to different people, though.”

“That doesn't matter. What matters is you're writing and sending them.” Brian grinned at him. “See, emails aren't scary.”

Eric buttered his scone while he recalled Andy's note of congratulation. Almost before he got over the shock of sending his first email, Andy's reply arrived. He still couldn't get his head round the fact that membership of a free site and a username were all he needed to receive mail, potentially from anywhere in the world.

“I haven't exactly taken to it like a duck to water. It took two whole sessions to get me set-up and going. Don't think I'll ever get used to it.”

“You could always send me the odd one if you want to practice more. Keep your hand in. I'll give you my email address, if you'd like.” Brian scrabbled in his pockets to find a scrap of paper and a pen.

Eric shrugged, then nodded.

Just getting used to the keyboard was a struggle. He hadn't bought a replacement for his cheap reading glasses – focussing on the keyboard, then the screen was tricky; and his hands found the typing difficult to master. Andy's fingers were almost a blur when he typed. Eric shrugged. Decades spent toiling outside hadn't equipped him for office work. One finger at a time was more his style. He took a gulp of his tea and summoned up the courage to ask his question. He supposed it wasn't anything out of the ordinary, but it was about the internet, and that still scared him a little.

“Ehm … Brian? How would I go about getting my own computer? Assuming I can afford one, that is.”

Brian looked at his older companion – the expression on Eric's face was a curious mixture of hope and worry. Money must be tight for him, although he noticed recently Eric spent that little bit extra every time he came into the café. Previously, it'd been a cup of tea and nothing else.

He cocked his head to one side as he thought out his answer. “Well … it's certainly possible to buy a second-hand laptop, but I don't know what sort of money you'd be looking at paying. You need to do some research. Why don't you have a look online this morning? Ask one of the buddies to give you a hand. Bear in mind though, if you want the internet at home, you'll have to pay for it. It's a monthly charge, and there are a number of different suppliers. The contracts run for twelve or eighteen months.”

Eric's face fell further. “Oh … I never knew that. There're so many things to think about with these computers.”

Brian sympathised, but he was puzzled. “Aren't the library computers enough? You're still very much finding your feet. It would be quite an outlay.”

The older man stared at his plate, unable to meet his eye. Before Brian could pursue the topic any further, a customer arrived.

He got up to serve the elderly woman. “I'll be back in a minute or two. OK?”

Eric knew exactly why he wanted his own computer, but how he was going to explain it to Brian was another matter. He had a bit of a scare in the library a couple of weeks back and he didn't want a repeat experience. One morning, he summoned up the courage to open one of the gay news sites that Andy had told him about and that's when it happened. With difficulty, he'd copied and pasted the link Andy sent him and he sat watching the site appear on the screen. Then he became aware of someone stood behind his seat, almost breathing down his neck. Scared out his wits, he closed everything straight away, and hadn't dared go back to the site since.

“Thank you, Mrs Scott. See you tomorrow, I hope.” Brian hurried back from the counter. “Right, Eric, where were we?”

Later the same day, Brian lay sprawled on the sofa in the flat above the café. A large box of paper tissues and a glass of whiskey were close by. It had been a long day, and he'd caught a cold during the course of it. Hardly surprising, given the number of people who sneezed or coughed over him in the café. At times like this, he felt his age. Neither of them were getting any younger. The whiskey was part medicinal, part reward for surviving through to the evening.

Sandra came back in to the living room with a large mug of coffee and a couple of biscuits. She looked at her husband, then sat down in one of the armchairs.

Brian raised himself a little. “Hey, what's the matter? It's not bubonic plague.” He sneezed loudly, and reached for a tissue.

This elicited a sympathetic chuckle from his wife. “No, it's not. But one of us has to keep going, and I'd prefer not to do so with a streaming cold. I'll thank you to keep to it yourself.”

“Don't know who gave me this one. I was fine this morning – look at me now.”

Sandra watched as her husband blew his nose loudly, then added the used tissue to the heap already in the wastebin. “Bed for you, I think. Hot shower first?”

“Yeah … In a minute or two. … I had a faintly curious conversation with Eric Whitehouse this morning …”

“Hmm?” Sandra was half-watching the news on the TV – the reporters' fascination with the politics of the day wasn't at all matched by her enthusiasm.

“You know he's into computers now? Well, he was asking about buying one for himself. It'll be second-hand – he's not flush.”

She glanced at him. “And? … Nothing wrong with that.”

“Course, there isn't. It's just when I asked him why he wanted one, he didn't really reply. He hedged around it, then moved on. I'd have thought the library computers would be fine for him.”

His wife gave up any pretence of watching the news and instead, looked hard at her husband.

“I don't get it. If Mr Whitehouse wants to buy his own computer, what's that to you? Most of us look at sites we wouldn't want the world to know about. I know I'd be very cautious about doing online banking somewhere public, like the library.”

“Can't imagine that'd be a problem for him – never seen him paying by card even. No, I wondered what he might be getting up to. You know there're rumours about him? Not that I give any credence to them.”

Sandra raised her eyebrows.

“He's interested in boys? Under-age boys.”

“Brian!”

Her husband looked a little shamefaced.

“You can't possibly believe that? That's disgusting. Poor Mr Whitehouse. It's his own business what he uses the internet for. Or his computer, for that matter. We both know you watch porn sometimes. Though why, I really don't understand. As long as it's legal, who cares?”

“Yes, I know. He's one of those people you can't imagine as a sexual being at all. That's probably part of the reason for the malicious gossip.” He sat up. “All the time we've lived here, I've never seen him with anyone. Anyway, those rumours are complete rubbish.”

Sandra raised an eyebrow. “And I hope you say so. He's just a lonely old man. For all we know, he's been lonely for a long time. When I see him around town, he's always on his own.”

“Not so much of late, apparently. One of the regulars was saying he's been seen in the company of that young gay couple who live across town in one of those big Edwardian villas. Particularly the younger of the two men – he's a gardener of some sort apparently.” Brian sneezed, then blew his nose once more.

His wife put her empty mug down on the coffee table. “Well, if Mr Whitehouse has found a couple of friends, I say good luck to him. He's getting to the age where people need some help. Sometimes, Brian, you spend too much time listening to gossip.”

“It's a small town – people notice things. Or think they do. You know I don't repeat what's said – except for here.” Brian downed the last of his whiskey, then smiled at his wife. “Bed for me. See if I can shift this wretched cold.”

“Night, love. I'll be up in a few minutes.”

Andy sat back in his chair, then stretched every part of his upper body, spending time on moving his neck in particular. Sitting hunched over a laptop for a long time was not a good idea. He spent the time well though.

On the sofa, Adam looked up from his own work. “You finished?”

“Just about.”

They often spent the early part of the evening, after they'd eaten, catching up with emails, and social media. Together with finishing up any outstanding work which had to be done before the morning. Andy got up to pour himself another smallish glass of wine. Two was his limit during the week. Not that he drank much more at weekends unless it was a special occasion. Adam's father was a stark reminder of what could happen if alcohol got too much of a hold. Andy grimaced - he didn't think either of them had spoken to him since the disastrous Christmas meal.

“I've been doing some research for Eric.”

“Oh? What's he got you doing?”

“He phoned me earlier. Wants to buy his own computer and get himself set-up for the internet at home.”

“Really? That's quick work – doesn't seem two minutes since he started.”

Andy came and sat down next to Adam on the sofa. “It's not that surprising, surely? He's getting on very well. I've had several emails from him. Anyway, his privacy's the main issue – the library computers are grouped close together. Eric said he feels embarrassed looking at obviously gay sites. And also unsafe, I think, though he didn't say so directly.”

“Which he shouldn't be.”

“No, of course not. But the reality is he'd feel a lot happier doing his browsing at home.”

Adam scowled. “The prejudice is still out there – less open, but just as insidious. How's looking at a gay news site any different from the BBC or Google News?”

“It isn't, love. We know that, as do many other people. But not everyone. Which is why I've been researching grants for buying a computer.”

“There are grants?” Adam's face lit up.

“For those on low incomes, yes.” Andy rolled his eyes. “Just because you'd love a new laptop … You can afford to pay for your own.”

Adam sighed deeply. “Pity.”

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway, I think I can get Eric a good deal on a second-hand machine, and the grant will pay for nearly all of it. That will only leave him with the on-going monthly charge.”

“I'll interested to hear what he thinks of the virtual world around him. Gay or otherwise. He'll find it an eye-opener, I think.”

Andy grinned. “Won't he just.” He decided to change the subject. “Your mum asked this morning how our wedding plans were coming on.”

Adam rubbed his eyes for a moment, then stretched his neck. “Hnh … I like the way she talks to you and not me.”

“You know very well it's because she realises I'm the wedding organiser, and not you.” Andy gave his partner an affectionate squeeze. “Unless you've suddenly got the urge …?”

Adam let out a sudden bark of laughter. “Oh, please! Spare me from that. I'd do almost anything else.”

“People would think you didn't want to marry me …” The teasing, expectant tone matched the expression on his face.

“Oh yeah?” Adam lovingly eyed-up his companion for a moment before pushing him down on the sofa. “We'll see about that.” The resulting playful, sexy tussle went on for several minutes before they stopped long enough to take it into the bedroom.