Never Too Late To Explore - 4. Distractions

Later the same evening, the two men relaxed on the sofa, only half watching some period detective drama on the TV. Andy had his tablet out and was tapping away, occasionally raising his head to see what was happening on screen.

Adam wondered what his partner was doing, but assumed it was work-related. He was paying a little more attention to the unnecessarily complex screenplay. It seemed to contain a whole boatload of red herrings. In fact, he was lost – several of the characters looked so alike in their formal wear, he had little idea who was who. After a period of nothing much happening, there was a sudden flurry of activity on screen.

Andy's head shot up and he watched intently for a few seconds. “There! I knew he was involved.”

Adam was perplexed. “How? I've invested more time in this than you have, and I'm completely adrift. Don't think I even know who that is.”

Andy smirked. “He's the raffish younger son. Don't worry, I'll explain all at the end.”

“Not sure I'll care by then.” He picked up the local paper and started to read it while still keeping one eye on the TV.

When the next ad break came along, Andy took the opportunity to ask Adam about their wedding arrangements again. Their series of visits to possible locations at the weekend had narrowed down the field of contenders to the final two. He flicked through the photos and various possible hospitality packages to refresh his memory.

He looked sideways at his partner. “You come to any decision yet, love?”

“About?”

“Wedding venue.” He rolled his eyes.

“Oh … OK.” Adam turned the TV sound off. “I like both of them: they're equally attractive; they both want our business. Not sure I can decide. Really, I'm easy.”

Andy sniggered. “You'd be fine with us marrying in the local registry office.”

Adam shrugged. “Nothing the matter with that – plenty of people do. It's just unimaginative. And both our mothers would be greatly disappointed. You made a choice?”

“Yeah … Think so. I'm coming down in favour of Croome Park. They're less geared up for wedding receptions, but the setting is spectacular. It's also closer for most people than the other place.”

Andy handed him the tablet with the scroll-through gallery showing the location. Adam quickly refreshed his memory, swiping rapidly through the images.

He hesitated for a moment. “We'd have to give up on a summer wedding. Is that right?”

Andy sighed. “Yeah. We weren't quick enough. Neither venue can accommodate us until the end of September. I mean, there are a few gaps. But they don't coincide with the times everyone can do.”

“Pity.”

“From the man who isn't that fussed.”

“Hnh.”

Andy smirked. “But it could work in our favour.”

“As in …?”

“If we have our wedding in the first or second week of October …”

“October?”

“Let me finish.” An amused eyeroll. “The leaves will be turning, and the landscape will be looking even more gorgeous.”

Adam sniggered and shook his head. “You gardeners …”

“It isn't just that.” Andy's denial was emphatic, but with a smile. “Think about it, love. If we can't have a summer wedding, surely a crisp, glorious October day is a close second?”

Adam nodded, then leant in to give his fiancé a kiss. And another one. Before they got too involved, Adam drew back a little.

“Thank you for doing all this. It means a lot to me, love, even though I disguise it well. What you suggest sounds great. I suppose we'd better check with our parents first. … If I was in charge, we'd count ourselves lucky to get even the registry office. Followed by a drink or two at the nearest pub.”

Both men laughed. Andy decided a final tease was in order.

“This from the focussed, get-the-job-done lawyer. Your colleagues wouldn't recognise you.”

Adam shrugged with a smile. “OK … I'm now going to concentrate on this wretched murder mystery. See if I can guess who did it.”

Andy gave a crow of laughter. “I already know.”

“You would.”

The following morning, Eric closed the lid of his laptop computer and sat thinking. First off, it was strange not being in the library on a Tuesday morning. Even though he hadn't been doing it for that long, a session on the library computers had become a marker in his week. Something fixed, something that made Tuesdays different. Still, he would never have dared to spend so long looking at gay material in the library. The news site he looked at gave him an enormous amount to chew over. His stomach rumbled. That was another thing. He never realised that using his brain could consume so much energy. Before Andy appeared, he never had much of an appetite. Eric grimaced to himself. But there again, he only existed – living because he'd never seriously considered the alternative. A coward in that as in all things.

Eric stood up, stiff-limbed from sitting on the dining chair. He noticed his blue moods more than before. In some ways, that was good – it meant the rest of his life must be getting better. It was better. Lunch: that was what he needed, together with a mug of tea. On his way to the kitchen, Eric stopped in his tracks as he suddenly heard shouting outside. Was it in the garden or out in the street? He moved to peer out of the main window, but then it became obvious the sounds were moving further away. Some lads being boisterous. In his darker moments, he expected those young louts might return to plague him and cause havoc in his new garden. Well, if they did, he'd be out there with his walking stick. The things other people gave him deserved defending.

After the day Andy saw them off, the teenagers hadn't been back. Neither he or Andy had raised the subject. Eric thought about that. When it happened, they hadn't known each other that well? Anyway, he was more mobile, and Andy was round a couple of times a week. … There was talk of the police station closing, or being staffed on such limited hours that it might as well as be empty. As ever, it was Brian Metcalfe who told him. He seemed to have his finger on the pulse of what was happening locally. There was a petition, or some such, doing the rounds. Not that it would make any difference. Once city folk decided things, they happened. That was why his home-help had been removed.

Eric realised he'd been standing at the window for several minutes. His lunch wasn't going to appear out of nowhere. Going into the kitchen, he put the kettle on and started to assemble what he needed for a cheese and onion toastie. It was so good to have onion back on the menu – Andy had introduced him to frozen chopped onions. A bag of those and one of peas, and the tiny freezing compartment in his fridge was full. Crammed, in fact. His arthritis had become a little less troublesome, but he still couldn't use sharp knives safely. He had a peeler. No use on onions, of course. On his last visit to the surgery, the practice nurse nodded with approval. More warmth, less damp, a slightly better diet, and more exercise made him feel human again.

While the old man propped himself up and watched his lunch cooking under the grill, his mind wandered back to what he'd seen on the computer. The site was a curious mixture of things – in some ways like the free newspaper he read on the bus. Celebrity gossip and news was prominent in both, but on the website, such tittle-tattle was right next to other stories which were startingly different. Violent, extreme, sickening, and from all across the world, these stories made his eyes pop. Men being arrested, detained, and tortured in some former Soviet republic for no reason other than they were gay. Others were hounded and beaten to death in parts of Africa. Yes, there were good news stories as well, but those didn't stick in his mind like the others. Eric frowned. He would never have thought there was so much news about gay people around.

Throughout his life, Eric never took much notice of what was going on in other countries. He noticed wars and such; the occasional natural disaster; otherwise he usually turned the telly off when it got to the foreign stuff. What were they to him? Why should he be bothered by their troubles? Now he wasn't so sure. When he was at the computer, reading about men and women in countries he'd barely heard of – Uganda, Nigeria, Saudi Arabia – he felt a connection. He was like them: made differently. But because of that, they were punished, killed, persecuted. He needed to talk to Andy about the whole thing, and his own feelings as well.

Deep in thought, Eric was brought to his senses by his nose. The toasted sandwich was burning under the grill. Cursing, he managed to remove the pan from the heat before too much further damage was done. He stared at the bread – the blackened bits only seemed to be on the surface. It was rescueable. It had to be: he wasn't made of money even with his extra pension. Pushing the sandwich onto a plate, the old man clumsily scraped off the burnt surface with a table knife. When he poured the tea into his mug, a taste told him that it too had brewed for too long. He sighed. He would have to learn to switch his head off as well as the computer. Andy hadn't bought it for him so he could lose it in a fire. Shaking his head, Eric made his way back into the living room to eat his overcooked meal.

Andy was walking back home later the same day, carrying a bag of meat from the butcher, and a few other things. He had a busy couple of days ahead, with client appointments to discuss summer planting schemes and any improvements needed in advance of garden open days. Those took time as gardens on the charitable roster were reckoned to be fair game for criticism as well as praise. He smiled to himself. Such a lot of work, all for one or two days' close scrutiny. He also wanted to check on some saplings which he planted the previous autumn. As it was the end of February, they wouldn't be in bud yet; he would be more looking for damage from the winter weather, or hungry deer. He'd advised one client in the past to erect a deer-proof fence after one disastrous episode.

For once, the weather was clear and cold. The forecast for the rest of the week wasn't brilliant – nothing that would prevent him from getting around though. Maintaining a brisk pace, Andy turned his mind to a possible menu for the supper with his two guests. Choices were limited by Eric's dislike of anything heavily seasoned or spiced. In his head, Andy flicked through his stand-by supper recipes. Pork? A pork casserole would work. It was an easy, one-pot dish which didn't need much fussing over once all the ingredients were combined. And it had the added bonus of getting some fresh meat and veg into the older man. Hmm … he didn't need to make his mind up straight away.

Andy suddenly snorted loudly. Here he was constructing a menu when he didn't know if he had any guests. They hadn't even been invited yet. Rolling his eyes, the young man checked his phone for the time. If he hurried, his supervisor would still be at the charity's offices. He wasn't about to make the call while standing in the street. Putting on a burst of speed, Andy unlocked his front door five minutes later. Before he went inside, he took a moment to turn back and admire the early narcissi in the last of the daylight. Spring wasn't too far away with luck.

Once in the house, Andy left the shopping in the kitchen while he phoned Claire. She answered as usual, on the second ring.

“Hi, Claire. It's Andy.”

Hi. I was nearly on my way out. What's up?

“Ah … It isn't anything work related.”

OK …

“Social call, really. Adam and I were wondering if you'd like to come to supper sometime next week, or the week after? Probably later on in the week.”

Oh …

Andy kicked himself. “The invitation extends to your partner, of course. Sorry, I …”

He trailed off, realising he had absolutely no idea whether Claire was in a relationship or not. At least he managed not to assume any particular gender.

There was a sympathetic chuckle.

That's always an awkward question to ask, isn't it? No, it's fine. There's only me currently. I'm too busy with work for a social life, let alone a boyfriend.

Andy made a mental note for future reference.

I'd prefer the following week. Is that a problem?

“No, not at all. The only other potential guest is Eric Whitehouse.”

Oh … That's not normally part of the service we offer our clients.

Andy thought he'd better explain. “I know, but Eric is more than a client to me now. Both Adam and I look on him as a friend. An older, less-experienced friend in need of some guidance. Pointers, really, for those parts of his life he's only just starting to live. Eric's social skills need some work as well – making conversation, for example, and Adam suggested this supper.”

There was no reply. Instead, a silence that Andy couldn't place.

“Adam's very keen to meet you as well, Claire. He's interested in your work.”

Sorry, Andy. My mind wandered off for a moment. Your mentioning supper led to thoughts of food which in turn reminded me of something else.

“Yes?” Andy felt a little adrift.

Starting a food bank.

“What? Here?”

Maybe. If there's somewhere that'll host it.

“Haven't you got enough on already?”

Yes, if I'm honest. But another community group could operate it; I'd only be the initiator.

“Hmm … that would be interesting to talk about. Perhaps Eric might have some thoughts? So, does that mean you've accepted our invitation?”

Laughter from the other end. Yes, Andy. I'm sure I can squeeze in a supper. It'll make a change from take-aways. Ehm … Can't do Wednesday though.

“Fine. Let's try for Thursday. I'll confirm later.”

Great. Thanks for asking me.

“Our pleasure. Bye, Claire.”

Bye.

Andy took his time putting the food away, emptying the washing machine, and deciding what he and Adam were going to eat. There was no point in trying to phone Eric – he'd be eating his own tea. Chores done, Andy awarded himself a beer. His mind turned back to the menu for the following week's supper. Did Eric eat fish? Now he thought about it, he'd never heard the old man talking about buying or eating any of it. It was generally quite expensive, so maybe it wasn't surprising. If he did, a fish pie might be good … He'd better check first – embarrassing his client was not one of the evening's aims. His phone pinged with a text from Adam saying he was on his way. Just enough time for him to phone Eric before starting on their supper.

As usual, Andy waited an appreciable time. The question of Eric buying a more modern phone was still outstanding. He'd have to raise it again. Finally, the phone was answered.

Hello?

“Hi, Eric. How're things?”

Oh .. Err … Alright, I think, Andy.

“You don't sound too sure?”

Andy heard a sigh.

I nearly ended up burning my toastie because of what I'd been reading on the computer.

His eyebrows shot up.

But I also got my drawing pencils out this afternoon and finally tried my hand with them.

He decided to go with the easier topic first. “So, how did you get on? Is it like riding a bike?” He heard a snort.

It weren't too bad. The pencils are great – they blend very well. The artist is less good. I haven't forgotten everything though. Suppose that's something.

“Yeah – it's a start. Something to build on. You might find some lessons online. How about we have a look together the next time I visit?”

There was a short pause.

Andy decided to continue. “What happened earlier?”

Well … You might guess I don't take much notice of what happens abroad. Why should I? Anyway, reading that gay newspaper on the computer put everything on its head.

He listened patiently while the old man recounted what he'd seen and read, and how it affected him.

It's not right that folk can be put in prison without trial, or flogged half to death because they're gay. It's not.

“You're right, Eric, it is dreadful.” He took a deep breath. “Until I met you, I took little notice of our community in that way, both here and internationally.”

Really?

Andy could clearly hear the astonishment. “Yes, really. Adam's always been the one who taught himself queer history, and who keeps a close eye on what's happening. I just get on my life. But you, Eric, you've opened my eyes. Made me think deeply. So thank you.”

What you thanking me for?

Andy smiled, and it showed in his voice.. “For being you. For reminding me of the difficulties faced by your generation. For taking me out of myself.”

You're daft, you are.

He chuckled, his affection for the old man increasing. “You know you can talk to me or Adam anytime. Right … change of subject. How do you fancy coming to supper next week?”

The telly was on, but Eric paid it little attention. He had too much to think about. He had so much whirring around inside his head, he'd be lucky to get any sleep. Was that a good thing? With only the slightest hesitation, he decided it was.