Soul Music: Love Encountered - 5. Cross Purposes

Can I talk to you, dear?

Geoff silently answered, But you are already, Mum. His mother always seemed to choose the most inopportune times to phone.

“I'm on my way out to a concert in the Abbey, Mum. Is it something quick?”

You never said you were playing today.

His mother sounded put out that something was happening in his life she didn't know about.

Geoff rubbed his forehead. “I'm not, Mum. I'm going to the Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols.

You can't sing.

Geoff frowned. He could hold a tune. His voice wasn't anything to write home about. … Deep breath.

“I'm only in the audience, Mum. I won't sound any worse than most of the other people there. A mate asked me to go. He's singing in the choir.”

And you didn't think to ask if I'd like to go as well?

Geoff tried to think of a reason, apart from the obvious one, that he and Tony were looking forward to a couple of after-concert drinks. After a second or two, he had a flash of inspiration.

“It'll be very cold in there. You know the sort of ancient heating they have – it doesn't make any difference to the temperature at all. It won't help your rheumatism.” Geoff held his breath.

Yes, you're right, of course. But you still should have asked.

He couldn't win. “Anyway, Mum, I'll have to go in a minute …”

I wanted to discuss our arrangements for Christmas Day.

What was there to discuss? Geoff knew precisely what was going to happen, and when. The thought depressed him.

“Mum, as far as I'm aware, the arrangements are exactly the same as last year.”

Yes, but I like to go over things. You know I do.

Didn't he just. Geoff moved the landline handset slightly, and sighed. Somehow, he knew this celebration was going to be that much more difficult. His head was so full of Tony now, and the time they spent together. And his hopes and fears …

“Mum? I going to be late. The seating in the Abbey is first come, first served. I'll phone you tomorrow. OK?”

Don't forget I've got my book group.

Geoff made a mental note. “I'll phone after eight, then?”

I'll be waiting. Have a nice time, dear.

“Bye, Mum.”

Why were wooden church pews so uncomfortable? Geoff carefully shifted his position – the Abbey was almost full – and tried yet again to find some spot which wouldn't make his backside numb after ten minutes. The elderly couple who were sitting next to him, noticed him squirming, and they both turned to give him a sympathetic smile. The woman, who was closest, leaned towards Geoff to attract his attention, then pointed at the cushions she and her husband were sitting on.

“It helps to bring one of these with you, son.”

Geoff smiled back, resignedly. He'd thought about using one of the embroidered kneelers to sit on, but decided against it. They weren't really wide enough. Pity, but they'd only increase the problems with his arse, or move them to the region of his thighs, instead.

The carol concert was drawing to a close. The final reading had just been given by one of the choir members, and it was time for the last couple of carols to be sung. In a way, Geoff liked being so far back in the nave of the Abbey. The sound system wasn't wonderful, so he was able largely to ignore the bible readings. Instead, he spent the time contemplating the beauties of the ancient building. Over thirteen hundred years old, from its original foundation, it was a place of deep spirituality, its stones imbued with so much history. Geoff looked around, seeing many pools of mysterious darkness higher up, outside the range of the Abbey's lighting. He didn't have any religious feelings, but it didn't stop him from marvelling at what he saw.

Anyway, Tony was the reason he was there. He was one of the singers – it wasn't his usual choir, but he helped out if they were particularly short of tenors. Geoff could see him in the back row, standing in front of the altar screen. He spent so much of his playing life accompanying choirs, he rarely went to any concert as an audience member. Watching Tony though, made him happy. More than happy, if he was honest. There was a warm, rosy glow inside of him which ignored the damp, cold conditions, even if his hands and feet were like lumps of ice. He barely took his eyes off Tony when the choir was singing. On the few occasions he was required to sing, he had to concentrate on the wordsheet instead. And, yes, he could sing.

“The next carol is O come, all ye faithful. Members of the audience are invited to join in.”

Geoff sighed with relief at the announcement. He could stand up, and stretch his legs.

Standing outside the Abbey's choir school, Geoff was shivering despite his winter coat. God, it was cold. The cloud cover had broken, and he could see the clear night sky. Only problem was, the temperature had dropped again. He and a number of other people were waiting for choir members to get changed, gather their stuff, or do whatever they needed to. Groups of people came out, chatting to each other, and dispersed along with their friends and family. Geoff was left with a couple of women, waiting for the stragglers. He started stamping his feet, trying to get his circulation going again. What with the cold, and the damp from sitting in the Abbey, he felt he'd never get warm.

“Sorry, sorry.” Tony was hurrying towards him with a broad smile. “Why do people always want to talk to you when you're in a rush?”

When Tony reached him, Geoff sniggered. “My mother's just the same. I was nearly late this evening because of her.”

“Yeah, the choir was already seated when I noticed you sneaking in at the back. Still, I'm very pleased you came. Hope you enjoyed it? For me, it's the start of Christmas proper.”

Their eyes met, and Geoff's shy, happy smile answered his question.

“Anyway, how about a pint? Some of the choir are going to The Golden Lion.”

“Somewhere, anywhere that's warm. Won't stay long though, I've got work in the morning.”

Tony grinned at Geoff's depth of feeling.

“Same here. You mean to say you didn't put your thermals on?” Tony shook his head in mock horror at Geoff's reckless neglect.

Geoff fingered his thick, quilted jacket. “Ever the optimist, I thought this would be enough. I'll know better next time. And I'll bring a cushion with me. It's so different from when I'm playing there.”

The two men walked briskly out of the Abbey grounds, towards the town centre and the pub. Although there wasn't any reason to hurry, they kept up a good pace in the frosty conditions, always staying close together.

“Two pints of Tawny Owl, mate. And a packet of salted peanuts. Thanks.”

Being mid-week, the pub was pleasantly busy, rather than heaving, like it could be at the weekends. Tony turned away from the bar while he was waiting for the drinks, and smiled in Geoff's direction. He was sitting in one of the alcoves, not far from the open fireplace. The smile was for reassurance more than anything else. Geoff was looking a little out of place, being on his own. Tony knew some of the other singers, but Geoff most likely didn't.

“That'll be seven-ninety, please.”

Hearing the barman, Tony swung round again to pay up. He stashed the peanuts in a pocket, and was about to pick up the two glasses of beer, when the door from the other half of the bar suddenly banged open. Tony stopped what he was doing, and looked up in that direction.

A muscled, fair-headed young man stared into the room. “Right! There must be someone in here who wants to play darts?”

He had to shout to make his question heard over the general hubbub. A couple of his friends blocked the doorway behind him. After the initial brief shock of his entrance, nobody was now paying him much attention. Looking around, the young man spotted Tony, who was about to move away from the bar with his drinks.

“Hey, Tony! Long time, no see, mate!” The young man pushed his way towards the bar.

“Hi, Matt. Well, you know I'm not playing football this season.” Tony carefully put the beers back down.

“Yeah, we've missed you – our performance has really gone downhill. … You'd fancy a game of darts, wouldn't you? … Go on …”

Tony was in two minds. A quick game would be fun, and Geoff could watch, or join in. Then they could get on with having a chat over their beer.

Matt took Tony's hesitation as a possible 'yes'. He and his two mates launched themselves at the other man, and Matt, laughing, half dragged, half cajoled Tony into the other room.

“Come on! You'll love it. …”

“But ...”

“Good man, Tony. You're always up for it.”

“I've ...”

“With you on board, we'll thrash the other bastards, you'll see …”

The rest of Matt's comments were lost as the connecting door closed behind them. Loud, beery laughter could be heard, as well as the occasional shout.

Geoff felt abandoned. He'd watched the whole thing, and felt useless. Should he have leapt up and given Tony a get out? It had all happened so quickly. Tony had tried to look back at him as he was being playfully bundled out, but that was all. … Surely, Tony would explain he had a friend waiting once he had a chance? Geoff looked around at all the other people seemingly enjoying themselves. OK, he recognised some of them by sight, but certainly not so he might go up to a table and expect admittance to the group.

Geoff sighed. He was suddenly very alone. He noticed the two neglected pints, still sitting on the bar. He might as well start drinking his, and save the other one for Tony for when he reappeared. Assuming he was coming back … Loud shouts of triumph and despair, and some chanting could be heard above the general chatter and noise.

“Triple nine. Come on, Tony! Come … on …”

A match was in progress. Geoff imagined going through, and joining in. No … No way – he'd stick out like a sore thumb, and cramp Tony's style. He was no good at laddish sort of things. What did Tony see in him? Geoff got up, and headed to the loos.

He picked the beers up on his way back. He'd just settled himself back down to wait, when a gaggle of loud young women came in. They stopped on the threshold, looking for somewhere to sit.

One of them made her feelings known. “There's no fuckin' room in here either.”

Another of the group poked the speaker in her side. “Yeah there is. If he don't mind.” She pointed towards Geoff's table.

Geoff watched apprehensively as they approached.

“Hey, mate? Mind if we sit here?” The same woman as before.

“Err … no, of course not.” Geoff bunched up into his corner more, and moved both drinks with him. Could the evening get any worse?

“Polite as well. We're in luck, girls.” Penetrating, high-pitched giggles, and the odd sly, speculative smile.

The women dragged a couple of low stools with them to supplement the available seating. By the time they'd all sat down, Geoff felt he was almost surrounded. They weren't any trouble, just too much 'in your face' and generally having a good time for his comfort.

One of them, a brash blonde, leaned towards Geoff. “You gonna be a gent and buy us our drinks?”

A wave of laughter swept round the table. Geoff wished he could hide somewhere. There was nothing barbed in the comment that he could detect – they were just having some fun. Somebody with more social acumen than he possessed, would make a joke back. Geoff silently shook his head, knowing he'd turned a deep shade of scarlet, his usual reaction when he was flustered.

“Tight wad!” The blonde flounced up out of her seat to another round of giggles, and headed off to the bar.

Again, there wasn't any particular malice, but Geoff tried to retreat further into his corner. Where was Tony, for fuck's sake? He'd already been sitting there for thirty minutes. Geoff drained the rest of his beer in one gulp. He was driving back, so, even though it was only a short distance, he decided he'd better not risk the second pint.

“Err … Excuse me?”

There was a brief hiatus in the gossiping going on around him.

“This is going spare, if any of you fancy it …” Geoff pointed at the untasted glass of beer.

A dumpy woman with badly streaked hair, bent over the glass to give it a sniff. “Eugh … Nah, we're on vodka shots. Ta, though.”

As another of the group left to assist with carrying all the glasses, Geoff seized the opportunity to leave. He grabbed his coat and scarf, and carefully manoeuvred his bulk past the other seated women.

“Awh … Look, we scared him off!”

Another wave of raucous female laughter hastened Geoff's exit.

Beep, beep, beep, beep … Geoff wearily rolled over in bed, stretched out an arm, and killed the alarm on his clock. God, he felt awful. Things had been going round and round in his head all night. Why was he such a wimp? Seen off by a bunch of girls – women, Geoff automatically corrected himself. Why did Tony want to spend time with him? Maybe that was why he went off to play darts? To have some time away from him. … Didn't Tony realise how difficult he found some social situations?

Geoff felt like bursting into tears – humiliation, frustration, fears about his relationship with Tony. When he'd got back the previous evening, he'd just gone straight to bed. What had been such a great evening, soured beyond rescue. He sighed. None of this altered the fact that he was due in work in an hour and a half. Geoff hauled himself out of bed, and performed his morning ablutions almost entirely on automatic pilot. His mind was still going round and round.

While he was waiting for the kettle to boil, Geoff suddenly thought of his phone. It wasn't on the bedside table when he woke up. Oh, for fuck's sake. What had he done with it? Mentally retracing his steps, Geoff remembered putting it in his coat pocket at the start of the carol concert. Having first turned it off, of course. He'd played enough gigs where some idiot had left their phone on. OK … One problem solved, hopefully. Leaving the tea to brew – he needed the builder's variety this morning – Geoff went to investigate.

And indeed, there it was. Geoff picked the phone up, and stared at it. … Why hadn't he thought to text Tony, or leave him a voicemail? Was he really so useless? Yes seemed to be the answer. OK, he'd been pissed off when he got back – at himself mostly – but that was no reason to ignore the man who represented his best hope of a real, loving relationship. How to fuck it up before they'd really got going. Geoff suddenly had a sinking feeling in his guts. Why was it his instinct to go and hide when things, personal things, became too difficult? … He turned the phone back on. As he half-expected, the lock-screen was full of notifications – most, if not all, from Tony. Geoff sighed again. Tea first, then he'd deal with … well, whatever.

With half a mug of tea and some toast down him, Geoff returned to the phone. He opened his messaging app first. Hey. Where did you get to? I was looking for you. Geoff stared at the first message. Where did he get to? Geoff seethed at the implication. Effing cheek! How long had he waited? He took a steadying breath or two, then picked up the phone.

Tony watched the slow dawning of another winter's day from the sofa. He'd been woken up in the early hours by a bad hypo. By the time he'd got his blood sugar levels back under control, it wasn't worth trying to get to sleep again. It wasn't an uncommon experience – part and parcel of being a diabetic. The insulin pump he used helped, but it wasn't a cure-all by any means. Plus, he was worried about Geoff. Allowing himself to become part of the darts competition hadn't been one of his best decisions. He couldn't even blame it on the drink – he hadn't had any. One match had become several, and it was only with difficulty that he'd then managed to extricate himself. Matt wasn't a friend, but he was a team mate. Tony didn't want to offend him, but then … He yawned.

By the time he'd left the darts, Geoff had vanished, and a group of young women were occupying their table, downing shots. Tony sighed, then rubbed his tired eyes. There was still so much they didn't know about each other. He enjoyed his football, and some elements of the blokeish behaviour, but he wasn't playing that season because of a niggling leg injury. Geoff, of course, wouldn't touch that sort of thing with a bargepole. Why had he thought Geoff might come and join him in the darts match? Idiot. Complete wanker. When he'd tried to phone, leave a message, text, anything to explain, Geoff's phone remained off.

Tony checked the time. Early, but not ridiculously so. He suspected Geoff had probably slept as little as he had. Which meant that they both might be short-tempered, and not completely with it. He needed to apologise to Geoff. He'd been completely selfish – a spur of the moment lapse which might cost him Geoff's friendship. And any hope of it developing further. Of course, that rather assumed Geoff still wanted to talk to him. Just as he reached out for his phone, it started ringing. Tony answered it, feeling nervous and strained.

Hi, Tony. It's Geoff.

Of course, Tony knew that already from the ringtone.

“Morning, Geoff. … Geoff? Before you say anything else, I'd like to say 'sorry' for last night.”

There was a short, disgusted-sounding snort, followed by hurt, questioning silence on the other end of the connection. Tony bit his lip momentarily, as he tried to think his way through. Geoff was understandably pissed off.

“I … I acted without thinking. I'm sorry. In the heat of the moment, I suppose.”

Silence.

“Matt, the guy who persuaded me to play, is a football mate …”

And, so … What? Tony, that was time for us. Special time. Is that how you think of it? Special?

Geoff didn't give Tony chance to answer.

What the fuck was I meant to do? You left me sitting there like a lemon, while you buggered off with your mate.

“But ...”

Let me finish. Did you even think of explaining that you had a friend with you?

No, he hadn't, really. Matt was good fun … Not for the first time that morning, Tony felt ashamed. And, there was the nub of the whole thing. His neglect of Geoff, the man he wanted as a boyfriend. Partner. Tony thought he'd better come clean, even though there was a chance that Geoff would be more angry with him.

“Geoff … I thought you'd follow me.”

What?! You must be joking.

“I know, I know. … Stupid, and totally insensitive. If I'd stopped for an instant, I'd have realised you aren't a darts kind of guy.”

That's not the point, though. Is it? You didn't answer my question.

Tony swallowed hard, and took the plunge. “No, Geoff. I didn't think about mentioning you.” He closed his eyes for a second. “I'm sorry, Geoff. Very, very sorry. I'll never do it again.”

Tony listened to the slight sounds of Geoff breathing. He was still feeling nervous – he wasn't sure which way it would go.

It makes me wonder just where I fit into our relationship. Am I someone you can ignore if it suits you? Is that all I am?

Was that a need for reassurance overtaking Geoff's anger and hurt? Tony was sweating slightly, despite the chilly early morning.

“No, Geoff. You're a funny, talented, sweet, kind man I want to spend time with. Much more time. … I've been awake half the night, wishing I hadn't gone with Matt. Wishing I hadn't upset and hurt a man I like very much.”

Tony could scarcely believe how introspective he'd been – completely out of character.

You couldn't sleep either?

“No. … I've been a complete idiot. Please … Forgive me, Geoff?”

A silence which felt different. Tony held his breath.

Yes … forgiven. But … You know, I nearly got eaten alive by a group of women, waiting for you to come back?

Tony couldn't help a snort, then giggles. After a short while, he heard Geoff joining in.

Tony pictured the women. “Yes, they were pretty fearsome. I think I would've retreated in all haste. … Look, Geoff. I know we need to talk this through. Now isn't a good time though, is it?”

God, no. Geoff had obviously just spotted the time.

“Why don't you come round this evening? I'll cook us some food, then we can talk properly. OK?”

Yeah, OK. See you later.

“Bye.”

Tony breathed in deeply, then slowly let it go. God, that had been close. Was he forgiven? He hoped so.