Soul Music: Love Sustained - 8. Lending a Hand

Once they were back on the motorway, Tony glanced sideways at his passenger. Geoff stared moodily out of the window while biting at his lower lip. A perfect day out cut short by his mother's accident. They didn't even get to see Witley Court's fountain in all its glory. As soon as Geoff finished the call from his mother's neighbour, he wanted to leave.

He coughed slightly. “So how're we gonna play this?”

All he got in reply was a shrug. After overtaking a slow-moving truck, he returned to the question.

“I thought I'd drop you off at the Minor Injuries Unit, go home, and come back for you when you're ready. How does that sound? Your mother'll want to get a taxi back, I imagine.”

“Yeah, from what Pete said she should be mobile enough to do that.” Geoff turned to look at him. “Though there'll still be the broken glass on the living room floor. She'll want that clearing up. I may have to go back with her. Happy thought. … You coming in with me?”

“No. Not unless you want to add a heart attack or stroke to the list of her ailments?” He winced at the idea. “It'll be difficult enough with just you and her there.” Another thought occurred to him. “I suppose I could clean up the debris while she's still at the hospital. Instead of going home, I mean. You got a spare key?”

“Yeah. But why you?”

He shrugged. “I'll do it quicker on my own without anyone around. Then I can come back for you.”

Geoff scowled. “She doesn't deserve this attention. A large part of me just wants to leave her to get on with it.” He sighed. “But …”

“She's still your mum.”

“Something like that, unfortunately.” Geoff shifted in his seat. “Sorry, I'm not much help. I haven't the faintest idea how I'm going to react when we get there.”

“I'll say. There we were, expecting a dry exchange of letters about renting if we were lucky, and now see where we are. … It could help?”

“Maybe.” Geoff ran his fingers through his hair. “We were having such a good day.”

“We had a good day, love. It didn't last as long as we'd like, but things happen. Anyway, there'll be plenty more days out to come.”

“Yeah … God, I hate the way Mother blights everything in my life at the moment.”

Tony sniggered. “Hmm … Not everything, surely?”

One hand crept over to Geoff's side until it landed in his lap and fondled what it found there. His boyfriend pushed his crotch up slightly – any more movement was restricted by his seat belt.

Geoff picked the hand up and gave it a kiss. “You're right. That's one aspect which has made me very happy.”

“Good. I'm glad.” Tony reclaimed his hand only because he needed to change gear.

All three lanes of traffic suddenly slowed, as usual without any obvious reason why. The overhead gantry signs showed nothing useful either. They came to a halt. He waited some seconds before applying the handbrake and putting the car into neutral.

Geoff growled in frustration. He fished his phone out of his trouser pocket. “Looks like I'd better give Pete Blanchard a call. He wasn't too happy about leaving his mum on her own for the rest of the afternoon.”

Tony looked ahead, seeking clues to the hold-up. His 4x4 gave him a slight height advantage over standard cars, but in this instance it didn't make any difference. “If you want to, go ahead, but I'd leave it for a few minutes. These jams sometimes clear as quickly as they form.”

On cue, the cars some way in front started crawling. They joined in, then their speed increased until everything was back to normal. He shook his head. No accident, no breakdown, or anything else obvious.

“Anyway, shall we get back to the plan of campaign?”

Geoff rolled his eyes. “Yeah. I'll see to my mother. Thanks for offering to do the clean-up. In fact, I will give Pete a ring – I'd like to know how soon she'll be ready to leave. It'll give us some idea how things will pan out.”

“Like how long I'll have. Or how much time you'll need to spend with her?”

“God, that sounds bad, doesn't it? But, yeah – I can't imagine a waiting area or treatment room are going to be the best places to have the sort of conversation we need.”

“No. It'll be best if you keep it to the here and now.” Tony grimaced. That was probably easier said than done.

His boyfriend sighed and unlocked the phone's screen.

Joy Lumsden sat in the treatment room while the nurse practitioner examined the palm of her hand for any remaining slivers of glass. Her knee ached like the blazes and her hand hurt. She felt shivery and light-headed despite the room being over-heated. Shock, presumably.

“It won't be long now before you're enjoying a nice cup of tea, Mrs Lumsden. I'm nearly done.”

She didn't bother replying. Instead she continued looking to one side. Though she wasn't squeamish, she drew the line at watching someone poking around with a pair of surgical tweezers. How was it that this slip of woman sat next to her was in charge of the whole unit? She didn't look old enough to have finished her training. And there wasn't a single doctor in the place. Her initial demand to be examined by one was ignored. It was a disgrace. What was the NHS coming to?

“Owh!”

“Sorry, that's the last one.”

Joy turned to see the nurse examining something held in the tweezers. After a moment, she turned the bright lamp off and removed her disposable gloves. Those she tossed into a nearby bin.

“OK. A nurse will be along shortly to clean and cover over the cuts. You're lucky: none of them need taping or suturing. Remember to keep the weight off your leg as much as possible. Keep icing your knee like I explained – it'll help reduce the swelling. Over-the-counter pain relief as required. When you get home, make an appointment to see your GP in a week's time for a check-up. Then that should be the end of it. I recommend you ask someone to help you with those kind of household jobs in future.”

Joy mustered a sour smile. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome. Is there anyone waiting for you?”

“Only my neighbour's son who brought me here. My own son will arrive quite soon.”

“Well, he can come in here for a few minutes until the nurse arrives, if you like?”

Joy decided she needed an update on when Geoffrey was due to get there. “Alright. His name's Peter Blanchard.”

“OK. I'll send him in.” Giving her a professional smile, the other woman left the room.

After quizzing her rescuer, and thanking him again, Joy was left in the brightly-lit room with only her thoughts for company. She sighed. Stupid, reckless – those were two words to describe what she did. She shuddered. What if she'd really injured herself? With a sinking feeling, she realised that nobody would've missed her. Or at least not until several days later. If it ever happened, who would be the first to notice? She weighed up her friends and acquaintances. Gloria? Even then, they sometimes went for weeks at a time without speaking to each other.

Such a sobering thought made her want to curl up. And of course, Gloria and she weren't exactly on the best of terms currently. She re-lived again their disagreement over that wretched lunch. Maybe she'd better mend that bridge before too many days passed. How, was a different matter. Such a fundamental difference of opinion on the subject of homosexuality would colour how she viewed her old friend. Things were said which couldn't be unsaid.

Of course, after she lost Derek, Geoffrey was her mainstay when it came to household tasks. No longer – his disgusting, shocking revelation removed him from that position immediately. Joy pursed her lips.When they asked whether she wanted someone listed as next of kin on their forms, she opened her mouth and said Geoffrey's name. Once uttered, it was too late to retract it. She gave him credit for making the journey to the hospital. Apparently, he had to break off an outing to do so. She shied away from who might've been sharing his company. She winced as a pulse of pain throbbed across her hand.

Her newest friend, Douglas, turned out to be unreliable. In fact, she disapproved strongly of the way he treated her over the phone. Not that she'd voiced it to him. He started out as such a gentleman, all attention and courtesy. Now he appeared tarnished. Her change of opinion might be very recent, but it felt right. She wouldn't break off all contact with him. Not yet. But he was on probation, and somehow she doubted he would last long before he fell further in her estimation.

This brought her back to Geoffrey. Just as she was wondering whether she might have to tolerate some limited contact with him on a longer-term basis, a nurse briskly entered the room.

“Hello, Mrs Lumsden. Let's get you cleaned up. Your son's just arrived. I asked whether he wanted to join you in here, but he said he'd wait 'til we'd finished.”

Tony parked outside what he hoped was Joy's bungalow. There wasn't an obvious number on the outside wall and there were several, almost identical houses in the row. However, when he saw the pretentious gate which guarded the path up to the front door, he smiled. Geoff's description was wickedly accurate: the gate did have a stately home appearance, only it had shrunk in the wash. He made sure Geoff's spare key was secure in his hand before getting out. As he bent down to unlatch the gate, he became aware of someone watching him from next door.

An elderly woman stood up against the glass of her front windows, evidently keeping a close eye on the stranger. He sighed. An introduction would be necessary. He had no wish to spend time explaining himself to any Community Support Officer who might appear as a result of a phone call. He strode back along the short strip of pavement which brought him to another, rather plainer gate. Before he could ring the bell, the front door opened, though with the security chain still engaged.

A pair of beady, faded blue eyes looked out at him. “Yes?”

“Ah … Hi. I'm here to clean up Mrs Lumsden's front room after her accident. Her son gave me a key.” He produced it as evidence.

“Where is Geoffrey?”

“He's at the hospital. I dropped him off before I came here. My name's Tony.” A thought occurred to him. “Is it your son who found Mrs Lumsden?”

“Yes. He's a good lad, is Pete.” She fumbled for a second before taking the chain off and opening the door wider. “Do you think he's going to be long? I usually get his tea ready about now.”

He was surprised the other man hadn't phoned. Geoff received several calls while they drove to the clinic. A comment was about to leave his lips when he heard a old-fashioned ringtone coming from inside.

The woman turned her head. “You'll have to excuse me. That'll most likely be him.” She hurried back inside, closing the door after her.

Tony stood on the doorstep for a moment before he shrugged and headed back to Joy's bungalow.

As he let himself in, Tony smiled wryly at the irony of it all. Joy disowned her son because he told her he was gay. Yet, here he was, Geoff's boyfriend, about to do her a good turn by cleaning up the debris left over from her accident. Actually, anything he did in this house would be for Geoff's sake, not hers. Geoff was his concern. The less time he spent with his mother at this juncture, the better. He imagined their encounter at the clinic would be tricky, and sometimes his boyfriend didn't think quickly enough on his feet. If the conversation stuck to the basics, he'd get through it OK.

He looked around the living room, knowing it already from Geoff's descriptions. The fussy, over-patterned décor made his eyes widen. The pale carpet's swirling design didn't blend with the floral curtains, and they both clashed with the upholstery. How much was it a reflection of her? Fortunately, the house in town was more restrained. Tony wondered if Joy's husband exerted his influence there. Apart from a little maintenance, Geoff hadn't done any redecorating. Living with this would give him a headache.

He needed to get things done – Geoff sent a text as he stood talking to Joy's neighbour. He didn't think it would be long before Joy was free to return. Finding what he needed in one of the kitchen cupboards, Tony swept up the surface broken glass and metal by hand. He followed up by giving the area a thorough vacuuming. Any furniture rearranging would be her problem – it looked as though the coffee table lived elsewhere in the room. He shrugged. It wasn't in the way. He did take the chair back to kitchen though. When he returned to check everything was OK, he noticed the unused light bulb, still in its packaging, sitting on one of the side tables.

He stared at it, wrestling with his conscience. A check of his phone showed no new messages. Letting out a long breath, he turned and went off in search of a pair of stepladders. It only took him a matter of minutes to carry the ladders from the garage into the living room and replace the one bulb possible. He turned on the lights to check it worked. If she was that bothered by the other remaining light, she would have to sort it herself. He cleared away any evidence he'd been there, then locked up. Geoff needed him now more than she did.

Geoff looked at his phone for the umpteenth time. The figures on the digital clock hardly changed on each occasion he checked – the minutes crawled past. The clinic waiting area looked as boring and institutional as any other he experienced: information posters, plastic plants, ancient magazines, and hard, uncomfortable seating. Several areas on his backside felt numb already. His mind went round in a loop. He kept on trying to rehearse what he wanted to say when his mother came out of the treatment room. Or perhaps how was more important? Should he make it businesslike? Offhand? Or cool and distant. He sighed. Since when had he become a good actor? Perhaps he should settle on something simple, like being civil.

Part of it depended of his mother's reaction. He hoped fervently she wouldn't cause a scene in such a public space. Anyway, by being there, he did her a considerable favour, given what happened the last time they met. A scowl melted away as he noticed Pete Blanchard approaching with a flimsy plastic cup in one hand. A burly man in his late fifties, he gave the appearance of someone lacking a partner to fuss over him. Messy, unkempt hair, and shapeless, mismatched clothes didn't improve his look, but Geoff wasn't bothered. Pete proved himself to be a good guy and that was what mattered.

“Here you are, Geoff. The vending machine's finest coffee, or some rough approximation thereof. Thought you'd need it.”

Geoff took it off him gingerly, trying to hold the cup by the rim. “Thanks, Pete. And thanks again for all you've done today.”

“Oh, it's nothing. I'm just glad I heard the lady when I did.” He looked around. “The bloke who came in with you, has he left?”

“Yeah, my … friend went to clear up Mother's house. Ehm … it wouldn't be good for her to get back and still see everything there, needing to be cleaned up.” Geoff felt his cheeks start to colour.

“Good point. Anyway, I need to be getting back. My mum frets if I'm not back when she's made tea.”

“Your mother's lucky to have you around.”

The man scratched his belly. “I only live a couple of minutes away. She likes me to call in every day.”

Geoff put his cup down on the pile of dog-eared magazines and held his hand out. “I'll be in touch, Pete. I … can't visit my mother much at the moment. Too busy with other things.” His redness increased. “It would be very helpful if you could keep an eye on her?”

The other man gave his hand a brief shake. “Funnily enough, I've got next week off. Not going anywhere. So, yeah, I'll be around. It'll be no trouble to keep a look out.”

“You're a great help. Thanks. Bye for now.”

Geoff watched the other man leave. Hopefully, his glowing cheeks would return to their normal colour before his mother emerged. Lies, or even half-truths weren't his forte. And he needed to conceal so many things from Pete: his relationship with Tony – and so his sexuality as well –, the rupture between himself and his mother, and the reason. God, his life felt so complicated sometimes, and it wasn't. It really wasn't.

For something to do, he reached for his drink and took a couple of sips. The brown, murky liquid was almost completely tasteless. He turned to his phone again – a text from his boyfriend pinged a notification. Finger poised to open it, the door to the treatment room opened. A nurse stood holding it while he exchanged some parting words with his mother. Geoff's stomach did a somersault. Hastily putting his drink down, he didn't notice it slopped on the table. He stood up. His mother limped in his direction, looking pale, and a little unsteady on her feet. Geoff wondered which of them would speak first.

After a moment or two, he took the plunge. “Come and sit here, Mum.” He helped her to another of the plastic monstrosities. “Pete Blanchard explained everything. I'll phone for a cab now. Which firm do you usually call?”

His mother frowned. “Aren't you taking me back home, Geoffrey? Isn't that why you're here?”

Her querulous tones immediately rubbed him up the wrong way. Why the hell should she expect anything from him? He took a breath. “No, Mum. I came to check you were OK, and that's all. Tony dropped me off here and he's coming back for me later. A taxi is best.”

“Oh …” She seemed to shrink a little more into herself, her voice as well. “Thanks for coming to see me, son.” She fished around in her handbag. “Here's a card for the firm I normally use. What about the glass? I'm not going to be able to sweep it up.”

Geoff looked straight at her. “My boyfriend volunteered to do that while I waited here.”

She blinked a few times while processing that. Her mouth took on the familiar, lemon-sucking appearance Geoff had seen many times before. “That's very … kind of him.” She coughed. “Please … say 'thank you' on my behalf.”

He took the card. “Pete Blanchard'll keep an eye on you. I've asked him.”

Again he silently dared her to make a comment. This time she didn't reply.

“OK, I'll be back in a minute. The phone reception's lousy in here.” He hurried off to the main entrance to make the call.

On the sofa later, Tony snuggled up against his boyfriend. “God, you're tense again.”

“Hnh. Hardly surprising, is it?”

“Yeah … but my big man won.” He started massaging Geoff's shoulders.

“Kind of. Didn't feel like it.”

“Any movement from your mother, d'you think?”

Geoff shrugged. “Possibly. She did thank you for the clean-up.”

“Wow! I exist!” They both giggled.

“Let's give her a couple more days and see.”