Not just another Summer - 17. Aftermath

“What’s the problem, you’re looking glum, writing not going well?” Matt paused in the consumption of his jam sandwich, holding the half-eaten bread in mid-air.

“It’s not that, it’s my brother.”

He gave a wry grin, “Family stuff, eh.”

“We’ve never really done family stuff, at least not in the way that most people seem to. Neither Vince nor I have ever got much involved in the other’s life. I spent a chunk of my 20s conducting a Cold War with my Dad and Vince, at ten years older, kept out of the way. I thought we might try and change.”

“With the move and that?”

“Yes. But…”

“It’s OK, if it’s personal then I’ll shut up.”

“No. I just. Look, if I tell you about it, you won’t say anything?”

Matt looked offended, “Course not. You’re a mate. I can keep me trap shut.”

“It’s Vince. Since his wife died, he’s not shown much sign of a relationship.”

“That you could see.”

“Yes”, I shrugged. “No regular girlfriend, and Freddie’s not mentioned anyone, and kids often do notice.”

“Boy’s not pissed off with the latest girlfriend.”

“Precisely. But Vince spends a lot of time at the Horniman Centre, he’s a trustee, he donates some of his time, doing pro bono work, but he volunteers as well. I started assuming he had someone there. Married perhaps.”

Matt nodded, “Figures.”

“Well, we had a late-night confession the other night. There is someone. It’s another bloke.”

“You realise he was like that?”

“Not a bit. I was the outrageous queer one, he was the perfect straight husband. Well, to cut a long story short, the bloke wants him to be a bit more open. Not hold up a sign, just not hide quite so much.”

“The closet’s a warm and comfortable place, isn’t it?”

“Precisely.” I laughed, “I think you’ve just misquoted Andrew Marvell.”

“You what?”

“The grave’s a fine and private place,

But none, I think, do there embrace.

Andrew Marvell’s To his coy mistress.”

“Who was he?”

“17th century English poet.”

“Wow. Wasn’t deliberate, like.”

I grinned at him, “We’ll make a poet of you yet.” He rolled his eyes, “Anyway, Vince is freaked out and won’t tell me why. Says it’s his decision to make. His mistake more like. I think he’s going to do nothing. Let the bloke’s ultimatum pass.”

“And fuck things up.”

“That’s about it.”

“You’ve tried talking to him?”

“Twice. Got told to piss off, in no uncertain terms.”

“Shit. Well, what about the bloke, then?”

“What about him?

“Well, I know that I’m no expert, but why don’t you speak to him? If you’re brother’s pissed off at you already”, he grinned, “make him a bit more pissed off.”

I laughed, “Get myself thrown out of my own house.”

“Thought you hated living there?”

“If I move away, then I think Vince and I will go back to our old coolness. And that’ll be it. I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to give Dad the satisfaction of having succeeded.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, why’d the old boy stir stuff up so much?”

“Because he was an evil sod? Except he wasn’t, he was a perfectly decent Dad. It’s just, I think he expected us to be devoted to him and the business. And we weren’t, we both cut free in different ways.”

I could have talked about Dad for ages and not got anywhere, but luckily Matt had to get to work. I thought about talking to Peter. Dare I? What would I say?

“What the hell do I say to the guy, even if I do speak to him?”

We were standing by the moped as Matt got himself ready, putting on his battered crash helmet.

“Try and get them together. You know, sort of like a date. Bet they’ve not done that. Properly.”

“I’ll see.”

---

The local council had made a half-hearted attempt at titivating the streetscape in the East of the town centre, and opposite The Horniman Centre there was now a seat with the pair of planters, the planting already looking neglected and dried out.

I sat down on the seat, wondering whether I dare try and get hold of Peter. And say what, exactly? That I was Vince’s brother, so I felt it my right to interfere? That wasn’t it though, was it? As the survivor of a whole host of failed relationships, or perhaps a more accurate description might be failed attempts at relationships, as none of them really warranted consideration, I felt that I ought to put Vince on the right track.

Was it the right track? Would he be happier staying firmly in the closet and living his perfect life?

Bas had said that if I wanted a relationship with Vince, we had to be more involved in each other’s lives, which meant putting up with brotherly interference. Would I put up with Vince’s interference in my own live? Not that I could see Vince giving me relationship advice. I could easily manage…

“Gray, fancy seeing you here. Were you wanting to see me? I’m sorry I’ve not been in touch, things have been a bit crazy, but Malcolm has put some possible dates together for a couple of events and we’ll be in proper contact soon.”

“It’s not that. I was sitting here trying to work up the courage to speak to you. About Vince.”

“Vince!” Peter’s face immediately closed off.

“We’ve never been ones for brotherly confidences, but with the new situation, living in the same house, I’d hoped we might get closer. The thing is… Look, would you fancy getting a coffee? Not here. I know you probably don’t want me interfering, but Vince is my brother and in a funny sort of way, I care about him. Would you just let me say my piece, and then I’ll bugger off. OK?”

“OK?” He nodded, still closed off. The lines around his eyes well-defined and most definitely not laugh lines.

We ended up in a nearby coffee bar that was eminently forgettable but was at least quiet. He gave me no help, just sat there. Not for the first time, I wondered about the issue that had brought him to the centre in the first place. On the surface, he seemed like a together and very centred person. My interactions with him at the centre the other week had had no strange undercurrents and, frankly, he seemed like a good bloke to have in your corner, to have as a friend. For Vince’s sake, I hoped there was nothing underneath this. Perhaps I should give up and go, but I couldn’t not try. The sight of Vince wrestling with the issues and on the verge of making a big mistake meant I had to do something.

“I’ve never been much good at relationships; I’ve made every mistake in the book. I think I’m better at turning ex-lovers into friends than I am at keeping lovers. So, I’m not one to talk. Vince spoke to me the other night; he was upset, and I was available. A convenient ear. The thing about Vince is that he’s always had the image in his head of this perfect life. He went off to study law, much to Dad’s disgust, and I remember them arguing just before Vince came back from Uni. I was what 12 or 13, a bit of a rebellious teen myself, but Vince wasn’t rebellious like that. Instead, he had an orderly plan, to create the perfect life. Become a solicitor, get married, buy a nice house, a kid or two, become a pillar of the local community, charity work. I think the problem is that his relationship with you goes against that.”

I took a swig of my coffee. This was fucking unnerving, Peter was attentive but silent, not giving me anything whilst his eyes had taken on a rather ‘where the hell is he going with this’ sort of look. I soldiered on.

“I came out at Uni and never had any doubts, or real problems, and I knew that I was queer when I was a teenager. But I’ve got friends who struggled with being queer, who found it difficult to find their place, and I know guys who kept things hidden until well into middle age. I care too much about Vince to want him to descend into a bitter middle age, pretending and hiding. The sort of guy who gets his jollies on holiday, a couple of times a year. I know he’s probably a real pain to be in a relationship with but”, I sighed, “please give him another chance and please keep trying. You and he have got this far.”

I took another drink, then decided that was it. Why was it that I could spin words in poetry but ask me to do it in real life, and I was stumped.

“Well, I’ve said my piece, I’ll leave you in peace.”

“You know, you’re nothing like what I expected.” Peter’s look was remarkably frank.

“In what way?”

“Well, Vince’s arty kid brother. Flamboyant, so involved in his poetry that he hadn’t time for family or for real life.”

“Flamboyant, me. You should meet some of my friends.”

“I think both of you have images of the other which are just that, images.”

“So, you’re saying…”

“Oh, there’s something in it with Vince and his perfect life. But there’s another Vince, it’s just.” He sighed, “I’ve tried, and I can’t seem to make him see sense. I’m at my wit’s end.”

“I did have an idea.” It was an extension of Matt’s idea, but I wasn’t going to say that. “Have you ever been to the house?”

“The Grange? Well, I helped shift stuff a few times and we had tea, that sort of thing.”

“No, I meant properly. You and Vince having a meal together.”

Peter gave a dry laugh, “No. That doesn’t happen. My flat’s far safer. Less chance of being noticed, evidently.”

“If I undertake to keep Freddie out of the way, and make sure Vince is around, would you come round and make him dinner?”

Peter blinked at me a couple of times, “You mean make him dinner in his own house?”

“Our house, it is half mine.”

“Sorry. Good point. I make dinner, in the kitchen at The Grange. For him and me?”

“That’s it. A sort of date.”

“He’ll be furious.”

“But he’ll see what he’s missing too.” I grinned, aiming for a confidence I didn’t entirely feel, “At least that’s the idea.”

“You’d be able to let me in.”

“And make sure we had food. Yep.”

He gave a bitter laugh, “Well, it can’t make things worse. I’ve already started looking for new jobs.”

“Really, Vince said you would be comfortable being just friends.”

“That’s what I said. Yes.” He didn’t say more but implied a hell of a lot.

I went for a walk around town afterwards, my mind still buzzing. Was this one big disaster waiting to happen? Was I going to have to look for somewhere else to live because Vince kicked me out?

---

Bas

You’re right. I am a complete idiot. But I could not resist. Besides it was fate, Vince’s man simply appeared in the street.

I can hear you telling me off for being an interfering old queen. But excuse me, that’s what friends are for, aren’t they? And you said that Vince and I need to be more involved in each other’s lives!

So, think of me. Sitting alone in my annexe, waiting for Vince to cannon in and start telling me what a malign interfering fucker I am.

G