Not just another Summer - 33. Venetia-fucking-Murray

Vince and Peter had had something of an argument. Vince called it a tiff, but I suspected it was a bit more serious than that. After all, life for them was even more complex to negotiate now that things were out in the open. I wondered whether their cosy domestic act and the growling after my talk yesterday had been just that, an act for us. That things were tricky.

I wasn’t going to see much of anyone over the next few days. Vince was involved at an event over the weekend at the Centre, so of course Peter was going to be there too. That was going to be interesting; the two of them in close proximity and trying hard not to let people know they were disagreeing. At no point did Vince give me a space to ask him more; he was back to his old self. Bugger.

I decided that I was not going pressure him, but would try and be there when needed. Easier said than done.

I wasn’t seeing Matt either. He had a weekend event with his course; they were all off to the West Country to see some environmental project on the Somerset Levels. I read about the area and the idea did seem evocative, but a bus trip with a bunch of college students did not appeal. Especially as around his college mates, he and I presumably couldn’t be our ordinary selves.

Shit! I was on at Vince about being open, and there was I happily thinking about going partially back into the closet for Matt. As Vince had said, “Talk to him”. I wasn’t going on the trip, but I vowed that if the occasion came up where he and I were around his college mates, I would ask him first. We would decide; I would not presume.

So it was work that took over.

Friday night, Freddie came over and helped me with my accounts. I got us a takeaway, and we ended up watching TV on my sofa.

“You know, Uncle Gray, this is real cosy. If Dad does keep the house cold this winter, can I come and join you on your sofa?”

I gave a dry laugh. “You can, providing you check who’s here first.” And I wiggled my eyebrows.

“Oh, sorry, Uncle Gray. You mean…”

“Not just sex, but all sorts of things. It’s my space, and you are very welcome. But please check. OK?”

“Thanks.”

It was that sort of weekend. Full of awkward, harmless corners.

Then Matt and I met for breakfast on Tuesday. It was another full week for him, what with college, the Nature Reserve, and a couple of half-shifts at Treasures. He was most apologetic. But I told him not to be silly, that he had responsibilities and that it was lovely to see him. Then, even though we were sitting on the boardwalk, I kissed him.

“I was thinking about your weekend in Somerset. How was it?”

“Terrific! Completely fascinating.”

“Did you and the others get on OK, being away together!”

“Well, we didn’t leave till late-ish on Friday because one of the lecturers had classes, so we arrived in time to have a drink in the hotel bar. That was it, and there was nothing much in the way of entertainment around, so the lads had to go to bed. Didn’t please everyone. Saturday and Sunday there was a lot of stuff planned, and I managed to leave them in the bar Saturday night. So, no sweat.”

“Good. Look, I started to think that I might like to visit the Somerset Levels.”

“There was space on the bus, but I didn’t think…”

“You’re right. If we go, it would be just the two us. Thing is, I then wondered what we’d do if I had gone. What about your mates at college?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, would you want them to know you and I were seeing each other?”

“Oh. That’s…”

“My first thought was that you’d want me to pretend. Then I thought about what I said to Vince about not pretending, and I remembered you saying about people deciding for you. So, forewarned is forearmed. We ought to think about it and decide at some point. In case…”

“Yes”. This was said with remarkable force.

“Yes, what?”

“We don’t hide. If I’m with them, then you can kiss me hello, that sort of thing, I’m not pretending, and they can live with it.”

“Will they be OK?”

“Yeah. It’s a mixed group, quite a few girls, and I don’t think anyone’s nasty. Leastwise, nothing’s happened. Just lively.” He shrugged. “Might get a bit of ragging, but nothing worse.”

“Good.”

“And thank you. For asking.”

I smiled. “I need to remember.”

---

Wednesday evening, I managed to corner Vince. Finally. I was right - the argument about the reaction to Venetia Murray’s gossip had rumbled on, with the two of them being pig-headed. I told Vince that he was being stupid and that he ought to talk to Peter. Then I told him about taking his advice and not taking Matt for granted when it came to how we might behave in front of his college mates. Vince had actually laughed and said that he would talk with Peter. The upshot was that as Peter wouldn’t be around at the weekend, Vince was going over to Peter’s flat to talk on Friday,. They did a lot of that, I gathered.

---

Bas

Goings on at Philpott Towers!

The other Saturday, Vince and Peter went out on a date. A new fish restaurant. All delightful, but they were seen. The neighbour/so-called friend I mentioned (Venetia) learned that Vince had been holding hands/smooching with a guy. “Why hadn’t he told her, as Moira’s oldest friend!... Blah, blah, blah”. The whole works. Nasty bitch.

Then she started spreading it, didn’t wait around. Unfortunately, her circle includes several of Vince’s firm’s high-profile clients. Luckily, the other partners have been bricks. “Crisis? What crisis? Peter is an asset.”

But Vince is more than a bit freaked about his washing (thankfully not dirty) being in public.

My poetry reading at the Castle Gift Shop went. What more to say? They enjoyed it. I managed to be polite, and all was sweetness and light. Well, near enough. I have two more of these; I need to get used to them.

Being part of a community is intriguing. Various ideas and projects coming up. Will tell you as and when. Not sure whether there’s any money, but for the moment…

Feeling a bit nervous and freaky, to tell the truth. All good, but it’s me and my comfort zone again.

 

G

---

Vince was late for his weekly lunch with Dawn. She was calmly sitting at their table, reading. Both knew that fitting in their personal time was tricky and disruptions happened. Vince still apologised as he slipped into his seat.

“Sorry. It’s been a bitch of a week. A couple of tricky cases blew up at work. My new trainee to settle.”

“How’s that going?”

“Jacob is going to be a great asset. But you know what it’s like; there’s so much to explain.”

Dawn laughed. “Tell me about it.”

“If you meet him, he’s full of confidence and ideas.”

“Outside the office?”

“Yes. But he doesn’t quite have that when he’s working, he’s a bit too careful.” Vince looked frustrated.

“He’s new. Give him time.”

“I think his last firm wasn’t helpful, in lots of ways.”

“You said he’d been discriminated against.”

“More or less. Told he was too flamboyant or something.”

Dawn set her mouth in a line. “You think there’s more.”

“Yes. In the office, he’s careful. Too careful.”

“You need to get him to relax.”

“Yeah.” He sighed.

“And what else? Come on, and I know you.”

“Peter and I had a big argument, shouting, the lot.”

“Let me get this right. You had an argument with Peter and ended up shouting at each other, and you still haven’t made up?”

“More or less. It wasn’t just…”

“Vince,…” Dawn smiled, “let’s not get into qualifiers. You ended up shouting. Both of you?”

“Yes, we.” He gave an annoyed huff. “Peter couldn’t or wouldn’t see my point of view, and I got frustrated.”

“But couples argue all the time. Should do it a lot. It’s called ‘married life’, Vince.”

“I know. It’s just that we’ve never…”

“So why now?” She looked intently at him like a headmistress at a recalcitrant pupil.

“Difficulty settling into being so in the open. Oh, I know it’s a good thing, but…”

“After all that hiding.”

“Yeah. And Venetia Murray saw us the other Saturday and wasn’t best pleased.”

Dawn gave a scornful laugh. “Don’t tell me, she expected to have been kept up to date. That woman is so crass with your love life.”

“She’s been gossiping.”

Dawn put on an affected accent. “My dear, Venetia Murray doesn’t gossip, she ‘chats’.”

“It’s not just that I’ve been seeing a bloke, but a man with Peter’s ‘background’, horrible insinuations.”

Dawn laughed. “As if he’d have his role at the Centre. Look, there’s no reasoning with people like Venetia Murray. No-one in their right mind is going to believe there’s a problem…” She stared intensely at him. “Of any sort. Right?”

“Right. But half of Lance and Francis’ clients know.”

“And?”

“They’ve been great. Terrific. But it shook me. More than that. My first instinct was to hide. I hated that, and lashed out at Peter.”

“Come on. Don’t tell me you’ve never had an argument?”

“Not shouting. Dad never shouted.”

Dawn gave a dry laugh. “Told people what to do and expected them to jump to it. What about your mum?”

“Quiet but insistent. With Gray and I particularly. With Dad, she’d calmly do her own thing, and I realised later that she picked her battles. She didn’t like arguing.”

“So it had to be worth it. Understandable. Moira was a bit like that too, wasn’t she?”

“Sort of. She…” Vince paused, frantically trying to conjure detailed images of his wife, aware that some of it was in danger of becoming a blur. “She was quiet but determined. She wouldn’t shout, and it was pointless getting worked up; she’d slip away.”

“Until later.”

“Yes.” Vince laughed. “She’d ambush me when we were alone, and insist on reasoned debate. And with Freddie there, we had to be quiet. My memories are of furious hushed discussions.”

“So,… Peter?”

“We’ve always talked. He’s great at getting you to talk about things you’ve never dreamed of. If we have a disagreement, it has been in the form of intense discussions.”

“What was different?”

“I freaked out, panicked. The idea of people knowing.”

“Being talked about; proper Vince Philpott and his new man”, she exclaimed. “It was always going to happen, Vince, at some time.”

“Yes. And now I feel such an idiot.”

“So, talk to him. Right?” Dawn glared.

“I don’t know how.” He made an exasperated noise. “I’m just not cut out for this.”

“Rubbish! You’re a bloke, so approach him in the way you’d want him to approach you.”

“You mean just turn up on his doorstep?”

“You might have answered your own question. He probably doesn’t want a big gesture. Would you?”

“No. Not at all. Just to see him.”

“There. And a nice bottle.” Dawn gave him a broad smile.

Vince sighed. “All I have to do is do it. Admit that I was an idiot.”

“Never easy. But mortification is said to be good for the soul.”

Their lunch arrived, and Dawn launched into a story about her husband’s latest fight with his sisters over their parents’ estate. An on-going saga.

“You ever worry about forgetting details about your parents?”

Dawn gave a dry laugh. “I know I’m older than you, but not by that much.”

“Not that. When we were talking about Moira just now, it was a bit of a fog.”

She smiled and raised an eyebrow. “A memory suitcase, like Freddie has.”

“Oh, I have things. But there are so many details that I don’t want to lose. What if Freddie asks me something in ten years’ time?”

“That will be 15 years after she died, Vince. I don’t think that anyone can be expected to keep details that long.”

“I know. But…”

“It’s Peter, isn’t it?”

Vince looked somewhat shamefaced. “I don’t want Freddie to think that I’ve forgotten Moira because I’m having fun, because we’re having fun with Peter.”

“Fun is allowed.”

“I know, but…”

“Then write it down.”

Vince wrinkled his nose. “I’ve tried. It’s awful, like a court brief.”

Dawn gave a dry laugh and Vince joined in.

“Then talk. Reminiscence. You’ll be surprised at how much you remember when you start talking about it. They did that for Gran when she was in the home, and it was surprising.”

Vince’s eyes widened. “To whom? And then what?”

“Record it, write it down later.” Vince took a deep breath and looked trapped, and Dawn tried not to laugh. “Your brother, he could listen and write even. He is a writer, after all.”

“Gray!”

“Is that so scary? At least he knew Moira. Perhaps have Freddie there as well.”

“That’s…” He paused and grinned. “A great idea and a scary one. Talking to Gray about Moira.”

Dawn grinned back at him. “Talking to Gray, tout court?”

“Mmm. We have only just started talking.”

“Well, it probably beats a lot of the other solutions.”

Vince nodded. “Lots to think about.”

---

Vince stuck his head around the door. I’d had breakfast and was planning on going out, so thankfully, I was dressed.

“Are you around for a moment, for a chat?”

Ooh, right. I shrugged. “Yes. I’m off out, but there’s no rush. Coffee?”

“Please.”

“So what’s this about?” I turned to Vince. “And why now?”

“Well, I didn’t want Freddie around. I need to talk to you about Moira.”

“Moira!” It came out rather sharply, and I nearly messed up the coffee.

I tried to remember her. For much of their marriage, I had simply been Vince’s rather self-absorbed younger brother, prone to disappearing off. But I had noticed things, that she didn’t shout and didn’t demand, but seemed to be able to get Vince to do things. In fact, the two presented quite a united front, even Mum and Dad would simply refer to them as Vince-and-Moira’ . I’d been to their house very little. And whilst at Uni, I hadn’t made much effort, being too absorbed in my own discoveries; being gay, exploring EngLit, and particularly my poetry. But she had continued to treat me normally. I felt I never really knew her, and regretted now not making the effort to see Moira as a person rather than simply part of Vince-and-Moira.

“I was chatting to Dawn over lunch, and she asked me something about Moira.”

I was intrigued, I knew he met Dawn for a regular lunch date and counted her as a friend. “Do the two of you regularly talk about her?”

“Not at all. It’s just we were talking about arguing.”

“Ah, I see.” Vince and Peter, that made more sense.

“Thing is, some of it seemed a blur with Moira, and I was worried about forgetting.”

“It happens.”

“I know but …” He started to colour. “This is difficult. I don’t want Freddie to think, sometime in the future, that I’ve forgotten his mother because of Peter.”

“Jesus, Vince! That’s some convoluted theory. OK. So, solution?”

“Reminiscence. Talking about her.”

“And remembering more. Yes, I’ve heard that we can be surprised at how much we really do remember.”

Vince actually looked nervous. “So, I was thinking, … well, it was Dawn’s suggestion… Could I talk to you?”

“To me. Oh, Fuck.”

“Sorry, if that’s how you feel”. Vince put his coffee down and got up. Shit!

“Vince, sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Like what?”

“It’s a responsibility, and it’s intimate. Are you up for something like that. With me?”

“I think I’d rather you than someone not in the family.”

“OK. But …” I gave him what I hoped was a wry grin. “Remember I’ve been an academic; there’ll be a structure, agreed topics.”

Vince opened his eyes wide. “Figures. And I’m a lawyer, so I like everything written down and agreed. So, yes.”

“When are we doing this?”

“Not sure. Can we let it simmer for a bit?”

“Fine. One question.”

“Mmm?””

“What will you do with the recordings?”

“Store them. Get them transcribed.” He smiled. “Transcribe them myself or…”

I shook my head. “Oh no. No chance. I am not transcribing them.”

“Think about it.”

What had I let myself in for.

---

Freddie was going to a friend’s house for a party on Friday and staying over, and Vince and Peter were evidently spending quality time together at Peter’s flat. So I would have the whole house to myself. I thought I might take advantage of that, and phoned Matt on Thursday evening; I knew he had a busy day, but judged that he might be home by later in the evening.

“You sound tired.”

>Oof, I am. Busy day. Last induction at the Reserve, lectures, a tutorial, and a thing at the college for new students.

“Busy boy. Is it going to be like that every day?”

>No, I have a couple of heavy days and the rest I can manage.

“What about tomorrow?”

>I don’t have college in the afternoon, so I’m doing a half shift at the shop.

“Don’t you have course work to do?”

>That’s for Saturday. Mum’s working, so I’ll have the house to myself; I can play music really loud and work.

“You work to music?”

>Yeah, of course. Don’t you?

“Too much distraction. Total silence is my preference. Look, about tomorrow, … would you like to come over? I have the house to myself.”

>What about the others?

“Vince will be at Peter’s flat, and Freddie is staying with a friend.”

>Yes. Thing is…

“What?”

>I’ve got some vinyl and a new stylus.

“You have been busy!”

>A woman in the group knew someone, and I got them the other day.

“The group?”

>Bird-watching. We do talk about more than birds, you know.

There was me making assumptions again. “Well, bring the records along; we can have a vinyl session. Perhaps we can have retro food. What’s 1980s?”

>Chicken Kiev?

“Chicken in a basket.”

We laughed.

>I can bring some bread from the shop.

“That’s a start. I’ll work from there.”

>Great. See you tomorrow. And, Gray …

“Yes?”

>I’m looking forward to it.

Which meant, of course, I needed advice about food, ideas. I tried Bas, but his phone went straight to voicemail. I did leave a message, but said it wasn’t urgent; I just needed advice about food for a date on Friday. No doubt, I would get a call or an email at some point demanding a complete run down.

That left me a bit stymied. The only other person I could think of was Peter. I knew he and Vince were a bit at odds, but I could still ask, couldn’t I?

“Hi, Peter, it’s Gray. I wanted some advice.”

>Gray?

Peter was short, abrupt, perhaps wary.

“It’s about food. I’m hopeless. I thought of you, if you don’t mind?”

>What sort of advice?

“I’m entertaining Matt tomorrow as I’ve got the house to myself.”

>Where’s Vince?

This came out distinctly sharp. Oh God, have I put my foot in something? Only thing was to be candid, I thought.

“Well, at the risk of putting my foot in it, he told me he was going to be at your place, to talk.”

Peter was quiet, and I worried that I had fucked things up.

>I see. Thanks. Then I’d better be at home, too. We had a nasty row, and we don’t normally do that. Sorry if you’ve got dragged in.

“That’s OK. As long as you do talk. But I’m not the best example of my own advice.”

Peter gave a dry laugh.

>Thanks though.

“If you don’t mind my saying, you haven’t so had your affairs discussed in public.”

>No, it’s a different game. That bloody Murray woman!

“Shit! Has Venetia been saying more?”

>Nothing too bad, just the same insidious shit and to more of Vince’s business contacts. It’s unsettled him.

“And Vince doesn’t do unsettled. He goes off and sulks.”

Peter gave a sort of laugh.

>Perhaps I should have talked to you earlier. Anyway, less of our dramas. Food?

“Matt’s bringing bread. My cooking varies between crap and basic.”

So Peter gave me a selection of easy and cost-effective ideas. When I thanked him, he chuckled and said that he had had to learn the hard way. Then as he signed off, he said he was going to phone Vince.

Who appeared half an hour later, thankfully looking calm, if a bit washed out.

“You spoke to Peter.”

“Sorry, it was about food to entertain Matt tomorrow. He’s coming over with some new vinyl records.”

“New?”

“To him. And I wanted ideas for feeding him. I figured Peter would be all right with that. But I made the mistake of saying I was alone in the house. Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“I was going to surprise him. But he phoned, we talked, and I’m going round tomorrow.”

“Good. Things OK?”

Vince shrugged. “Yeah. It’s just this Venetia Murray thing has me more than freaked out. Various clients, major ones, have had her bending their ears all week.”

“And?”

“Francis and Lance have been firm. ‘Crisis? What crisis?’ But having everyone know, in that way, makes me feel dirty. Especially because she thinks that since she knew Moira she was entitled to privileged information.”

“Well, if she and Moira were friends.”

“Oh, they were never close friends.” Vince made a rumbling sound. “Venetia played the helpful older sister role to the hilt, but there was only so close that Venetia would let you get.”

“Well, you’ve done nothing wrong.”

“So I’m finding out. Nearly everyone has a Venetia-fucking-Murray story. Sorry.”

“It’s OK. That’s what brothers are for.”

“It seems.”

“A drink?”

“I shouldn’t. … OK.” He shook his head. “You’re bad for me.”

I grinned. “What brothers are for. It’s only cheap stuff. But effective.”

I poured two whiskies.

“What are you doing on Saturday afternoon?”

Vince stared at me. “I’d not thought that far. There’s nothing at the Centre that needs my attention, so…” He shrugged. “Depends on Peter, too, I suppose.”

“Then I would like to invite you and Peter to a naked tea.”

“Here?”

“No, at the Reserve.” His eyes widened, then he shook his head, laughing.

“I’ll ask Peter, but I imagine it will be ‘yes’. We had a good chat on the phone.”

“Good. And how’s Jacob?”

“Settling in well. Though it’s a bit unnerving having him earwigging when someone brings in the latest Venetia-fucking-Murray story.”

“Part of the problem, having your new intern catching the office gossip?”

He shrugged. “You could be right; certainly doesn’t help things. But I think he is going to be an asset. By the way, you know that group Kjell and Bella are involved with?”

“New World Simplicity?”

“Yes. Well, he’s heard of them.”

“Jacob? How?”

“Sorry, it just came up in passing. I need to ask him for details. But I gather he wasn’t impressed.”

“Oh, joy. So it is a cult.”

“Now, Gray, jumping to conclusions.”