They may not mean to, but they do - 26. Twenty-Six

Monday morning, Thomas left very early, but Keith had a later start. Because of the way jobs panned out, and the need to meet a new client who lived nearby, Keith was ‘working from home’ for a couple of hours. Which, of course, meant more paperwork.

He’d left stuff in the van and walked across to fetch it. Greg was showing a tall, blond woman round; dramatically dressed in black with long blond hair tied back in a ponytail, she looked very much like the sort of higher-end clients Keith occasionally managed to attract. Greg was explaining the house and its outbuildings. Keith tried not to look as if he was eavesdropping, and walked briskly back and forth, simply stopping to say hi. But he could not get away from the feeling that she was looking round the property with a view to buying. He felt rather sick at the thought, particularly after last night’s promising talk. Then, as he was mounting the stairs to his flat, he heard the woman’s voice behind him, pitched low but distinct.

“I don’t know why you’d let the place to a queer, I can’t stand having them around.” There was more in a similar vein. Keith went a bit cold; he slipped inside but not before he was aware of Greg’s temporising response. Greg hadn’t said a word about his being gay. Keith was shocked.

He didn’t get much work done and was just wondering how to deal with things when the door went. It was Greg, bearing a tray with coffee, cups, and biscuits.

“I thought you might need this; I know I certainly do. I was hoping that you’d be out at work and not have the pleasure of meeting Delia.”

“Who is she? I thought…”

Greg took in Keith’s concern and consternation, “You thought she was a prospective buyer. Shit, sorry. It never occurred to me.”

He poured coffee, very strong, and continued, “No, Delia is a prospective client, her husband is an obscenely rich middle-European plutocrat. God knows where the money comes from. And Delia’s certainly not as English as she makes out to be, despite the accent. Anyway, she and hubby have bought an old farmhouse and I’m trying to persuade them not to knock it down and replace it with a featureless glass box.” He sighed, “Clients, but they pay the bills, alas.”

“Did you succeed?”

Greg’s face wrinkled and he shook his head, “I doubt it. And that little show at the end, I’m sure it was just to pull my tail. She knows I have a male partner, something to see how far I’ll go for her perhaps. Anyway, you’ll be pleased to know that sweet as anything when she was getting into the car, I said that my husband Bart would be sad to have missed her as he loved showing people round our house!”

“What did she say to that?”

“Nothing. Just a sort of hmm, a nod and drove away.”

“Will you get the job?”

“Probably not. And if I do, it will be to bulldoze the old lady and create the glass box.”

Their conversation became more general, talking about business, awkward clients, and such. But Keith had a question, “Do you get much behaviour like that; you know homophobic comments?”

“Not really, I don’t play it up, being gay, but I don’t hide the fact that I’m married to a man. Bart comes up in conversation, the way other guys’ wives and girlfriends do. Most people ignore it or are comfortable with it. I suspect that where there is homophobia, I don’t see it; they take their business elsewhere. In fact, I know so, because occasionally there are comments to other partners in the business, and that makes life really awkward.”

“Whether to put business or personal stuff first?”

“Yeah. I’m afraid that I’m not much of a crusader. If it's not said to my face, then I ignore it. And if it’s said to my face, then I will answer back but, like Delia, sometimes not directly. It’s a balance. Why? You have problems at work?”

“Not really, but it's just that on some bigger jobs the clients are around a lot. They chat about stuff. I’m not courageous. I daren’t say my boyfriend and I saw the African art exhibition last weekend, and it was fabulous. You know, things like that.”

Greg nodded. “Give it time. But stick to the golden rule, don’t invent. We’ve all done the suppression stuff, missing out any mention of the significant other, but never change pronouns or pretend that you have a girlfriend. And just remember, that no matter how snippily rich someone is, they have their guilty secrets too!”

They both laughed. Greg stood up to go, “Anyway, why are you around at this time, not enough work?” But it was said with a smile.

“Nah, I have a meeting soon, it didn’t seem worthwhile driving over to my current job and driving back, so I’ve been catching up on stuff.”

Greg grinned, “Good meeting or bad meeting?”

Keith wrinkled his nose, “Client wants me to come with her and choose her light-fittings! I know nothing about designing rooms.”

Greg laughed, “Don’t knock it, you can probably charge a fortune for special services!”

Keith took Greg’s advice to heart and dressed carefully for the meeting (throwing his work shirt and jeans into the back of the van), and seriously considered his client’s wishes as they looked at light fittings. She seemed pleased with the results and as they stood waiting for the chosen fittings to be brought from the warehouse, she asked if he’d done anything special at the weekend. So, as casually as he could he said that he and his boyfriend, Thomas, had accompanied Thomas’ work colleague to a spa weekend at Harpur Castle Hotel. As Greg had predicted, she hadn’t turned a hair at the mention of Thomas’ name, and when boxes appeared they were busy discussing the relative merits of the hotel.

-oOo-oOo-

Keith had time to kill, which annoyed him. But he was near The Springs shopping centre, he figured that with the cinema being there, he was bound to get something to eat, and he thought he remembered an outlet store, so might pick up some clothes.

The outlet store proved to be a bit of a bust, but at least he came away with some white t-shirts. He was just sitting eating a late lunch (he’d gone mad and got hummus and pitta, though he was sure Thomas would decry the quality of the food) when two women and a group of kids walked past. Not much to notice really, but something tugged at him. Was that Maria? She’d put on a bit of weight and changed her hair. But…

The woman turned towards him and did a double-take. She stopped and said something to the other woman, who continued with the kids. And Maria, because Keith presumed it was her, took a step forward, and he stood up.

She was looking good, curvier than previously, emphasised by the low-cut blouse she was wearing. But overall, it was quite low-key compared to the Maria that he had known. The honey-coloured hair was new, and the blouse, jeans and shoes looked expensive. There was a ring, with a big stone, on her engagement finger.

Having Maria face to face, Keith had no idea what to say, but there was a flash of the old Maria, “Keith! Christ, where the fuck did you disappear to? You dropped off the face of the earth.”

Keith tried to assemble his thoughts, “I live in Norton now, have my own place and my own business”, he nodded at the ring, “I see you’ve been busy.”

She simpered a bit, “Gav and I got engaged last month. We live Alwoodley way, he’s got a big place there, modern. Built it himself. Gav’s in construction, his own firm, he’s going places”, she smirked, pausing to let it sink in, “And you?”

Keith gulped, “Thomas and I have been together a few months now.” Maria’s face was a picture, it would have been funny it wasn’t all so serious. Keith still felt guilty about Maria, though she’d been no angel either, he ploughed on. “He’s moving into the flat next to me, we might move together later. He runs an arts charity in local schools.”

He couldn’t say any more as Maria broke in, “A bloke, you’ve got to be shitting me.” Keith simply nodded. “So how long has this been going on. Were you doing this stuff when you was with me?”

Keith gulped, “Not much, it's taken me a bit of time…”

“Not much! What the fuck do you take me for.”

“We both did things that weren’t right, and I’m not proud of it. But I’m more comfortable now as a gay man.”

Maria seemed to bite back a few retorts, perhaps remembering quite what Keith’s comment about both doing things referred to. Where the conversation might have gone was anyone’s guess, but children’s shouts of ‘Auntie Maria, the film’s starting’ brought her back to her duties. They exchanged stiffly polite goodbyes, checked phone numbers were still the same, and Maria said she was this way fairly often to visit her friend, who’d moved nearby. Keith presumed the woman with the children. But did he want to meet Maria again?

He went through his subsequent meeting with the best of intentions, but his mind just wasn’t on it. The image of Maria kept returning.

-oOo-oOo-

Finally getting home, Keith knew that he would have to tell Thomas about the encounter with Maria. But he needed to talk about it a bit and his boyfriend surely wasn’t quite the right person to give advice about his ex. As luck would have it Bart was carrying a parcel from their car to the back door. He stopped and hailed Keith,

“Hi, how’s it going?”

Keith rolled his eyes and Bart grinned, “Fancy a coffee, or something stronger?”

The two ended up sat outside with a beer. Bart looked enquiringly at Keith, “Tough day?”

“I bumped into my former girlfriend. Maria.”

Bart thought for a minute, “The girl you ran out on because you’d started to do stuff with guys”, said with a wry smile.

“Yeah, I hadn’t seen her since I left, and we’d parted on bad terms.”

“So how was it?”

“Civilised, sort of. She’s engaged, to a builder, runs a construction company and has a posh modern house. And a big engagement ring.”

“Nice. So, she’s happy?”

“Guess so. But the fireworks started when I said I was with a guy!”

Bart grinned, “She put two and two together?”

“Exactly. Wanted to know whether I’d been seeing guys as well as her.”

“On the down low!”

“Yeah. And I was. I feel guilty about it, but she was seeing other guys too. I think.”

“So, no arms broken or anything?”

Keith grinned, “No time, she was off to the cinema with a friend and the friend’s kids.”

“Thank the Lord for that. So that’s Maria done and dusted?”

“Not a bit. She wants to meet up for coffee or summat. She has a friend round here.”

“And will you?”

“Big question.”

“Think about what you want out of it. It’s pointless meeting again if all you do is argue.”

“A slanging match”, Keith gave a short, bitter laugh, “Maria was good at those.”

“Precisely. If you fall into old habits, you’ll just feel shitty. But if you can make peace with her or even a truce…”

Keith laughed, “Peace with Maria! Not sure. Not sure at all.”

When it came to telling Thomas, it proved easy, and he was calm and thoughtful about it. He thought Keith should meet Maria again and that somewhere public, such as having coffee would be ideal. There would be less chance of things going badly off the rails. And the way Keith kept beating himself up about Maria suggested that there were things that needed to be said. Even if shouting ensued!

The big question was, would Maria want to meet up? The answer came quickly. There was a text from her which translated, read something like - hey, probably good we bumped into each other. Wanted to check phone no. correct. You OK for coffee in the same place sometime. I’ll text you. Keith texted ‘OK’ back and left it at that.