They may not mean to, but they do - 28. Twenty-Eight

Saturday morning, Keith awoke early which was stupid because it was hours before Thomas was due. And Thomas wasn’t actually moving in, he would just be living next door, but still, Keith was excited. He got the jigsaw out, made himself a coffee, switched the radio on and started doing the jigsaw. Perhaps Thomas was early, or maybe Keith got absorbed, but suddenly he found the door opening and Thomas standing there smiling.

In fact, Thomas had nothing like as much stuff as Keith had imagined. Caroline had been exaggerating somewhat when she had described the number of boxes and Thomas had weeded a lot out, commenting that most of it was stuff that he didn’t know why he kept it, he’d never been one for keeping things.

Whilst most of the boxes would have to wait till Thomas had got proper furniture, judging by the ones that were opened there wasn’t much from Africa. Keith mentioned this when they broke for a late-morning coffee. Thomas looked a bit reluctant as if it was a sensitive topic,

“I spent most of my time in Zimbabwe and particularly latterly in Ghana hiding from myself. There are moments that I treasure and want to remember, and plenty that I’d rather forget”, he looked down at his hands, “I didn’t just burn out, I think I did have a bit of a breakdown.” The silence was so long that Keith got worried and said that it didn’t matter, they could talk about it later. But Thomas continued, saying that it did matter. “I never had an affair with anyone out there and no-one officially knew I was gay, but you did get close to people. It's difficult to convey what it was like, so much is different and lots of it is wonderful, the places, and particularly the people. But there was a lot of what we see as corruption, life just ran along different rails. I got friendly with a few young men who confided in me that they were gay. It was an impossible situation. One, Obiyé, who did those watercolours, managed to leave and is now relatively happy in South Africa. But others got arrested, a couple at parties, and another was set up with false charges.”

“What happened to them?”

Thomas shrugged, “I don’t know, they just disappeared.”

Keith was shocked, “Couldn’t you do something about it?”

Thomas wrinkled his face, thoughtfully, “The guys that you needed to approach about it were often the same guys that we needed to keep on the good side of, to keep the charity running well. And you have to work within the local culture, and technically the young men had often broken the law. They are pretty hard on homosexuality, often it's illegal and culturally it’s a no-no too. To even admit it to someone, they were very brave.”

“Shit, you read about things but never think what it might be like.”

“Precisely, you wake up one day and someone you know just disappears, and it feels as if no-one cares because he was a homo.” Keith kept quiet, he’d no idea what to say. Thomas recovered his composure somewhat, “Let’s not get too deep. Suffice it to say that I didn’t cope very well at all, so there are times that I just don’t want to remember. I’ve kept a few things, things that really matter and hopefully someday I’ll be able to put it more in perspective.”

They had a hug, and Keith felt at least that was something he could do. Then Thomas opened one of the boxes, that did have African stuff in. Keith could see more of Obiyé’s watercolours, a group of fabrics carefully folded, and some carved figures. Thomas picked one of these up, it seemed rather strange to Keith, even primitive, but he didn’t say so.

“Makalo was from a family of carvers, a distinguished family. He was one of the guys arrested, and…”, Thomas paused, clearly upset, “and when I left his father gave me this. It has particular significance, and I have all the details written down. Somewhere.” He gave a somewhat cock-eyed smile, “Look, I’d better put all this away before I burst into tears. I still find it difficult, so it’s easier to keep things put away.”

The rest of the day was devoted to purely practical matters, and it was Keith who insisted on having the boxes arranged neatly and orderly. Then they braved the motorway and visited IKEA where they bought some furniture. Greg and Bart had come over to check how they were getting on, and when they heard that a trip to IKEA was planned, they grinned and said that getting through IKEA and then successfully assembling the furniture without killing each other was a good test of a relationship. The shopping trip and the journey home took such a long time they abandoned any plans to assemble furniture till the morrow.

The visit to IKEA had shown up a difference between them, Thomas was most concerned with how a thing looked, and whether it would work for him whereas Keith worried about elements of practicality, how it would fit and how tricky it would be to assemble. They managed to agree to differ on a few items, but later in the week after everything was assembled and Thomas had the place sorted, he admitted that Keith had been right, and made him avoid some mistakes.

They ended the day relaxing at Greg and Bart’s over a glass of wine and some food. The conversation was general, and not at all deep. Everyone seemed in a mood to be a bit frivolous and forget life’s complexities. Keith found himself telling everyone about his escapade on Friday with Mrs, and her designer kitchen and left-over sushi. Jonty’s photographs definitely raised some interest (including a naughty comment from Bart about whether Jonty only ever photographed inanimate objects), as did the Michael Atkinson connection.

-oOo-oOo-

Sunday morning, they were late up, and Keith had bought bacon, rolls, and things so that they had a good, yet leisurely breakfast. Thomas asked if it was OK to put the radio on and Keith found himself listening to unfamiliar music as Thomas had put a classical music station on. They enjoyed some of it, though even when Thomas found the broadcast schedule, the names meant very little to Keith.

Then it was time to start assembling. Keith was methodical about it, maddening Thomas sometimes with his insistence on carefully laying everything out. Thomas spent most of his time unpacking and disposing of the packaging, sorting out and such, then providing an extra pair of hands where needed. They took a break in the middle of the day so Thomas could return the van and bring his own car back, but by the end of the day, Thomas had a flat. They hadn’t finished everything, and in the room next door, that Thomas would use as an office, there was still a pile of unpacked boxes and a desk awaiting assembly.

They sat on his new bed, looking around. “You know, I’ll never be able to find anything, and I can’t remember the last time I had all my stuff in the same place!”

Keith kissed him, “It looks great, and it won’t take long to get used to things. At least it didn’t me”

Thomas smiled, “But you’re more organised than I am. I’m a bit more the leaving it in a heap sort of guy.”

They laughed and a hug turned into something more so that when Greg and Bart knocked, both Thomas and Keith had to scrabble to get decent and felt somewhat embarrassed when they opened the door. If either visitor guessed what the delay had been, they didn’t say. Instead, there was a bottle of champagne to christen the new flat.

That night, Thomas insisted on christening the flat properly and sleeping in his own bed. Though the two had intended to sleep apart, somehow without planning it Keith shared with him. He’d joked that as he had built the bed, he ought to test if first to check it didn’t collapse, and Thomas had taken him up on it. Thomas seemed pleased, commenting that they were giving the new flat a proper send-off, and the bed didn’t collapse either.

Chatting about Friday’s events, Thomas suggested that they contact Jonty’s university gallery to talk to the curator about the Michael Atkinson figure, whether it had had any restoration and by whom. Thomas said he would phone, as he had more experience with dealing with museums and curators. Keith didn’t think any more about it, as he assumed it would take ages to get in touch with the right people, but Thomas appeared late Monday evening having worked late. Over a drink, and a snack from Keith’s fridge, Thomas broke his news. He had made a couple of calls and struck gold, the curator was around and happy to talk. If they could go on Wednesday, then the curator would be there as would the conservator who worked on the Atkinson as she was working on something else at the Museum. It wasn’t impossible, so on Tuesday both re-arranged their diaries so that they could spend the next day in Manchester.

-oOo-oOo-

“So, how’s your posh flat comin’ along?”

Keith’s explosive response to Jaz’s question nearly caused a spray of coffee. He’d popped into the building supplies to get some stuff and Jaz had almost whisked him off for her break, commenting she’d not seen him in ages. Was that true, Keith had no idea, but he thought she was exaggerating.

“It’s hardly posh, you ought to see it. Best IKEA furniture and a couple of prints from Leeds Art Gallery.”

“Ooh, classy. But still, it’s your own place. And it's OLD!”

He smiled, “And Thomas has moved in.”

“Your man? Into your flat. Wow, you guys didn’t waste any time.”

“Hardly. My flat’s tiny, just one room. The guys that own the place have been developing the outbuildings, it was an old farm once and they have created some studios. Thomas is renting one, so he’ll be next door.”

“Nice, I sometimes wished we could do that, then I wouldn’t want to kill him so often.”

She smiled. Keith then remembered Mrs’ flash kitchen on Friday. Glad to change the subject to something more general, he started telling Jaz about it, commenting that it was probably right up her street, real property porn.

Tuesday night, Keith went along to Faggots for Football and found that it was now becoming a regular part of his life, rather than a new experience. The training was lively and hard work, but there was chat too with Keith’s comment about Thomas moving into a flat next door causing quite a bit of lively comment. Toby, the joiner, had some choice words when Keith mentioned going to IKEA, but it was all good-humoured, albeit sometimes remarkably bawdy. And then, in the pub waiting for him, eating a pie, was Thomas.