They may not mean to, but they do - 40. Forty

Feeling a bit guilty, Keith phoned Gerard about Fags for Football. If he was going to apologise for being such a flake, then it ought to be a phone call, not just a message. It took a few goes, but he finally caught the guy. Gerard was friendly and gracious as Keith apologised for his patchy record, explaining about the Atkinson filling in time and coming clean that he didn’t feel up to the commitment needed for a regular team and there was the idea that he and Thomas might try something that they could do together. As he described it to Gerard, it seemed the most natural thing in the world, became it in fact, joining a choir together. Gerard laughed but insisted that Keith keep in touch and suggested that there might be space in the occasional charity match. Keith liked that idea.

Having got over that hurdle, Keith felt on a roll and decided to message Stan. It seemed a bit rude to stay out of contact, after all, he was supposed to be a friend. Stan messaged back almost immediately and there was almost a conversation (except by message). It was Stan who apologised, he’d met someone and thought that something might develop, then it had fallen apart, and he’d got depressed. As they came to know Stan, Keith and Thomas would find that this was a common occurrence in the boy’s life, but for the moment Keith was sympathetic and tried to sound interested. Not that he wasn’t but it was difficult to respond in quite the same intense emotional tone that Stan was using in his description of the break-up.

Was it a break-up, after such a short time together, Keith didn’t know? He’d have to ask; perhaps gay relationships were different. Secretly and privately, he hoped deep down that he and Thomas could be different. They were different.

The end result was a date to meet. Keith and Thomas had already chatted about this and wanted to make the evening a bit more their style so they would be meeting for a meal beforehand. It would be a chance to chat in a quieter environment, and they could let off steam at the club afterwards. Jan would be coming again, it seemed that he was Stan’s go-to friend in the case of crisis. Oh well, no doubt they would get the rundown in detail when they met up.

Later Keith admitted to Thomas that he was rather looking forward to it. Even the dancing? Keith went a bit red but said yes, and Thomas said that he’d found being outside his comfort zone rather more entertaining than he’d expected. He suggested that perhaps they should be practising their dance moves at home, but the sheer idea of that simply sent them into fits of laughter.

-oOo-oOo-

Keith had never met Jaz outside of work, or rather away from the building supplies firm so he didn’t really pay attention to a couple sitting on the bench eating ice creams near the Nature Reserve car park. Having had a busy Saturday running errands, and with a date with Greg and Bart in the evening, they had decided to get some air at the Nature Reserve.

And an ice cream, of course. Keith was concentrating on his, as it threatened to spill over and he didn’t want to waste any, so he wasn’t paying attention to the sound of someone saying Hi.

Thomas nudged him, “I think they know you, the two women on the bench.”

Keith looked over properly and there was Jaz, dressed in her usual gear, a plain top and short skirt in strong, contrasting colours, black tights, and heavy boots, despite the warm weather. With her was a blond girl of about the same age dressed in t-shirt and jeans, though it could hardly be called casual dress; the t-shirt was an alarming pink with sparkles and the word ‘Juicy’ plastered across the girl’s ample bosom. Keith tried not to stare.

“Hi, we don’t normally see you here.”

“We fancied a bit of air”, Keith smiled and held his ice cream up, “and an ice cream.”

“Yeah, they’re great here, we often come by. This is my friend Wally by the way”, she indicated the girl sitting next to her.

Wally seemed to have finished her ice cream and jumped up rather quickly and with a hurried, “Got to be goin’, nice to see ya, and ta ra” she was gone.

Jaz shrugged and as if in apology said Wally was having man trouble at the moment. Keith introduced Thomas properly and was aware of Jaz and Thomas scrutinising each other, Thomas discreetly and Jaz more directly. But all Jaz said to Thomas was a comment about Thomas taking care of Keith because he was a great bloke and deserved the best, which made Keith go pink and caused the other two to laugh.

“Anyroad, I have news. We’re moving, somewhere OLD”. This last word was definitely in capitals and probably lit up. Jaz grinned.

“And …”

She smirked, “Daniel”, here she turned to Thomas and explained that Daniel was her boyfriend, “Well, Dan was doing some stuff for one of the posh blokes he works for, and they got chatting”. Here there was another pause to explain to Thomas that Daniel was a writer but in fact made a living by doing freelance IT and accounting projects for ‘posh folk’. It seemed that Dan had been chatting to a client who was about to start a two-year project renovating a house which since the war had been a children’s home, then offices and then derelict. It was a big job, and as there were outbuildings which had been converted into viable staff flats, Jaz and Dan were going to be living there, very cheap for two years.

“Sort of like those live-in guardians, except this is a proper flat with all mod cons and in a Victorian building, probably part of the stable originally Jeff thinks, Jeff’s the guy that owns it.”

“Won’t it be like living on a building site?”

She grinned, “Yeah but you ain’t seen our current flat. ‘Sides, we have a bit of a garden away from the main house so away from the builders. I reckon it’ll be OK for two years.” She paused. “We can cover the rent from me wages and that means Dan can write more, he’d been doing stuff but it don’t pay well, you know?”

She looked anxiously at them, it was Thomas that answered, “Most of the artists we work with do other things as well. We pay a pittance but they’re often glad of it, so I know the feeling. Tell him to work hard”, and both he and Jaz grinned.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he doesn’t slack.”

“Where is the house?”

“Over Micklefield way. Handy for the M1 and we’ll almost be neighbours”, she grinned.

“What about a pint of milk?”

This comment brought forth a guffaw from Jaz and a puzzled look from Thomas. “I told him I was a town girl, I wanted to be close to somewhere to buy a pint of milk. Well, you have to compromise, and I plan to get a bike. Do me good to get more exercise” and she slapped her leg.

They ate their ice creams in silence for a bit, and Keith wondered if they could discreetly go, but Jaz looked up at Thomas, “You worked in Africa, right? Keith did tell me that?”

Thomas nodded, “For eight years, charity stuff.”

“And artists?”

Thomas waggled his head, “Well I knew some…”

“And you went to that there exhibition at the art gallery, the African one.”

Thomas nodded again. They both wondered where this was going, and Keith marvelled at the information that Jaz seemed to have squirrelled away from their casual conversations.

“Well, Dan is writing stuff about Africa. He’s a bit obsessed if you tell me. And I wondered, would you chat to him. Just chat. He doesn’t know I’ve asked you, I thought if it was Ok, we could meet up for a drink or summat”, she looked anxiously at Thomas, “OK?”

Thomas smiled, “I’m always happy to chat about Africa, well Zimbabwe and Ghana are the places I worked, though I’m no expert.”

She grinned, “At least you’ve been there. Fat chance of that for Dan and I; unless he hits the jackpot.”

They wound up after that, having swapped phone numbers and agreed to arrange a date to meet up.

“Did you know about that? Dan being a writer?”

“I’m not sure I even remembered his name”, Keith gave a shamefaced smile. “You don’t mind meeting up?”

“Not at all, she seems lively and keen to be interested. And you can’t fault her for trying to help her boyfriend’s career. I hope his writing lives up to expectations!”

“If it doesn’t then I’d hate to be in Dan’s shoes, I’ve seen Jaz really give guys ‘what for’ at the builder’s supplies when they overstep the line.”

They both laughed. Thomas nodded, “A drink or two doesn’t hurt, and you never know we may like the bloke. If you don’t meet new people, then you never make new friends.”

-oOo-oOo-

Thomas had meetings in Leeds, so he was going to be home early and do paperwork, which meant that he offered to make an evening meal for the two of them. When Keith walked over to Thomas’ flat, he had a piece of paper in his hand. Dinner was simple, just a lasagne and salad, so whilst they waited for it to cook, they had a beer and Keith handed Thomas the paper,

“I remember this, ‘Norton in Harmony’, it’s the leaflet for the choir you picked up in the coffee shop.”

Keith smiled, a bit shamefaced, “I kept it. I was kinda interested, but a bit weedy and daren’t follow it up.”

“And did you?”

“Yeah. The woman that runs it, Marion, is real nice. Quite young, I think, she studied music in Leeds and teaches and stuff, is even an organist at one of the big churches in town. Anyroad, they meet on Tuesdays at St. Bartholomew’s Church Hall, which is a Methodist place in Norton.”

“Tuesdays is Fags for Football night isn’t it.”

“Well, supposed to be”, Keith grinned. “Been a bit more absent than present recently. I did phone Gerard to explain that though I enjoy the gay football, really, I’d have to commit.”

“You mean weekend matches and that?”

Keith nodded, “Yeah, it’s only fair. Gerard was nice and said I could do the odd charity match and, well I’d rather do stuff with you. I want us to do things together, I like going out exploring.”

Thomas went a bit red, but smiled, “Ditto! And I’m crap at football.”

“That’s what I thought, so the thing is, we could join the choir together?” Thomas started to speak but Keith interrupted him, “I mentioned to Marion that you had meetings and such, but she was real cool, just come along when you can and she makes recordings for you to practice at home. So, I reckoned we could join together?” Keith looked anxiously at Thomas, who grinned.

“Bloody hell, can you see it. The two of us singing along to one of Marion’s recordings, Greg and Bart’d think we were barmy.”

“Oh, It’d be fun.”

Thomas laughed, “Just because you’re too windy to go on your own.”

They smiled, and the timer pinged, saving the need for Keith’s reply.

But he’d agreed, there was no reason why not. “Let’s give it a go. Look, try it for a month right. No wimping after one rehearsal, we have to do four or five. And I’ll try and block the time out in my work diary so I can be free.”

So, Tuesday found them having a quick meal together, then driving to the Methodist church hall. The church was a post-war brick one, and frankly rather utilitarian. When Thomas saw it, he commented that it probably didn’t get a listing in Pevsner. Keith grinned but added that Marion had said the hall had good facilities and indeed it did. A plaque proudly announced that the restoration of the hall had been a Millennium Project. Keith stood at the door and looked at Thomas, they were both nervous. The feeling was that they couldn’t chicken out now, but they’d have liked to. Only the decision was taken out of their hands when an elderly couple arrived, asked them if they’d come for the choir and led them in. It wasn’t what they expected, the hall was full of bright modern wood, lively coloured fabrics and it was warm. A group of people were laying out chairs in rows, chatting away, whilst to one side someone was laying piles of music on a table. A middle-aged woman, curly grey-blond hair, sensible glasses, and a loose blouse with a strikingly designed abstract fabric, came up to them and introduced herself as Philippa, and explained the necessary logistics.

They’d arrived about ten minutes early, and Marion came over to greet them. She was around their age, tall, slim, with long blond hair and an eager manner. She never said anything about it, but later they realised their gender and their relative youth were more than a bonus. Most of the choir were women, and nearly all the members were older than Keith and Thomas. Still, they were friendly, and the ten minutes before rehearsal was easily spent saying hello, picking up music sheets and more.

Keith realised that a rehearsal wasn’t unlike a footy training evening, warm-ups, then technical exercises and practice, then the real thing with corrections and coaching. It was hard work, but surprising fun. No-one made a joke about his voice, and he found that he could sing along easily with the simpler items. At the interval, there was tea and soft drinks, with more people curious about them.

No-one turned a hair that they were boyfriends. Keith had been startled when Thomas had explained this to someone, saying they lived in adjacent flats. They’d not talked about this aspect of it; there was no reason to hide but Keith still mentally ducked for the blow that never came. So, when another old bloke asked them, it was Keith that said Thomas was his boyfriend.

At least a couple of the guys were gay, one in his 40s had talked about his partner whilst another, over 60, had commented it was nice having other gay people there. There were others they wondered about, and both had admitted that their gaydar was crap, when it came to both men and women.

There were quite a few questions about how they knew about the choir and whether they had sung in one before. So, the coffee shop and the leaflet came up, as did Thomas’ time in Africa which meant they intrigued some people but there wasn’t time to expand.

By the end of the evening, Keith felt he’d achieved something. Just a little. And staying on would be relatively easy. Marion made a beeline for them and checked they’d enjoyed it. They had, and they’d be back. So, their names were taken, and they would be emailed a link to practice recordings, they could keep the music sheets for practice. Paula, a tall slim woman in her 60s with an amazing helmet of dyed burgundy hair and a voluminous blouse in an alarming matching colour took their contact details. She seemed to be the secretary and told them about going to the pub afterwards.

So, it was like football in that as well. The pub was next door, a rather ordinary modern place, but the locals didn’t turn a hair when the choir came in and the barman seemed friendly. The older gay guy in the choir, Simon, who seemed to have decided to take them under his wing explained that there was usually one hand-pumped real ale that was kept in a drinkable state. And indeed, there was.

Conversation was, surprisingly, not about music but veered all over the place. One of the women knew of Thomas’ charity, whilst another was full of information about the school buildings. But they also had to say more about their musical background, this led to Thomas explaining about singing whilst working in Ghana and Zimbabwe, and Keith admitting that the last time he’d sung was at a carol service in his teens, but he found he wasn’t alone, one of the older guys grinned and said that he’d never sung at all until a mate had persuaded him to come along; it seemed a common story with choir members.

It was only half an hour in the pub as rehearsals ran from 8 to 10 pm, but the choir seemed a friendly bunch. Keith and Thomas agreed on the way home that the trial of a month might not be too much of a trial after all. Except for singing along to the recordings, Keith just didn’t think he dared do that with Thomas present but his boyfriend had a gleam in his eye about that one.