The Butterfly Box

by Santa Montefiore

  In the sixties, when Toby was a teenager, he had more ‘girlfriends’ than any other boy in Polperro. Girls adored him. He was funny, enjoyed gossip and intrigue, treated them with respect and was never nervous with them or too shy to say what he thought. He was attractive in an endearing way with those lucid eyes that assured them he understood them better than other boys. His large smile was honest and his kind face approachable. They all loved him and yet he never loved them in the way they longed for him to love them.

  The sea was an escape for Toby when he wanted to avoid the boys in the pub discussing girls and how far they’d got. He would sail out into the salty mists where he could be himself, where he didn’t have to conform to anything. He remembered his mother’s advice, but he couldn’t make a feature out of homosexuality without offending the entire town. He had known he was gay from a very early age, but homosexuality was vehemently outlawed by their sheltered society and Polperro was too small to hide in. So, in 1967, at the age of eighteen, he chose to leave Polperro and look for work in London. His parents hadn’t understood why he needed to go off and work in London, there was plenty of work locally for an intelligent young man like Toby. His father wanted him to work with him making windows and doorframes but Toby couldn’t explain that he winced at the very idea of cutting magnificent trees into little pieces. He couldn’t explain so he didn’t. He just packed his bags and left. His mother was devastated, his father angry. ‘You sweat blood to bring them up and then the ungrateful sods leave without so much as a thank you,’ he growled. By that time Helena was travelling the world with Ramon. Jake and Polly found themselves more alone than when they had first married, because they knew what it was like to have the house filled with the laughter of their

  children. Now all they had left were echoes, which were louder than the silence had been in those pre-children days.

  It had taken years for Toby to find a job. Not because he wasn’t employable - he had left school at eighteen with good grades - but because he couldn’t find something that he enjoyed doing. As he explained to his parents, ‘If I’m going to be working for the rest of my life it had better be something I love or it’s not worth living.’ They couldn’t help but agree with him, which is why they were confused by his decision to leave Polperro. There were no fishing boats in London, no wide-open sea for him to lose himself in. Toby had tried working in the City but only lasted three weeks. He brushed off his hasty departure with a cheery smile stating simply that he wasn’t cut out for the City. He tried his hand at everything from selling to marketing to designing kitchens. But he soon grew disheartened and behind the smile he presented to his friends as each new failure defeated him lay the frightened soul of a man confused and alienated. He didn’t belong in London, or the City, or the offices of Mayfair. He didn’t belong in the world of married couples and children either. He knew where his world lay, but it might as well have been at the foot of the rainbow for he was too afraid to find it. He longed for his home, for the sea and for the security of that fishing boat hidden in the impenetrable ocean mists. Then one night in a bar he met a flaxen young man called Julian Fable who changed his life for ever. They both had too much to drink, Toby to drown his misery, Julian to give him courage. When they left the bar Julian turned to Toby and, taking his forlorn face in his hands, he kissed him. Suddenly Toby felt an enormous release, as if the shadow he had been was at last covered with a skin that felt comfortable to live in. Finally in 1973, at the age of twenty-four, he returned to Polperro with Julian, complete and contented. They bought a cottage outside Polperro where Julian built a dark room for his photography and Toby bought a boat, which he christened 'The Helena1 and started up his own business taking tourists for rides around the coast, and at last he settled down. He had found himself.

  For the first few years no one thought it was in the least bit strange that Toby Trebeka was living with another man. But when people began to notice that they never dated nor chased girls, gossip and rumour started to rise like the sea mists until it became overwhelming and impossible to ignore. Toby had been happily going about his own business, never interfering with anyone

  else’s. It deeply saddened him that he should have to explain himself to anyone. But he was left no choice. He arrived one evening at his parents’ house for dinner. They were curious as to why he should invite himself for dinner in the middle of the week and an uneasy feeling invaded their home. Jake and Polly had both suspected he might be gay, but as long as it wasn’t discussed or flaunted in front of them they ignored it. Pretended it wasn’t there. Like hiding a stain in the carpet with a potted plant, they were happy to leave it unattended in spite of the friends and neighbours who talked about it behind their backs.

  ‘How is everything?’ Jake asked warily while Polly stirred the vegetable soup with a firm hand.

  ‘Fine, thanks, Dad,’ said Toby, swallowing down a gulp of wine to give him courage.

  ‘So all’s well then,’ said Polly from beside the Aga, her tight smile betraying her anxiety.

  ‘Look, Mum, Dad. I’m gay,’ Toby said bluntly. He had the same direct approach as his sister yet it still managed to take both parents by surprise. He sighed heavily and let the wine feel for him. Jake knocked back his brandy. Polly stirred the soup with vigour. For a while no one spoke. Left alone with their thoughts the silence isolated them from each other. Only Toby’s heart soared weightless in his chest, more buoyant than ever.

  ‘So Julian’s your.. .’

  ‘Lover, Dad. Julian’s my lover, my friend. I don’t expect you to understand, just to accept that this is the way I choose to live. I don’t want people gossiping about me behind your backs. You have a right to know,’ he replied, looking at his father steadily.

  ‘I’ve always taught you to be independent,’ Polly began, approaching the table.

  ‘To make a feature of our differences,’ said Toby wryly.

  ‘To make a feature of your differences,’ she said and chuckled. ‘Well, I’m proud of you. It takes a lot of courage to go against the tide.’

  ‘I think I’ve been swimming against the tide all my life,’ Toby mused, smiling sadly.

  ‘Well, I’ll swim with you, Toby dear,’ said Polly, bending down to kiss him.

  He put his arms around her thick waist. ‘This means a lot to me, Mum,’ he choked.

  ‘I know,’ she replied, patting him on the back. ‘I know.’

  Jake accepted it as his son had asked him to, but he never spoke about Julian or wished to see him or entertain him in his house again. Toby was mortified that suddenly a wall had been erected between them. His father had liked Julian before, but now, out of sheer prejudice, he saw him as a threat and decided to go against his initial judgement and turn against him. However, Polperro was a small village and they simply couldn’t avoid each other. When they did eventually meet one hazy Saturday morning on the quay, while Julian moored Toby’s boat, The Helena, and Jake walked past on his way to his own boat, they nodded politely, but that was as far as it went. Jake had acknowledged him without venturing further than his good manners pushed him. Toby was pragmatic. At least he had told them, there were no secrets to pull him down. The only road ahead was up.

  Federica and Hal arrived at Heathrow airport dazed and exhausted. The flight had been long, stopping in Buenos Aires, Rio, Dakar, and finally Heathrow. Their world had been reduced to the small interior of the aeroplane for what had felt like an eternity. They had played games with the pencils and paper the air hostesses had given them and slept as much as they were able to, using their mother as a cushion and comforter combined. But they were restless hours punctuated by frustrating stops and once the novelty of flying had worn off they had both wept weary tears. Helena had tried to keep them distracted and she had even asked Federica to tell her the story of her box again just to use up a few more empty minutes with something.

  Finally Toby’s long, smiling face loomed into focus, as he waved at them madly when they walked slowly out through
customs. Neither Hal nor Federica recognized him. But Helena ran into his arms, the sobs spilling out of her lungs as the pressure of having to be strong for her children burst with relief. She rejoiced at the familiar feel of his body and the familiar scent of his skin. She was home. The nightmare was over.

  ‘I’m your Uncle Toby,’ said Toby, bending down and shaking Hal’s hand, which was immediately swallowed up by his long fingers. Hal clung onto his mother’s legs and looked at the strange man with suspicious eyes. Federica extended her hand and said ‘hello’ politely but without smiling. ‘You are even prettier than your mother described you,’ he said, taking Federica’s hand and shaking it gently. Then noticing her box he added, ‘What’s that you’re carrying?’

  Federica clutched it in her hand possessively. ‘Papa gave it to me. It’s a magic box,’ she replied quietly.

  ‘I bet it is. You’ll need a magic box in Polperro.’ He chuckled.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because there are magic caves and mysterious creeks and haunted beaches,’ he said and watched her tired eyes flicker momentarily with interest.

  ‘Really?’ she exclaimed and her mouth lengthened into a thin smile.

  ‘Really. I’m very pleased you’ve brought your box,’ he said, then stood up. ‘You must be exhausted, Helena. Let’s get you to the car immediately, the children can sleep on the back seat.’

  Toby pushed the trolley laden with their cases, while Helena walked holding her two children by the hand. When they got to the car, Toby loaded the luggage into the back and then settled the children on the rear seat, which he had prepared with pillows and rugs. It was a long seven-hour drive to Polperro. ‘I can’t believe you’ve put all this together for the children,’ said Helena gratefully. ‘They’ll sleep like kings in there.’

  ‘It’s an arduous drive. Poor lambs, they look shattered and bewildered,’ said Toby, shutting the door. Federica closed her eyes and leant her aching head against the pillow. She had no time to reflect on her situation for sleep overcame her, numbing her senses like a drug.

  ‘Oh Toby. I can’t tell you what I’ve been through. I’ve left Ramon and broken my children’s hearts all because I couldn’t cope any more,’ said Helena, the tears glistening in her bloodshot eyes.

  ‘Don’t blame yourself, Helena, it’s life. They’ll cope. Don’t worry. It’s happened to tons of children before them and they’ve survived,’ he said, patting her on her arm. ‘Now do get in or you’ll catch a cold. I don’t imagine you thought of bringing coats,’ he said, looking at her shivering in her sweater and slacks.

  She shook her head bleakly. ‘Of course not, it’s midsummer in Chile,’ she said, thinking suddenly of Ramon and wondering what he was doing.

  ‘When the children are asleep you can tell me all about it,’ he said, climbing into the car.

  Helena watched the grey cloud hang low in the sky like a shroud and yet it didn’t make her feel depressed as bad weather often did, but gave her a contented feeling of reassurance. It was all so familiar and so comfortable. As they drove towards the motorway she cast her eyes about her at the naked trees

  with their branches stiff from the cold and the sleek black rooks that pecked at the winter fields. She remembered England like this and smiled inside.

  ‘It’s good to have you back, Helena,’ Toby said, glancing in the mirror to check the children were asleep. ‘Poor darlings, they’re shattered. Look.’ Helena turned her head around wearily. Hal and Federica were asleep curled up against each other like a couple of puppies. She thought of Ramon and wondered whether he was missing them or whether he had simply deleted their memories and moved on. More countries, more books, no commitments.

  She sighed. ‘It’s been a while since I last talked to you. How’s Julian?’ she asked, staring at the moving ground in front of them, blinking away her fatigue.

  ‘Julian’s doing well. He spends a lot of time in London on assignments. He’s getting lots of work and becoming rather successful. He’ll be keeping me in my old age,’ he chuckled.

  ‘Lucky old you!’

  ‘Not really. Dad’s the same.’

  ‘That doesn’t surprise me. He’s a man’s man. Proud with it. He probably blames himself,’ she said.

  ‘It undermines his own masculinity.'

  ‘He’ll come round one day, don’t expect miracles. There are far more important things to get upset about. You haven’t killed anyone.’

  ‘No, not yet.’ He smiled. ‘But it’s been two years since I told him and he still hasn’t spoken to Julian. When Julian first arrived in Polperro he was only too happy to embrace him into the family as my friend. He was charmed by him. How narrow-minded can a person be to ostracize someone because of their sexuality, which is a private matter anyway? Especially as he liked Julian very much as a person.’

  ‘That hurts, doesn’t it?’ said Helena, noticing his white knuckles grip the steering wheel in frustration.

  ‘Yes, only because we’ve always been so close. It’s not the same now. You’ll see.’

  ‘He just pretends Julian doesn’t exist?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘How does Julian feel?’ she asked, trying to take an interest but all she could think about was her own pain.

  ‘He’s so laid back, he doesn’t care. He’s far too interested in his photography to worry about whether Dad likes him or not. Anyhow, he’s thirty-five

  years old, he’s seen it all before and it doesn’t faze him. I mind for me, that’s all.’

  ‘Dad probably feels you’ve been led astray by an old pervert.’ She watched Toby’s mouth twist into a reluctant smile.

  ‘Hardly old, Helena.’

  ‘Seven years older than you. To Dad you’re still a baby.’

  ‘Well, this baby knows what he wants.’

  ‘Then that’s fine. To hell with Dad. Who cares! As long as you’re happy. You have to think of yourself, you know, and not live your life for other people,’ she said, considering her own situation and the two heartbroken children who slept innocently on the back seat.

  ‘We both have to think of ourselves, Helena. No one else is going to,’ he replied gravely then fell silent and watched the grey road stretch bleakly out in front of them.

  Helena and Toby had always shared all their secrets. Even though he was younger than his sister by two years he had always been more mature than other boys his age. That’s what comes of keeping secrets, it wears one out and makes one furtive, Helena reflected. She had known Toby was gay long before he had decided to tell his parents. She had always known he wasn’t interested in girls, that he was happier with his books on worms and beetles than going to nightclubs. It wasn’t that he was frightened of women, he wasn’t. He adored his sister, admired his mother and had lots of good girl friends. Toby just wanted their friendship; the idea of physical contact was as alien to him as football. When Helena’s friend Annabel Hazel fell in love with him, crying hopeless tears of unrequited love onto her shoulder, Helena began to wonder whether Toby might be gay. He never dated anyone. He could hardly marry one of his unfortunate beetles. Helena was usually too distracted by her own desires to have the time to notice anyone else’s, but Toby’s sexuality intrigued her and wrenched her out of herself. She watched him closely. It was in the Chilean summer of 1972, that Toby had flown out to spend a few weeks with his sister who had settled happily into married life with Ramon.

  Helena was distressed to see that Toby had grown fat with misery and taut with anxiety. He was suppressing his feelings and choking on his efforts. He was unemployed and unhappy and his usually buoyant smile could barely manage

  to float. They walked up and down the beach and talked as they had never talked before. Toby spoke of his difficulty in finding a job in London, how the fumes of the cars made him sick and the noise made him nervous. ‘I just don’t feel me any more,’ he explained hoarsely.

  ‘Well, you’re not going to get a boyfriend by being miserable,’ Helena said nonchalantly. Tob
y stared at her, his face at once pink and white and his eyes full of terror. ‘It’s okay to be gay, you know,’ she continued and smiled at him in understanding. ‘You’re still my darling Toby.’ Toby sat down on the sand and put his head into his fumbling hands and sobbed as he hadn’t done since his dog, Jessie, had been run over that hideous winter morning fifteen years before. Helena sat next to him and placed her arms around him. ‘You’re fat because you’re not happy, you’re not happy because you’re confused. You always have been. That’s why you went to London because you couldn’t cope with your secret in Polperro. I don’t blame you.’ She laughed. ‘That town is way too small for you. But you know, it’s where you belong and it’s where you’ll be happy-’

  ‘I know.’ He sniffed. ‘I want to go home. I hate London. But,’ he sighed heavily as if the weight of his secret was being released through his breath. ‘I

  want to be loved like everyone else.’

  ‘And you will be. There are lots of gay people all over London, all over the world. You only have to have the courage to find them.’ Toby turned and looked at his sister with shiny blue eyes that resembled a clear sky after a heavy rainfall.

  ‘How come you knew?’ he asked.

  ‘Because I know you. Because I care,’ she said. ‘I’ve known for a long time. Ever since you rebuffed Annabel Hazel. I began to think about it then. You never dated anyone, you were more interested in those wretched insects of yours. I thought there was something strange about that. No one else did, mind you, because you had always been eccentric. But no one was as close to you as I was.’