Swan Songs

by Swan, Tarn

  It’s time to set off to get Twinkles from work now, so I’ll have to finish this tale another time. I’m just hoping he’s thawed a little towards me. I’m sick of wearing thermals.

  29th November 2005:

  Coventry Is A Cold County

  Mum’s Consultant seems fairly sure that the cancer is confined to the cervix and while invasive is non-aggressive at this stage and thus successfully treatable by surgery. Just to make sure she has to go into hospital on Thursday for another round of tests and procedures and then they’ll arrange a date to perform a simple hysterectomy. I asked mum how she felt and she snorted and said she felt bloody irritated and had told the surgeon that only a man could call a hysterectomy simple. He wouldn’t call it simple if he had a womb and someone suggested whipping it out and binning it. She’s putting on a brave face, but she’s scared. She keeps telling me where all the insurance policies are. I told her she was going to be fine and if she had any worries whatsoever I was there to listen.

  She phoned this evening and said she was worried about the effect the op would have on her sex life with Priscilla. I immediately handed her over to Twinkles. I’m sorry, I love my mother, I’m worried sick about her, but I just can’t discuss sex with her. It makes me break out in a sweat of mortification. It’s not natural to discuss your mum’s love life with her. Twinkles is more than willing to discuss sex, operations, body functions, you name it. It was nice to hear his voice as he talked away to her. God knows I’ve heard little enough of it over the past few days. He’s more or less sent me to Coventry and while silence has frequently been something I’ve prayed for from him, this is a little bit too much.

  The cold snap continues in our house and thus far there is no sign of a thaw. There are no cuddles, no kisses, no arms around my waist, no hands lovingly fondling my bum in passing and definitely no sex. After kissing Twinkles’ shoulder and trying to put my arm around him in bed on Saturday night, I got the classic wronged wife’s statement… ‘This restaurant is closed for business, kindly partake elsewhere or take advantage of the self service cafeteria.’ He knows that I would never dine out of town and while self-service might fill a gap, it isn’t very satisfying. Sunday morning was much the same. I got basic civility in reply to any comments I addressed to him and chilly silence in between times.

  Lulu, probably encouraged by the artic atmosphere, finally decided to take the bit between the teeth and visit his parents for a few days. His father has called several times to ask him what the hell is going on, as he’d got wind of some very disturbing rumours and his mother was getting anxious. I gave him a lift over and was persuaded to step in for a cup of tea. I think he wanted some moral support. Lu’s parents were distraught when they saw the state of him. He gave them a heavily censored version of what had happened. His mother cried. She was totally unable to comprehend why anyone would want to hurt her lovely Freddy. She wanted him to come home permanently, while his father demanded to know what the police were doing about it. Lulu glibly espoused an untruth about the involvement of the police, caught my eye on him and had the grace to blush slightly.

  I left him being fussed to death by his parents. They so obviously don’t understand his lifestyle and think he could give it up if he tried, but just as obviously they adore the son that came late into their lives. Lulu’s mother was in her middle-forties when she discovered she was expecting him, she thought he was a symptom of oncoming menopause. Lulu tells a tale of the first time she saw him in a dress. She burst into tears, blaming herself for confusing him while he was yet in the womb, because during her pregnancy she was convinced she was having a girl and had bought a pink bonnet on the strength of that feeling. She did later swap it for a blue one. Lulu of course would have preferred the pink. Like Twinks, Lu has a dual nature. He’s a gay man with no desire to change sex, and yet he has a strong feminine aspect to his personality that has to be expressed, and it does have to be expressed because it’s who he is, how he was born, a part of his genetic core. He, like Twinks wouldn’t choose to be that way, not because it’s wrong, but because it makes life very difficult. People like them have an innate vulnerability. They’re easily hurt because they are markedly different in a way that isn’t widely approved of or accepted and they consequently become targets of spite and ignorance. Human beings, as I’ve said before, are complex. Most of the problems in the world stem from ‘enforced simplicity’ and the desire by a few to impose narrow interpretations of sexual and gender identity on the majority. Those that do not strictly conform are labelled perverse and sinful.

  I got back from dropping Lu to find an empty house. There was a tersely worded note from Twinkles on the kitchen table informing me that he’d gone out for a walk. I was vexed because he hadn’t taken his mobile. His way of underlining that he desired to have as little communication with me as possible. By two in the afternoon vexation had turned to irritable anxiety. I called Val’s house, but he hadn’t been there. I knew mum was lunching with Priscilla, so I called Karen and Paul to see if he was there. It would have been a hell of a walk for him, but it was the only place I could think he might have gone on a Sunday. Most of his friends would still be in bed after a late night at the PP. Karen confirmed that he had been there. He and Paul had taken Dominic to Peter Barrets Garden Centre to look at all the Christmas decorations and to see Santa in his Grotto. My anxiety stepped up a notch when Karen said Twinkles had refused the offer of a lift home because he fancied a walk through the park, and had set off well over an hour ago.

  I went to look for him, fearful in case he happened by any gangs of youths while he was alone. There’s been a spate of widely publicised so called ‘happy slapping’ attacks in the area lately, where youths choose a victim at random and film the attack on their video phones. Of course the ‘social worker brigade’ tell us that such youths are deprived and need sympathy. They’re so deprived that they’ve got state of the art cell phones plus designer footwear and clothing, yes, poor things, they obviously live in abject poverty. They’re vicious feral little thugs more like who know that they’ll get let off lightly if caught.

  The park was mainly populated by fallen frost crisped leaves and was eerily silent. He was sitting on the stationary roundabout looking absolutely nithered, picking miserably at the fringe of his velvet scarf with blue tinged fingers. I asked if he wanted to take sweets from a stranger, no obligation, while offering him one of his favourite chocolate mint truffle bars. He shook his head and I sadly slipped my comfort offering back in my pocket and sat down next to him. We sat in silence listening to the cawing of the crows as the light dwindled. I didn’t expect him to feel all warm and fuzzy about me, but I had been hoping for a slight thaw in his manner. I’ve imposed a heavy penalty on him for misusing our account and he’s finding it hard to come to terms with. The acceptance of discipline as a component of a relationship doesn’t mean that its consequences are made easier to deal with, or that you feel happy about them when they come. Reality bites hard. Twinkles broke the silence saying he hadn’t been able to buy his own godson a present that morning because of me. I said that Dominic didn’t need presents all the time because what he liked most was time and attention. It started to snow and I ended his sulking session by firmly telling him it was time to head home. We walked together, but not as companions.

  What’s the big deal about him overdrawing a bank account, everybody does it? Well we don’t and anyway him putting our joint account in the red was just the tip of the iceberg as it turned out.

  Last Tuesday when we were setting off for work I picked up my car keys from the hall table and my memory suddenly sparked. I remembered the letters I’d shoved in the drawer a while back and which had yet to be read. I retrieved them and slipped them in my briefcase to read at work over a cup of coffee. The phone and gas bill were much as expected, so was the letter from our number one fan: ‘homosexuality is the guise of the devil’ yeah, whatever. My aunt’s letter read like a combined medical dictionary and obituary colum
n, so no surprises there either. What did surprise me though was the bank statement. In fact it shocked me to the core and I almost choked on my Danish pastry. We’ve had a lot of expense this year with house repairs and claims on insurance, so I knew the joint account wouldn’t be overflowing with surplus cash reserves. On the other hand the insurance claims have been settled and monies paid into the bank, so I did expect it to be reasonably fit and at least breathing without aid of a respirator. I certainly didn’t expect to find that it had flat lined altogether and in fact had donated organs out after its death, i.e. three hundred and fifty pounds worth, plus the incurred bank charges on top of that amount.

  When Twinkles and I first moved in together we carefully worked out a financial system that we felt was fair to both of us, and which took into account the difference in our incomes. I earn a lot more than Twinkles. We have a joint account into which an agreed percentage of our salaries get paid each month, and we each have a personal account. With regard to our joint account we have a strict rule. It’s for household expenses, the mortgage, food, bills and suchlike, and we don’t tap it for personal use. Therefore the fact that he’d cleared it and then overdrawn it by three hundred and fifty pounds without consultation preyed heavily on my mind all day. His behaviour went beyond a lack of consideration. I was angry, I was hurt and very puzzled.

  He knew the moment I walked in the shop that there was something wrong. I was wound too tight to even smile at him. With Lulu being at home I’d been hoping to use the shop to discuss my grievance with Twinkles in private, once he’d closed up. To my annoyance and frustration Don had some paperwork to do and consequently was staying behind. He told Twinks to get his coat and go and he would lock up. My annoyance increased when Twinks appeared carrying several store carrier bags. He’d obviously been spending again. I strode to the car so fast that he practically had to run to keep up with me.

  Once in the car I presented him with the statement and demanded an explanation. He stammered about it being a mistake by the bank, but I shook my head. I’d already checked. There was no mistake. I wanted to know why he’d taken money without prior discussion. I also wanted to know what it had been used for. He admitted he’d been short of cash for a while and had resorted to borrowing from the household account. Only he hadn’t meant to borrow quite so much, it just got out of hand. He would put every penny back, as well as paying the bank charges. Fine, fair enough, so he would pay it back. I knew he meant it, but the fact remained, he’d broken the rules and more importantly he’d broken trust between us. I wanted to know why he hadn’t told me he was short of money and why he hadn’t borrowed directly from me or even asked the bank for a small overdraft on his personal account instead of raiding the household account without consulting me. Thanks to him we now didn’t have enough to pay the phone and gas bills. The floodgates opened and he began to cry.

  He confessed he had already arranged an overdraft on his personal account and now it was also in arrears and the bank had refused to give him an overdraft on his overdraft. He owed two hundred and fifty pounds to Teddy for an afternoon spent at his health club with him on his last day off. He owed a hundred to Lulu and had been relying on his commission from work to pay them back, but the cheque was late and that was why he overdrew the joint account. He hadn’t told me because I’ve been naggy about money lately and he knew I’d be cross about him overspending. Too true! I pointed at the carrier bags and curtly told him that whatever he’d just bought could be returned and when we got home I wanted to see all his bank statements, all his credit card statements, all his store card statements, in fact everything relating to his finances.

  Not taking into account ‘legitimate and manageable debt’ he had almost five thousand pounds of debt that was beyond his means of paying. A good proportion of it was due to the interest accrued on items purchased by credit and store cards. I was staggered. There were items on his credit statements that I had never seen. Gucci shoes, handbags, belt, ties, Chanel perfumes, designer costume jewellery, where were these things? The reason he had made the angry remark about me snooping through his wardrobe when I was looking for the pink mules for Gabby became all too clear. It was like an Aladdin’s cave. Under my disapproving eye he brought forth an assortment of goods: dresses, one costing over six hundred pounds, expensive shoes, handbags, lingerie, even some designer silk voile curtains for the kitchen that had cost three hundred pounds. They were the same ones that Teddy had up in his new kitchen. There were also some ludicrously expensive cushion covers that according to Teddy had been featured in Tatler magazine and so on. Teddy was the key. Every time Twinkles had gone shopping with him, he’d ended up being persuaded he had to have this or that, because Teddy thought it was the best, or he thought it suited him or it was a vital fashion accessory. Twinkles knew I’d ask questions about the amount he was spending and whether he could afford it, so he’d hidden most of his purchases with the intention of gradually introducing me to each item and presenting it as something he’d got in a sale or on special offer.

  I ruled that everything with a price label still attached was going back to the shop it came from. If the shops wouldn’t refund due to the time lapse then it could all go on ebay to be sold. Any money made would go to clearing his debt. As far as I was concerned every item was tainted with deceit and I refused to let him keep any of it. I was most unhappy about the situation and if Lulu hadn’t been in residence Twinkles would not have been able to sit down for the remainder of that day.

  When I first met him he was always in debt. It was partly to do with his impulsive want it now personality and partly to do with background patterns. His family were materially well off. They didn’t need to budget, they just presented a piece of plastic and got what they wanted. Of course his parents and grandfather had the funds to cover their purchases without accruing astronomical amounts of interest, but Twinkles didn’t, not as a humble trainee in a jewellers. When we set up house together we sorted a lot of things out and with a little help and organisation he started to manage his finances much better. There was one big hiccup when on a sudden impulse he borrowed funds from the household account to buy some expensive clothing that had taken his fancy. Consequently there wasn’t enough left in the joint account to cover the mortgage for that month. I had not been pleased and he’d been really upset with himself. I spanked him by way of punishment and the matter was dealt with. However, there are harsher forms of discipline than spanking. I warned that if it ever happened again I would remove all financial autonomy from him for a period of time.

  Taking away a man’s financial independence is not a step to be taken lightly. I lay wakeful for most of last Tuesday night mulling it over. He had run up debts beyond his means to control. He had broken an important rule and all for a heap of silly fripperies. He’d put pandering to Teddy’s ego ahead of being loyal to our relationship. The Stardust impulse had undone him in a big way this time. He knows he can’t afford to keep up with Teddy and Maurice, but he wants to and want is what he’d responded to rather than loyalty and commonsense. In retrospect I believe him taking the money from our joint account was a cry for help. He knew he was out of control and had gone beyond being able to reign himself in. He’d also gone beyond being able to tell me what was happening, so he showed me in a way I couldn’t fail to miss. I was angry and disappointed, but I was also more than willing to help, because I love him more than anything. He didn’t like my method of help.

  I took charge of his money. For the next few months his salary is to be paid into our joint account where I will manage it for him. I told him he’d proven he was unfit to manage it himself. I also took charge of his wallet, credit cards and chequebook, even his loose change. If he wants anything no matter how small, he has to clear it with me first and he is not allowed to borrow so much as a penny piece from anyone. He was stunned by my actions. Of course he’d expected some kind of penalty and of course he recalled the threat I had made about what would happen if he repeated this partic
ular behaviour, but I don’t think he expected me to carry it out. I’ve told him I won’t consider returning financial control to him until his debts are cleared and he’s on an even keel again. That’s when he decided I was the wicked Top of The North and he detested me. I’m not happy about the situation. I don’t enjoy seeing him miserable. I dislike him being distant with me, but I’m not going to backtrack. I don’t think it would do either one of us any good. It would undermine the foundations of our lifestyle.

  Lulu came back to us this evening. It’s nice to have someone to talk to who is willing to talk back.

  2nd December 2005:

  Biggest Bastard in Christendom

  I gave serious thought to running away and joining a circus yesterday, but I figured that there would be little point, as I live in a circus most of the time as it is. Anyway I’m allergic to clowns. I heavily suspect that underneath the masks and makeup they’re even harder work than transvestite drag queens.

  It was Twinkles day off yesterday. He was in bed when I left for work and still in bed when I got home last evening. He hadn’t done a single thing in the house. I doubted that he’d stayed in bed the entire day. He’ll have watched television, played games on the playstation, surfed the web and read magazines. Being in bed when I got home was another way of showing me how upset he is, and another attempt to make me feel guilty and hopefully make me change my mind about the method of punishment. It was emotional blackmail pure and simple, a withdrawal of affection until he got his way. I told him so. I also told him there was no chance of me giving into it. If looks could kill and cremate I would have been a smouldering pile of ashes on the bedroom carpet. Lulu has gone back to work and the sound of his motorbike pulling up outside prompted Twinkles to decide that he was ready to get up and socialise. I sweetly told him that he could stay exactly where he was for the remainder of the day and I would tell Lulu he was indisposed.