by Menon, David
‘Yeah?’ said Angus, munching on his chicken and bacon tortilla wrap. ‘Where’s this going?’
‘ Well have you ever been tempted? I mean, they say that the difference between a straight man and a curious one is six pints of lager.’
‘I kissed a guy once, yeah.’
‘Kissed him?’ asked a startled Susie. She hadn’t expected him to say yes.
‘Well I suppose you could say I snogged him to be honest.’
‘Tongues?’
‘Oh yeah.’
‘Fuck’s sake! Tell me more’
‘He was a friend of mine at university’ said Angus. ‘One of my best friends actually. He was gay and I knew he was into me but I just ignored it because we were mates. Anyway, one night it just happened. We were drunk, we’d had a great evening out at the pub and it just happened.’
‘But what did happen?’
‘We were sitting together on the sofa, we were close and the next thing he kissed me. And I responded.’
‘You responded?’
‘I wanted to see what it felt like, yeah,’ said Angus. ‘but within seconds I knew that I wasn’t even a little bit gay or even bisexual. I didn’t like it. I didn’t like the feel of stubble against stubble.’
‘ Did you get a stiffy?’
‘ Semi, yeah’ said Angus. ‘But it went down again once I’d realised it wasn’t what I was into.’
‘How did your friend react?’
‘He called me a prick tease’ said Angus, ‘we were never the same after that.’
‘The poor baby was in love.’
Angus blushed. ‘Yeah, it seems that way.’
‘Where is he now?’
‘We graduated the same time and he joined the RAF. He’s flying the Eurofighter now. The last I heard he was part of a squadron that’s seeing action in the Middle East somewhere. I’ve nothing but respect for him and I always wanted to forget about what had happened and stay friends. You know it makes no difference to me if someone is gay. But he felt differently.’
‘You broke his heart.’
Angus blushed even more. ‘Well if you want to put it like that.’
‘Well how else could I put it?’
‘Yeah, point taken.’
‘So all those gay boys at work? There must be tons who fancy you?’
‘Yeah, and I flirt and have a laugh but that’s as far as it goes,’ said Angus, ‘but why all these questions about me and man love?’
‘I was just thinking about my brother Matt,’ said Susie, ‘he’s good looking, he’s funny, he’s intelligent …’
‘…and he can’t find anyone.’
‘And he won’t find anyone,’ said Susie, ‘because of Charlie fucking Baxter. God, I loathe that man. My brother is wasting the best years of his life over that user.’
‘Are you sure Matt has got a thing for him?’
‘Absolutely sure,’ said Susie. ‘You don’t think he has?’
‘I agree that all the evidence is there,’ said Angus, ‘but what can we do?’
‘I don’t know but I just worry about him ever finding happiness, Angus. I mean in gay years he’s getting old.’
‘You make him sound like a dog.’
‘You know what I mean.’ said Susie. ‘Gays are so fucking youth orientated. I don’t want him to be lonely, Angus.’
‘You can’t help who you fall in love with, Susie.’
‘No. But if it remains unrequited then you have to dump it and Matt is doing the opposite of that when it comes to Charlie Baxter.’
*
Rita Makin had been a widow for ten years. Her late husband George had worked at the local factory manufacturing shampoo and other personal hygiene items for all their married life but the pension still had to be supplemented by the state. Rita had worked all that time too. She’d worked in Catholic children’s homes until vicious nuns had sacked her for wanting to show the kids some love. Then she’d spent the rest of her working days in a local flower shop, working alongside an owner whose husband had bought the shop for her as a means of tax avoidance. Rita had never been able to give herself to such luxurious thinking. She’d simply needed the cash and her boss, though friendly, had often subtly reminded Rita of their respective places in life. Rita had never really thought of herself as downtrodden. But she’d grown older believing that life could’ve offered her just a little more.
Which was why she wasn’t feeling guilty about what she was doing now.
It had been difficult to get used to at first. She’d only ever been with one man before and neither she nor George had ever been particularly adventurous in the bedroom department. So the first time she’d been nervous. It had been painful as he’d initially penetrated her and a selection of creams and lubricants had been needed to ease his way inside her. But it hadn’t been long before a whole wealth of feelings had gradually overwhelmed them both and she’d been as frustrated as him when he came too quickly. That had been an expression of his nervousness. So they’d practised their intimacy until now she felt like a woman should feel about having sex with a man who clearly loved her despite the circumstances. But she closed her eyes to all that and celebrated the fact that this could happen to her at this time in her life. They’d both needed comfort. That’s how it had happened. They’d each seen through the tears to something beyond. Now there wasn’t a cloud in the sky when he smiled at her. That’s what gave her the thrill she’d never known had been possible.
She still went to church, the same one that had once been attached to the children’s home where she’d worked all those decades ago. When she thought back to all that she had seen and heard back then she knew she should’ve spoken up for those poor kids who suffered unmercifully at the hands of those sadistic bitches who called themselves Nuns. Discipline and obedience were all that they dished out to the poor little mites and they could be savage with it, causing many a child to cry themselves to sleep in pain at the physical treatment they’d been subjected to. If it had been this day and age she’d have reported them all. Just because they were Nuns didn’t mean that they were above the law. She would’ve found it easy to report them now because the authorities these days made it easier for people like her to come forward and expose wrongdoing, particularly abuse against children who were supposed to be in someone’s care. But back then it was a lot more difficult and almost impossible to go against authority, whether it was some public body or something like the church. Over the years she’d lost all faith in the structures of the church. She continued to go because her faith in God had remained constant and she used her prayers as a private conversation with Him and to ask him to take care of all the children who’d been so badly treated. She also prayed for the Almighty’s forgiveness for not having spoken up to protect them.
She’d luxuriated in a long soak in the bath. Her cousin down in Derby had sent her some bath oil last Christmas and she kept it for special occasions such as when ‘he’ was coming round. The trouble was, she was having so many special occasions with ‘him’ that the bath oil was rapidly running down. She’d have to treat herself to another bottle.
She knew her body wasn’t what it used to be but he didn’t seem to mind. Her breasts were a joke compared to what they’d been when she’d married George but she couldn’t help that. And it was another thing that he didn’t seem to mind about. He seemed to celebrate the fact that she was a woman of advancing years who could still show a man how much she cared about him when they twisted their bodies together. She’d never known passion with George. It was always done in exactly the same way and in complete silence. George used to say that even any whispers and moans put him off. Now it was as if she’d been born into another world where the sheer pleasure found it’s way into both their voices. She wanted to shout about it from the rooftops but she couldn’t. This was their private world and would have to remain so until one day when perhaps the circumstances might change. God was really going to hate her for this. Every Catholic knows that adults sh
ouldn’t indulge in pleasure unless it resulted in children or misery. That way the church could claim responsibility for the child’s welfare or the adults’ salvation. Well Rita had decided that she didn’t need saving. And more importantly, she didn’t want to be saved.
She drew the curtains in the small conservatory at the back of the house and took her now empty coffee mug into the kitchen. She’d put on her best dress, the one he liked with the velvet collar, she’d taken great care over her make-up, and there wasn’t a single hair out of place. She’d even been to one of those lingerie boutiques and got herself something that she knew he’d like once her dress was off. She was excited. She felt that catapult in her stomach as the time drew near for him to arrive. She looked at her watch and saw that there was still half an hour to go. What on earth was she going to do to fill the time? She could try munching on something, nothing heavy, just a bit of salad but with no onions to linger on her breath.
She was just about to open the fridge door when she realised there was someone else in the room. She turned around and immediately recognised her visitor.
‘How did you get in?’
‘You shouldn’t leave your back door unlocked, Rita,’ he said. ‘I’ve been telling you that for weeks.’
‘Well forgive me but what do you want at this time of night? And why didn’t you knock?’
‘I didn’t want you to send me away,’ he said.
‘But I’m expecting someone.’
‘Yes, I know,’ he said, ‘you’ve been a very naughty girl.’
Rita didn’t know what to say. She turned away from him but that was her big mistake. He grabbed her from behind. She tried to scream but his hand, covered in a black leather glove, was being held tightly over her mouth and she had no defence against his strength. Her body was consumed with absolute terror. Why the hell was he doing this? She’d never have thought him capable.
‘Just relax,’ he said in a slightly whispered voice that intensified her feeling of terror. ‘The situation will be all be over a lot quicker if you do.’
She tried to scream but it was no use. Then a cold, sharp blade of steel ripped through her throat and she began the short journey into death.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Matt liked his Fiat 500 car. No, he loved his Fiat 500 car. It was groovy and red and gorgeous and he loved driving around in it, so did Charlie’s boys, Freddy and Harry. He’d taught them Italian and whenever they were in the car together the three of them spoke it. Matt had learnt the language from his best friend Gabriella. She and Matt had grown up together and her parents were Italian. Ten years ago she married a big hunky Italian called Umberto and moved out to be with him in Rome. Matt flew over to see them once a year and Gabriella came back to Manchester for regular family visits too, although not as much since she’d had the children. He and Gabriella had been inseparable as teenagers which had led Matt’s mother Ann to believe for years that they would one day get together. But that wasn’t to be and Gabriella had known that long before Matt’s mother.
‘It’s me!’ he called out when he let himself into his parents’ house. He could hear that the evening news was on the television and the current item was a piece from America about how difficult it was proving for the President to push through health care reform and Matt pricked up his ears. Some woman in a town hall meeting was opposed to the idea of universal coverage because she said it was a betrayal of freedom. So, thought Matt, the definition of freedom is being able to afford healthcare insurance when many of your fellow citizens can’t? But nothing must be done to help the poor who can’t afford healthcare because that would be a betrayal of freedom. Well Matt thanked God for the NHS. He’d hate to live in a country where the less well off have to rely on the benevolence of rich folks through their fundraising dinners and their charitable donations.
He walked into the lounge which ran the whole length of his parents’ detached house in the South Manchester suburb of Cheadle Hulme, just a few miles from his own place in Didsbury. His parents lifted themselves from watching Fiona Bruce and embraced him. They were looking well, a good ten years could be taken off their real ages. His mother had just turned seventy a couple of months ago and his father was a couple of years older. He was glad that his mother was giving up working at the presbytery. It was time for them to kick back and enjoy themselves.
‘This is a nice surprise, love,’ said Ann. She’d long had to look up at her son but either he was getting taller or she was shrinking but the gap always seemed to be widening. ‘And to what do we owe this honour?’
‘Nothing really,’ said Matt, as he embraced first his Mum and then his Dad. They’d always been a physically affectionate family. Maybe that’s why he’d always found it easy to show affection to friends and loved ones. He’d been taught well enough. ‘Just felt like seeing you both.’
In truth Matt was feeling at a bit of a loss. Charlie’s bombshell about selling his half of the practice had really shaken him. Nothing was ever going to be the same again and he wanted to talk to his parents about it.
‘And you might’ve known I was making your favourite for dinner,’ said Ann.
‘Slow-roasted lamb?’
‘It’s been in the oven since just before two,’ said Ann. ‘ and I’ve done roast potatoes cooked in goose fat too.’
‘Oh Mum, I knew there was something pulling me home tonight.’
‘Come on through to the kitchen and get a beer for yourself and your Dad.’
Matt followed his mother through to where the smell of the lamb filled his nostrils and made his mouth water. It took him way back to when he’d first started dreaming of what life was going to turn out like for him.
‘I’m glad you came,’ said Ann who’d always felt especially close to Matthew, the protective older brother to Susie. When they were children he’d always been the one she could rely on to behave, the one who always helped her get the tea, the one who’d achieved the most academic success, gaining four A-levels and the highest marks of his year when he graduated from medical school in Birmingham. She was proud of him. But she still couldn’t help but have a dig despite Brendan’s recent words. ‘I saw Heather at the shops yesterday.’
Matt smiled and hoped she wasn’t about to start. Matt had been engaged to Heather before the truth of himself had led to him calling off the wedding a month before it had been due to take place.
‘That must’ve been nice,’ said Matt through clenched teeth as he took a couple of beers out of the fridge. ‘Is she well?’
‘Oh she’s very well,’ said Ann. ‘Her little girl is just gorgeous too. I’m glad she found someone who could make her happy.’
Oh dear, thought Matt. He really wasn’t in the mood for this. ‘And do you wish the same for me, Mum? Do you wish I could meet someone who could make me happy?’
‘Well it depends on what you want to call happy I suppose.’
Matt rolled his eyes. ‘Mum, if I’d have married Heather it would’ve made you happy and me miserable and sooner or later I’d have broken her heart. Now as my mother I thought you’d have been on my side.’
‘Oh I am on your side, Matthew,’ Ann insisted, ‘it’s just that you choose to live your life in a way that I’m not always comfortable with.’
‘I don’t choose to live it this way, Mum, I was born this way and I will die this way and that’s because your God has made me this way in His own image.’
‘I hate it when we argue’ said Ann.
‘Then just don’t keep having a go, Mum. Okay? You’re the world’s worst for pressing my buttons and then acting all innocent.’
‘Brendan gave me a right talking to about you.’
‘He did?’
‘He said I should just accept your sexuality and be done with it.’
‘I shall buy him a packet of fags next time I see him.’
Ann laughed. ‘You do that’ she said. ‘And I will try, son. Honest, I will. It’s just that when I saw Heather and how happy she was it made me t
hink of you all alone every night. I want you to be happy, son. I don’t want you to be lonely.’
He kissed her. ‘Mum, if I end up being lonely it won’t be because I’m gay. It’ll be because I didn’t meet the right man for whatever reason and don’t tell me that it never works for men like me because I can give you the names of ten gay couples off the top of my head who’ve been together for years and intend to stay that way.’
‘But I want something to work for you, son.’
‘You and me both, Mum.’
‘Like I said, I just don’t want you to be lonely.’
‘But I’d feel even more lonely in a sham marriage to a woman like Heather, Mum. Don’t you see that? Besides, it wouldn’t be fair to her either.’
‘I suppose, love.’
‘Now do you want me to help you with dinner?’
‘No, you’re okay, love’ said Ann. ‘You know I like to do it all myself.’
‘Then I’ll take this beer out to Dad.’
Matt took a beer through to his Dad and clinked cans with him. ‘Cheers, Dad.’
‘Cheers, son.’
‘You’ve got a hard life, Dad,’ he said, ‘a roast dinner in the middle of the week?’
‘Oh I’m not complaining, son.’
‘I’m glad Mum is retiring at last though, Dad’ said Matt. ‘She’s spent her whole life running round after us lot and a load of priests. She needs a break.’
‘That’s true enough, son.’
‘You’ve got to start insisting she takes it easy sometimes, Dad,’ said Matt.
‘Am I getting a bollocking off my own son?’
Matt laughed. ‘ Not a bollocking, Dad. Just the planting of a concern in that head of yours, that’s all. I know you do your bit as much as Mum allows you to but perhaps you need to be more insistent, that’s all.’
Bill had been married to Ann for over forty years and in that time she’d never let him so much as breathe in the kitchen unless she wanted him to, same with the housework. Matt was right though. He had to start insisting that bit harder.
‘So what’s new in your world, son?’ asked Bill.