by Julian Clary
‘Isn’t this Catherine your manager?’
I blinked. ‘Yes — and she’s guided my career wonderfully, but she was my friend before she was my manager.’
‘And this friend, your best friend, what does she say about your drugs problem?’
‘Um…’ I thought hard. The last time Catherine had mentioned drugs was to compliment the quality of our latest delivery.
‘Nothing?’ Grandma Rita frowned. ‘Then she’s no friend of yours, Johnny, I can promise you that. Get rid of her as fast as you can.’
I laughed. She didn’t have the first idea what she was asking. Catherine was utterly entwined in my life and I wouldn’t have dreamt of getting rid of her, as Grandma Rita so charmingly put it. It wasn’t that simple. Catherine wasn’t a dose of crabs: she was with me for life . We were shackled together by the unfortunate deaths on which we had colluded.
‘My last question,’ said Grandma Rita, before I could dwell too long on this revelation, ‘what about love? Whom do you love?’ She exhaled noisily. The energy she was expending on home truths was taking its toll on her. Even I felt as if I’d gone three rounds with a boxer. Wasn’t there a rule about hitting a man when he was down? ‘Or is there no love in your life?’
‘Yes,’ I whispered, as if I was pleading guilty.
Grandma Rita seemed relieved. ‘Well, I’m glad to hear it. At least there’s someone for you to cling to. Who is it?’
‘It’s … Tim.’
‘Tim?’ She frowned. ‘That name sounds familiar.’ She thought for a while, her breath coming in long, slow sighs. ‘Isn’t that the name of the young man you were carrying on with when you were a boy? The one who broke your heart?’
‘Yes.’ My voice was so small it could barely be heard, but Grandma caught it.
‘Well, that is good news.’ She gave a happy chortle. ‘So you two found each other and made it up? How very Barbara Taylor Bradford! And now you’re going to be together for ever?’ She was perking up. This news had healed her spirits.
‘Er … no. He’s engaged to a laminate-flooring heiress called Sophie. We steal the occasional night together when we can, but it’s not really … right.’
Despair crossed my grandmother’s face. ‘Oh, Johnny — no. No. That’s too much. Laminate flooring …’ She dabbed her eyes with an embroidered handkerchief. ‘And he has you on the side, like salad? He doesn’t give you the love and care you need and deserve? Oh, my poor boy. That will never be good for you.
To my surprise, tears sprang to my eyes. Something she’d said had touched a nerve. I knew, at some deeper level, that my life was a sham and a charade. It was full of fun and excitement, sex and chemical thrills but it was lacking in something I longed for above all. Love. Real, true love. The sort we were put on this earth to experience. And the irony was that I knew who my true love was. I just couldn’t have him.
‘Johnny.’ Grandma pulled herself up into a sitting position, panting, so that she could kook me squarely in the face. ‘I know you think I’ve disapproved of your mother, the way she’s lived her life and, by extension, of you — her love child, the product of some animalistic rutting on a bed of hay, if she was lucky. But death is approaching. I’m thinking about what really matters — and do you know? The most surprising thing has happened. I have changed my mind. I think about Alice, and instead of feeling that she has wasted her life I feel that she has made the most of it. It is I who have missed out. Early on your mother freed herself from the chains that bind most of us. She saw what mattered and what didn’t and, for herself and you, chose happiness. She didn’t want material goods and money. She found happiness in her garden, her poetry and in watching her beautiful little boy grow up. I scorned it, you know. I thought she was ridiculous — an idiot! — when really, she’s the wisest person I’ve ever met, despite the Hythe town-hall clock, the birds with names and the supermarket managers in her bed. She got it right.’
She reached out a long bony hand. ‘Johnny, I’m dying. I see things more clearly than I ever have. I have to go with the knowledge that I wasn’t brave enough to love my daughter. Until now. Learn to be brave before it’s too late. Learn from my mistakes. I thought the sort of love I had for your grandfather was the only sort that counted: legitimate, respectable love, as witnessed before God. But you and Tim, that’s just as real. You took a wrong turning, but fate steered you back on course . You ignore the nudges of destiny, the correct order of things, at your peril. Love is a sacred egg that you must incubate. Sit on it, Johnny.’
‘The times I’ve heard that,’ I murmured. ‘This is a death-bed speech and a half.’
She didn’t hear me. ‘And when you do, you will hatch the most wonderful gift that life on this earth has to offer. Doesn’t that sound attractive? If you ignore the signs and fight against Nature, you take the consequences.’
‘I’ll try, Grandma,’ I said, but she hadn’t finished.
‘Find love, find happiness,’ she went on. ‘Will you promise to do that? If you do, I can die happy, knowing that my daughter and grandson have found their true paths in life. My own loss won’t seem so bitter.’
After such impassioned words from a dying relative, I could hardly refuse. ‘Yes, Grandma,’ I said. ‘I will. I’ll give it a go.’
A burden on my shoulders, one that I hadn’t even known I was carrying, seemed to lift. I felt as though I was seeing the real state of things for the first time. Everything seemed so gloriously clear.
‘Go out there, Johnny!’ she whispered. ‘Change your life. Make it what you know it can be.’
‘Grandma,’ I said, reaching out and squeezing her hand tighter than the terminally ill usually enjoy, ‘I know what I have to do.’
I walked talk out of the house in Blackheath, gripped by a whirlwind of emotion, and hailed a taxi.
‘Cheer up,’ said the driver. ‘It might never happen.’
I pushed the glass partition closed and had a good think. My grandmother was dying, and I was desperately sad, but she had inspired me, too, by showing me the way in which I could change the course of my life. It had taken a talking-to from Grandma Rita to make me see how miserable I was — and, of course, she couldn’t even begin to guess at the homicides that also made my existence so hard to bear.
This was my moment of realization. I was going to turn my life round as of now. Stop all of it. I’d give up the drugs that could never give me up, and I would remake The Johnny D Show so that it wasn’t car-crash telly any more but a wonderful, intelligent, fun show that everyone would want to watch and that would become a Channel 4 classic. I would turn into a British institution. What was more, The Johnny D Show would be hosted by an honest man. I would come out, in honour of my grandmother, and stop all the silliness about my love life and made-up girlfriends. It was time that my adoring public knew the truth. Incredible as it might seem, I was gay.
And, most importantly, I would tell Tim that neither of us could live a lie any longer. We would stop all the pretence. He couldn’t stay with Sophie and I couldn’t accept him doing so any more. We deserved to be together, to be happy. He had to let go and surrender to his desire for me.
This would be my true legacy from Grandma Rita, my future happiness — a tribute to her bravery and wisdom.
I would come out, I decided, on next Friday’s show. Not only would I be drug-free and clear-headed, but just before the closing titles Johnny D would stray from the autocue, and speak the words he longed to voice on air. He would stand up to be counted as a homosexual man.
‘The truth is always beautiful. Do you still love me now?’ I planned to say.
Catherine was not at home when I got in, so I couldn’t tell her the glad tidings.
Instead I decided I needed to talk to Tim and, at the very least, set up a meeting between us so I could tell him of my resolution. I couldn’t wait another moment to break the news to him about our happy future together.
I telephoned him at work. When his secretary put me through he sou
nded exasperated. ‘Johnny, come on, we saw each other last week. I can’t get away too often.’
‘Please, Tim, it’s important. Meet me tonight at Leonardo’s.’
When we didn’t go to the Savoy we chose this discreet but luxurious hotel in Poland Street, tucked away from the busy road behind World of Velour.
‘Well …‘
He sounded as though he was weakening. Even over the phone I could tell he was smiling. He loved Leonardo’s. ‘I’ll book the Mona Lisa suite,’ I purred. ‘Lobster, Cristal, stale rolls reheated just for us?’
‘Sounds tempting,’ he said. ‘Guess I’ll have to make do with you for afters.’
‘Tell Sophie you’re working late,’ I coaxed.
‘All right. But then we’ll have to hold off for a while.’
‘Absolutely,’ I said, thrilled. If everything went according to plan, we’d be together for ever after tonight.
I was waiting for Tim, eager and excited. I had everything we wanted on tap for a marvellous night — the food, the champagne, the cocaine. (One last blast to finish what I had in stock. No more after that. For sure.) And, of course, the bed.
The minute he arrived, delicious and broad-shouldered in his Kilgour suit, a crisp Turnbull & Asser shirt and tie, I melted into his arms. ‘That’s better,’ I said appreciatively, as he skipped off his dark charcoal jacket, and kissed me so ravenously I was pushed back against the wall. Eventually he pulled away from me, growled playfully and glanced round the room. ‘Now, what have we here?’ he asked brightly.
I showed him the food and champagne and the little silver cup of white powder. ‘A few of your favourite things,’ I said.
‘You’re in a good mood, I must say.’ Tim moved away from me, sat down at the small oval dining-table and picked up a lobster claw.
‘This is a special night. I want us to make the most of it,’ I said, from the heart.
‘Yes,’ said Tim, suddenly pensive. ‘Let’s make the most of it, Johnny. Tonight is the night to taste all the delights we can.’
We toasted each other with our crystal glasses, then tucked into our lobster. Later we allowed ourselves a hefty dose of white powder. I took mine through the silver straw that Catherine had had made for me. On it were engraved the words of Hecate, from Macbeth: ‘And I, the mistress of your charms, The close contriver of all harms.’
‘Yum!’ I said, with a hearty sniff. ‘That’s the stuff. I’m going to miss it.’
‘Oh?’ Tim said, surprised.
I nodded. ‘I’m giving up the sauce. That’s the plan.’
‘Not you, Johnny. I can’t see you without Charlie.’
‘I’m going to get clean. Special occasions only. No more going on air coked up to the eyeballs and riding high for days at a time. It’s wearing me out.’
‘Good on you. Though I’ll believe it when I see it.’
‘It’s all part of my plan for a new life.’
Tim raised an eyebrow. ‘What plan is this?’
‘Not now,’ I whispered, pulling him towards me by his tie. ‘Afterwards.’
We lay, exhausted, on the vast bed. We were on our backs, side by side, our arms hooked over each other’s shoulders. Tim pressed his cheek to mine and kissed me sideways. Slowly to begin with, then faster and faster, over and over again on the same spot, until we were juddering together like lottery balks.
‘Enough!’ I said, laughing at the tingling, wet, giddying sensation .
He stopped and said, ‘Now you know.’
My heart beat faster. This was it. This was the moment when I would tell Tim what I planned, and our new life would begin.
‘How long have we been seeing each other?’ I asked.
Tim shrugged. ‘A year or so, isn’t it? Unless you count before.’
‘I most certainly do.’
‘Then you’ve been on my mind for almost seven years. You’re probably entitled to some of my inheritance.’
‘Do you enjoy it? Us, I mean.’
He rolled over so he could look me in the face. ‘You know I do,’ he said softly. ‘It’s one of the things I live for.’
‘It’s the same for me, Tim. It always has been, since the first moment you spoke to me. I’ve always loved you. For me, you’ve always been that magical combination of love and desire, and I’ve never met anyone who makes me feel the way you do.’
‘Maybe you need to get out more.’ Tim grinned, evidently trying to make sure things didn’t get too serious.
I pressed on regardless: ‘No. What I need is to stay in more. With you. And I believe that, in your heart, you love me too. Tell me, do you really feel this ecstasy, this sublime pleasure, with Sophie?’
His eyes slid away from mine .
‘There!’ I cried triumphantly. ‘I knew it. You can’t possibly. You’re only truly happy when you’re with me. Listen, I’ve come to some decisions. I’ve suddenly seen what’s really important and I’m going to change my life. I’ve earned a lot of money in the last few years. Millions. And I haven’t known what to do with it, apart from stuff it up my nose. Now I have a vision. No more cocaine, and I’m going to buy a house in the country, in Kent, near my mother, and start to breathe again. I’ll keep the London flat so I can come in for work when I need to …’
‘That all sounds like a good idea,’ Tim said, frowning, ‘but—’
‘No buts.’ I held up my hand to silence him. ‘I want to be happy. Properly happy. And you’re part of that, Tim. I can’t be happy without you and I don’t believe you can be happy without me. We’re supposed to be together, two halves of a whole. I want you to stop living a lie, just as I intend to. I’m going to let the world know I’m not a ladies’ man but a man’s man — and I want you to do the same. Tell Sophie the truth, Tim. Don’t let her marry a man who doesn’t truly love her in the way she should be loved. Tell your family to go to hell — you’ve only got one life. Why should you sacrifice it because some bloke four hundred years ago happened to be given a title and a big house? Chuck it all in, and live with me. It doesn’t matter if they disinherit you —I’ve got enough money for us both to live on. Come on, Tim, can’t you see it? Don’t you understand how happy and liberated we’ll be?’
I was breathless and excited, eager to show him the vision of our future that was so clear to me.
There was a long pause. Then he said, in a low voice, ‘My family would never accept it.’
‘I know. I’ve allowed for that. But you can’t live a lie for the sake of their old-fashioned prejudices.’
‘You don’t understand the pressure I’m under.’
‘You’re right. I don’t understand why you can’t be yourself.’
Tim propped himself up on one elbow to look at me. ‘I came here tonight, Johnny, because I have something to tell you, too. It was fortuitous that you called me when I was thinking about how best to let you know. You see, Sophie and I have set a date for the wedding. Our parents want it to be sooner rather than later, so we’ve agreed that it should be this summer. The invitations are lready being printed. There’s going to be a huge marquee in the grounds of Thornchurch House—’
‘Oh,’ I said, remarkably calmly. ‘That’ll be nice for you both. Sophie will kook good in a veil.’ I got off the bed, went to the ice bucket and poured myself a glass of champagne .
‘I don’t want you to take it personally,’ said Tim. ‘I mean, nothing has to change.’
‘I think you’re wrong about that,’ I said. ‘You’ll be taking vows and I’ve never been keen on messing with the sacraments.’
‘I have to marry. It’s expected. You know that, Johnny. I’ve never made any secret of it, right from the start.’
I tossed my rather flat champagne down my throat in one gulp. ‘I suppose not. That’s one thing I can say for you — you’ve always been honest with me, if not with everyone else. There are lots of reasons why we can’t go on as we are, Tim, if you marry Sophie. One is that my mother always jumped at the chance of a married man, and
I know what that particular choice did for her. I’d rather hoped for more from my own life.’
Tim sat up on the bed, watching me as I paced about the room.
‘Another reason is that I don’t want to live with odds and ends of your attention any more. I don’t want a tiny piece of your life, a stolen night here and there, with the two of us dashing about all cloak-and-dagger, trying not to be seen. I want us to be able to do the things couples in love do: go for walks, go out together, be proud of each other. I’m not hanging about in hotel rooms for the rest of my life, waiting for you to tear yourself away from Vinegar Tits and deal with my aching two-week-old stiffy before I self-combust. I want a proper relationship, with love and respect and stability. I’ve never had one of those and I need it now, I really do.’
‘You shouldn’t have fallen in love with me, then.’ He reached out to me. ‘Come here.’
Instead I walked to the window and looked out. ‘You’re very confident about my eternal love. As you should be. But don’t be so sure about me. I see a lifetime of snatched moments with you stretching ahead of me, and it depresses me. Sophie gets the main course and I get the scraps.’
‘I have responsibilities to my family,’ said Tim, pompously.
‘Forget them!’ I begged. ‘Break off the engagement, Tim. I will be your reward. “Come live with me and be my love, And we will all the pleasures prove.” Don’t marry Sophie. Please.’
Tim stared at me for a long moment. Hope sprang in my heart. Perhaps my words had finally reached him and he had seen how fruitless, how pointless it would be to waste his life, with a woman he didn’t — couldn’t — love.
‘I’m sorry, Johnny. I owe it to them, and to Sophie.’
A violent rush of bitterness welled inside me. This couldn’t be the way it was going to turn out. I’d seen such a wonderful vision of our life together, and felt so sure it would come true . I longed for it so badly and the idea that it was to be snatched away was too much to bear. Bitterness curdled into rage.