by Drew Hunt
“Don’t have anything,” Paul mumbled, resting his head back on his arms. Maybe he should go home sick. Then he realised he didn’t have a home.
“Be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”
Paul sighed. He sent up a prayer to be delivered from his world of hurt.
He was almost asleep when someone touched his shoulder.
“Here, drink this.”
“Huh?” Paul lifted his head, slowly. Trevor swam into focus, he was holding out a glass filled with a greyish coloured liquid. “What is it?”
“Something that’ll make you feel better. Though I warn you, doesn’t taste too nice, so best drink it down in one go.”
Paul wasn’t sure, but Trevor looked determined. Accepting the glass he wondered at how he’d spoken more with Trevor over the past couple of days than in the previous three years.
Not having the energy to argue, Paul downed the whole thing in a couple of swallows. “Oh fuck.” He burped and thought he was going to throw up.
“Try and keep it down,” Trevor said before mincing off. Paul was so concentrated on not vomiting that he didn’t wonder at why Trevor had shown up in the first place.
* * * *
Lunchtime, and Paul was at his usual table. Sandy sat to his left, as usual, eating her usual rabbit food. “I’m surprised you don’t grow long ears, eating all that lettuce.”
Sandy looked down her nose at him. “Sooner eat this than the carnivorous poison you insist on putting in your body. Do you know that minced beef will remain in your gut for eight hours?” She pointed an accusatory stick of celery at his plate.
They’d had this discussion many times. Paul wasn’t going to give up his meat pies, and he knew Sandy wouldn’t stop eating her salads.
“And I’m surprised you’re able to face anything given the state you were in earlier,” she said before chewing on a carrot stick.
“I feel fine. Must be all the nutritious meat I eat. Makes a man out of me.”
Sandy rolled her eyes.
Paul spotted Trevor leaving the serving line. He wanted, needed to show Sandy he wasn’t the arse-hole he’d behaved like the day before. “Hey, Trevor, over here.” Paul saw Trevor had opted for the chicken curry. “I need reinforcements against the vegan vigilante here.”
Trevor smiled and set down his plate. Paul got an odd look from Sandy which he pointedly ignored.
“Feeling any better?” Trevor asked.
“Yes thanks, much better.”
“I knew mum’s secret recipe would do the trick. Never fails.”
“Oh?” Sandy said. Paul cringed.
“I saw Paul looking under the weather this morning, and—”
“More like he’d been brought through a hedge backward,” Sandy put in.
“Yes well. He was looking poorly so I decided to mix him up one of mum’s old cures. They’ve been handed down from mother to daughter for generations in my family.”
Paul schooled his features. There was no way he was going to comment.
“But I’m an only child, so my mum had no choice but to pass it on to me,” Trevor added with a wink.
“Oh right.” Sandy started in on her sliced cucumber. “So what’s in this secret recipe? Wouldn’t be minced lambs kidney or anything like that?”
“Huh?” Trevor gave Sandy an odd look.
“Ignore her. She’s on another of her meat is murder tirades.”
Trevor looked confused, but didn’t comment. The three of them settled down to their meals, exchanging brief remarks about the morning and their respective workloads. Paul felt comfortable in Trevor’s presence, much more than he thought he would. Sandy had been right, but there was no way he was going to tell her that. He’d never hear the end of it.
* * * *
It was no good. He couldn’t find a place anywhere. In-between his various work-related tasks, Paul spent the afternoon ringing round his mates, trying to find somewhere to stay.
He’d been offered the spare room at Simon’s, but that would mean living with Sylvia, Simon’s ball and chain. Paul could only stand Sylvia for short periods. He knew if he had to go live with her, he’d soon be hauled off to prison for grievous bodily harm. Either prison or a mental hospital. How Simon stood her constant nagging and whining he’d never know. Simon once admitted it was worth it because Sylvia was a tigress between the sheets. Somehow Paul couldn’t picture the stuck up, butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth Sylvia so much as allowing Simon to sleep in the same bed as her, let alone…Paul shook his head. Imagining the sex lives of his mates was a sure sign he needed to get laid.
He’d even called a couple of local hotels. They had room, but he balked at the prices they were asking. A call to his insurance company confirmed what he’d already suspected. He wasn’t covered for the cost of hotel accommodation. He determined to change insurers when the policy was up for renewal.
* * * *
“You putting in some overtime, then?”
“Huh?” Paul tore his attention away from a dry as dust report on the need for more car parking spaces in the town centre. “June, sorry, I was miles away.” Looking at his watch, Paul saw it was a quarter-past five.
“Cause it’s not like you to stay later than you need.”
“Uh, no. Had a lot on today and got behind.”
June was fat, frumpy and fifty. She was the unofficial office mother-hen. Paul knew the woman meant well, though he was always careful never to put himself in a position of having to hold a long conversation with her.
“Still no luck finding anywhere?” June was well-connected to the office bush telegraph.
“No, not really. Most of my mates either don’t have room, or I can’t stand their other halves, or they live in pig sties.”
June laughed. “I’d offer you our spare room, but our Sammy and Gail often come to stay at weekends.” June was proud of her two grand-daughters and lost no opportunity to tell people about them at great length.
Fearing she was about to launch herself into a monologue about their latest exploits, Paul intervened. “Have you read this rubbish?”
“I typed it.”
“Oh, sorry.”
She smiled. Paul knew he hadn’t offended her.
“Why don’t you take Trevor up on his offer?” June was adept at going straight for the jugular.
“Well, uh. I turned him down yesterday, it, uh, wouldn’t sound right me asking him now.”
June waved away his protests. “He’d be glad to put you up. Though he hides it well, I know he’s rather lonely. I was only telling our Jill the other—”
“I’ll think about it. But given the time, I better get going, and I’m sure your Bert will be wanting his tea.”
June nodded. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then. And think about what I said about Trevor.” June went on her way.
Paul decided he’d take the report back to Thommo’s and write up his recommendations there.
* * * *
Paul was the chief planning officer for Leadstone Borough Council. When most town and borough councils were absorbed into large metropolitan district authorities in the early 1970s, Leadstone managed to remain unscathed. The Council had jurisdiction over Leadstone itself, as well as all the villages in the Lea Valley.
* * * *
Loud laughter greeted Paul as he let himself in through the front door. He could also hear a TV sports commentator doing his thing.
“Shit,” Paul grouched, as he fell over a set of weights.
“That you, Pauly?”
“Uh yeah.” He didn’t think he’d broken anything, but was sure there’d be a bruise the next morning.
“Come through, man. I’ve invited the guys round to watch the cricket.”
Wonderful. Paul took off his jacket, but there was nowhere to hang it. Going into the crowded room, he spotted several members of the local cricket team sitting on the sofa, leaning up against it, or just spread out on the floor. “Hey, guys.”
He received a number of gr
eetings, but mostly they were too interested in the television to pay him much attention.
“What’s the score?”
“The Aussies bowled us out for 190,” Thommo complained. “My grandma could bowl better than this lot.”
“Your grandma’s in a nursing home,” one of the guys said.
“Exactly.”
The crowd of spectators at the cricket ground roared. Paul watched as the camera focused in on the umpire who shook his head.
“Fucking hell. That was plumb LBW,” Pete said, crushing his empty lager can and aiming it at the waste paper basket. It missed, but no one attempted to retrieve it.
Paul enjoyed watching cricket well enough, especially the heightened tension of one day internationals, but maybe he was getting old. He just wanted to relax, have a meal, do his work and have an early night.
“We ordered a curry, should be here soon. I got you a lamb biryani, hope that’s all right?”
“Uh, yeah, thanks.” Paul’s hopes for a quiet evening were well and truly dashed.
* * * *
At least I’m not hung over, Paul thought as he got ready for work on Wednesday morning. His night’s rest had been interrupted several times by snores from Pete who had collapsed on Thommo’s floor and refused to go home.
The “hot” water was at best tepid. Paul showered quickly. The cold water was the last straw. He was determined he wouldn’t spend another night under Thommo’s roof. He’d just have to swallow his pride and ask Trevor if his spare room was still vacant.
Chapter 2
To say dinner was uncomfortable would be an understatement. Trevor had seen straight man out of his element behaviour too many times to be amused by it. He’d lost count of how often he’d played the game of touching the other person’s knee and observing the reaction.
Usually the straight guy struggled to work out if it was merely an innocent contact, or…But Trevor didn’t want to try any of that with Paul. Not least because Paul’s reaction could be to thump him. Trevor liked Paul. The man, all six foot two of reasonably well-formed, but not overly bulging muscle. His dirty blond closely-cropped hair. His light blue eyes. And if that wasn’t enough, the man had dimples when he smiled. Trevor had to shake himself. No, despite Paul’s evident physical attractiveness, Trevor knew he wasn’t going to go down that road again.
“Look,” Trevor set down his sandwich. “Relax, will you?”
“What?”
“Paul.” Trevor shook his head. “Yes, I am a gay man, which means I like men.”
Paul looked like he was about to flee. Trevor imagined him running out of the house, his hands moving swiftly between his arse and his wedding tackle, not sure which was in greater need of protection.
Stifling a smile, he continued. “But I’m not after you.”
Paul looked even more panicked.
“Shit,” Trevor said under his breath. He was supposed to be putting the bloke at ease, not making the situation worse. Paul had barely taken more than a couple of bites out of his panini, and if there was one thing Trevor was uncomfortable with, it was wasting food.
“Okay, a bit of a history lesson. All you never wanted to know about gay relationships, and were too afraid to ask.”
“What? I—”
“Paul, it’s obvious you’re uncomfortable with me. I thought we’d at least broken the ice over the last couple of days, but I was wrong.”
“No, I—”
“Just listen.” Trevor took a sip from his wine glass and began. “I’ve had two significant relationships in my life. The first was with, well, I suppose you could call him my childhood sweetheart. Gary was big, strong, sporty, had muscles in all the right places.” Trevor could see, despite himself, Paul was paying attention. “What was even more special about Gary was that he cared. He knew I was somewhat vulnerable back then and in need of, well…in need of a protector. As I’ve told you before I’m an only child. How I wished I’d have had a big brother who could look out for me, fight off the older kids, stop them from teasing and…Mum and dad had me late in life. She was forty-two when I was born. Dad died of cancer eight years later. Mum never quite recovered.” Trevor knew he was wandering off topic.
“Gary wasn’t just my boyfriend, he was my big brother, my protector. All I am now, I basically owe to him.”
“You, uh, you talk about him in the past tense,” Paul put in.
Trevor sighed. “We were together for, oh I don’t know, ‘cause it’s difficult to say when we first became an item. He’d been a part of my life since I was about seven or eight.
“He moved in next door just before dad died. We soon were inseparable. We grew up together, shared all our secrets. I’ll spare you the more intimate details of what we did.” Trevor didn’t look up to see if Paul was relieved. It wasn’t important.
“Then on six June 1991, something, or rather someone, happened.”
“Huh?”
“I thought Gary and I were it. However, knowing that Gary was bisexual caused me no end of sleepless nights and…But Gary would always say he was with me and that was that. But as I said, six June. Her name was Lisa Threadgold.” Trevor tried to remain calm. “She took one look at Gary and set her cap at him as my mother used to say.”
Paul nodded uncomfortably, probably wondering what on earth Trevor was going on about.
“Within a couple of months Gary would occasionally go out without me. You have to understand we didn’t exactly live in one another’s pockets, but it was unusual for Gary to sneak off without saying where he was going. I tried not to dwell on it, though this was made more difficult because I could tell Gary was ill-at-ease over something. I wanted to ask him about it, but me being the chicken I was back then, didn’t ask, just in case I didn’t like his answers.”
“Uh huh.”
“Eventually things grew so bad that I plucked up enough courage to ask what was wrong. At first Gary said I was imagining things. But I’m nothing if not persistent. Gary then broke down and told me he found Lisa attractive. They’d met a few times. Inside I was dying, but I held things together. I asked Gary what he wanted to do. He said he didn’t know. He loved me, but—”
Trevor closed his eyes. Despite the passage of time it still hurt to talk about it. “He stopped seeing Lisa. Things were okay for a couple of months, but Gary went into a depression. I did everything I could to show him that he was loved, that he meant the whole world to me.”
“But…Oh fuck.” Trevor wiped at his eyes. “I’m not going to cry, I’m not.” Sniffing, and regaining control, “It was the third of September. Funny how both dates were also significant during the Second World War. Anyway, the third of September. We’d gone for a walk. Something we often did during the warmer months. Neither of us was well off. We didn’t much care for pubs and clubs. Walking helped keep us fit. We walked past a kids’ playground. I remember the leaves on the trees had just started to turn. Funny the sorts of things you remember. There were some kids playing on the swings. One little boy climbed up the steps of the slide, but somehow got stuck. He started to cry. His dad, who we hadn’t seen up until that point, picked him up and comforted him.”
“I happened to look over at Gary. His gaze was fixed on the dad comforting his son. I knew then that Gary wasn’t cut out for the life of a gay, childless man.”
“Couldn’t you, um, adopt or whatever?” Paul asked, obviously taken with Trevor’s story.
Trevor shook his head. “Wasn’t really possible back then. And I think even if it was, it wouldn’t have solved the main problem. So anyway, we got home that night, and I told Gary I was setting him free. We argued, ended up sleeping in separate beds. But…deep down we both knew it was the right thing.”
“Lisa had met someone else, but she wasn’t too happy with him. Within six months of Gary moving out he was engaged to Lisa. About a year after that they were married with a kid on the way. I got an invite to the wedding. I went but couldn’t stay. I know it’s customary to cry at weddings, tho
ugh I don’t think the custom extends to ex-boyfriends of the groom.
“Now and again I’d see Gary around town pushing his daughter in her push-chair. We’d say hello, but I needed to keep a distance, to, well, keep myself sane. I’d just come out of the supermarket one day, trolley full of the weekly shopping when I almost ran into a double-buggy thing. Gary was there along with Lisa. His family seemed complete now he had a son as well as a daughter. They, all four of them looked really happy. I was polite. The obligatory questions about what we were all up to were asked and answered. It was obvious Lisa didn’t know how close I’d been to Gary. I was happy for him but not so happy for myself. I’d just broken up with…well, more about that in a minute. So I got out of there as quickly as I could.”
Trevor stared at his hands which were folded in his lap. He too had lost all interest in the toasted sandwich, which lay half-eaten on the plate in front of him.
“I don’t know what to say, other than I’m sorry,” Paul eventually said.
Trevor looked up at Paul, touched by the man’s genuine concern. “Thanks. I didn’t see Gary again, someone said they moved away. I think that was probably for the best. After the park incident it took me over a year to pull myself round, but I managed it. I started going to gay clubs, finding men, just for casual…Well you get the idea. Eventually one night stands grew boring and I set about finding something more meaningful. But, well, that’s not so easy. Gary was a hard act to follow.”
“Surprisingly fate did strike again. Amazingly it was at the supermarket where I would later see Gary and his family. As I did my shopping I got talking with a couple of guys in their late teens. They’d just started at university and were looking for somewhere to stay. Don’t know why I was so impulsive, it’s not normally my nature, but because I got on so well with them, I offered them my spare rooms. Uh, cutting out all the gory details, we, well, uh, things developed between the three of us.”
Paul’s eyebrows shot up.
Ignoring this, Trevor went on. “Neither Sam or Ollie were anything like Gary. That was good, what I needed. In fact if anything I was more the protector, or at least the home-maker. Both were a few years younger than me. Well anyway, not long after they finished their degree courses, I—” Trevor started wringing his hands. “I came home from work and—” In a rush he said, “I came home and found them sitting on the sofa together. They’d decided they wanted to be an exclusive couple. Meaning goodbye Trev.”