“Bring me some water, I will have one of those pills,” Terry demanded.
James went to the kitchen and just as he got there the back door flung open.
“Where is he?" demanded Victor in an uncompromising voice.
“In the dining room,” answered James involuntarily. He really had no desire to tell Victor anything.
“You stay there,” said Victor prodding with a forceful finger. He went to the dining room and slammed the door. James sat on a kitchen chair holding an empty glass in his hand.
After a while he could hear shouting, all of it coming from Victor. No attempt was being made to conceal what he had to say.
“What do you mean he is a bloody martyr, look what he is doing to Mumsie. You don’t want to lose her, she is your mother! I don’t care how you feel, think about her. She has been crying to me on the phone for the last twenty minutes. How does that make me feel?”
The shouting stopped and James thought he could hear crying, but he was not sure. He didn’t know what to do. Should he go back into the room and confront Victor? He was fearful of the violence of Victor, but he was more afraid of Terry agreeing to everything said, taking sides with Victor for the sake of peace.
James sat on the kitchen chair and shivered. Maybe he was cold, or was he just in shock. Just then the back door flung open again. There stood Mumsie in tears. He stood up to greet her, but she pushed past him with an uplifted hand. She didn’t say a word. She opened the dining room door and with determination closed it behind her.
James sat down again but this time the shivering took hold of him. He could not control it so it welled up into a cry of despair. Bent double he struggled to the back door and went out into the cool night. He walked further into garden away from the house and there he wailed like one possessed of a great tragedy. He had not quite reached the bench when he uncontrollably spewed up on the lawn in front of him, stumbled some more and sank to his knees. He tried to contain himself, his face a mess of distress, his wide eyes revealing the terror in his heart. There he crouched, as if to pray, and only slowly took control of himself. All that could be heard in the end was a snuffle.
After a while he stood up and dragged himself to another part of the garden, breathing in the refreshing cool air. There he felt revived, and with clearer eyes he looked at the house now some distance away. A necessary detachment grew inside of him. The sands had shifted yet again, but he was becoming much less reliant on them.
Just then he could see the back door open. Out came Victor who stood on the step peering into the darkness of the garden. James knew he could not be seen. Victor lit a cigarette and with a deep sigh puffed out the smoke into the cool night air. James thought if only he could speak to him and reason with him. If only he could say how much they needed to work together for the sake of Terry. But he knew that was fantasy. It demanded vulnerability, forgiveness and compassion on everyone’s part.
Mumsie appeared at the door. She went for a hug from Victor and he lifted his cigarette in the air so as not to burn her.
“Thanks Victor,” James could just about hear what she said. She pulled herself out of the hug. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”
“That’s ok Mumsie. Everything is sorted. The solicitor has been and the bastard will get nothing." It was as if Victor didn’t care who heard what he said. He was so sure of his own position and power.
They walked away from the door and round the corner of the house out of sight. After a while James heard them start up their cars and drive away.
The back door was still open and James approached it tentatively. He didn’t know what to expect inside the house, but as he entered all was quiet. The door to the dining room was ajar. He could hear Terry talking. He was on his phone.
“Sorry, really sorry about that, Mumsie,” he spoke quietly. “You will come and see me soon, please, please.”
James entered the room and Terry looked at him. He finished his message, obviously to an answer machine.
“There you are!” Terry said and gestured for James to come to him.
The room looked a mess, with a broken glass on the hearth.
“Are you ok,” asked James as he came over. “What has happened?”
“All is fine. I didn’t have a fit and Mumsie is fine. Victor was good. He calmed her down for me.”
The evening continued as if nothing had happened. James felt so uneasy about the way Terry and he no longer talked about these things. Yet he knew he could not broach the subject. There was enough in their lives just to keep the daily routine going, medicine to be taken, baths to be arranged, beds made and food cooked, to push the more important issues into the background. James now realised some things had become taboo, and there was nothing he could do about it.
Before they went to bed James sat at the piano. He wanted to play something to calm his nerves, but nothing seemed appropriate. He turned to ‘As the Deer’ knowing how much Terry had liked to listen wherever he was in the house. At the end of the first line he became aware of a noise from the next room. He stopped to listen; it was Terry sobbing uncontrollably. For a moment James just sat and listened to the despair, and before getting up to go and comfort Terry he shut the lid of the piano. He was not sure he could ever play that piece again.
Two weeks later the day of the party arrived. It had been advertised as an event to celebrate Terry’s life, and there was an invitation to everyone. Mumsie hired a room at the local pub, with a hog roast in the yard.
“I not sure I want go," said Terry on the morning. “I will find it very tiring.”
“Everybody would be disappointed if you didn’t turn up,” replied James. He had his own misgivings but was careful after the incident a fortnight before to keep his opinions to himself.
“Perhaps we could just go for an hour or so, and you could bring me back when it gets too much,” suggested Terry.
When the evening came Terry had rested enough to feel ready for the event. Fortunately the weather started fine and most people gathered in the yard waiting for the food. The drink was flowing freely. When Terry and James arrived Mumsie was standing in the yard.
“Hi little pup, we are all waiting for you,” she said coming up to kiss Terry. He felt a little unsteady on his feet but she stabilized him by grabbing hold of his arm. “Now come and meet your guests.”
James, left unacknowledged, watched them go into the crowd where everyone came up to greet Terry. James had been the taxi man who had dropped him off, and now was not really needed. At least, he could have a drink and made for the pub bar.
“Hello, James,” was the voice that greeted him at the door. Charles was coming out with two drinks. He seemed genuinely pleased to see him.
“Hi Charles, how are you?”
“I am fine. Work is going well, and I have got my wedding booked, you know.”
“Very nice," replied James rather too blandly.
“It is great in there," gestured Charles to the room inside. “We have found lots of photos of Terry from his life, had them blown up and put round the walls. It’s impressive. Anyway, I must take this drink to Victor.” With that he was gone.
James stepped through the door and his eyes slowly became accustomed to the darkness of the room. He made his way over to the bar, which was almost deserted. Most people were outside. As he walked across the carpet he noticed the pictures. They were everywhere: black and white, full colour, fuzzy focused and bright and sharp. Forty years of someone’s life; it had been quite an effort to make such a presentation. With a drink in his hand he thought he might as well inspect them.
They were arranged in chronological order starting with the usual baby photos. James noticed there was none of Terry’s father. There were some of Terry’s school days; the diffident youth seemed so uncharacteristic of the Terry he knew. Then James began to notice there were many photos of recent years, and Victor with his mop of blond hair, was appearing in most of the shots. Amazingly, in one or two it was just V
ictor on his own. One extra large photo showed Terry on a bench with Victor’s thick and muscled arm holding him tight. Then the presentation stopped; there was none from Terry’s current life. It was almost as if he had died two years ago.
James went back to the beginning and started to count. 49 photos of Terry, 27 of Victor, several with them together. James felt an anger welling up inside of him. He put his drink down for fear of spilling it. He looked about him. There was hardly anyone in the room and he could just pull the photos down off the walls. But he knew he couldn’t. Terry would be upset, as would the other guests. He felt it had been a trap. That is why, he thought, Charles had smiled when he saw him coming inside. The best he could do, he thought, was to ignore it.
He picked up his drink again and walked out of the room. But the anger stayed with him. At least not many people will see the photos while they are outside, he thought. He did not feel like eating, and most people there were strangers, or did not seem to recognise him for who he was. He put down his glass on an empty table and decided to go for a walk, first out onto the street, past a gaggle of smokers, who ignored him, then across the road, and into the churchyard. He walked up to the church door and tried the handle. It was locked. He skirted the base of the tower and came to the south side of the churchyard. It was warm here from the day’s sun and peaceful. He sat on a bench and looked across the scene of weathered stones mostly tilting at odd angles. None of these graves were tended because they were too old. They represented people who had long since died. They were not even the grandparents of people living today, and stretching beyond human memory, they had long been forgotten. The fate of us all, he thought, when all our loves have died, and all those lives we touched have grown cold as well.
He did not know how long he had been there, maybe an hour, maybe more, but the weather was changing. A cloud was coming from the west, dark and ominous. He thought he ought to it get back, and as he hurried through the church gate and into the street he felt the drops of rain. When he got to the pub the yard had emptied with all the guests pilling inside. He pushed his way through the door, nobody particularly making space for him.
“Who are all these people?” he thought out loud as he squeezed through the mass of slightly drunk and damp crowd.
Once inside he looked for Terry. He was hard to find in such a packed room and for a second or two he worried he might not be there. How would he know if he had a fit, would anyone have told him? Perhaps he had been so long in the churchyard that Terry had demanded to go home. He was beginning to feel guilty.
Then at once he was relieved to see Terry sitting at one end of the room. He looked tired but pleased, obviously delighted by the fuss made of him. James also saw Mumsie sitting next to Terry, tightly holding his hand and directing most of the conversation. On the other side sat Victor, looking equally happy.
James pushed his way forward and Terry caught sight of him.
“There you are!” shouted Terry. “We wondered where you had got to,” he added almost in a critical way. Neither Mumsie nor Victor was willing to make room for James so he stood there wondering where he might sit.
He leaned over to Terry and said quietly in his ear, “Are you ok?” He wanted to kiss him but it didn’t seem possible in this place.
“I am fine!” shouted Terry. James was disappointed. “But I will need to go home soon. Why don’t you have another drink and we will be on our way in half an hour.” James felt dismissed.
When James came back a little later he saw Terry being helped up by Mumsie and Victor. They brought him to James.
“He needs to go home now,” instructed Mumsie. “Make sure you get him to bed soon.”
“We will film the fireworks so you can see them in the morning when we come round,” said Victor to Terry before giving him a lingering and very public kiss on the mouth.
“Let’s go,” James said to Terry, almost a pleading in his voice.
It took some time to get out of the pub. Everyone wanted to say good-bye to Terry, and he tried to treat them equally graciously. It probably took them twenty minutes to get to the door, but once outside it was thankfully a short walk to the car. Terry collapsed into the passenger seat, and at once closed his eyes. They drove home without saying a word.
Later that night they lay in their separate beds, Terry a little revived now he had rested.
“Where did you disappear to at my party?” he asked.
“I went for a walk, to the churchyard.”
“Don’t you think that was rude, with all my guests there?”
“I just needed some space, a bit of peace and quiet.”
“You are a funny one," said Terry with a note of distain in his voice. “I don’t know what you get up to when my back is turned.”
“I only went and sat on a bench.”
“Did you thank Mumsie for the party?”
James felt he couldn’t answer that question. It had never occurred to him to thank her.
“It is very good of her, and Victor, to go to all that work. They wanted to pay for it as well, but I insisted on giving them money for it.”
Still James did not answer.
“Well?” enquired Terry.
“What about the photos all around the walls?” replied James, knowing that was something that could not be disputed.
“I didn’t really see them, too many people looking at them for me to get near,” said Terry obviously not wanting to talk about them.
“I counted them, and how many had Victor in them …”
“Sometimes you are just so ungrateful," said Terry in a firmer voice. “You live here for free, all your food paid for, and you never say thank you.”
James was shocked by what Terry said. He had not realised Terry had such thoughts, or that their living together, as partners or so he thought, was calculated in financial terms. He never thought to put a price on the care he gave to Terry, the hours in the day and the night.
“What do you mean?” asked James with defiance.
“And then you just wander off, like you did today. I don’t know where you go. You could be having an affair for all I know. We all know you are like that.”
“Terry, what are you saying?” James had lost his defiance. He just felt very hurt.
“I think you are up to something. You want to shut Mumsie out of my life. You want my money; you want this house, when I die. That’s what people are saying.”
“What people?”
“I see you don’t deny it!” Terry felt justified in his accusations.
“I think people are telling you things that aren’t true, Terry.”
“Don’t you say that. I trust them. They are my family.”
A silence fell between them. But Terry wasn’t finished. It was if a new anger was bursting out of him. He took his phone from the bedside cabinet.
“Just one call, that is all I have to make, just one call on this phone and Victor will be here to throw you out of this house. He said he would, and all I have to do is call him!”
“Please don’t do that, come on, just calm down.” pleaded James. He didn’t know how to respond, such was the shock of what Terry was saying. He made it obvious that he was willing to submit.
“You better behave, and be grateful,” said Terry putting his phone back on the bedside cabinet. Without saying another word he switched off his light and rolled over, his back to James.
The room was dark except for a slither of light coming under the door from the landing. James lay there slightly shivering, staring into the darkness. His mind was actively wondering what he might do. He had lost his one sure footing. He could no longer rely on Terry, who with one phone call would get him evicted. The man he had loved and cared for had been transformed into someone else. All the small paranoia had become huge. The trust had gone, and people were making sure it would never return. It was if their relationship, born in deceit, had become consumed by the same vice. He lay there in the dark, his hands clasped together. He could f
eel the ring on his finger. It should have reminded him of their love, but all he could see was the face of Mumsie, moving through a series of emotions. At first she was angry, then she was crying, and finished with a laughter that threw her red head back until it disappeared into the darkness. James didn’t sleep at all that night.
The next morning Terry was back to normal, or so it seemed. For the next week nothing much changed Terry and James continued the old routine that kept them sane, protected from the edge of chaos. Nothing was ever said about the threat Terry had issued. James could not even be sure Terry even remembered it, but he didn’t want to ask him in case it dredged up the reality of it. Mumsie and Victor stayed away, no doubt tired after the party and probably knowing full well their cause had progressed fulsomely. Charles did come to visit and showed them the video of the party fireworks. Such things are never well recorded on a small screen but Terry was appreciative.
Towards the end of the week Terry had another fit. The doctors had predicted these would become more frequent, but the tension of previous days had been a contributing factor. The episode resulted in a short stay in hospital, and James sought to be beside him as much as visiting hours would allow.
On the third day on his return from visiting Terry in hospital James noticed something different about the house. As he turned the corner of the yard he came across a pile of his own possessions and a collection of black bags. There were his pictures and books, his music, the small clock from his family, two chairs and a side table. At first bemused to see them and then quickly dreading what this meant he turned to the back door. With his key in his hand he at once noticed the old tarnished lock had been changed and a bright new brass one was in its place. He tried the door handle but it was firmly shut. Just then an upper window was thrown open, and a blond headed angry face appeared.
“Piss off, you bastard!” shouted Victor. “I live here now and you are not welcome.”
“But this is my home,” protested James looking up at the dark figure. He could see there was someone behind Victor and guessed it must be Mumsie.
Gay Before God: An Awakening Love Forbidden by the Church Page 18