Gilliflowers (30 page)

“Oh that must be horrible?” She didn’t mean it in a nasty way, she just didn’t know what else to say. Attitudes to gay people seem to veer between those who see us as an evil abomination and those who view us as objects of pity,
‘poor things, they can’t
help it.’

I felt more and more out of things as the night progressed and the alcohol enhanced ambience built. Being sober at a party is shit. You’re the alien on the planet, an outsider.

My mother and Frank got up to dance to a track by Lulu called ‘Where the Poor Boys Dance.’ As I watched them a cluster of old childhood emotions swept over me. I felt usurped, jealous, scared. I resented him taking the space where my father should have been and resented her for letting him. A question re-asked itself. Why did she do it? As a child you don’t share your parents' life in any deep sense. They show you a surface being, a picture behind which there is secrets, things withheld, sex, emotions and thoughts. It comes full circle when children grow and in turn become surface beings withholding the same things from their parents. My mother obviously had needs that I as a child did not understand and could not possibly fulfil, but I was too young to know that.

At Lee’s request the DJ played Chris de Burg’s ‘Lady in Red’ and he then danced with Bethany who was wearing a scarlet dress. I smiled. He seemed genuinely loved up. He’s an ordinary looking kind of guy, but dancing with her he looked handsome and happy. I felt a sudden pang, a realisation that things were changing and would never be quite the same again. Lee was moving into a new phase of his life. He would soon be a married man and in time a father. He and I would never be as close and never again share experiences in the same way we had as childhood friends. I glanced around me, feeling out of place. It wasn’t my world anymore and probably hadn’t been for a long while. Not being able to drink set me further apart from it. It felt like a final bond had been cut.

I was glad when the time came for me to leave to catch my train. I sought out Lee to say goodbye. He was well on his way to being pissed. Inhibitions absent he hugged me tightly and emotionally stated he was glad I’d come, as it wouldn’t have been the same without his best mate there. It made the night worth turning up for. Dave roared a drunken farewell from the dance floor, his arm around his newfound lady friend.

Maybe the tide of his life was about to turn, carrying him away to fully adult shores. I waved at him and then at my mum, who was leaning against Frank, his arm around her shoulders.

As the train pulled away from the station I was conscious of an ache of sadness at leaving something behind, some small part of me. I didn’t want to leave it, but I had to. Friendships and allegiances evolve and change. Life marches on. We grow up and we grow old shedding aspects of ourselves along the way.

Back in my world the men folk were still up. Leo’s house smelled of double espresso coffee and the expensive cigars he indulged in from time to time. The three of them looked relaxed as I walked into the room where they were sitting watching TV. Genny was purring away on Leo’s lap. Shane was lounging on the couch, his arm around Dick. There was a decanter of whisky on the coffee table and three heavy tumblers each bearing a trace of amber fluid.

Dick sat up and smiled. “How was it, babe? Did you have a nice time?”

“Not really.” I said coldly causing him and Shane to exchange a look. It clearly said
oh God he’s still in a mood
. I addressed Leo. “What room am I in?”

“Take your pick, sweetheart. Your Daddies are in the front master. I can make up a cot in there for you if you like.”

I pulled a sour ha-ha face. Shane asked if I’d taken my meds. I nodded, said a curt “goodnight” and walked out of the room.

I chose to sleep in a separate bedroom rather than share a bed with the boyfriends.

I was angry with them for bringing into effect a new phase in my life, but not one I willingly embraced. I needed space to mourn and shed tears in private for aspects lost.

It’s fantasy soundtrack time again. Oh shut it. I like this bit and seeing as this is the book of my days I’ll have a fantasy soundtrack if I want one, so there.

I need something with emotional resonance to match my mood and the events of the day, so I’m going to hand the mike to Lulu with a request for her to sing out this scene in my life with ‘Where the Poor Boys Dance.’

Shane dropped me off at home early next morning and then returned to Leo’s so they could go off sailing for the day as arranged. I barely spoke to him or Dick at breakfast. I’d woken up un-refreshed and woolly minded, almost like being hung over, although I knew I couldn’t be. They asked for details of the party, but I made it plain I wasn’t interested in giving any and they gave up -
‘let the pain in the arse stew
in sulky self-pity.’
It sounded disgusting, definitely not a recipe you’d find in any standard cookbook.

As it turned out I had a pleasant enough day. Eileen invited me to have a drive out with her to a garden centre where we lunched in the on site cafe. I bought a stack of bedding plants and compost and spent much of the afternoon making up baskets and planters. I felt like Alan Titchmarsh, but being straight and married he wasn’t available so I got on with my work.

Shane phoned late afternoon to say they were piling back to Leo’s for dinner and he’d pick me up to join them. I could shower and change over at his place. I cried off, giving the excuse I’d had a large lunch and wasn’t much hungry. I said I didn’t think my recovering stomach could handle another big meal and besides I was tired after working in the garden and would prefer to curl up in front of the telly with a sandwich and a glass of milk. He wasn’t pleased, but didn’t insist. When they got home later that night I asked permission to have a bath and then went straight off to bed after it.

On Sunday morning, as we breakfasted, Leo called to say the weather conditions were again perfect for sailing and it would be a shame to waste the opportunity as they got few enough of them. Jak and Mike were on board. Did Dick and Shane want to join them? The men folk love sailing, they get a buzz out of it, so of course they said yes. I don’t begrudge them their chosen leisure sport, not as such, they work hard and they deserve time out doing something they like.

Dick must have felt a bit guilty about leaving me to my own devices for a second day running because he tried to convince me to join the expedition instead of staying home alone feeling sorry for myself.

I declared I’d sooner trim my pubic hair with a garden strimmer while blindfolded than set sail. I gave him a cold look. “You know I get seasick, Dick. Lying on a bunk vomiting my guts up while the world spins around isn’t my idea of fun.”

He wagged a triangle of toast at me. “You’d get your sea legs in no time if you gave yourself half a chance.”

“No I won’t. I hate being on a boat and in case you’d forgotten the sun sparkling on water poses a risk for someone with photosensitivity, though perhaps,” I said bitterly, “the potential for risk only counts when it comes to me doing something I personally enjoy, like having a drink with my friends?”

Dick gave a gentle shake of his head. “Let it go, honey, for your own sake.”

Shane took a harder line. “You don’t want to join us, fair enough, but I’m warning you, boy, spend the day emulsifying your attitude, because if you continue to spit acid I’m going to sort you out properly. So you know, I’ll be inviting Leo, Mike and Jak back for dinner this evening, so make something decent. I’ll turn you over my knee and I’ll spank you in front of them if you dare serve up slops by way of defiance. I’ll call to let you know what time we’ll be back.”

“Great. You get to go sailing and I get to make dinner for the motley crew.”

Pushing back my chair I stood up. “I’d better go for a shower before you leave to set sail on The Jolly Rodger or whatever Leo’s tub is called.” I got to the kitchen door and then turned to smile sweetly at Dick. “Do me a favour today, Dick, please,” I switched the smile off, “shove leather boi Jak over the side if you get half a chance and forget to throw him a lifebelt. Chuck Leo and a set of heavy leg irons after him.”

Shane shoved his chair back, the legs scraping the floor. I shot out of the room and made for the stairs. I was almost at the top when he bellowed an order for me to descend them again. He didn’t beat about the bush, but he did beat about my thighs, landing an eye-watering slap to the side of each one. I yelped a protest. “I was only joking.”

“Am I laughing?”

“How would I tell? I’ve only known you for a few years and no one has bothered to draw me a picture to go by.”

“Impudent whelp.” His hand landed a stinger on my arse. “If you’re going to shower get on with it, leave the bathroom door open or I’ll skin you alive.”

Dick came into the bedroom where I was dressing after my shower. “Try and behave tonight, Gilli, no goading Leo and Jak or Shane
will
wallop you.”

“I can’t stand Jak. He gets on my wick, the oily git. If you did shove him overboard he’d leave a slick a mile wide and pollute the shoreline. He’s so far up his own arse it’s a wonder he doesn’t shit out of his mouth. He seems to be becoming a permanent member of Leo’s crew.”

“Stop it.” He tried to sound scolding, but there was no depth to it. His brown eyes showed amusement instead of the censure he was aiming for. “Give me a hug you grumpy man.” He held out his arms.

“I’m right off you. I don’t like you anymore, or Shane.”

“I know,” he said quietly, as I moved into his arms, “but you love us. I know you do. I’m sure like will return in time, when you stop being obstinate.”

They set off to play boats and I spent the day pottering around the house and garden and then preparing dinner. I roasted a chicken, stuffing it with fresh lemons and sprigs of rosemary to flavour it. I made all the usual Sunday lunch trimmings to accompany it.

The sailors returned home looking windblown and invigorated. They sat at the dinner table, troughing food and swilling wine, discussing their day. Leo told Jak he was turning into a fair sailor, which brought a smug look to his already smug face. He simpered about how his circus skills helped because they gave him strength and a good sense of balance. It was as good an opportunity as any to brag about his stint at circus school. The fucking narcissist.

I could have cheerfully hooked out Dick’s eyes with the meat fork when he asked about my day. As an activity housework does not compare well to sailing and trapeze swinging. I resented him putting me on the spot. I tersely said they were eating the fruit of my day’s labour.

Jak gave a snarky grin and said I’d make someone a lovely little wifie one day, either that or a good kitchen assistant. In return I told him he’d make someone a lovely piece of leather furniture, either that or a handbag and matching shoes.

He had the last dig. After topping up his wine glass he made to offer me the bottle and then pulled it away again, setting it down on the table, “sorry, I forgot, you’ve taken the pledge haven’t you.” He gazed at me, casually swirling wine around his glass, “how’s that going then? Still sticking at it?”

He knew I now knew that he knew my temperance wasn’t voluntary and I had no choice but to stick at it. I could have punched his face, and Leo’s. It must have been him who told Jak. If I’d had a gun handy I would have shot the pair of them. Mike tried to distract by complimenting me on the chicken, so it was obvious he knew too.

Jak remained on track.

“Can’t say I’d fancy giving up alcohol, not voluntarily, it’s one of life’s little pleasures. There’s nothing like a good glass of wine or a cool beer.”

“Shut up, Jak, use your mouth to eat with.” Leo spoke the words quietly, but used a tone of voice I’d seldom heard from him.

Jak turned his attention back to eating and drinking, satisfied he’d rubbed my nose in it. Bastard. I hoped his next session with the BDSM boys had a hard edge to it.

With luck he’d get a dildo jammed in his rectum that required retrieval by medical means.

I seethed all evening and intended to make known my disgruntlement when everyone left. Shane refused to discuss the subject. He told me to shut up in the same tone of voice that Leo had used to shut Jak up. I was so angry I had to go out into the garden to try and cool off. The side of the shed took the brunt of my temper as I drove my fist into its wooden face. I came off worst with bruised knuckles, but at least it dissipated some of my rage.

Returning indoors I said I was going to bed in the single room. Neither protested.

Shane said a simple goodnight and Dick told me to sleep well. I didn’t offer kisses and none were demanded.

The late May bank holiday dawned fair and bright and so did I, well perhaps fair and bright is an exaggeration. I rose at about the same time as the sun unable to sleep on account of indigestion, a lingering legacy from the antibiotics I’d taken for my sinus infection, as well as general sourness of mood. My bruised knuckles were also stiff and aching. Being in the single room meant my getting up with the birds went unnoticed by the resident housemasters who remained deep in the land of slumber.

I went downstairs and chewed a couple of indigestion tablets while waiting for the kettle to boil to make a pot of Earl Grey. Drinking a fragrant cup of Earl Grey rates as one of my favourite ways to greet the day, especially if accompanied by a bacon sandwich. It gives me seconds of amusement to think both tea and sandwich owe their names to a couple of real life gentlemen nobs. I bet the Earl of Sandwich and Earl Grey never dreamed they’d be gobbled and slurped by so many people down the years, though on the other hand perhaps it was a dirty little fantasy harboured by them both. Anyway, I digress, as oft I do. I passed on the bacon sandwich, doubting the men folk would appreciate being woken by the smell of bacon wandering around the house at barely four in the morning, courtesy of a wandering houseboy.

As I was up I decided I might as well do something useful and bunged some washing in the machine. I had no worries about it disturbing their worships. Closing the utility room door is a more than adequate means of confining the sound, unlike the smell of bacon, which can’t be contained under any circumstances. Bacon is the Houdini of pongs. It can escape from anywhere. Besides, Dick and Shane are unfamiliar with the sound of a domestic washing machine in operation. Even if they did hear it they’d probably think it was a light aircraft passing overhead.