Part Two: Nick
The following week was one of the hardest.
There was a great deal of tension and for me it was because Eamon was leaving and I didn’t want the life I had come to know that summer to suddenly end. For Eamon, it was much worse. At that time I knew nothing of Bulmer or the contents of the briefcase. I think that was just as well.
He came over that Friday evening, the week before he was due to leave, and it was clear that something was wrong. He didn’t even want to play with Sally and she was rather hurt when he was blunt with her. I asked him what was wrong but as usual he became evasive. I could almost read Sally’s mind clicking over. She was desperately trying to figure out what it was that she’d done wrong. I was often blunt with her and regretted it but it was the first time from Eamon. He went into the bedroom and slammed the door behind him.
I didn’t want to put pressure on him, and certainly not in the last few days of our time together, so I shrugged it off. I remember feeling rather hurt and left out as he appeared unable to confide in me, but it was still early days in our relationship and I respected his privacy.
He’d been in the bedroom on his own for about an hour and I couldn’t stand it any longer. I asked Imogen if she would put Sally, who was by then tired, to bed. I took a bottle of what was then our favourite claret from the wine rack, made up a small tray of Chinese crackers and nuts, and took them into him, closing the door behind me.
“Come on, let’s have a glass of wine,” I said as I set the tray down on the floor by the side of the bed.
He was lying on top of the quilt. Initially I though he was asleep as his eyes were closed, but he wasn’t.
As he opened them to look at me, he burst into tears. I moved closer to him and he locked his arms around me.
“Hey, what’s all this?” I asked. “What’s happened?”
“Oh ... it’s nothing really ... it’s nothing,” he replied.
“Look, the person I’ve come to know wouldn’t burst into tears for no reason,” I said reassuringly. “Just tell me, Eamon, what’s the matter with you? Is it because you are leaving?”
He stopped crying and composed himself as he sat up.
“Look, Nick. I love you dearly but I can’t tell you. Well, not at the moment, anyway.”
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“Please. You must trust me. There’s something I have to do and simply cannot discuss it with you just now. Believe me, I would not do anything to hurt you or Sally or destroy our relationship.”
“Is our relationship under threat?”
“No, no. It’s nothing like that.”
“I know that you wouldn’t want to cause us harm, but I can’t understand what you’re saying unless you confide in me. How can I help if you don’t tell me?”
“Look, you’ll understand shortly and I know what it must seem like. There are some things – some mistakes – I’ve made in my life, and a few things I’m not proud of. I have to get rid of them and I will shortly.”
He leaned his head against my chest.
“But for the moment, just hold me.”
I kicked off my shoes and made myself more comfortable on the bed. I hadn’t seen him like this before and didn’t really know how to cope with it. I thought it better just to lie there a few minutes.
It’s something I’d become accustomed to when Maggie was either in pain or despair over the future. It wasn’t always necessary to have long, drawn out conversations; sitting in silence was very often the best tactic.
“Well, come on then, open the wine,” he said and released me from his grip.
I opened the bottle and the first few sips were in silence before he spoke.
“I know this seems odd and it really is out of character for me. But please trust me on this one.”
Various thoughts had been running through my mind and I didn’t want to voice them for fear they might be true.
“Look, Eamon,” I started, “you’re not trying to tell me that you have someone else in France and it’s curtains for us two?”
“I promise you, it’s nothing like that. Besides,” he added and cupped my chin in his hand, “where else would I find a cute, young chick like you?”
He winked at me and I was relieved that I was not directly the cause of the grief.
Soon after that, we got undressed and slipped into bed to make passionate love. Afterwards, we watched an old Japanese monster movie on the telly before going to sleep. The sheets were soaked with sweat and we changed them. We didn’t shower.
All was relatively back to normal; the following morning, Eamon tried hard to please Sally as he felt guilty for being so sharp with her. She had almost forgotten the incident the previous evening but I knew that whatever it was that had upset him was still playing on his mind. I spoke to Imogen about it during the day. She and I were much closer by then and we both agreed that he was upset about leaving, that all love stories were not written by Barbara Cartland and the rough always had to be taken with the smooth.
That evening was very special for me as I met a couple of Eamon’s friends and they became very close. Chrissie phoned him from next door and said that Declan and Vince had called and she was unsure whether or not to give them my phone number and would Eamon call them.
He did and they invited us over for dinner that evening. I heard Eamon on the phone and he was frantically trying to find an excuse not to go but they insisted.
“How do you fancy meeting a couple I’ve known for a while?” he said. “They want us to come over for dinner this evening but I’m not really in the mood.”
“Yeah, why not?” I knew he was still troubled and an evening out would do us good. “Imogen is here all day and won’t mind looking after Sally. It’s a good idea.”
He was not convinced but agreed anyway.
Declan and Vince are a couple that Eamon had met in Paris and they have the most wonderful flat in Islington, just a short walk from the Angel. The flat, a maisonette, is on two floors of an enormous Georgian house overlooking a private square. Declan is a travel consultant, thirty-four years old, Australian and has settled in London having seen most of the world. Vince, or Vincenzo, is Italian and works as a steward for a major airline, a trolley dolly as he introduces himself, and is very handsome as many Italians are, both male and female.
They were very welcoming and greeted me with a kiss when I was introduced.
“Hi, Nick, and welcome,” Vince said. At that time he was thirty years old, slightly taller than me and well built for cabin crew.
“It’s about time we met you,” he continued. “Eamon should have visited us sooner but he’s been so engrossed with you.”
“That’s right, Nick,” Declan cut in. “I suppose he hasn’t mentioned us to you, has he?”
“Well, not really,” I replied, “but we have been very busy.”
“Bullshit. I know what he’s doing,” said Vince. “Keeping you all to himself. What can I get you to drink?”
I was impressed with the flat, which must have been obvious as Declan then showed me around and Eamon went into the kitchen with Vince. It was enormous. Three bedrooms with two en-suite bath and shower rooms, one of which I would have been happy to walk into. The shower “room” was covered in some very old and beautiful, hand-painted Portuguese tiles and the water fell as a fountain from a marble lion’s head. Now, this all sounds rather kitsch and over the top when I describe it but it was just so tasteful. Each bedroom had a pine sleigh bed with delightful duvet covers and all the painting on the walls were original and individually spotlit. It was clearly all very expensive and if that was how queens lived then I definitely wanted to be a part of it. I still knew little about gay relationships then, or all relationships for that matter, but they both had reasonable salaries with high disposable incomes. Don’t ever allow anyone who might make you believe that the pink pound buys little. On the contrary – it goes a great deal further than you might imagine.
Eamo
n had cheered up a little over dinner, especially when the meal was so excellent. To start with we had quails eggs in tarragon aspic followed by fresh tuna steaks with baby roast vegetables along with a sauce of garlic and parsley. The dessert was a light chocolate trifle with morello cherries soaked in rum. Not an everyday meal for a man with a child and accustomed to fish fingers or chicken nuggets with everything. I was very, very impressed.
“So, Nick,” Declan started as we sat with our coffee on one of the most luxurious sofas I had ever parked my bum on. It was cream coloured and would not have remained so with Sally and her favourite drink, Ribena.
“Tell us about yourself, you know, where you work, where you live, how you met, your inside leg measurement and all the rest.”
Eamon smiled.
That was good.
“Declan, don’t be so nosy. Nick may not want to tell you,” he said.
He was wrong.
Declan and Vince were very welcoming, as gays in a stable relationship tend to be, and they appeared genuine. I had no problem telling them all about Maggie and Sally and how I met Eamon. They were very understanding and interested.
“You know,” Declan said when I had finished, “things can get very difficult for you if you’re not the sort of person that can cope with it. Putting aside the good times that Eamon and you can have together, not to mention the long distance relationship, you’ll have to cope with outside influences and the elements will be against you.”
“What do you mean?” Eamon asked.
“Well, first of all, society is all set for gays to become straight and see the so-called error of their ways. But it’s quite different when an ‘apparent’ straight person becomes a friend of Dorothy. People do not accept that so easily and particularly when a child is involved. I presume that your parents and Maggie’s are not aware of all this.”
“You’re right,” I replied.
“Then I predict rocky times for you. Possibly not on your side but on Maggie’s. Don’t be surprised if they at least find out about separating Sally and you legally.”
“No. I can’t believe they would try and do something like that,” I said rather naively.
“All I’m saying, Nick, is be warned. Gay relationships are as special and rewarding as any other. But you can get carried away and forget that there are many individuals and organisations out there that can easily destroy them.”
“Is that a warning?” Eamon asked.
“Possibly, but I don’t mean it to sound that way. You see, Nick, I too was married, very happily and we had a child. And then one day, it happened. I met Vince on a trip and the rest is history.”
I was fascinated.
“And what happened?” I asked.
“Well, I told Katy one evening as I simply couldn’t cope with the double identity any longer. Our relationship had started to go downhill by then anyway. We married far too young and had a child. Victoria, my daughter, is fourteen now but she was only nine at that time. Katy was very ambitious then with her job as a financial advisor and she was very good at giving advice but dreadful at receiving it herself. She was constantly away on courses or meeting clients in different parts of the country. I hardly ever saw her and Victoria and I had always been close but became much closer when her mother was not there for her. It all came to an almighty row one weekend. I told her I was gay and would be leaving her and taking my daughter with me.” He sighed. “That was just the start of it all. She immediately got in contact with her parents, who advised her to move back home with them and take Vicky with her. They moved very quickly indeed. The following day I received a solicitor’s letter. A close friend of the family called me and stated that my wife wanted a divorce and custody of the child as I was an unstable parent and the house. There was a great deal more involved and an enormous, complicated and expensive battle in the court. To this day, I don’t know how she did it but she was given the best advice and she won. There’s justice for you.”
He sat back and breathed deeply.
“Christ. That must have been dreadful. I can’t imagine what it would be like to lose Sally. But I don’t see that anything like that could happen in my case,” I said.
“Don’t be too sure. Most people still look at same-sex relationships as un-natural. Things are changing, sure, but acceptance takes time. All I’m saying is beware and prepared for it. Take it all a stage at a time and don’t become too complacent. Oh, and take all the blows like a man and not a drippy drag queen. The shit they can throw at you just for being you is unbelievable so always expect the unexpected.”
I was silent for a few seconds.
“And how are things at the moment?” I asked.
“These days, fine. Vicky is much older and aware of the situation. She adores Vince and we get on very peacefully indeed. Vicky spends most weekends with us and Katy is much more accepting of it. I think if she had not received what I consider to be bad advice from her parents, most of the turmoil could have been avoided. But it’s all water under the bridge now.”
“Good advice, Dec, but don’t frighten Nick off. You have no reason to think that he might make the same mistakes,” Vince said and clearly wanted to change the subject. “Eamon, what about you these days? I know you had some money problems before you went to France.”
Eamon was not pleased with this and his jaw fell open.
“Whoops, sorry,” said Vince. “Should I not have mentioned that?”
Eamon hesitated before replying, “Well, yes I did have some problems. But they have been sorted now.”
I was intrigued.
“You, Eamon?” I started. “Money problems? I find that hard to believe.”
He sipped his wine.
“Yes, I did have a couple of years ago but it’s all in the past now. Forget it.”
“Okay. But you know I like to hear about your past.”
He quickly finished his wine.
“That was long ago. Let’s drop the subject.” He stood up. “Anyway, it’s time to go now.” He turned to Declan. “Thank you for a very special meal. Perhaps you can keep an eye on this one when I’m not here,” he said referring to me.
“Delighted to,” Declan responded.
“An absolute must, lovey,” said Vince. “You’re one of the girls now and on the gossip list you have to go.”
I thanked them again for a great meal, promised to stay in touch and left my phone number. We returned to the flat and though Eamon had become slightly agitated by what they had said, I was more comfortable about changing the subject.
So Eamon had some financial problems a few years back. Is that a problem? As far as I know, it’s still not a crime to be poor and if he made some errors of judgement financially, so be it. I was certainly not in any position to judge and if I was beginning to see a darker side of him then good. It made me want him even more.
Before I knew it, that fateful Saturday had arrived and Eamon was leaving.
I was glad that he had spent the whole week with me even though he’d not slept well. I woke a couple of times in the middle of the night during the week and found him in the kitchen drinking coffee. We’d then spend maybe half an hour discussing minor plans for the future, which made me very tired for work. It was a short working week though as I had arranged to take the Thursday and Friday off to spend a little more time with Sally and him.
The night before he left we had Chrissie and Peter over for a meal. It became a rather boozy occasion but that was fine. The flight the following day was not until the afternoon so we could have a lazy morning. Imogen had offered to take Sally shopping and he had already collected the remainder of his belongings from Chrissie and Peter’s house. Most of these had been moved into my room where he finished his packing. Chrissie had offered to drive him to the airport but I insisted that I would do it. I think she was quite relieved. Though I was not aware at that time of the problems they had, the cracks were beginning to show.
He had a small case, a fold-up travel bag and the br
iefcase. He left the main luggage in the hallway except for the briefcase, which he brought with him into the living room.
It was time to say goodbye.
We could only do this properly at home rather than the airport.
He was nervous.
“I detest moments like these,” he said.
I knew exactly what he meant as he locked his arms around me. I felt like an innocent child again.
Sally and Imogen came bounding into the room and broke the awkwardness. They both kissed and hugged him goodbye.
We arrived at the airport with plenty of time to spare. After checking the luggage into the Air France desk we decided to have a coffee at the over-priced restaurant in the lounge. He kept the briefcase with him and was clearly nervous, but then he had every reason to be. I put it down to the fact that he didn’t really want to leave.
“What are you thinking about?” I asked as we drank the warm coffee.
“I’m thinking about you,” he replied, “and how you have totally upset my life. How will I ever be the same as I was again?”
I kicked his foot and smiled at him. It seemed sufficient.
“I’ve had a word with some of the lecturers here at the Institute in London. There is a chance that I could get a placing at a college here. Maybe not in London, but if it works out I could be back here permanently and soon after Christmas.”
“Really? That’s wonderful but why did you not tell me that before?”
“Because it’s still only a slim chance and I didn’t want to build your hopes up and then disappoint you if it failed.”
“Nothing you do disappoints me,” I replied.
He smiled. “There is still a contractual obligation I have in Paris, not only to the college but also to the students. I’ll have to see what I can do.”
The flight was then called and it was time to leave.
I walked him to the departure gate. He clutched the briefcase tightly to his chest, which I noticed.
“Well, this is it,” he said.
“Yes,” I muttered. The tears were beginning to well up.
“Look, I’ll call you tonight as agreed,” he said.
He put his arm around my shoulder and kissed me on the cheek.
I didn’t want to let him go.
He walked through the gates and waved back as I took a deep breath. When he was out of sight, I walked back to the short-term car park and rested my head on the steering wheel. I allowed what was first a trickle and then a torrent of tears to roll down my cheeks. I had not cried like that since Maggie’s death.
I felt empty again but I had no idea of the mental torture that he was going through.