Alan slowly opened his eyes. Imperceptibly the shadows resolved themselves
into familiar objects. A scratched and battered book-case with its scanty
collection of dog-eared books and tatty magazines; the fireside coal scuttle
and the little stand of fire brushes glinting in the moonlight; the ancient
roll-top desk with its tarnished brass fittings and its coffee stained wood
that cast a shadow over half the room. The shutter on the desk was rolled
back and its contents were strewn around. At first Alan wondered if someone
had been nosing around and then he remembered that he'd been looking for something.
He tried to stand up but his legs gave way and he slumped back into the chair
with a little moan. Putting his head back he tried to remember what he'd been
looking for. He couldn't recall what it was so in the end he gave up and closed
his eyes.
October 1963.
I woke up with a start. The alarm clock was jangling and sunlight streaming through a gap in the curtains was piercing my eyelids. Turning my head away I opened my eyes and looked at the clock. Eight thirty! I was going to be late for school.
Grabbing my clothes I pulled my trousers on and ran downstairs. My mother was still in bed, her face twisting with pain as she tried to sit up. She had suffered from Rhumatoid Arthritis for as long as I could remember and in the past couple of years it had got a lot worse. Because of this she couldn't manage the stairs any more and had taken to sleeping downstairs. Up to a few months ago I had slept in the living room but now the one bedroom was mine; not that it was much of a room. True it was large but the old wallpaper was coming away in great damp patches and the rough wooden floor was carpetless and unvarnished. One small proggy mat at the side of the ancient flock mattressed iron bedstead provided the only warm area for my feet. An old chest of drawers stood in one corner of the room and an even older wardrobe in another.
The one room downstairs was stone flagged and was dominated by a York Range coal fire. There was a stone sink with one cold water tap in an alcove to the right of the fire and an old settee and battered armchair stood in front of it. A sagging whitewood table and two old kitchen chairs stood under the window with a cheap sideboard facing them on the opposite wall. Against the back wall was the single bed that had been mine and was now my mothers.
By the time I'd got my shirt fastened my mum had managed to push herself up into a sitting position. I filled the kettle to make a cup of tea and passed her morning tablets to her. "Don't bother with the tea" she said. "The home help will make it when she gets here. Just get yourself away to school.... And don't forget to go to the shop on your way home tonight. We need....". She broke off as a letter dropped through the door. I passed it over to her and grabbed my blazer, knowing what I had to buy. I was just closing the door behind me when I heard her call me back. Looking at her face as I walked back in I knew that something exciting had happened.
"We're being rehoused at last" mother said. "This letter says that we can pick up the keys today to look at a flat on Holme Wood.. You'd better stay off school; I'll need you to help me".
A couple of hours later we were ready. I ran to the shop to get some milk and bread and to make a couple of phone calls; one to school to explain my absence and a second to book a taxi. When I got back the home-help was busy getting her dressed so I made toast and tea. Eventually thr taxi arrived and we left.
The new flat was situated on the thirteenth floor of a tower block on the edge of the estate. It was brand new, painted white throughout and had splendid views of the fields and woods out towards Tong village. Mother fell in love with the place immediately and I couldn't blame her. It was certainly a vast improvemen ton the hovel we were living in on Valley Road.
Most of the details of the move had to be left to me. I contacted the Council and brought the tenancy forms home to be signed; got the electricity and water turned on ; orginised a removal van and undertook the multitude of other tasks involved. Not bad for an inexperienced fifteen year old
Moving day arrived and so did help in the presence of David. There wasn't a great deal that we wanted to take with us; most of what we had simply wasn't worth shifting. Instead, mum had spent what little she had on a second hand cooker and a cottage suite. Other furniture, all second hand but better than the stuff we had, came from the Salvation Army and other charities. We ended the day adequately if shabbliy furnished. It was paradise!
I stayed off school for a few days while we settled in. There was a small shopping centre within a hundred yards of the block so I took mother up there a couple of times. Shopping was something that she hadn't been able to do for a long time, the nearest shops to the old house being over a mile away. However it proved very difficult for her to walk even the shorter distance so in the end I contacted the local Social Services department to try and get a wheelchair for her.
We had been in our new home for about a week when David came round again. He asked me to go down to his father's car to help them to bring some things upstairs. "We thought that you might be able to use one or two things that we don't need any more" Mr Dixon explained. "If there's anything you can't use, just pass it on or throw it out" he finished. Together we brought up half a dozen large cardboard boxes then Mr Dixon had a few words with mother before he left. David stayed and together we tackled the boxes.
"Leave those two till after" David suggested. "It's all stuff to brighten up your room; just a few posters and books and other things like that". In the remaining boxes were lots of bits and pieces; curtains and crockery; cushions and cutlery and a whole box of framed pictures. All of it was good quality and all of it was stuff we could use to make the flat more comfortable.
David had known about our ci rcumstances for a long time; after all he'd been to the old house on numerous occasions and living in a slum with a widowed, disabled mother didn't allow one the luxury of anything other than absoloute basics; but it hadn't occured to me until that moment that David must have talked to his parents about us. While we were opening the first box I was trying to decide whether to be angry, grateful or embarrassed. In the end I concluded that being grateful would be a lot more fun than the other choices.
After we'd finished opening the first four boxes and putting the various items away under mum's supervision we took the other boxes; my boxes; into my bedroom. I closed the door quietly and pulled David into an embrace. "That's enough for now" he said finally, pushing me away gently. "Let's see what's in these boxes".
The boxes contained what he'd said; posters and books; but the other things that he'd mentioned weren't what I had expected. One box was full of clothes; things I had admired when I had seen him wearing them and even a few items that I'd borrowed when I'd stayed over at his place. Wrapped amongst the jerseys was a bottle of whisky and two glasses. "I thought we might toast your new home with a drink later" he explained. "I hid it from my dad when I first knew you were going to move. He's never missed it". He paused. "I'd like to stay the night if I can. I've already told my parents that I wont be home so I hope you don't say no".
"Of course I wont say no. I was going to ask you anyway. I haven't been sleeping very well since we moved. Having some company might help". I paused and then an irrisistible thought struck me. "Mind you" I continued without thinking. "I suspect that sleeping will be the last thing on our minds tonight".
David looked startled and I could have kicked myself. What we had been doing together on the few occasions that we got the chance was something that neither of us ever referred to. During that first evening at the dam we'd come to an unspoken but nevertheless rigid agreement that we would never discuss what we did. David had always seemed embarrassed, as if he thought that what we did was somehow wrong and although I felt very differently I went along with him, both to spare his feelings and in order and to keep him. I started to churn inside but then panic was replaced with relief as David's face cleared and he smiled at me. "I suppose we'll have to talk about things sometime" he said. "I'll see if I can pluck up enough courage when we open that bottle tonight. "Let's go see if your mum's OK".
Ever since that first evening David and I had been very close friends, but circumstances had prevented us from seeing a great deal of one another. David's voice had broken and he'd left the choir within a few months of that fateful day at Whitby. Then his parents had moved from a big house in Oak Avenue, which was within walking distance of where I lived, to an even larger house on the far side of Lister Park; a lot more difficult to reach. In winter we would get together at least once a fortnight for the home match at Valley Parade and occasionally we'd manage a night out at the cinema. During the summer we would try to get together every week-end for a cricket match or a day in the country - they were the best times. The six week school holiday was difficult for both of us because David always went abroad with his family for four or five weeks. I had to admit to a twinge of envy about that; my mother could never afford to take us away.
David's parents had met my mother at Tony's inquest but I'd never realised that they kept in touch with her until a few days before my fourteenth birthday. Mum had to go into hospital for tests and a rest and I had thought that, as usual, I would go to a foster home for a couple of weeks. Imagine my astonishment when David arrived on the doorstep with his parents. Arrangements had been made for me to go and stay with them and it had been kept secret from me as a birthday surprise.
The fortnight that I stayed at the house in Elm Lane was one of the best times of my life. To start with I had never seen so much luxury. To me a proper bathroom instead of a tin bath on the living room floor and an indoor toilet instead of an outside privy shared with another family was still a new experience. I quickly realised how poor my table - and other - manners were and I tried very hard to learn how to behave properly. Mr and Mrs Dixon were very understanding, especially as they could see that I was trying very hard not to embarrass myself or them. Little did they realise that the person I was trying to please was David. I didn't want him to be ashamed of me.
On my birthday we all went to Blackpool. I'd never been out of Bradford before except to go to Robin Hood's Bay with the choir so it was all an amazing adventure. It turned out that David had never been there either, his usual family day trip was to Morecambe, so he was equally excited. When we got there we were taken to the Pleasure Beach, given some money each and told to meet up with his parents at tea-time. That gave us an afternoon to enjoy ourselves and we were determined to make the most of it. Mr Dixon gave us two pounds each. I had never held so much money at one time in my life and even David commented that he'd been very generous.
In the next three hours we tried as many of the rides as we could. The Grand National, the Big Dipper, the Waltzer, the Ghost Train; we subjected ourselves to them all. We had ice-cream, chips, candy floss and toffee apples and I managed to make myself sick; that was on the Mouser after eating the candy floss. All in all we had a terrific afternoon and returned to Bradford that night exhausted but happy. After supper we found ourselves alone for a few minutes so David leaned over to whisper to me. "When you go to bed try to stay awake. I'll come in for a chat once everyone's asleep. I haven't wished you happy birthday properly yet".
Later that night in my room we hugged and fondled one another and finished off a wonderful day by ejaculating into one anothe'rs hands.
Over the next year I stayed with David and his parents several times while my mother was in hospital. However we never managed to pluck up enough courage for him to come and stay with me. We talked about it once or twice but one or the other of us always managed to find an excuse to call it off. They were just excuses though; I think we both knew the real reasons why neither of us would take the plunge. I was ashamed of my slum home and David was frightened that his parents would jump to the all too correct conclusion if he had to share a bedroom with me. Tonight in my new flat would be a first for us.
After tea we sat listening to the radio and chatting to my mother; or rather David did. I was amazed at how well they got on together. They talked incessently about nothing in particular and I was little more than a spectator. I was so happy that they seemed to like each other that I didn't mind at all.
At about ten o'clock mum announced that she was tired and wanted to go to bed so I assisted her to her room and helped her to get ready. Her Arthritis was so bad that she couldn't handle fiddly things like buttons and zips so I had to unfasten those for her. While I helped her she talked, more or less continuing the conversation she'd been having with David. Finally I got her comfortable in bed and gave her a pain killer. I was just about to give her a goodnight peck on the cheek when she said something that took me completely by surprise. "I don't think that you need bother making up the settee for David. he's a very nice lad and his family have been very good to us. You could do a lot worse.... For a friend!" she added almost as an afterthought. I stood there with my mouth wide open in astonishment. "Go on" she finished. "I'm tired. just don't keep me awake all night with your chatter". I retreated from the room in utter confusion.
Stunned I rejoined David in the lounge. My consternation must have been obvious because he jumped up off the settee where he'd been relaxing. "What's wrong? Is your mother all right?". I nodded and pushed him away gently.
"I think she knows about us" I finally stammered.
"What! What did she say? How did she find out?". David had gone very pale and looked as if he was about to faint so I guided him back to the settee and sat down next to him.
"It's alright" I mumbled finally. "I don't know how she found out or even if she's only guessing. It's just something she said while we were in the bedroom. Even if she does suspect something she doesn't seem to mind". I proceeded to relate the conversation to him, wondering even as I listened to myself if I had in fact read too much into a perfectly innocent comment. Then David spoke, mirroring my own thoughts exactly.
"Are you sure you heard her right? She wasn't just trying to be nice about me was she?".
"I suppose it's possible" I conceded finally. "Once I started telling you about it, the whole thing did start to sound a bit ambiguous. I suppose I might have misread the situation completely. The thing is; my mother has never said anything about my friends before!".
"Has she ever met any of your friends before?" he commented somewhat pointedly. "It seems to me that you've never really let anyone near your mother or your home before - except me of course" he finished more gently. "I'm sorry! I shouldn't have said that. I didn't mean it".
I stiffened; anger flaring in me. Then just as quickly my temper subsided leaving me drained. "You're right" I mumbled. "I've always been a bit ashamed of my home and background though I never really thought about it much until I started staying at your house. it was only then that I began to realise that there's a lot more to life than what I've had so far. Your friendship has been the only really good thing ever to happen to me. I'm terrified that you might stop liking me. I don't know what I'd do if you did. I don't really have any other friends. I suppose that there's one or two lads at school that I knock about with but I wouldn't really call them friends; more aquaintances". The words were starting to pour out of me in a stammering, incoherent jumble. Feelings that had been locked away for ages and which I'd never intended to tell David came pouring out of my mouth in a torrent. I gabbled on for a couple of minutes; gabbled on in fact until David stopped me by the simple expedient of kissing me.
"Shut up for a minute you idiot and let me get a couple of words in. In the first place you don't have anything to be ashamed of. Neither you or your mother can be blamed for your circumstances. It's not your fault that you don't have much money and it's certainly no-ones fault that your mother's disabled, so put that out of your mind right away. Secondly you're not in any danger of losing me". He laughed. "You're not going to get rid of me as easily as that. I know that I've never had the guts to say this before but I suppose though that when it comes down to it I must be in love with you". He turned bright pink and averted his eyes from my gaze. "It's funny" he continued finally. "I think that this is the first time that I've admitted that even to myself. You've always seemed so comfortable with what we have that it's finally got me to thinking that what we do isn't so wrong after all".
"Do you remember that first time at the mill dam" he continued after a moment. "Do you remember that you asked me if I'd wanted the sex thing to happen when I suggested that we go there. Well I've thought about that a lot since and I know now that, deep down, I'd been trying to get you into a situation like that for a long time. Looking back, I think that I must have fallen in love with you the first time that I saw you".
We sat quietly, holding hands while I digested this piece of information. "I've always known what my feelings were for you" I ventured finally. "But I never really thought that you'd ever be confident enough to say what you've just said. And you managed it without the whisky!".
David laughed out loud. "I'd forgotten about that" he said. "I didn't need any dutch courage after all. I could certainly do with a drink now though. Let's continue this in the bedroom".
We settled down on top of the bed, a drink each in
our hands and the bottle between us. I swallowed a large mouthful, gagged,
spluttered and sprayed most of it over my lap.
"I assume you've never tasted whisky before" David commented drily.
"You can say that again!" I sprayed, still coughing and choking.
"Try sipping it" David advised as he refilled my glass. "Knowing my dad, it'll be pretty good stuff. He's a bit of a connoisseur when it comes to the single malt".
We sprawled side by side on the bed savouring the liquor and basking in the pleasure of one another's company. This time I let the liquid trickle into my mouth. The harsh burning sensation left by the first hasty mouthful had dissipated and I was left with a warm glow that spread down my throat and into my belly.
After several minutes of complete silence David stirred. "We never did get to the bottom of that second box" he commented as he stood up and dragged the box in question to the centre of the room. I climbed off the bed and joined him. "Here! I'll let you unpack it. After all, I already know what's there. He moved to one side to give me better access.
At the bottom of the box was a second smaller box and beside it was something wrapped in an old blanket. I lifted this out carefully and unwrapped it. Cocooned inside was David's old record player. "My dad brought me a stereo hi-fi for my birthday so I thought that you might be able to use this one. It's in perfect working order".
"But I don't have any records to play on it" I said stupidly.
"Look in the other box" David suggested. I did. The small box contained a stack of singles and about a dozen albums. I began to riffle through them excitedly.
"Hey there's some really good stuff here" I gabbled; and indeed there was. The Everlys, Buddy Holly, Ray Charles and Roy Orbison singles. Amongst the albums were records by the Springfields, Elvis and Cliff Richard. "What's this!" I gasped as I reached the bottom of the box. Nestling under the rest of the stack was a copy of 'A hard Day's Night'. "My favourite group" I whooped.
"I know!" David said as I flung my arms around his neck
David disentangled himself gently from my grasp. "Let's get this thing plugged in then you can play the lot if you want". We set the record player up quickly; I put the Beatles on the turntable, turned the volume down low and sprawled back on the bed. David turned the light off leaving the room lit only by the moonlight that filtered through the thin curtains. Walking back to the bed he unbuttoned his shirt and loosened his belt. "You can say thank-you to me properly now" he whispered, lowering himself gently on top of me.
I don't know what time it was when something woke me up. We had fallen asleep on top of the bed in a tangle of naked flesh and I had my back to the door. Not wanting to wake David it had taken me a moment to wriggle free. Succeeding finally I turned over just in time to see the door close and to hear the click of the catch as it connected with the doorframe.
We both had to go back to school the following day. We woke late and I at least had a terrible headache. David had a lot further than me to go so he rushed off to catch his bus before I had chance to say anything. "I'll see you next Saturday. Usual place" he called from the front door as he left. As usual my mum shooed me out saying that she would be fine until the home help arrived.
The next couple of days were absoloute hell for me. I hadn't had chance to talk to David and I couldn't look my mother in the face I knew that she had seen us in each others arms and I was in an agony of indecision waiting for her to mention it. I didn't have to wait very long!
"Leave those" she ordered as I was clearing the table after tea two days later. "Come and sit down. There's something that we need to talk about".
I sat down nervously on the edge of the chair and waited for her to start. She said nothing but just sat there looking at me, the silence between us dragging on and on. Finally my nerve broke. "You saw us didn't you?" I blurted out, my face going red.
"What?". She looked perplexed. "Oh you and David!" she continued finally, her puzzled expression clearing. "I guessed about you and him a while back. David's a good boy. I told you the other night that you could do a lot worse".
"You mean that you don't mind?" I spluttered in astonishment.
"It bothered me a bit at first but I've got used to the idea now. In any case what could I do to stop the pair of you. If I put a stop to your love life here I've got no doubt that you'd find somewhere else to meet and you wouldn't be as safe". She stopped and sat in thought for a moment before continuing. "That wasn't really what I wanted to talk to you about, though I suppose it will do as a starting point. There's something that I should have told you about a long time ago but I didn't know how to bring it up so I kept putting things off". She stopped again and I sat in the chair, nervous and a little afraid about what I was about to hear. Finally she started again.
"I'm able to accept what's happening between you and David for two reasons. Firstly, you two seem happy together and he's helping you in ways that I never could. I don't mean the things that he gives you" she added hurriedly. "No! What I mean is that something of his upbringing; his manners and his influence; are rubbing off on you and that can only be a good thing. Anyway he's making you happy and that's very important to me. God knows I haven't been able to do much for you recently".
I sat digesting this information for a moment. "What was the second reason?" I asked finally.
"You're not the first man I've known who's attracted to other men" she answered. "Do you remember the man you used to call 'uncle' Jack?". I nodded. "Well he's like you; or at least he liked men as well as women. So you see I've had time to get used to the idea over the years. That's not really what I wanted to talk to you about though, although it has some relevance to what I want to say". She shifted in the chair to try and get mor comfortable.
"What do you remember about Jack?" she asked when she was settled once more.
"I remember that he wasn't really my uncle.
Looking back I suppose that he must have been a boyfriend of yours".
I stopped, waiting for a denial or an outburst of indignation.
My mother didn't rise to the bait. "You're half right. He wasn't really
an uncle of yours although in a way I suppose it could be argued that he was.
He wasn't my lover either". I looked perplexed; this wasn't making much
sense. "I'll try to explain but I want to ask you another question first.
How old am I?".
The question was so ludicrous that I started to laugh. "What's that got to do with anything?" I asked finally.
"Look Alan. I'm finding this very hard. Just let me do it my own way. How old am I?".
"You're sixty three or sixty four. I'm not quite sure".
"I'm sixty five in fact. Haven't you ever wondered why I'm so much older than David's mum or any other mum you know?".
"I've never really thought about it" I replied, realising even as I said it that the question of her age was something that had nagged at me for some time. Then the obvious answer hit me. "You're not my real mother are you!?".
Tears welled up in her eyes. "No" she whispered finally. "We adopted you when you were a little baby. We couldn't have children ourselves and you were our last chance. Shortly after your father; I mean my husband; was killed in an accident at work so I've had to bring you up on my own".
"I think I can just about remember something about that. I had to go and stay at aunt Dolly's house for a while and when I came back he wasn't around anymore".
"That's right. You've got a good memory though. You were only about two years old at the time".
"It's funny" I continued. "That's a memory that I've never known I had. It just popped out then". Something dawned on me. "That means that aunt Dolly and all my other aunts and uncles aren't related to me at all".
"Oh they are! Let me finish and I think that you'll understand. Jack is my half brother and Dolly is my half sister. Your uncle Walter and aunt Rose are my full brother and sister. We all have the same mother but Rose, Walter and I have a different father to Dolly and Jack. Can you follow this?".
"I understand what you're saying but if I'm adopted then they can't be my real aunts and uncles".
"I can assure you that they are!" my mother said firmly. "All except Jack that is". She paused again and took a deep breath. Before she could say anything else though the truth finally hit me.
"Jack's my father isn't he?" I stuttered, stunned by the revelation. My mother nodded and lowered her gaze. Tears were pouring down her face, so instinctivly I moved across to her side to comfort her. I realised that I was crying too. We sat comforting one another for what seemed like an eternity. Questions were whirling through my mind in a chaotic jumble and for a while I couldn't make sense of anything. Slowly though things began to sort themselves out and one question in particular began to clamour for an answer.
"If you hadn't adopted me you'd still have been my aunt wouldn't you?". She nodded. "So why was I always allowed to think that uncle Jack.... Sorry; my father was just a friend of yours and not part of the family?".
"Jack had.... Sorry! Your father had fallen out with the rest of the family and he didn't want any of them to know he was still in Bradford. He was scared that you might accidentally give the game away if you knew he was your real uncle. As it was I could explain things away to Dolly and the others if you didn't know the truth. In fact there was an occasion when I had to do just that when you started telling Walter about him. That's why you and everyone else thought he was my man friend". She smiled grimly. "Everyone thought I was a woman of loose morals. Rose even called me a slut to my face".
"I still don't understand why he didn't want the rest of the family to know he was around".
"What we were talking about earlier has a lot to do with that. Shortly after you were born your mother threw him out". I started to ask about my mother but she held her hand up to silence me. "One thing at a time. I'll tell you what little I know about her later. Let's get Jack's story sorted out first". I relaxed again. "Remember I mentioned that your father liked men as well as women". I nodded. "Well after your mother threw him out he disappeared for a while. That's when we adopted you. Your mother simply couldn't cope by herself. The next thing we heard, Jack had been arrested in Leeds and charged with gross indecency with another man. They'd been caught in Roundhay Park with their trousers down - literally!". She paused and smiled ruefully. "It was probably the same sort of thing that you two had obviously been up to the other night when I looked in. I'm sorry about that. I was only checking to see if you were awake bevcause I wanted a cup of tea".
"You gave me a bit of a shock" I admitted. "I've been terrified ever since about what you were going to say".
"I didn't know myself until I said it so now we both know".
"I still don't understand why my father's visits had to be kept secret. What he did wasn't that wrong was it? After all I'm doing the same thing and you don't seem all that upset about me!".
"Things were a bit different then. In the first place I didn't know about homosexuals in those days. Jack was the first one that I ever knew and when I found out I was just as disgusted as the rest of the family. Rose and Walter haven't spoken to him to this day. They wouldn't even let him into their homes and if they saw him in the street they'd cross the road to avoid him. Dolly was a bit better but I think that's because he's her full brother. Even she only spoke to him when she couldn't avoid it. in any case what he did was illegal and he went to jail for it".
That revelation shocked me. "Does that mean that me and David could go to jail as well?".
"That's worried me a bit since I guessed about the two of you. I think you're both too young for prison but I suppose that if the authorities found out about it there's a possibility that you could be taken into care. David's a bit older than you isn't he so I'm not certain what his position would be. I wouldn't worry about it though. You're both sensible young men so as long you're careful, no-one's going to find out". She paused for a moment before continuing. "In any case what Jack did was a lot more serious than what you two seem to be getting up to. At least you and David are about the same age. The young man that your father was caught with was only sixteen and your father had paid him".
"If you were so disgusted by what he did why did you allow him to come to the house every week?".
"I didn't for quite a long time after he came out of jail. In the end though I realised that it wasn't fair on either of you to stop him seeing you. After all he is your father. In any case when your other father died I needed all the help that I could get to bring you up".
She thought for a moment. "When I started to talk to him about things I finally realised what a desperately lonely and unhappy man he was. He told me that it's very difficult for one homosexual to meet another. After all It's always been looked on as such a perverted thing by most people that they can't exactly advertise themselves. I remember he said that there's a pub in the centre of Bradford and a private members club in Leeds which homosexuals use, but he never used to go to them himself. He said that if anyone had recognised him going in or out he'd have been branded as a degenerate. Apart from those places, the only other way to meet anyone was to hang around outside certain public toilets, or to go to the park at night to see who was there. "That's how he got caught".
I sat there trying to understand what my mother was telling me. The love that David and I had for one another didn't seem to have anything to do with what my father had done but she was saying that we were the same kind of people. That couldn't be right. After all, when it came down to it my father had paid a male prostitute to have sex with him. It all seemed so sordid. Were David and I sordid?; I didn't think so! What we did was beautiful and exciting and fun and it left me with all kinds of good feelings that I couldn't even put names to. Yet until a few days ago we had been so secretive about our feelings that we had never even been able to talk to each other about them. Neither of us had questioned why we felt embarrassed and ashamed about our sexuality but we both understood instintively that other people would be prejudiced and we would be condemned as queers or perverts or worse. I decided that I needed time to sort things out in my head; everything was happening too fast for me to take it in.. A couple of questions still nagged at me though.
"What's happened to him; my father I mean?".
"I don't know where he is now" came the answer. "You were at school one day when your uncle Walter came to see me at Valley Road and found him there. There was a big row and Walter virtually threw Jack out into the street. I never saw him again".
"Didn't he keep in touch at all? Have you heard from him?"
"He wrote to me a couple of times from Coventry and he used to send Christmas and birthday cards, but I haven't heard anything for about three years".
"You mentioned my real mother earlier. You said
you'd tell me about her"
She sat quietly for a moment before replying. "I've never knew a lot
about her. She was only a young woman; about half your fathers age. Not much
more than a girl really. From what he said, I think that they tried to make
a go of it, but on his own admission he couldn't stay faithful to her. I only
met her once; that was on the day we took you in. She said something that
always stuck in my mind. ' I think that I could have accepted his other affairs'
she said. 'We used to row about it but he always came back to me. When I found
out that one of his lovers was a man though I was physically sick. It disgusted
me and I could never bear to let him touch me again'. That was when she threw
him out" my mother continued. "Soon after that he got caught in
the park".
" Where is she now?" I asked.
"I haven't the foggiest idea Alan. She's probably still in Bradford All her family came from here and I think she had a fairly good job in one of the mills; but apart from what I've just said I don't know anything else about her. Anyway I think that I've told you as much as you can handle tonight; not that there's much more to tell". She looked at me sadly . "I 'm only sorry I couldn't bring myself to tell you a long time ago. I could never find the right time though. "I'm sorry about that!".
I couldn't think of anything to say. My mind was in utter turmoil; thoughts chasing one another in a chaotic jumble. "I'm going to bed!" I said at last. As I stood up a thought popped into my head and without thinking I spoke it. "You're still my mum and I still love you".
Over the next few days my thoughts were in a blur as I sought to come to terms with my changed status. I longed for Saturday to come so that I could tell David what was going on and perhaps gain a measure of common sense; and a cuddle or two; to help me sort things out. Two certainties stood out like beacons in this jumble of conflicting thoughts and emotions. My feelings towards my adoptive mother had to have changed in some ways but she was still the only mother I,d ever known and I still loved her very much; and I needed David more than ever for the love and support he could give me.
Saturday morning dawned and the day promised to be sunny and hot. I finished my morning chores in record time, donned shorts and a thin shirt and hurried into the city centre to meet my friend. In my rush I was far to early and had to hang around for ages waiting for him to turn up. He finally arrived looking excited; slapped me on the shoulder; his usual greeting for me in public; and told me that we had to hurry because we had a bus to catch.
"Where are we going?" I asked as we hurried up the hill to the bus station in Chester Street.
"My mum and dad were going to York for the day but mum's not too well so they gave us the tickets. I've got some money too".
At the bus station the bus was already reversing out of the stand but we managed to get on and we settled down for the journey. Only then was I able to tell David my news. He didn't seem particularly suprised and when he spoke I realised why.
"My mum once said that she wondered if you might
be adopted. She wasn't sure but she thought that you're mother was rather
old to be your real mother".
I was astonished and a bit hurt. "Why didn't you tell me?", I asked.
"Because it wasn't really any of my business. If I'd suggested something like that and you hadn't been aware it might have caused all kinds of problems between you and your mother. Anyway I think that you probably suspected that something wasn't right. You just didn't want to think about it. Does it change anything between the two of you?".
"Not really! It's taking a bit of getting used to but in the end she's the only mother I've ever known so nothing's changed there".
"In that case just put it to the back of your mind for now and get on with enjoying yourself. I'll be here if you ever want someone to talk to".
Our conversation drifted into the kind of chatter that goes on between friends who are happy in each others company and in that frame of mind we arrived in York.
Leaving the coach we purchased a guide book and started on the tourist trail. The Castle Museum and Clifford's Tower took up the morning and after a very expensive lunch in Betty's Cafe - a regular eating place for David and his parents in Bradford but a totally new experience for me - we wandered round the streets soaking up the atmosphere.
We had decided earlier that we would have to visit the Minster but we had the whole afternoon to fill and we were in no particular hurry, so when David spotted an overgrown alley guarded by a rusty but open gate we decided to explore. The path led to a graveyard at the back of the shops that lined one of the main streets and there, standing amidst a tangle of wildflowers, dog-roses and thistles was a tiny medieval church, exquisite even in neglect. Reaching the porch we found the door standing invitingly open so we entered cautiously.
The church was dark, cobwebbed and unkempt; unvisited and unused except for an occasional inquisitive tourist. Almost afraid to disturb the overpowering tranquility we sat quietly next to one another in a dusty pew.
Whispering softly, David finally broke the spell. "Will you kneel with me. I'd like to say a prayer for us both". I nodded and did as he asked. "Lord" he began. "I thank you for the happiness that I have found with David and I ask you to bless our friendship and love; a love that we dare not speak of except to you. David is the most important person in my life and, before you, I pledge my life to his in the knowledge that you will understand and forgive us if we are doing wrong". He took my hand and kissed it gently. I returned the pledge, tears streaming down my face.
We stayed for a while longer; undisturbed; contemplating the momentous bond that we had just forged before the merciful God in whom we both believed. Then as quietly as we came, we departed hand in hand, remembering just in time to let go as we rejoined the crowds of shoppers and tourists.
We had caught glimpses of the Minster several times during the day; sometimes in the distance from the City walls but more often soaring above the rooftops or towering at the end of a street; but it wasn't until; lost; we turned a corner and found ourselves under the grreat west front that we realised how vast it actually was. Our first emotion was one of momentary disappointment for much of the facade and one of the towers was hidden by scaffolding, but that feeling was quickly replaced by awe as we took in the sheer scale of the building.
As we moved towards the west door a small cloud began to drift in front of the sun, fading the light and casting soft shadows. "The guide book says that the Minster has been under repair for well over a century" David informed me as we passed under the scaffolding and into the cool dimness of the nave. "Actually I'm sure I heard a story once that if tall the scaffolding is ever removed the building will revert to the Catholic Church. I can't remember....". David's voice trailed off, stunned at the vastness of the space we had entered
At that moment a magnificent chord echoed down the building as the organ sounded. We looked at one another, each recognising the opening to the great Coronation Anthem 'I Was Glad' by Hubert Parry. It was a work we'd both sung at what had been the most important service we had ever been involved in; the consecration of the rebuilt chancel at the Cathedral. We stood transfixed as; hidden by the rood screen that divided the Minster; the choir took up the mighty litany of joy - 'I was glad when they said unto me; we will go into the house of the Lord'.
As the music rolled round the majestic vault above
us; sunlight; freed from its transitory prison of cloud erupted through the
medieval stained glass setting the building aglow in a blaze of vibrant colour.
The effect was ethereal, blinding me to my surroundings and awakening echoes
of darker vaults, sighing winds and star spangled skies.
********************
I am in the woods again; alone in the spectral vault of trees; dark shadows
impinging on the edge of my vision. I am being hunted and voices and barking
dogs have just passed my hiding place. I rise to my feet, running to escape
the horror that lurks in the darkness. Each step seems familiar and I have
a sense of deja-vu; of knowing what is about to happen. But nothing happens.
I continue to run and the feeling fades. Things are no longer the same. This
is not the wood of my childhood nightmares; this is real and I am not dreaming.
The trees are thinning out and I can see the gleam of water in the moonlight.
The sea is fringed by a beach and the sand under my feet is warm and damp as I run towards the gleam of liquid silver. Ahead of me I can see a darker shadow sprawling across the high water mark. As I near it the shadow takes on definition. It is a body; the almost naked body of a youth with bleach-white hair and a torso that is bruised and slashed. He has his back to me. I stop, uncertain of my next move. He speaks, a sibilant rattle bubbling through water.
"Come! Sit beside me. I've been waiting for you". The voice is familiar and it frightens me. I move round trying to see his face. As I do so he turns his head away, hiding it, but for an instant I catch a glimpse of something that seems to crawl across the cheek that is half turned from my sight. Then it is gone and I cannot be sure.
"Please" the voice says again. "Sit next to me. We were friends for a few short days once but that was so long ago and I have been so lonely since then".
Puzzled and hesitant I perch on the sand a short distance from the tense body with the averted eyes. "Who are you?" I ask. He says nothing. I continue to stare at the lithe but torn back and as I do so a glimmer of comprehension flits through my memory. Panicking, I grab him by the shoulder and turn him to face me. His shoulder blade crumbles soggily between my fingers and a sticky, slimy putrescence oozes out. I gag on my own bile as I pull my hand away. His arm reaches out and fingers, suddenly skeletal, force my head up so that I am looking into his face. I scream! One eyeless socket stares blankly past me; the other eye glints coldly, liquidly, into my soul. One cheek has gone; rotted away and maggoty sea-grubs crawl inside his mouth.
The voice speaks again but I do not hear It. The hands reach out to touch me but I do not feel them. I am hypnotised by the face. It is the face of the boy who died in the harbour at Whitby. It is the face of Tony.
I scream and scream again. I continue to scream until
blackness mercifully takes me.
