Alan awoke still screaming. He was no longer on the beach with the rotting
corpse. Neither was in that childhood wood of his other nightmares but back
in his own room. Familiar objects surrounded him; the 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 dawn light; 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. Alan realised that he'd made the mess himself. He had been looking for something but he still couldn't remember what it was.
Something in the room was different he realised. 'But different from when?' he wondered briefly, looking round to try and spot it. Then the answer struck him. The shadows were different. Last time they'd been cast by the street-lamp outside. This time daylight was filtering through the curtains. Satisfied for the moment he put his head back and began to doze again.
June 1967.
I awoke screaming; cold clammy sweat pouring from my body. The early sun slanted in through the planking of the pier above me, burning into my eyelids and half blinding me. My arms were pinned to my side and for a moment I threshed about trying to free them. A voice cut through my terror.
"Hey! Wake up. You've been having a bad dream".
I opened my eyes. Jim and Tommy were kneeling at my side shaking me awake The sand was damp under my back and beyond me the sea trickled gently on to a wave trenched beach, splintering into a million glistening droplets of water. I relaxed, realising that my arms were simply tangled inside my sleeping bag. Struggling free I sat up, breathless and panting.
"That must have been some dream" Tommy commented mildly. "What was it about?".
"I was walking on the beach over there I think and then....". I trailed off. "I don't really want to talk about it" I lied.
"Jim spoke up. "Come on Alan; get dressed. We'll go and get something to eat. I'm famished!".
I fought my way out of my sleeping bag and hurried
to get dressed. It was quite sheltered under the pier but even so the wind
felt chilly on my bare chest. By the time I'd fastened up my boots the other
two were almost at the promenade. Tommy was carrying my rucksack as well as
his own and Jim was humping my sleeping bag under his arm. I hurried after
them,
catching up as they crossed the tram-lines. "There's a cheap cafe up
that street" Jim indicated. "I saw it when we arrived last night.
It should be open by now".
"It'd better be" Tommy countered.
We walked in, ordered breakfast and took over a table in the corner of the room. The cafe was deserted except for four young men at a centre table who were drinking mugs of tea and talking loudly.
"....and the house was simply fabulous darlings" one of them was saying. "It was one of those big old places out on the Cleveleys Road with rooms and corridors and staircases all over the place".
"Trust her to notice a staircase" one of his audience commented.
"Yeah! Anything that leads to a bed" interjected another.
"If you don't want to hear this story I can always save it for a more appreciative audience". The speaker looked briefly across at us and winked. Jim bristled! Tommy and I both shot him a warning look.
"Calm down. It's just a bit of fun" Tommy whispered. Jim slowly relaxed.
At the other table the speaker poised on the edge of his chair waiting until he had everyone's attention before resuming. "....and staircases all over the place" he continued. " He poured me a drink and told me to make myself comfortable. Then he disappeared. Well! You'll never guess what happened next".
"Go on; tell us" two of his audience chorused together. The two in fact who'd done all the interrupting so far. The last member of the group sat silently, fingering his mug and smiling quietly to himself.
"Well after about ten minutes; it might have been longer because I helped myself to another drink....".
"Trust you!".
"Look sweetheart! Do you want me to tell this story or not?".
"Sorry".
"Granted.... I'd just helped myself to another drink when he came downstairs again. He was all dolled up in this lovely, deep lemon nightie with frillie panties to match. Imagine it! This hairy great hulk in an outfit like that. I almost choked trying not to laugh at him".
"But what happened?".
"Need you ask?" came the reply. "He wanted me to turn him over. ME! just imagine it".
"Fucking queers!" Jim said under his breath.
"I imagine that's the whole point of the story" Tommy commented drily. "That one didn't appear to want to do the fucking". Jim looked at Tommy in astonishment. I blushed slightly and said nothing.
The conversation at the other table drifted into more mundane topics; hairstyle, fashion and other feminine things. It sounded very peculiar coming from a group of young men. I was fascinated. I sat watching them out of the corner of my eye, letting the conversation between Tommy and Jim drift over my head.
Three of the four young men at the table were very good looking in a strange, almost girlish way. They were all wearing silk or satiny shirts in pastel colours and the legs of two of them were encased in tight white jeans. The third member of the trio was wearing black tailored slacks so tight that I could make out the shape of his cock. One of the white trousered guys had long black hair and very large black eyes; the other one was very fair of complexion and hair. The young man in black had an olive skin but such striking blond hair that it had to be bleached. All three were chattering gaily, fluttering their hands to emphasise points that they were making.
However it was the fourth lad who held my attention. He hadn't spoken at all while I'd been observing him and in fact he didn't really seem to be on the same wavelength as the other three. He was small and stocky with a pleasant but not particularly handsome face, his nose being a little too large and his left eye having a slight squint to it. He sat quietly, saying nothing but smiling occasionally. That smile! When he turned it on; which was frequently; his soul shone out from his eyes.
Jim, Tommy and I talked almost continuously while we ate breakfast, or rather they talked while I sat there making vague comments when I bethought myself. Most of the time my thoughts weren't with my friends at all. The young man with the smile had stirred memories which I had long ago pushed to the back of my mind. It had been almost four years since I'd last seen David other than as a passing stranger and in that time I had changed a good deal. I had a good job as a wages clerk at Jeremiah Amblers weaving mill on Valley Road, quite close to the old house. I was also now living alone in the flat on Holme Wood, my mother having died in hospital a few months earlier. I had a girl friend as well and that was the most important change of all. In fact I was sitting at the table with her brother Tommy and his best mate. The resurrection of old memories was the last thing I wanted at that point in time.
As I was finishing my breakfast Jim got up to pay while Tommy began collecting our things together. When I'd finally finished we moved off. As we left I glanced back briefly. The young storyteller was waving his hand limply in our direction while his two companions sniggered at some comment he'd just made. The other lad was sitting quite still, smiling to himself at some private thought.
Outside the cafe I put the incident to the back of my mind and rejoined the conversation. Tommy was just suggesting that we go to the railway station and leave all our rucksacks and equipment in the left luggage room. "That's a good idea" I said.
"Oh so you're finally back with us" Jim commented sarcastically.
"Yeah. I was beginning to think that you'd fallen for one of those puffs" Tommy added.
"I don't think your sister would think a great deal of that" I said looking at him and trying to make a joke of his too near the knuckle remark. Nevertheless I could feel my cheeks beginning to flush.
After dumping our bags at the station we headed back to the promenade to sample the delights of the golden mile. As we walked along I began to let my thoughts drift again. There was a memory that hadn't surfaced until a few moments earlier. The last, and only other time that I had been to Blackpool was with David. Why hadn't I remembered that until now. In spite of the things that had happened since, I had to admit that we had had some good times. I began to wonder what he was doing now; who he was with?
Almost the last time that we had held one another was the day that David's parents found us together. It had been a gloriously hot bank holiday Monday and his parents had gone out for the day leaving us alone in the house. We were in the lounge with a record on at full blast, wrestling round the floor in the nude when David's mother walked in. She ran out, screaming for her husband and when he charged in we were still scrabbling frantically for our clothes. The memory of him throwing me out of the house, still naked, and shouting obscenities at me made me shudder. David had tried to stop his father, but he'd been knocked to the floor by a backhanded slap. He had then clenched his fist and smashed it into the side of my head.....
......CRASH!
I was sitting on my backside in the middle of the promenade. Blood was pouring from my nose, my head was spinning and I was having difficulty focusing. While daydreaming about the past I'd walked into a post. Tommy and Jim stood looking at me for a second, uncertain what to do; then as Jim rushed forward to help, Tommy began to giggle. He stood there rocking a little on his heels, head back, laughing hysterically. For an instant my temper started to rise and then I saw the funny side of things as well. The splutter of indignation which had started in the back of my throat turned into a snicker of laughter. I sat there, tears of mirth streaming down my face while Jim tried to stem the flow of blood from my nose.
We managed to find a washroom so that I could get myself cleaned up, then we sat out for a second time to find what the town had to offer. The amusement arcades and the various stalls were doing a roaring trade by this time and we spent the rest of the morning adding our contributions to the profits that were being made from the bingo booths and the slot machines. By lunch time the sun was high in the sky, the day was very hot and we were extremely thirsty. Standing in the middle of Talbot Square we looked around, picked a pub at random and crossed the road to it. Entering under a sign that said 'Lucy's Bar' we went down a flight of steps and into a long low room that seemed to be stuffed with plastic palms and bamboo furniture. Tucked into a corner under the stairs was a Wurlitzer organ, which was being caressed gently by an oldish man.
I went to the bar for drinks while Tommy and Jim looked for a table. As I waited to be served I scanned the room idly, not looking at anything in particular. Then I saw him. It was the guy with the radiant smile who'd been in the cafe earlier. I hurried back to the table with the drinks and hoped that he hadn't seen me. Sitting down with Jimmy and Tommy I said nothing, and hoped in turn that they wouldn't see him. I was in luck; they were too busy making plans for the afternoon. The chattering babble from the two of them began to blend in with the noise of the bar. Voices and music merged and flowed around my head as I sank into a reverie. I began to speculate again about what had happened to David.
I had only seen David a few more times after my beating by his father, and most of those meetings; some accidental, some arranged; had been uncomfortable for us both. The thrashing I got had made me realise, probably for the first time, that what David and I had been doing was regarded as obscene by most people. I had never looked at it in quite that light before. I had never understood that something that had made us so happy was disgusting to most people. I supposed that my mother's acceptance had somehow lulled me into a false feeling of rightness. The violence done to me had knocked out all the illusions and preconceptions I had held. It had also fatally damaged my feelings for David.
The first time we met after the trauma of our discovery had been very painful for both of us. We were embarrassed and that made us tongue tied. We got away from one another as quickly as we could. The second meeting was accidental and I would have walked right passed without acknowledging him had he not restrained me.
"We have to talk Alan. I really am sorry about what happened and I've got so much to tell you".
I glared at him coldly for a moment, but the sorrow and pain in his eyes cut so deeply into my heart that I gave in. "The flat's empty" I said. "Mum's at the hospital until tea-time so we can go there".
Back at the flat I put the kettle on and then sat down facing David across the kitchen table. After a moment he spoke. "I said I was sorry about what happened with you and my dad and I am; but I'm not sorry about getting caught. I think that it might have been a good thing for us!".
I looked at him in astonishment. "How do you mean?".
"After my dad threw you out he told me to pack my bags and get out as too. It was murder at first. I wanted to come here and ask if I could stay, but it didn't feel right. I knew how upset and ashamed you were. I slept rough for a couple of days and then a friend offered me a bed until I could get myself sorted out. Anyway after a few days there I managed to find a small flat. It's just two rooms actually but it's very cosy. What's more I've got a job as well. It's not much but it's enough for us to live on. Alan, I'd like you to come and live with me".
I looked at him. "I.... I can't. I don't want to leave home. Who'd look after my mother?". Even as I spoke I knew it was just a convenient excuse.
"But Alan; I love You!". His voice was desperate; pleading. "I've been making all sorts of plans for us. I've got the landlord's permission to let someone move in with me. We can be together without anyone finding out". Seeing the look of utter disbelief on my face he continued. "If you're worried about your mother, I suppose I could always come and live here; that is if you and your mother will let me. That way we could both look after her". He stood up and came round the table. Grasping my shoulders, He bent down to kiss me.
"Don't touch me!" I yelled at him, pushing him away sharply. "You haven't even asked what I might want. You've been making plans. Well what about my plans? What about the things that I want?".
"What do you want Alan?"
"Well to start with I don't want to sleep with you or any other man". I spat out at him. "I've felt dirty and ashamed ever since your father caught us. Do you realise how disgusting we are. Every time I go out I feel as if everybody's watching me. When we met today it felt as if everyone could see what we had done; as if they could see our bodies tangled together just as your father saw us"
David looked at me, his eyes full of tears. "Alan", he said. "You 're really so innocent about things aren't you? I want to help you if you'll let me. There's a whole world out there just waiting for us. We're not the only two men who are in love with one another. I've met loads of people who are just like us. I've even been to bed with.....". He stopped and looked away for a moment, embarrassed. "I was going to tell you about that later" he whispered, then looked back at me a little defiantly and saw the look of disgust in my eyes. "Well; what do you expect" he snapped. "You weren't around and I was getting very frustrated . You're the only one I want though" he said more gently. "I realise that now!".
A tear gathered in the corner of my eye. "What's happened to you David?". I asked. "I'm not around, so you have to have someone else. "You make everything that we had sound so cheap and nasty".
"I think we've both changed Alan! Do you remember that first time down by the lake? It was me that was ashamed then. I can't believe how naive I was. You were always the strong one and yet now you call it all so sordid and dirty. I used to think that, but no more. Sex is a very beautiful thing whoever it's with. Just try to remember what we used to have between us. It's still there inside you if you'll set it free". He smiled at me and his face lit up in the way that I'd always found irresistible.
"You're confusing me so much David" I stammered. "You always....".
"Hey wake up there". Jim broke in on my reminiscences. "We're going. Are you coming with us or not?".
I struggled back to reality. My thoughts were still swirling with images of my past. "Er..... What..... Where are we going then?".
"We thought that we'd take a walk and see if we can find a room for the night " Tommy said. "I don't fancy sleeping under the pier again".
At that moment I didn't feel like moving. I wanted a little time on my own. "I'm feeling a bit queasy" I lied. "I'll stay here a while if you don't mind".
"That's OK" Tommy said. "You've seemed a bit off all day. We'll meet up with you at five o'clock on the promenade, opposite the tower". He looked concerned. "Are you going to be all right on your own?".
I nodded. " Don't worry" I joked. "If I'm not there, just look for me in the nearest pub". I waved them away.
Jim turned quickly and disappeared through the crowd around the bar. Tommy hesitated, and then with a quick, puzzled look in my direction he left.
I sat back, relaxing in a pool of comparative calmness amidst the clatter and chatter of the bar. After a while I began to look round cautiously, examining the room and the people in it. A peculiar atmosphere percolated through to my subconscious; uncomfortable but exciting. Something about the ambience of the place fascinated me but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. The music from the organ had stopped some time before and a juke box had taken over. At the moment a Judy Garland record was murmuring away in the background, occasionally drowned by the swell of voices then coming across clearly as the chatter ceased for a few seconds. The bar was full but the noise never became overpowering. In fact the ebb and flow of sound began to lull me into a somnolent state which was very restful. Then a voice impinged on the daydream, very soft, very close.
"Can I join you?".
I looked up. It was the boy from the cafe. He smiled a little hesitantly, a shy and slightly embarrassed look in his eyes.
"Sure" I said without even thinking. "Why not!".
He sat down quickly, putting his beer on the table in front of him. "My name's Victor" he said, putting his hand out for me to shake. A little nervous at my impulsive decision to let him join me. I hesitated before taking it.
"I'm Alan".
"I know! I heard your friends talking in the cafe this morning. I've no doubt you heard us too". I said nothing. " I don't normally go up to complete strangers like this" he added hastily. "But it looked as if you didn't belong with you're friends. I kept noticing you and you had such a nice smile that I just had to come over when I saw you on your own".
"That's funny. I was thinking the same thing about you. You didn't look as if you ought to be with those.... ". I trailed off in utter confusion. "I mean......". We looked at one another in embarrassed silence then we burst out laughing at the same instant. The ice was broken.
"Who were those lads that you were with this morning?" I asked when we'd stopped giggling.
"One of them's my brother. The other two are mates of his. I don't normally knock around with them but we were all at the same party last night".
"Oh I did wonder. They seemed very .....". I trailed off in another fit of embarrassment.
"Queer you mean? Yes they are. So am I if it comes to that" Victor said matter of factly.
"I thought you didn't like that word" I countered nervously, for I wasn't sure that I liked the way the conversation was drifting. "I thought you preferred the word homosexual; or what's that word that the Americans use". I sought to drag the word from my subconscious while Victor sat there saying nothing. Then it came to me. "That's it! Gay! I thought that was the term you all preferred these days"
Victor looked at me intently. "So you do know the slang" he said quietly. "I wondered".
"Which one of the guys is your brother?" I asked quickly, trying to change the subject.
"He's the dark skinned one with the bleached hair".
"I know who you mean. He had very tight black trousers on didn't he?". Flustered again, I changed direction. " I'd never have thought you were brothers. You don't look a bit alike".
"Actually we're step brothers. My father died and my mother remarried. He's Spanish. My step father I mean". I looked at Victor, but couldn't think of anything to say. He sensed this and continued. "Who are your friends then".
"Tommy and Jim. Jim's the plump one!" I answered. "We've been on a camping holiday in the lake district but it's never stopped raining over there, so we decided to have a couple of days here before going home again. It's funny; as soon as we got here the sun came out. Tommy's my girlfriends brother" I finished defensively.
"They didn't think much of this place did they?"
Victor commented.
"I don't really know; they didn't say anything about it. You're probably
right though. There's something odd about the atmosphere. They must have felt
it as well I suppose".
"I think I know what it might be" Victor said softly. "Haven't you ever been in a gay bar before?".
Everything clicked into place. "I know there are such places" I admitted, remembering what my mother had told me all that time ago. "But I haven't really thought about it before. I suppose we....er you all need somewhere to meet". I could have kicked myself for that slip.
Victor looked me right in the eyes. "You are gay aren't you!". It was a statement, not a question. I decided to be honest with him.
"I thought I might be at one time and then I decided I didn't want to be. At this moment I just don't know and it terrifies me". I paused for a moment to collect my thoughts and then, hesitantly at first, I began to tell him about David. He listened without interruption until I'd finished and then he asked me a question.
"What happened to him?".
"He still lives in that little flat in Bradford that he got after his dad threw him out. I see him once in a while but we don't say much to one another. I heard that he's got someone living with him now".
Another question. "Do you love him?".
"I think I did. I was thinking about him earlier today. I haven't done that for a long time. Seeing you in the cafe this morning brought back a lot of memories for me. There's something about you that..... I mean that you remind me so much.....". I trailed off, realising that I was starting to get far too involved.
Victor looked at me and I could see his mind working towards a decision. "Would you like to come back to my place for a while?" he asked finally. " I think you need someone to talk to and this place is too noisy for that. My place is just round the corner" he added.
"I don't know if I ought to. I'm a bit.....". I hesitated, looking for the right word. Victor broke in.
"Look Alan; I'll admit I find you very attractive
but I'm not going to do anything about it..... Unless you want me to".
He looked at me with a directness that I found very disarming.
"OK. then" I said "I think I can trust you. Lead the way".
Victor's flat consisted of a large attic bed-sitter with a shared kitchen and bathroom on the floor below. The furniture was Victorian; massive and ugly; but the room was spotlessly clean. The walls were white and covered with un-framed paintings; mainly townscapes and sea front scenes but hanging among them were a couple of male nudes, one of Victor himself.
"Who painted these?" I asked, indicating
the nudes.
"Guilty" Victor admitted. "I'm not very good at painting but
I enjoy doing it. Have a seat" He continued. I .looked around. The chairs
were all taken by stacks of books and magazines. "You'll probably have
to perch on the bed" he continued as he picked up a dirty mug and plate.
"Would you like a cup of coffee or something?" He asked as, mind
made up for me, I sat down the bed.
"I'd rather have a cup of tea".
Victor disappeared from the room leaving the door open. I could hear him moving about in the kitchen downstairs. I sat there, musing about my reasons for coming back with him. Had I done the right thing? I was being forced to admit to myself that he was rousing feelings in me that I thought I'd buried forever. That scared me!
My train of thought was broken when Victor came back carrying a tray. Kicking the door shut behind him he put the tray on the bedside table and sat down next to me. Settling down, he spoke.
"You know, when I said that I found you very attractive I didn't just mean that I want to take you to bed. I was trying to say was that you seem to have qualities that make me want to get to know you. I like you a lot already. You seem so vulnerable; so new to the scene. There's this feeling of innocence about you. I suppose that's part of what makes me so attracted to you. I wouldn't be honest with you if I tried to hide it". He paused and broke eye contact. "You must think I'm mad babbling on like this. It's just that I don't normally ask anyone back here so I'm probably as nervous as you". He paused and looked up again, a shyness in his eyes.
"I don't think you're mad at all Victor"
I said, trying to reassure him. "I couldn't have gone up to a stranger
in a pub like you did. That took a lot of nerve. I'm sort of pleased you did
though. I think that I've wanted to talk to you since I first saw you. I'm
still scared though. I'm beginning to wonder if I did the right thing by coming
back here. I'm becoming more and more aware that things could happen between
us if I let my feelings get the better of me and I'm not sure that's what
I want. One part of me is saying that what I'm thinking is disgusting, but
another bit of me is saying 'So what; go ahead and enjoy it'.
"But...." Victor began.
"No ! Let me finish In the pub earlier you more or less told me that I was queer and I sort of admitted it. I've never done that before except to David..... and my mum" I added, remembering. "I've always found it hard to admit, even to myself, although I suppose I must have known deep down since that first time. What scares me is the fact that I'm finally having to acknowledge it to myself. I don't want to be thought of as queer after what David's dad did to me. If that's the kind of reaction that gays are subjected to then I don't want to know".
"Listen to me Alan. I can't help you with your past; that's something that you'll have to sort out for yourself; but I can tell you this. You've got to stop tormenting yourself. I sensed that you were gay when I first saw you and I'm certain of it now. You've got to come to terms with that or you'll end up fucking up your whole life. I know; I've been there! It's not that long since I accepted my own homosexuality". Victor shifted towards me and took my hand in his, pulling me towards him. I sensed what was about to happen and knowing that I'd lost control of the situation, I panicked. Lashing out with my free hand I caught him full in the face and knocked him onto the pillow. His nose began to bleed but he didn't attempt to staunch the flow. He just turned his head away to hide his tears. Strangely, he still clung on to my hand. I looked at him for a moment shaking with rage then slowly I regained control of my emotions and the anger began to drain away, to be replaced by sorrow.
I reached across the bed to turn his head towards me with my hand; the hand that had hit him. He flinched and then relaxed. There was blood on his cheek and the counterpane was stained.
"Let go of my hand Victor" I said gently. "I'll get something to clean you up". Going down to the bathroom I found a flannel and a towel. Returning to his room I sat back on the edge of the bed. As I sponged his face he began to talk.
"I'm sorry that I provoked you into hitting me" he said sadly. "It was all my fault. I shouldn't have let my feelings get the better of me after promising not to touch you. Are you still angry?".
"No. Not now" I responded, cleaning the last of the blood from his nose and drying his face gently with the towel. "Hitting out was a stupid thing to do. It's me who ought to say sorry. I got scared and panicked that's all".
"Are you scared now?".
"A bit " I confessed. "But whatever happens now I wouldn't be able to hit you again".
Victor took my hand again and pressed it to his lips. "Thanks" he said. "I hope that we understand each other a bit better now".
I responded to his touch. Stretching out at his side on the bed I put my arm under his shoulder and pulled his head to me, cradling it on my chest. We lay together for a long time without moving or speaking. I began to think once again of the past. This scene; arm around body, head on chest; was reminiscent of another time long ago. Stolen moments in a glade by a pool; wet, glistening bodies and burning loins. Past memories grew sharper; the present faded. Victor or David. It didn't matter? I turned to kiss the tear stained face at my side
********************
I am lying on my back naked, covered only by at thin cotton sheet. The air is warm and humid and smells of sweat and sex. A hand - not mine - rests on top of the sheet, the hard fingers gently massaging my chest. The movement of the hand excites me and I begin to respond, arching my spine to push hard against the pressure of the exploring fingertips and screwing my eyes even more tightly shut as the ecstasy builds.
A voice, soft and insistent, hovers on the fringe of consciousness; the words muffled and unintelligible. That doesn't matter. Nothing matters except that I am in a state of extreme arousal. I strain more fiercely against the pressure of the fingers and in response they begin to move down towards my groin. The voice is becoming more insistent; more demanding; competing against the lusts that rack my body. At last the words pierce my brain, a familiar voice echoing in some deep cavern of memory.
".....and I will have my revenge. What you have done is an abomination of the laws of God. You took my life and you have lived in sodomy and evil. You have no right....."
"NO! NO!". I began to struggle; fighting now against the caress that I had previously sought to seduce. My eyes open and I see my lover. A bony half fleshed skull with one eye leers down on me. One skeletal hand is grasping at my balls, squeezing them agonisingly. The other hand holds me by the shoulder, piercing the skin and shaking me in anger..... shaking....... shaking..... shaking.....
