539

By this time the toast was made and table set.  Eleanor came in and wished them both a good day. 

While they were eating, Jason avoided any deep topics.  They talked of simple things, until when they were finished, just crumbs on the tablecloth and dregs in the teacups, he said, “Eleanor, I have to tell you something.”

She cocked her head at him, her iron-grey hair already coming loose from its grips.  Bolt whined a little at Jason’s feet, wanting another morsel of buttered toast.

“Well, I haven’t been honest with you.”

She raised her eyebrows, her eyes intelligent and kind and a little amused.

“My real name isn’t Jason Wellbury.  You remember I told you that was my name when I first came here?”

“Yes, I remember.”

“It’s … well, it’s a bit more complicated than that.  A lot more complicated. Unfortunately.  My father is the Duke of Coniston. Wellbury was my mother’s maiden name.  My real surname is Armstrong-Beaufort.  But it is such a mouthful and anyway I also have a title, Viscount Saint James.  I didn’t want any fuss.  I wanted to get away from England, from the whole situation there and …”

“I know.”  Eleanor placidly sipped her tea.

“You do?  How?” 

She smiled at Jason’s surprise.

“I guessed last night after Lucasta talked about the Queen.  I looked it up in my very old Who’s Who.  Of course, you weren’t in it, but you,” she turned to Lucasta, “were.”  She smiled slightly.

“Oh.  Right.”  Jason and his grandmother exchanged glances.  “You see, Eleanor, I’ve decided to stay in Australia, and to set up a place, a kind of hostel where gay or bisexual children who’ve been thrown out of their homes can stay.”

First Majorca Flats post       Previous MF post (#538)       Next MF post(#540)

Episodes 1 to 500 (without pictures, 20 episodes per chapter)   

536

“I’m going to do something with my money, grandam.” He looked away, absently wiping crumbs from the counter.  “I’m going to set up a trust for children or teenagers who’re thrown out of their home by their parents for being gay or effeminate or just different.”

She knew at once what he was telling her.  “I wondered whether you’d be coming back to England,” she said.

“Not to live.”  He shook his head.  “That’s why I’ve decided to tell them.  They’re—I don’t want any lies.  And I want to do something good in the world.  Make a difference.  I don’t just want to be a drone, a parasite.  You see, with Brent I … scr—failed.”  He was silent for a few heartbeats.  “It won’t be just my money.  I’ll register a charity and raise funds.  Use my money—and my name—to raise more money.  Make a splash.”

First Majorca Flats post       Previous MF post (#535)       Next MF post(#537)

Episodes 1 to 500 (without pictures, 20 episodes per chapter)   

451

“He’s was such a dear lad.  So funny and clever and wise.  But he was, well, sensitive.  No, let me be truthful.  He was a little effeminate.  But such a joy to be with, so bright and lovely.  And then he started to lose his sparkle. At first, you know, I didn’t worry.  Teenagers can be so moody.  It’s such a difficult and awkward time.  But it got worse.  I guessed he was being bullied at school.  I asked him about it but I … I didn’t think I should intervene.  I thought he should be toughened up.  Which is another way of saying, “made more manly”.  May God forgive me!”  She stopped and stared out over the peaceful vineyards.  Very quietly, she said,  “ One day he hanged himself.”

“My dear!” said Lucasta softly and put her hand on the other woman’s. 

Jason watched the two old ladies in silence, wanting, as he had the first time he’d heard the story, to weep, to howl at the universe, to strike and thump the haters.

The waiter arrived with more champagne, and topped up their glasses.

There was a long silence.  At last, Jason said, “Well you both know about me and Brent.”  “My own selfish stupidity!”

Jason didn’t expect either woman to disagree with him.  His grandmother wasn’t the kind of woman not to face facts, and nor was Eleanor.  For all their kindness and compassion there was a bleak resolution at the heart of their characters, the kind of character strength that comes from loss faced with courage. 

His grandmother said, “We all make mistakes, Jason my dear, mistakes which we wish with all our hearts we could undo.”

He smiled at her.  “I don’t believe you ever made a mistake in your life, grandam!”

She just smiled at him.

“Come!” she said.  “Let us toast something and be happy.  To friends and family!”

They raised their glasses and echoed her toast.  The champagne was pale gold in the flutes, and caught the afternoon sun which slanted through the French doors nearby.

 “You are both, to me,” said Jason, looking in turn at the two women.  Very moved, they both raised their glasses to him, but didn’t speak.

First Majorca Flats post       Previous MF post (#450)       Next MF post(#452)

Episodes 1 to 260 (without pictures, 10 episodes per chapter 

395

The Watcher was again monitoring the group sitting in the sun in the garden opposite.  A Nest of Evil, he thought with satisfaction.  Vipers and scorpions.  The two old ladies no better than the twinks.  Encouraging evil ways and abominations.  They should have forbidden the twinks the house until they’d accepted Jesus and given up their gayness.  Instead, they encouraged it.  Look at them laughing together!  Who shall be punished with everlasting destruction from the presence of the Lord, and from the glory of his power.

He would extirpate the lot of them, corrupt homo filth.  

First Majorca Flats post       Previous MF post (#394)       Next MF post(#396)

Episodes 1 to 260 (without pictures, 10 episodes per chapter

392

The Watcher lifted his binoculars and looked again at the tableau in the garden of the house on the other side of the block.  His heart began to beat and he felt dizzy.  For many heartbeats he could not believe what he was seeing.  The twink!  Right there.  Nearby.  God had delivered him into his hands.  All his doubts had been wrong.  It was a clear sign that God wanted him to go on with his work, to rid the world of these abominations.  He would get them all; the twink; his handsome friend; the old ladies too.  Father McAlister’s Irish burr sounded in his head.  Oh, good boy!

Tears trickling down his cheek, the binoculars falling unheeded to the floor, he fell to his knees and began to pray.

First Majorca Flats post       Previous MF post (#391)       Next MF post(#393)

Episodes 1 to 260 (without pictures, 10 episodes per chapter