459

Jason fetched another bottle and the wine bottle opener.  He topped up their glasses from the open bottle, and took off his shoes, sitting on the other end of the sofa Keith was sitting on, and put his socked feet into Keith’s lap. 

“So,” he said.  “Esmé?”

“Yeah, well, I loiked her.  I found her sexy, actually, if ya mus’ knaow.” He looked at Jason half defiantly, half guiltily.  Jason opened his hands in a what-would-you gesture, his lifted eyebrows inviting Keith to keep going.

“Yeah, well, some gay blaokes have a fit if ya’re, ya knaow, bi.”

“Well, maybe they’re afraid you’ll leave them and go straight.”  Jason didn’t add that that was his own secret fear.  But even though he was worried, he had faith that he and Keith and Luigi and Cody, and Esmé, too, would be able to sort it out.

“Oh nao, Oi would never do that.  And that was the problem with Esmé.  I main, she knew I was gay …”

“ … somewhat gay …”

“… yeah.  I taold her roight at the beginning.  But … shay fell in love with mai.  And shay’s so vulnerable, Jace, so wounded.  And so fuckin’ noice.  We had a hard toime of it.  And Oi hurt her, aiven though Oi didn’t main to.”

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458

The wine was delicious, and felt just right for a chilly autumn night.

Jason wondered what the two women had been talking about.  It was obvious they had become friends, close friends.  He envied that.  Women seemed to be able to do that, to drop the barriers to intimacy, so much easier than men.  It had taken weeks for him and Keith to become friends.  And maybe, if he hadn’t been grieving about Brent’s suicide, he himself might never have let his barriers down and so got close to Keith.  The sex helped.   But only if you already liked each other.  Well.  Maybe not.  He and Luigi were friends.  And lovers. 

They talked about neutral subjects and then both women rose and headed off to bed.

As she bade them goodnight, Eleanor said, with a slight quirk in her eyebrows, that there were more bottles of wine in the pantry in the kitchen and they were welcome to it if they wanted.

“Thank you!” replied Jason.  “Good night.  See you in the morning.”

“Good night Jason dear so nice to be here and now at last I will be able to sleep properly this jet lag business so barbarous bring back the Queen Mary I say.”

After this surprisingly short speech, Lucasta too headed off up the stairs to the bedroom.

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Previous episodes

I've started uploading previous episodes of MF to my new WordPress blog, which allows an unlimited number of "pages" and so can be both a blog and a website.  It's so easy to use I am thinking of diverting my website there too.  We'll see.

Meanwhile, I've started uploading previous episodes, twenty at a time.  The first few can be found here.

457

Bolt was waiting for them, and so were the two old ladies.  They were in the drawing room and for the first time since Jason had come to Australia there was a fire lit in the fireplace.  It was chilly out, a still night with a slight southerly off the Antarctic seas.  The fire was mostly ash and embers but the room was warm.  Both women nursed glasses of wine, and there was an open bottle of red on the table.

“Oh, how nice you’re home early!” exclaimed Eleanor.

“How nice you’re still up!” answered Jason, smiling at her in pleasure.

“When you’re old you don’t sleep as much which is as if God wants you to make the best of your time on earth though I expect Canon Green would denounce that as untheological though I’ve always thought that we should interpret the Bible and all that stuff our own way because each of us sees the world differently but I’m sure he Canon Green I mean would be very gentle because he’s such a good man and far nicer than that bishop who’s some connexion of your mother so pedantic and full of himself and so unctuous and orotund like a badly made vase with moth-eaten hair.”

Eleanor placidly listened to this confused effusion and as soon as a small gap emerged in the conversation said,

“There are some glasses in that sideboard over there, Jason.  Do have a glass—you too Keith—if you would like one.” 

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456

At eleven, when Jason started making time-to-go noises, Keith said,

“Hang on a tick.  I’ll come with you.  It’s not very busy. I’ll just go and talk to Tom.”

Jason stayed at the bar while Keith went out the back to Tom.

Tom came out with Keith.

“Look after Keitho, Jace.  With this murderer around.”  From which Jason gathered that Keith had told Tom all about Luigi and Cody and what had happened.

“With my life,” he replied, holding Tom’s gaze, no hint of a smile.

Tom’s eyes glinted. 

“Good.”  He shook Jason’s hand, the first time he’d done so, and then he kissed Keith deeply on the mouth in front of the whole bar.  It should have looked odd, a 50-plus man passionately kissing someone half his age, but instead Jason was absurdly touched.  We blokes think a lot about sex, he thought, but it’s love that connects us.  And then, but we do have complicated love lives.

On the pavement outside, Keith said,

“You want to go to my place instead of yours? It’s closer.  And more private.”

“Well, yeah, normally, but now that grandam is here, I’d like to see her for breakfast.”

“What about me?  Us?  Won’t she … you knaow?”

Jason stopped and turned to look at him.  He brushed his finger across Keith’s lips.

“She’s happy for me,” he said.  “She really truly accepts me.  She and my sister were the only people who understood about Brent and me.  It’ll be OK.”

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455

“Yeah.”

Jason waited for Keith to speak.

After what seemed like forever, Keith sighed and said, “Esmé.”

“You regret being … lovers?”

“Well, no.  Not at all.  Not in that way.  But I do regret hurting her.”

He was silent for a little while.  Just as he was about to speak, another crowd of men came up to the bar demanding drinks and food.  Keith leaned over towards Jason and whispered “I’ll tell you later,” squeezing Jason’s bum at the same time.  Jason got an instant erection.

“Hey, can I have one of those too?”  It was one of the crowd at the bar, a handsome blond man with a ripped t-shirt.

:Fuggeddit, sista,” said Keith, flipping his hands.  “Way beyond ya proice range, swaitie.”

“Yeah?  What does it cost?”

“Very, very expensive.  You havta be moi friend.”

“How can I do that?” asked the customer, grinning suggestively.

“You can start by shuttin’ the fuck up,” said Keith, compressing his lips and slitting his eyes.  “But we do naid somebody to work here.  Prove your ability by clainin’ the toilets.  The claining’ stuff’s in the cupboard.”  He pointed.

The other man just grinned again, raised his beer bottle in salute, and went away.

“Two things,” said Jason, when they had another moment of relative quietness.

“Yeah?”

“One.  You’re going to get beaten up one day.”

“Not if I have big macho you here, to put the frighteners on them.”

Jason’s eyes glinted.  “Aren’t you going to ask what the second thing is?”

Keith put his head on one side and stuck out his tongue.

“Two,” continued Jason firmly, “you’ve given me a hard-on.”

“Just as well wai’ll be able to solve that problem later, then, isn’t it?”

“You mean I must wait?” Jason’s tone was incredulous.

“Yeah.  My appointment book is full.  Lemme look.”  He flipped open an imaginary diary.  “Well fuck me sideways, it’s got some bloke Jason in here.  Who the fuck is he, I wonder.”  He winked.

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454

In the next quiet patch, Keith said to Jason,

“Ya’d girlfriends too, didn’t ya?”

“Yeah.  And a boyfriend at school.”

“Ya did?  What happened?”

“I think he was just randy.  I don’t know truly.  But he just moved on when he went to varsity.  As if all our intimacy and closeness was nothing. When we met by chance again … he was …. There was nothing between us.  I think I was starting to dislike that upper class stuff even then.  He was married and plump and obsessed with all that—you know, holidays in the right place, the right wife, the right suit, shoes from Church’s.”

“Church’s?”

“They make bespoke brogues.  Two or three thousand pounds a pair.”

“Amazin’.”

“And because of that … shit … I lost Brent.”  Jason was silent for a while.  Keith put his hand on Jason’s back.  It radiated warmth and comfort.

“We all make mistakes,” Keith said.

“That what grandam said when we talked about it at lunch.  But she never made mistakes.”

“OK, mate.  We might not all make mistakes, but we all have regrets, roight?”

“Yes.  True.  Mr Wisdom. Even you?”

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