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A tale of the people who live in an Edwardian Terrace in Melbourne; their friends and lovers.
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Saturday, 21 March 2015
Friday, 20 March 2015
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.”
Episodes 1 to 500 (without pictures, 20 episodes per chapter)
Labels:
bullying,
ChrisTaliban,
Christian-Fascist,
gay hatred,
homophobia
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