Love is a Banquet

Reading the film magazines I realised there were films that I would like to see that we wouldn't get in our cinema -- more Art House type films. So I dragged Dulcie with me to Bristol to see them. Bob's not bothered about films so he didn't mind me going too much. Sometimes Adam would come too - he was very good company -- much more interested in the films and the wider world than Dulcie. One time we three went to a gay club after the film -- it was brilliant! Such an eye-opener! Bob would kill me if he ever found out. I could see why Adam was keen to settle there -- it's a completely different world.

I've run out of things to dry up already -- and there's still lots of stuff on the side. Jake is up to his elbows in the soapy water , the bubbles reaching his rolled up shirt sleeves. His head is bowed and he's strangely quiet.

'What is it? What's wrong?' I ask.

'What do you think he would say?'

'Who? What about?' I'm confused, maybe I missed something he said.

'Dad. What would he have said about me? About me and Leo?' His voice is unsteady, close to tears.

'Oh Jake. He loved you and would have supported you. You know he always wanted us to be happy.'

'Do you really think so, Sandy?' he asks, so seriously, turning around from the sink.

'Of course. Come here, silly.' I feel his wet hands and shirt sleeves as he puts his arms around me, hugging me tightly. Bob appears in the doorway and I shoo him away silently with the tea towel that I still have in my hand.

Leo's mother

Christmas is such hard work! Why do we always invite people round in the morning? So I've been up since dawn making sure everything is organised. I don't know what I'd do without Millie, she's an angel. She made baking sheets of apricots wrapped in bacon and little sausages and other little canapes before going off for her Christmas dinner at her daughter's. And after she'd got ours all cooking in the oven. She really is a little dynamo! Peter's useless and manages to be hiding in his study whenever I need anything. And then when everyone's here he lurks in the corner with his business cronies. I keep telling him he needs to mix and mingle, but he doesn't take any notice.

Of course Darragh and little Jen were their usual reliable selves -- Jen talking horses and Darragh giving advice on garden trees and talking farm subsidies to the more rural contingent. Leo was useful for once; taking coats and serving drinks and flirting outrageously with my friends. I've never noticed before just how charming he can be. And he was charming to Melissa -- whose awful parents I'd invited simply so that Leo could meet their daughter. Of course that's quite ironic in retrospect, knowing now what I do.

The dinner table was veritably groaning under the weight of roast goose, parsnips and potatoes and rest of the vegetables. We were all dished up and tucking in when I, in all innocence, was waxing lyrical over the charms of Melissa Browne; looking pointedly at Leo. He did look a tad uncomfortable and said someone was moving in with him after Christmas. Initially I was delighted and was going on somewhat, trying to elicit information about Leo's 'girlfriend'. I thought it was rather unnecessary of Darragh to be quite so blunt. He's apparently known for ages -- how I was expected to know this I don't know! Poor Peter was nearly apoplectic -- blaming all those holidays with his brother. Thank goodness we've got Darragh, at least we've done something right. Of course we love Leo -- he can't help it after all -- but it's not something one really wants to tell the world. I do hope he's going to be circumspect and not flaunt it in our faces.

Leo's always been different from his brother, right from when they were little . Darragh was slow and steady -- a bit of a plodder I suppose. He would 'try and try again' with a task, until he could do it; whereas if Leo couldn't do it straight away he would lose his temper. I remember he once threw his shoe right through the window (closed at the time) because he couldn't master tying his shoelaces. Leo was always the one who ended up in Casualty -- falling from a tree, falling off his bike. He was always so adventurous, so reckless. He had a great curiosity -- always 'wanted to know what would happen if . . .' Now I'm wondering if he was so different then because he was going to grow up gay? Could we have done something differently? I really don't know what influence Robert had.

Because of the gap in their ages Darragh had just gone away to college when Leo turned 14. I could have so done with Darragh's steadying influence then: Leo was such an awful teenager. Darragh worked hard at school and was never in trouble. Leo never seemed to do any work, and Peter and I were never out of the Head Teacher's office. Once Darragh had gone Leo seemed to go completely wild. He didn't have a single 'best friend' -- that might have helped. But there was a whole series of 'best friends' that he was never apart from, until one day when they would be replaced with the next one. Some barely lasted a week! I have to wonder now about the nature of these relationships: but he was too young then, wasn't he?

Dinner was it's usual culinary success anyway. The goose was cooked to perfection -- all credit to Millie! And of course Jen had brought her funny little nut roast with her as usual. I always feel sorry for her as we're tucking into great portions of gooseflesh, but she seems quite happy. I did notice that Darragh had more nut roast than goose this year -- I hope he's not going to become a faddy eater as well. I was watching Leo eat his; everything he does now seems different -- he's like a completely new person -- not the person I thought he was. I wonder how Peter will be with him, once he calms down and gets used to the idea. They've never been very close though; Leo's always gone to Darragh instead of his father. Must have a word with him, get him to try and talk some sense into Leo.

Apparently I've met Leo's 'friend' -- they were introduced at Marjory's do -- but I can't remember him at all. I do remember that awful fat woman with the unfeasible red hair though -- he was a friend of hers -- that doesn't bode well, I must say! And Leo says they've been to stay with Robert. I don't think Peter was terribly pleased about this -- his brother being more 'in the know' than he was. But since Peter really only speaks to Robert to arrange our use of the villa a few times a year -- it's not surprising really.

We seem to have got through rather more wine than usual this Christmas Dinner. Peter keeps refilling everyone's glass with a rather false bonhomie that's getting on my nerves. I feel if I have any more wine I shall become positively hysterical.

Jen

I always find Christmas such a trial with Darragh's parents. They're such hard work and I feel as if I have to be 'in character' all day. The things we do for those we love! And this year things have been even more intense than usual with Leo's announcement. I thought Peter was going to have a heart attack. I'm really pleased for Leo, even if his family aren't.

I first met Leo when Darragh took me home, from college, one weekend to meet his family. It was an inauspicious introduction - I was in the bathroom, looking into the mirror, trying to get something out of my eye -- I'd not locked the door in my haste. Leo, who could have been no more than 16 at the time, came barging in: a taller, ganglier, pimply version of Darragh, a very skimpy towel barely covering his early morning erection. At first I thought he'd burst in on purpose, deliberately, to intimidate me, with that aggressive sexuality that teenage boys sometime have. But when I looked up at him, blinking and bleary from poking about with my eye, I saw the same gorgeous green eyes as his brother's. However Leo's were full of hurt and confusion and his faced flushed so deeply crimson, I knew it was accidental. Poor boy, he muttered something incoherent and fled. Thankfully the rest of my weekend had gone fine, Darragh's parent's seeming to approve of me.

Darragh wasn't my first boyfriend, but he'd been my first for a long, long time. I had refused a lot of dates in the Sixth Form and it wasn't until Agricultural College that I fell in love with Darragh. I have really only been in one other serious relationship. I'm not sure how I ended up going out with Steve; I remember how the relationship finished, but not how it started. There were other boys that hung out at the park that were nicer and better looking, but somehow it was Steve that I was going out with that Spring.

I was fifteen and flattered by the attention I suppose; Steve was the oldest of the gang and having been brought up in Canada had an allure and a sophistication that the other boys lacked. I didn't much like him really, he was big-headed and self-obsessed, but he had my parents' approval, especially that of my mother - which made for an easy life.

Going out with Steve was entering another world - the world of dresses and high-heels - the world of going out to pubs - the world of adults. I embraced this new phase in my life, leaving my childhood behind. I lost my virginity to Steve without really giving it much thought - the time was right. I'd been having sex by myself for as long as I could remember, so this was the next logical, and not very big, step. I sometimes wonder if I chose Steve because deep down I wasn't really bothered about him - I didn't have any expectations. It wasn't a big romantic moment in my life - no roses and candlelight and soft music. But it was done and and whilst it wasn't earth shattering I did enjoy the closeness and intimacy with another person.

I had been going out with Steve for about nine months and could easily see my future with him -- quite a few of his friends were engaged and one couple were married and expecting a baby. It would have been easy enough to get used to dressing up to go out and wearing make up, after all I had to grow up sometime and this was how grown ups lived. I could probably have got used to him going on about being a bloody postman -- but it's not that interesting a job. The way he shaved also really annoyed me: he was so precise, shaping his moustache and sideburns -- and always doing it in front of me -- like it was some kind of performance art.

Something rebelled within me and after a day of mooching about in my jeans, and feeling almost angry at the prospect of having to get dressed up to go out that evening brought me to a decision. I asked him which me he liked best -- the me all smart in dress, tights and high heels or the me in jeans, T-shirt and boots. He picked the wrong one. It was a relief it was over but it gives me a strange feeling when I think of how easy it would have been to eventually become that girl who was comfortable wearing make up and high heels.

I look at Darragh, sitting at the table next to me. He is so handsome; shorter and broader than Leo, his arms and shoulders are strong and well muscled, all that dry-stone walling and fencing he does. He keeps his hair shorter now and I run my fingernail gently across the back of his neck; he turns and smiles at me, his cat eyes melting my insides. He has been watching Leo, all through the meal. I'm not too sure that he entirely approves, but . . . and this is a selfish thought, but maybe now we can get on with our lives. These past few months Leo's been much calmer and settled. Knowing that we're not going to get a phone call or a distraught Leo knocking on our door in the middle of the night will be very welcome.

Once I remember Leo turning up at about 3am knocking on the door and crying hysterically. He'd driven all the way down from Manchester, thirty miles, in such a state -- he'd obviously been attacked, his face was grazed and swollen, his lips split and scabbing, and he was well on the way to having a black eye. His shirt was ripped and spattered with blood and his jeans were torn, covered in mud and grass stains. We sorted him out as best we could -- but we couldn't persuade him to go to hospital, or talk to the police. Darragh led him upstairs and ran a bath for him; I handed him a towel and got really upset -- he must have been kicked in the ribs -- I could practically see shoe sole patterns on his body. After a soak, wrapped in Darragh's old towelling robe, he sat on the sofa, still crying, shaking so violently he kept spilling his mug of tea.

We still don't know exactly what happened, all he would say was that he'd 'picked the wrong one that night'. Poor Leo, and poor Darragh, I hated to see him so bewildered as he was when Leo was in major trouble. Most of the time he'd be able to sort him out -- with some good brotherly advice or some emergency cash, a hot meal and on occasions somewhere to sleep overnight, but sometimes we were out of our depth.

Chapter Six Home-Made Pizza

Jake

I wish universities had half terms too; then we could have been together all this week. It's been really nice being home this week though. 'Home.' It doesn't seem that long ago Leo was helping me pack up all my stuff. Between Christmas and New Year and it was freezing. We were going to do it after the New Year, but we wanted New Year's Eve to be our first night living together. So we spent that evening surrounded by boxes of my belongings. It was brilliant though; such a good time to start our life together. We drank a couple of bottles of fizzy stuff and stood out in the garden at midnight and watched other peoples' fireworks, before celebrating in the best way we knew, entwined together, skin to skin, leaving no space whatsoever in between us.

I'm cooking tea for us. I love cooking for two; Leo is so appreciative of the meals I make. He says the only thing he can really make is spaghetti bolognaise, so I usually do the cooking and he washes up. Tonight it's scone base pizza, with mushrooms, olives, anchovies, green peppers and home made tomato pizza topping. It's in the oven so the kitchen is smelling beautiful. The radio is on so that I can listen to 'The Archers' while I lay the table. I'm looking forward to this evening. There's some red wine to have with the pizza and then a bottle of white in the fridge for later. We can curl up on the sofa and watch 'Priscilla Queen of the Desert' -- I can't believe Leo hasn't seen that film.

I hear the front door and my heart beats faster: Leo's back. But there are two tall, dark haired, gorgeous looking guys. I wipe my hands on my apron and offer my hand in welcome; freezing mid-shake when Leo introduces us.

'Jake, this is Marco.'

I remember him now from Patrick's Restaurant, and my heart sinks. I asked Leo at the time about him, but he just said something about him being one of his many conquests. But I recall the look in Leo's eyes; hurt and bewildered. I knew there was more to this Marco even then, but had been afraid to ask, not wanting to hear that Leo had loved someone else before.

We sit at the table; the pizza shared three ways. Marco eats his noisily, hungrily, as if he's not eaten for days. I watch Leo toy with his, picking up an odd olive and chewing it slowly as he tells me that Marco phoned him from the airport. He knows no one else here at all and flew to Manchester hoping that Leo would go and get him. I drain my glass and pour myself a second one; drinking big gulps out of it. Leo tops up his own glass and Marco's. Marco swallows his last mouthful of pizza and takes a slug of wine. Both Leo and I are watching him as he does so and he becomes quiet and still.

'What brings you to Manchester, Marco?' I hear myself ask. Stupid question -- I already know the answer -- and do not want to hear him say it.

'Leo. It is for Leo I come to Manchester.' His voice is deep and sexy, but hesitant and on the verge of disintegrating. He coughs, and blinks his eyes as if to prevent tears coming. He is unsuccessful and tears course silently down his face as he tells us why he is here.

' I love Leo. I miss him too much. I must come to see him. I am sorry I not talk to you after our romantic, sexy afternoon Leo; but I have girlfriend, Maria. My brothers and my mama they make me have girlfriend. They say I bring shame on the family if I not marry. They say that people already talk -- say I am 'finnochio'. My brothers angry and la mia madre è molto triste. Sorry my English is bad. My heart is break and I cannot think. My brother Benito find Maria. Benito is married but he is not good -- he goes with other women -- and I think Maria. I not want Maria but all my family say yes it is so. I am sad because I love Leo, but my family say is not right, is bad for family. Everyone tell me -- they not leave me alone. I go out with Maria -- for quiet you understand? Now we are married and she will have a baby soon. How can I say I not sleep with her -- I am a man -- I not want people to think I am not man, not sleep with Maria. Benito's friends they are good to me, tell me I am real man now. They take me out to the clubs and we are all big men together. This makes me happy. I am stupid. I not know what I do. I know I am not father and know that my brother, Benito, is father for Maria's baby. He trick me but everyone is happy. Everyone but not Marco. I am stupid. I love Leo not Maria -- why I marry her? Now I am angry with family and not care for them. I not care what they think now. I love Leo, my heart break and I must see him.'

He is sobbing loudly now, his head cradled in his arms on the table. I feel sorry for him and looking at Leo, who's wiping tears away also, I feel sorry for Leo. But most of all I feel sorry for me. Marco had Leo first -- first love -- you can't get any better than that -- I should know -- Leo is my first love. Leo is stroking Marco's head, murmuring comfort in his ear.

'I think I'm going to go to Robyn's for a few days. You need time and space to work out what you want to do.' 'Which one of us you want' is what I actually say in my head. There is a pause, a fraction of a second; when he should say 'I don't need time, Jake. You're the one I want.' But it passes and I pack a few things. Why am I leaving? Why am I not staying and fighting for my man. I love him, but he has to make this decision -- I don't want him to always have 'what if?' about Marco in the back of his mind -- he has to decide.

I pick up my holdall and Leo comes into the bedroom, our bedroom, crying openly now.

'Jake, I don't want you to go.' I put my arm around his neck, drawing his face close to mine, and kiss him softly. I wipe my hand across his cheek, gathering up his tears, I lick my fingers, tasting his saltiness and leave.

Leo

I sit on the sofa with Marco trying to understand what's happening. My head is reeling, and opening another bottle of wine is probably not a good idea; but I do it anyway, pouring out large glassfuls for us both. Marco is babbling on, the rhythms of his soft speech just like that of a brook. I'm not listening to the words, I'm concentrating on drinking my wine, but tasting nothing. Why did Jake leave? Doesn't he love me? What am I going to do? I am not going to betray Jake and sleep with Marco - am I? I love Jake. But I loved Marco first. I force myself to look at him, I'm over him aren't I? He broke my heart, didn't he? He looks at me; his warm brown eyes searching mine; his jaw dark with stubble, almost obscuring the cleft in his chin. My voice is lost, waylaid in my throat as it constricts - tightening with what? Fear? Lust?

'Io ti amo, Io ti amo.' His urgent, sexy voice instantly transports me back to that day in Tuscany; that day when I truly felt loved for the first time in my life. He takes my wine glass and puts it down, he takes my hands and kisses them and as I close my eyes, I swear I can smell roses and honeysuckle. He holds my face, and I look deep into his eyes, feeling myself slipping away. To anchor myself, I wrap my arms around him, crushing him tightly to me, as if to leave an impression of him on my chest.