Sacrilege - Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

“Don’t worry your head about it,” Danny told me emphatically, “It’s just some crank trying to wind you up.”

“But he knows my name and how did he get my number?”

“It’s probably on some store or Internet database somewhere,” commented Jackie, “There’s no such thing as privacy these days. If it’s not hackers stirring up a hornet’s nest, it’s Local Government or business types selling us off the highest bidder.”

“Jackie’s got a point,” Danny agreed, “so stop worrying.”

“It’s too much of a coincidence,” I argued, neither convinced nor reassured by their laid back reaction to my distress.

“You’re wrong, Laurence,” Danny insisted, “but even if you were right there’s not a lot we can do about it. As my grandma used to say, if you worry you die and if you don’t worry you’re still going to die so…why worry? Life’s too short. She was cool, my grandma,” he added with a sad smile, his eyes unnaturally bright. Danny hadn’t enjoyed much in the way of family life. He went suddenly quiet and reflective. I suspected he was thinking about Poppy, the girlfriend who had shared a life on the streets with him and met a brutal end at the tender age of fifteen.

We were in May Finn’s kitchen, sat around the familiar table, trying to make sense of recent events.  The widow had let Andrew persuade her to go to Bingo with him although, according to Danny, she hadn’t seemed too keen. “She’s too good for him, the stuck-up little cretin,” was Danny’s verdict on Andrew Bolton. I felt this was harsh but was in no mood to argue, least of all with Danny who always enjoyed winding me up.

I relayed what Agnes Musoke had told me. I also revealed that Marc had telephoned and how I intended to go and see him the next day. I’d have gone to Reading that same evening but was feeling very tired. Besides, I felt safe at the widow Finn’s, immune to the world’s threats and its assorted cranks.

There was, I decided, no need to mention Philip’s flying visit. It was my business, no one else’s. Nor was I convinced that I could look Danny in the eye. He was, I knew, already suspicious of my friendship with Ryan Banks. Involuntarily, I imagined the pair meeting up and experienced a violent shudder. There were no flies on Danny. He would guess at once that Ryan and I had slept together.

“So what do we do about Packard?” Danny was asking.

“Nothing if we have a grain of commonsense between us,” said Jackie. “We’ll leave well alone and trust to fate to solve our problems.”

“Fat chance…!  “Danny sneered. “If he’s got Terri we have to do whatever it takes to get her back.”

“We…?” Jackie raised a despairing eyebrow.

“We’re all in this together, right?”

“I was afraid you might say that,” said Jackie. She gave a long sigh and helped herself to another buttered scone.

“Neither of you will so much as even give the Packards another thought till I get back from Reading,” I warned.

Danny ignored me, addressing Jackie instead. “Aren’t you going to see Marc too then? I bet you can’t wait, right?”

Jackie and I exchanged meaningful glances. “I’d love to see him, of course I would. Somehow, though, I don’t think his family would be best pleased at my turning up and staking my claim…not just yet anyhow. Hopefully, later, once they’ve had time to get used to the idea.”

“What idea?” Danny was genuinely curious, and then caught a further exchange of glances between Jackie and myself. “Oh, that!” he declared dismissively, “Who cares about that sort of thing any more? We’re living in the twenty-first century for crying out loud.”

“Not everyone,” remarked Jackie scathingly.

“That’s their problem,” was Danny’s cheerful response. “Besides, it’s between you and Marc. It’s no one else’s business.  If they want to make an issue of it, let ’em go take a shower, preferably down the nearest bog hole.”

“Yes, well, not everyone shares your liberal views,” said Jackie with a rueful grin.

“If I loved someone, nothing and no one would stop me seeing them,” Danny said with feeling. After a slight pause, his fierce expression softened. His face brightened. My heart sank. I knew instinctively that he’d had one of his bright ideas. “It’s Marc you’re nearly wetting yourself to see, not his family, right?”

“So?” Jackie too was wary.

“So…you drive Laurie there, park nearby, and Laurie gives Marc the nod the first he chance gets. That way, everyone’s happy.”

“I suppose…” I murmured thoughtfully, but suspicious all the same. Danny’s bright ideas were invariably a smokescreen. For what this time, I wonder?

Jackie’s face lit up. “That’s a great idea. Well done, Danny. I’m glad to see you’re no just a pretty face. Motion carried, yes? Hands up all those in favour.”  Jackie’s right hand shot up, Danny’s too. Mine followed, albeit half-heartedly and without ever reaching to full stretch.

With reassurances from the widow Finn that she would keep an eye on Danny ringing in my ears, and my mother duly alerted to my imminent arrival, Jackie and I drove to Reading the following afternoon.

“I don’t like the idea of leaving Danny,” I confided. “I hope he won’t do anything stupid. It would be just like him to storm the lion’s den. He seems to have it bad for this Teresa. I wouldn’t put anything past him. Let’s face it. There’s no fool like a fool in love, especially at his age.”

“Danny’s no fool,” returned Jackie crisply. “As for his age, from what little you and Marc have told me about that young man, he could well be older than the three of us put together.”

“You haven’t had an easy time of it yourself,” I remarked. I did not want to discuss Danny’s past. It involved thinking about poor Poppy, a painful memory even now.

“True. I could play King Lear in the storm to perfection. You can be rejected so many times that it really does drive you mad in the end. Mind you, they put me in a psychiatric ward when I was sixteen and some of the patients were the sanest people I’ve ever met. You could say I learned about life from experts in the field. By the time auntie Peggy died and left me a tidy sum, I didn’t have to think twice about what to do with it. It didn’t pay for everything, but at least it gave me a head start.”

“Were they very painful, the operations?”

Jackie shrugged. “No pain, no gain. It was like walking barefoot on broken glass but worth every step, especially since I met Marc. He’s a lovely man, your brother.”

I glanced in the rear view mirror. But it was Marc, not Jackie, who looked back at me, a teasing light in his eyes,and comical grin on his face. I knew them both so well. Yet there were signs, too, of that all-consuming sadness peculiar to comedy. “You’ll be good for each other,” I said, recalling that I had once thought much same about Danny and Teresa. Where would it all end, I wondered? 

The face in the mirror changed again. Now it was young Poppy staring back at me, eyes full of mischief and… reproach?  I blinked away a tear.

“Right or left?” Jackie’s voice was a welcome intruder into my thoughts.

“Left,” I said sharply and hoped I was right.  As it happened, I was wrong and we got hopelessly lost.

“This is your neck of the woods, for heaven’s sake!” Jackie snorted angrily.

“I never did have any sense of direction,” I was forced to admit, “and everything looks so different from the inside of a car. I can’t drive, don’t forget,” I reminded her testily.

“Just as well,” muttered Jackie.

An old chap making painfully slow progress with the aid of a walking frame finally pointed us in the right direction and we were able to give him a lift to his own front door. He was well pleased and so were we.

We parked just around the corner from the family home, where my mother now lived alone since my father’s death a few years ago. He and I had been estranged for years. One of the hardest things about going back there was being reminded that dad and I had never been reconciled. He hadn’t been able to accept that I’d chosen to make my life with another man. The rest of the family followed his lead and none of them had ever met Harry. It still rankled with me that both my father and lover had to die before my family and I were able to start picking up the pieces and pretend we were doing a good job of putting them together again.

My mother seemed genuinely pleased to see me. We hugged and kissed affectionately. Marc, too, greeted me with a lopsided grin on his face and a big hug. “I’ve been worried sick about you,” I hissed in one ear.

“I’ll fill you in later,” he whispered back and I began to wish I had come alone. Now, I would have to wait hours before my curiosity was satisfied.

We were soon, all three of us, sitting around the kitchen table drinking tea. “What is it about kitchens?” I demanded idly, “They’re like a magnet for everything in the least emotive. Pain, joy, grief…all get poured out like tea around kitchen tables the world over.”

“We can go into the living room if you like,” said my mother, bristling at what she took to be a criticism.

“No fear,” I told her with a grin, “I’m a kitchen man, me, born and bred.”

Her expression softened. “That’s just what your dad always used to say. Stuff your living rooms and your sitting rooms and your lounges, he’d say, I’m a kitchen man, me, and proud of it I am too.” She sighed. “There were no airs and graces with your dad. I miss him,” she added unexpectedly and wiped away a tear.

Marc and I exchanged glances across the table. In our own ways, we had loved our father just as, after a fashion, I daresay he loved us too. The irony was he could never show it. Nor had he made any secret of the fact that having two gay sons was a source of grievous disappointment to him. “I’ll just go and fetch the washing in before it gets dark.” My mother sniffed and disappeared into the garden. Marc made to go after her.

“Leave her,” I told him

“But she’s upset.”

“All the more reason to leave her to it,” I insisted. “An armful of clean clothes and the thought of all that ironing will make her feel better than anything you or I can say or do. Besides,” I added with a smirk, “you have other fish to fry.”

“Oh?”

I told him about Jackie.

“She’s here?” His school boyish excitement caused me to reflect, not for the first time, on the age difference between us. Sometimes the gap of some twenty years seemed nothing at all. At other times, like now, it made me feel as old as Methuselah.

“She’s just around the corner, waiting for you to come and sweep her of her feet. Better hurry, before someone beats you to it,” I teased. But Marc was in no mood for banter and flung me a murderous look before dashing out of the room. 

Minutes later, I heard the front door slam just as my mother reappeared with a load of washing of which I rushed to relieve her.

“Just dump it all on that chair,” she said before adding, disapprovingly, “Was that the front door I heard?” I nodded. “Marc hasn’t gone out, surely, not when you’ve only just arrived?”

“He got a call on the mobile,” I fibbed, “Some mate of his wanted a favour or something. He didn’t go into any detail. I dare say he’ll be back soon.”

“He hasn’t really got any mates around here any more.” She looked troubled and I felt bad about deceiving her. “Never mind,” I told her, “it will be nice to have you all to myself for a while.” Her expression brightened considerably. Even so, I couldn’t help thinking she looked so much older every time I saw her. A guilty start caused me to shift uncomfortably in my chair and I resolved to visit more often.

We chatted late into the evening. Marc had not returned by the time my mother bade me goodnight and went to bed. I sat up a while longer, growing more anxious and irritable as the minutes ticked by.  Another hour passed.  I became increasingly agitated. Even the antics of Homer Simpson failed to cool my temperament. All of a sudden, I couldn’t stop yawning. Eventually, I dozed off in my dad’s favourite armchair.

It seemed to me that I had barely closed my eyes when I was being shaken roughly awake. “Come on, Snow White, wake up!” Even in my weary state, I bristled at what I assumed was a jibe at my prematurely grey hair. .

“Less of the Snow White,” I half growled, half yawned, “Where the hell have you been?” I glanced at my watch, “You’ve been gone ages!”

“We went to a hotel.”

“Spare me the details,” I said and yawned again.

“Believe me, you don’t want to know.”

Marc was grinning from ear to ear. I groaned inwardly. It was impossible to stay angry with this brother of mine for long. “I take it you had a good time,” I retorted with an answering grin.

“We did.”

I changed the subject. “So what happened at the flat? Where the hell have you been?”

“Can’t it wait till morning?”

“No, it can’t.”

“Okay but there’s not a lot to tell. The doorbell rang and the intercom wasn’t working properly so I assumed it was you. Mistake number one.” He grimaced. “When I opened the door, these two heavies burst in. After that, everything’s a bit of a blur. I remember trying to put up a fight. That was mistake number two.” He grimaced again.  “I heard Jackie yell out my name then it went dead quiet. I was terrified, I can tell you, as much for Jackie as for myself. Then I went sort of dizzy and it was as if everything around me was happening in slow motion. I remember being dragged down the stairs and out into the street. Next, I was being bundled into car. I was absolutely petrified. Then the driver turned and said something about how they had the wrong man. I must have passed out then. I hurt all over and was almost past caring what the bastards had in mind. But the driver’s face touched a nerve and I recall thinking how Philip wouldn’t let anything really bad happen to me.”

“Philip? He was there? He stood by and let those bastards beat you to a pulp?”

“I don’t think he had much choice,” said my brother grimly, “Don’t forget he’s supposed to be one of them.  Fortunately, by the time I saw him again I’d worked that one out for myself so there was no chance I was going to give the game away. What’s he up to anyway?”

“I wish I knew,” I sighed. “He’s supposed to be on the trail of a serial killer. Either he’s got distracted or the powers that be have changed his brief. How should I know? He’s hardly likely to tell me anything, is he? I’m only his partner, for heaven’s sake.”

“Be fair, Laurie. The guy has a tough job to do. It can’t be easy. It must be bad enough living with you, without all the other stuff.”

But if he though he was being funny, it fell on deaf ears. “Go on,” I growled, smarting under a comment that I knew hadn’t been unkindly meant but which hurt all the same. I wasn’t difficult to live with…was I?

“I came round in a cellar. It was horrible. There were rats.” He shuddered. “Every so often the door at the top of some steps would open and someone would leave food and water. Now and then, I’d get a cup of tea or coffee. I needed something hot, I can tell you. It was bloody freezing down there. Then one day Philip turned up and told me we were going for a drive. It wasn’t until we were in the car that he told me he’d dump me somewhere. I imagine they realized they really did have the wrong guy by then.”

“Why take the risk in the first place, that’s why I’d like to know. I mean, Jackie would have reported you missing and why. Bloody hell, man, you’d been abducted!”

Marc shrugged. “The police would only have Jackie’s word for that,” he pointed out. “Believe me, it’s not often people like Jackie are taken seriously.”

“Because she’s a transsexual…?” I couldn’t believe I was hearing this and found myself echoing Danny’s words. “We’re living in the twenty-first century, for heaven’s sake!”

“Tell that to the boys in blue,” Marc scoffed, “most of them anyway. What the heck…? It doesn’t matter now. The cops are on the case and one of them was even kind enough to deliver me safe and sound to my old Mum.”

“How can you make so light of it?” I demanded angrily, “Anything might have happened to you. Suppose Philip hadn’t been there? You’d be…”

“Possibly pushing up daisies by now, yes, I know. But I’m not, so calm down.”

“I can’t believe Philip would be party to all this, undercover or not. You’re my brother. I could kill him, I really could.”

“What, for saving my life? Sometimes, Laurie, I wonder about you, I really do.” A long antagonistic silence followed then, “By the way, Philip said to tell you he loves you very much and will you please go back to Manchester and stop interfering before you get hurt.”

“Oh, did he?” I fumed. “Well, tough. I’m involved whether he likes it or not and if anyone tells me to stop interfering just once more, I’ll wring their bloody neck. What the devil does Philip think he’s playing at? He’s supposed to be tracking down a serial killer, not taking part in gangland abductions, for crying out loud!”

. “I’m sure Philip knows what he’s doing.”

“Huh, I wish …! Why can’t he be like any partner…ordinary…someone to come home to and wash away the cares of the day with?  But, oh no, that’s too simple. That’s too easy. He has to do everything the hard way. The worst of it is he expects me to do the same. Who cares about there being a serial killer on the loose anyway?  And why do they need Philip to help catch the bastard?  Why should it make any difference that Philip is gay?”

I tried to calm down and failed miserably. “The police make me sick,” I raged at Marc. “They want their cake and eat it. One minute they’re slagging us off something rotten…Oh, not in public of course…and the next they want our help. Mind you, I bet Philip is enjoying every minute of it. I mean to say, it has to be more exciting than watching TV with me, doesn’t it?  He told me once that’s why he joined the police, for the excitement. Oh, but he makes me so mad! As for this undercover business, I don’t care how exciting it is. If it means having to stand by while my brother gets beaten to a pulp then it stinks!”

 “Come off it, Laurie. Don’t be so hard on him. The man’s only doing his job. Rather him than me, I can tell you.”  He paused and scratched his head more than a trifle self-consciously. “Look, mate, don’t you think he may have a point? Maybe you should back off and leave it to the professionals.”

“Not you, too…!” I yelled before storming out of the room and going to bed.

My mother had put me in my old room. It was full of memories that came flooding back as I lay my head on the pillow and closed my eyes. I expected them to keep me awake for hours. On the contrary, though, I slept like a log.

The next day, my mother began interrogating me about Jackie. Marc had made himself scarce and I was left holding that particular baby.

“She sounds nice, Marc’s young lady,” my mother remarked while preparing a late breakfast just for me.

“Yes,” I grunted and continued to read the newspaper.

“Known her long, has he?  It must be a while, I suppose, since she’s moving in.” I made another noncommittal sound. “I’m so pleased for him. I always knew he wasn’t really…” Her voice tailed off.

“Gay, mum. The word is ‘gay’ and I wouldn’t get your hopes up if I were you.”

“Oh, why is that? I don’t care what you say. I think it’s lovely. Your dad would have been so thrilled.”

“Instead of being disappointed and ashamed, do you mean, the way he felt about me?”

“Your father loved you, Laurence. It was just that he couldn’t…”

“Get his head around the idea that his firstborn was queer? Yes, I had noticed.” I hadn’t meant to sound so bitter, but couldn’t help myself. “Thanks,” I muttered ungraciously as a full English breakfast was placed in front of me.  I was suddenly ravenous and tucked in with relish.

My mother sat opposite me. “I suggested Marc bring his young lady to meet everyone. Sunday lunch would be nice, I thought. It’s ages since I’ve cooked for everyone on a Sunday.”

My hands began to tremble. The memory of a Sunday lunch at this very table years ago came rushing back with a vengeance. It had been on just such an occasion that I’d told the family I was gay. To say the news had not been well received would be a gross understatement.  I’d left the house that day and not returned for years.

“Marc wasn’t very enthusiastic,” my mother was saying, “In fact I got the feeling he was holding something back.” Her next question gnawed at my insides long before it found a voice. “So what’s she like?”

“She’s okay,” I mumbled between mouthfuls, “What’s more, she’ll be good for him, you’ll see.”

“Not if your brother has his way, I won’t. Anyone would think he was ashamed of us. He’s not, is he?” she asked tearfully.

I laid down my knife and fork. “Of course he’s not ashamed,” I protested more vocally than I intended. “It’s just that…well…it’s a big step for him. He’s lived like a monk since Nick died. Just be happy for him, can’t you?  Let matters take their course. Marc knows what he’s doing. He’s not a kid any more, mum.” I picked up my knife and fork and took refuge in a sausage.

“He’s the youngest. He’ll always be my baby. It’s only natural I should want him to be happy. At least now he stands a chance,” commented my mother. Predictably, she got up from her chair to make a fresh cup of tea. “A good woman in his life is just what the doctor ordered for our Marc.”

“I don’t have a good woman in my life,” I reminded her.

“Yes, well, you always did have to be different, even as a child.” She gave a dry laugh and I devoured some fried bread noisily. “So what’s she like, this Jackie?” she repeated.

“She’s a transsexual,” I blurted and to this day will never know why.

My mother has just retrieved a jug of milk from the fridge. It slipped out of her hand and shattered on the floor, spilling milk in all directions. “Oh!” She gave a cry of unrelieved distress and set to mopping up the mess.

“Let me help.” I jumped up. “Come and sit down. I’ll clear up the mess.”

“I can manage perfectly well thank you,” I was told in a tone at once so severe and hurt that I had to get up from the table anyway and rush to the loo. By the time I returned, the kitchen looked spotless again and there was a fresh cup of tea next to my plate.

“Sit down and finish your breakfast.” I didn’t need to be told twice. “Now, tell me about this…person…you seem to think will make your brother happy.”

I told her what I knew about Jackie. As I did so, I realized it wasn’t much. “She’s okay, mum, really. You’ll like her.”

“Her, him…does she know herself, I wonder?” demanded my mother with uncharacteristic cynicism.

“I imagine so. She must have spent a small fortune on putting nature to rights. She’d hardly do that if she had any doubts it was the right thing to do, would she? ” I suggested. “Right for her, that is.” I added, only too aware of my mother’s penetrating gaze on me and unwilling to look up from my food. “You have to hand it to her, she has guts. It can’t have been easy…”

“If you mean going from one sex to the other like crossing the road, I imagine not,” my mother declared acidly.

I began to lose patience. “What does it matter if she makes him happy?” I demanded. “So she’s not the ideal daughter-in-law…so what? How many daughters-in-laws are?  None in this family, that’s for sure. So Jackie won’t give you any more grandchildren…although you never know, they might adopt…but so what? You’ve had plenty of time to get used to the idea that Marc and I are not the reproducing kind. I thought you were okay with it?”

“I am okay with it…up to a point…and there’s no need to be so crass either. It’s your mother you’re talking to don’t forget.”

“As if…” I sighed unhappily and should have apologized but didn’t.

“It won’t go down well with the rest of the family, Laurence, you know it won’t. They will be so…upset.” She bit her lip. “And who can blame them?  They bend over backwards to…accept your…sexuality…yours and Marc’s…and now…it’s too bad of Marc, it really is!”

“You’re the one who once told me people can’t help who they fall in love with,” I reminded her.

She got up and put the kettle on again although it wasn’t necessary. I regarded her back, erect and visibly bristling.

I beat a hasty retreat. Not only did I wish I had kept my big mouth shut but I was also panicking. Had Marc meant to me to tell our mother the truth about Jackie? Test the water, he’d said. Well, I had certainly done that. By now I was frantic to find Marc and warn him.

As it happened, it was some time before I saw Marc again. I visited my sister Mary, hoping to find him there. Mary was the only daughter among four sons and could usually be relied upon for tea and sympathy. She also had a good head on her shoulders and talked a lot of sense. She and her husband Ian had two sons.  It was the eldest of these, Thomas, who opened the door to me. His face creased with pleasure at finding me on the doorstep. We had a special bond, Thomas and I. I was very fond of the lad.

“Everyone’s out so you’ll have to make do with me for now,” he told me cheerfully. “Do you fancy some juice or something?  I dare say tea must be running out of your ears by now since you’re staying with grandma.”

We both laughed and a glass of cranberry juice subsequently went down a treat.

Thomas was fifteen now and confided that he had discovered girls. “No offence, uncle Laurence, but I’m so glad I’m not gay like you and Uncle Marc. I can’t imagine sex with another boy being half as much fun as with a girl. No offence,” he repeated.

“None taken,” I assured him. It suddenly occurred to me to ask, “Why aren’t you at school?”

He hesitated then, “I’ve been temporarily excluded.”

“What!” I was shocked.

“Tell your uncle Laurence why, Thomas.” My sister appeared in the doorway. “He pulled a knife on another boy,” she explained tersely. I looked from her to Thomas.

“He pulled one on me first,” the boy protested.

“You shouldn’t have been carrying a knife in the first place,” retorted his mother.

“And be a soft target? Not bloody likely!”

“Don’t you dare swear at me!” my sister yelled

“You’re right. There’s no point in talking to you at all!” Thomas shouted back and ran out of the room.

This was not, I judged, a good time to tell Mary what had passed between our mother and me. “I had better go,” I mumbled.

Don’t be ridiculous, Laurie, you’ve only just arrived. Sit yourself down and I’ll make a pot of tea.

I groaned. “I’d rather have another cranberry juice if that’s okay.”

“Suit yourself.”

Later, I was treated to an explicit account of Thomas’s recent misdemeanours. “I don’t know what’s got into him, Laurie, I really don’t. I blame the school…”

I listened and made sympathetic noises. “I had better go,” I mumbled again.

Mary sighed. “Sorry, I’m rabbiting on about Thomas and it’s pretty obvious you’re bursting to tell me your news. Be my guest. It might help take my mind of Thomas for all of five minutes.”

I told her.

“A transsexual…? Oh, well, that will keep the rest of the family off my back and no mistake. Naturally, everyone blames me for Thomas going off the rails. Even his father thinks I’ve overplayed the discipline bit. But children have to learn, don’t they? If it were left to Ian he’d have caved into Thomas’s every demand. Thank heaven’s he’s not gay or that would have been laid at my door too.  Sorry, Laurence, no offence and all that. Honestly, though, I’m at my wits end. Believe me. From where I’m standing, a transsexual in the family is manna from heaven right now.”

It wasn’t the level of support I’d hoped for, but it would have to do for now. I suspected Mary wanted to talk more about Thomas but I had enough on my mind already so made a few lame excuses and left.

On the way back to my mother’s house, I began to wish I had stayed to listen. Mary had been good to me over the years.

As always, when inner debate threatened to get the better of me, I dived into a pub. I had barely taken a swig of one of my favourite real ales when a familiar ring tone in my jeans pocket demanded attention. My heart missed a beat. Could it be my mystery caller again? I glanced at the screen and gave a sigh of relief.

“Laurence…? It’s May Finn here. I’m sorry to bother you but I thought you should know at once. Danny has been arrested.”

To be continued on Monday