Hilary Bonner - Friends to Die For

Bob ran a hand over his close-shaven head; his thinning hair, once dark brown but now pepper and salt, had been cropped in that drastic way to hide the bald patches. Fortunately the look was quite fashionable.

‘Spit it out, Bob,’ said George.

‘Sorry, it’s Daniel’s birthday today. His thirtieth. I’m a bit preoccupied. Probably shouldn’t have come out...’

‘We’re glad you did, Bob,’ said Karen.

Nine pairs of eyes, their expressions ranging from compassionate to plain embarrassed, stared at Bob. Most of them knew, more or less, why Daniel was a painful subject.

Bob had been a career soldier but had quit the army in order to bring up his only son after the boy’s mother died of breast cancer not long after his birth. Danny was just seventeen and still at school when he’d fallen in love with a backpacking New Zealander, some years older. Out of the blue she’d announced that she was pregnant and on the same monumental day decreed that she was going home and taking Danny with her. Doe-eyed Dan, a bright boy who until then had seemed destined for university and a choice of illustrious careers, or so his father had hoped, went along with it at once. He would travel the world with the girl he loved and their unborn child, and nothing was going to stop him, not even the father who’d devoted his entire existence to him.

Thirteen years on, Bob still missed his son terribly. Danny’s leaving had undoubtedly been a life-changing moment. But Bob didn’t want to talk about that.

‘It was the army, going through the first Gulf War, that changed my life,’ he said. ‘There was a lad killed — first death I saw. He wasn’t much older than my Dan when he pissed off. I always felt I should have saved him — I mean, I was the lad’s sergeant... Never the same after that.’

Marlena reached across the table and put her hand on Bob’s.

‘I’m sure you did all you could,’ she said.

Bob smiled at her bleakly. ‘Not enough though. I still think about it...’

‘My old man was a squaddie,’ remarked Greg, filling the silence. ‘What was you in then, Bob?’

‘Scots DG.’

‘Hey, that’s one tough outfit,’ said Greg.

‘The what?’ queried Billy.

‘Royal Scots Dragoon Guards,’ said Bob.

‘I thought they were all funny hats and skirts,’ remarked George.

Greg turned to face him.

‘Shut up, you prat,’ he said mildly, then addressed Bob again.

‘You were in the thick of it, then, in the Gulf, weren’t you?’

‘Yep, we sure were,’ said Bob.

‘Man,’ said Greg. ‘And you were an effin’ sergeant. Respect, mate, respect.’

Bob smiled at him. You could see in his eyes that he was remembering something long forgotten, another life, another world.

Karen nudged Tiny. It was his turn.

‘Everyone can guess mine, I expect,’ he said. ‘Finally accepting I was gay. I mean, who’d have thought, right?’

Tiny placed a hand on one hip and stuck out his elbow, camping it up.

The group giggled obediently.

Then Tiny turned towards Bob. The camp gone. Serious. Perhaps picking up on the mood of the night.

‘And that meant losing my family, my kids — my missus never let me see ’em again — so I know how that feels, Bob. It was down to me though. I was the one who walked away.’ Tiny paused. ‘And then I threw in my all with this skinny little tyke.’

He wrapped an arm around Billy’s narrow shoulders.

‘Oh, sorry, not supposed to mention partners, are we? Tricky, though, when the fucker’s sitting right by you, eh, Greg?’

Greg grinned and nodded. Karen addressed Billy then.

‘So, how are you going to follow that?’ she enquired.

‘Well, by saying that it’s much the same for me, of course,’ Billy began, leaning back in his chair and looking as if he were about to make a speech.

‘Is it fuck!’ interrupted Tiny, his big bass voice reverberating around the restaurant, causing a nearby weekend dad to glower in the direction of the Sunday Club table. ‘Would you believe I have to move out of the flat when his bloody mum and dad come to visit?’

The entire table erupted into cries of ‘No!’ and ‘No way!’

‘You’re right, Tiny, nobody believes you,’ said Ari. ‘You’re kidding, eh?’

‘No, I fucking well am not,’ said Tiny. ‘Go on, Billy, tell ’em.’

Billy blushed and began fiddling with his moustache in earnest.

‘Do I move out or do I not?’ Tiny persisted.

‘Well, I mean, we haven’t got a lot of room, and...’

‘Billy, you bastard, tell the truth. Your parents don’t know that you’re gay, nor that you live with me, do they?’

‘Well, I’m sure they know, deep down,’ Billy said.

Tiny harrumphed. ‘Really? You’ve never effing told ’em!’

Billy coloured even more.

‘Nor those precious fuckers you work with.’

‘Well, yeah, but it’s such a straight set-up at Geering Brothers; better to fit in and keep collecting the luncheon vouchers — you’ve always agreed with me on that, Tiny.’

‘Oh yeah. And would it make any difference if I didn’t?’

From around the table came cries of ‘settle down’ and ‘domestic’.

‘So after all that, come on, what is your life-changing moment, Billy?’ asked Karen.

Billy didn’t have an answer. He wished Tiny hadn’t revealed that particular detail about their private life. It was all quite true, of course, and Billy was embarrassed. About himself, not Tiny. And angry with himself too. This was the twenty-first century, an era in which almost all the gay men and women he knew no longer felt the need to be secretive. In the UK equal rights were protected by law, civil partnerships were commonplace and same-sex marriage was surely on its way. Billy liked to give the impression of being a cool, slightly sardonic, very together, thoroughly modern guy. He was reasonably good-looking, reasonably well off financially, very successful in his work, and successful, too, by and large, in his relationship with Tiny. Billy worshipped the ground that rocked as the big guy walked on it. Which made it even more ridiculous that he did not always publicly recognize the existence of the man he loved and shared everything with.

The truth was that Billy had never managed to become totally comfortable with his own sexuality. If he had he would tell his parents, and take the risk at work too. Surely he would. But he could never quite bring himself to do so, and that annoyed and bewildered him even more than it did Tiny.

Billy, born into an achingly conventional suburban family, had been a confused and awkward teenager. He was all too aware that, although appearances were totally to the contrary, he had in so many ways merely grown into a confused and awkward man. And it infuriated him.

He didn’t have the strength to be witty.

‘Well, obviously my life-changing moment was meeting Tiny,’ he said. ‘Only I’m not allowed to say that, apparently.’

‘Situation normal, then, as far as you’re concerned,’ said Tiny.

What Tiny had not revealed to the group was that Billy’s parents were due to visit that week, and he and Billy had quarrelled about it shortly before leaving home. Tiny was still angry, largely because he was so hurt by Billy’s inability to give him full recognition. That was why he’d blurted out this aspect of their life together which until now had always been just between him and Billy. And he’d no intention of letting Billy off the hook. Not yet, anyway.

‘Can’t quite bring yourself to tell anyone about your big slice of black arse, can you, darling?’

He softened the remark by squeezing Billy’s shoulder and giving the smaller man a peck on the cheek.

Nonetheless, the tension between the two was obvious, not least because it was unusual. Karen was quick to move on around the table.