Fireside Romance Book 1: First Flames (9 page)

“Which is exactly what you are.” I kissed the top of his head.

“Because of being able to see you, I managed to stick it out. Things weren’t all bad. Some of the other boys on the street were kind to me. A few of my customers were okay, too. I don’t know, maybe I’m just weak. Maybe I could have got out of it all if I’d have tried harder, but I didn’t know what to do. You offered to help me that once. That meant a lot. But I was afraid Jake would come after you, too. I couldn’t have stood it if that happened. So when Jake died, that meant I was free, but I had these bandages, and couldn’t do anything for myself. Then you came to the hospital. I hoped you’d be able to help me somehow. But I never thought you’d do as much as you have.”

“You’ve helped me, too. After a day at the library, I’d lock my front door, and never see or speak to another soul until I unlocked it again the next day. Having you come to live with me, though I wish it wasn’t because of your hands, has…well, I’ve gotten a lot out of it.”

“I guess we’ll just carry on muddling along, helping each other, then,” Mark said.

I hoped we’d do much more than that, but it wasn’t the time to go into it then.

“I don’t know about you,” I told Mark, “but I’m cold and hungry. Do you still want Chinese?”

“Please.”

We walked back to the house via the take away. Mark seemed so much brighter after unburdening himself. Although I could just about use a pair of chopsticks, I thought it would be easier—if unauthentic—to use a fork to feed Mark.

“I’ve never understood why some people say they are hungry again half an hour after eating Chinese food,” I said to Mark as we lounged on the sofa after stuffing our faces.

“Me neither, it seems to fill me up in just the same way as any other meal.” Mark snuggled up to me. This was rapidly becoming our favourite position, and I wasn’t about to complain. “You know,” Mark continued, “Chinese take away reminds me of home. A good memory, though. We’d do our supermarket shopping on a Thursday night. This was when Mum was still alive. On the way home we’d pick up a take away. As we walked around the supermarket, I’d be thinking about what I would order. Now every time I visit a supermarket, I can’t help thinking about Chop Suey or special fried rice.”

We both laughed.

“Why don’t we make it a tradition here? I’ve always done the supermarket shopping on a Thursday evening as well. It wouldn’t take us too much out of our way to get Chinese on the way home.”

“Could we? That would mean a lot.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do.” I kissed Mark on the top of his head. He wriggled contentedly in my arms.

Flicking through the four TV channels we had in those days—this was before cable and satellite came on stream—we decided there wasn’t anything worth watching. Mark decided he’d like to watch a video.

“So, what would you like to see?” I asked him.

“Have you got
Carry On, Doctor
?”

“Yes. It’s my favourite one of the series.”

“Mine too. I know it isn’t a quality film, but it makes me laugh,” Mark said.

“When it comes down to it, that’s all that matters.”

“True,” Mark replied.

We cuddled up and watched the film. It was good to see Mark laughing after the painful revelations he had disclosed earlier in the day.

As the tape was re-winding, someone knocked at the door. I wasn’t expecting anyone, so I slipped on the security chain before opening it.

“Can we sing a few carols for yer, mister?”

Three little boys, and an older boy, possibly a brother of one or more of them, stood on my doorstep.

I smiled. “Okay then.”

In most places the carol singers would sing first and then knock on the door. However, this being the north of England, no bunch of carol singers worth their salt would sing to an empty house, or to anyone who hadn’t promised to pay them after they had sung. Mark came and stood next to me by the partially opened door. We listened to a couple of carols—like all children, including myself at that age—they only knew the first verse of any carol. However, that didn’t matter. It was one of the things which marked the beginning of Christmas for me. That and the Salvation Army band playing in the town square.

When the carol singers finished, I gave them 20p. Mark and I then wished them a Merry Christmas. I turned round after locking the door to face Mark. He was smiling.

“Aw, wasn’t that sweet?”

“Christmas is certainly coming now.”

“Do you think we could get a tree? I don’t mean a real one. Just a small artificial one, with some lights and stuff?”

“Why not? I’ve never bothered with one before, but it would make a nice symbol of our first Christmas.” The first of many, I hoped.

Mark’s whole face lit up.

“And I suppose you’ll want miles of tinsel, baubles and flashing lights too?” I asked, a smile on my face.

“But of course!”

“We need to go out tomorrow to get your bandages changed, so we can get all the stuff then. I think Woolies was having a sale on decorations the last time I looked.”

“Great. Can we have a fairy for the top, too?”

I rolled my eyes and shrugged. “Why not?”

Mark laughed excitedly. Which to my ears was a wonderful sound. I’d buy the whole of Woolworth’s Christmas department if it would make him happy.

Just then the phone rang.

“We are popular this evening.” I said as I walked towards the instrument. “Hello?”

“Hello,
Simon
.” It was my mother. We rang each other on alternate Sundays as it was cheap rate at the weekend. We were Yorkshire folk, so of course we were careful with our money.

“Hello, Mum, how are you and Dad?”

“We’re fine, love. I was just ringing to ask if you were coming down here for Christmas.”

“Err, no, I’ve got someone staying with me this year.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, he would have been on his own, so I invited him to stay.”

“That’s nice. What’s his name? Where did you meet him?”

My mother knew I was gay. Both Mum and Dad had accepted my coming out. However, accepted was about the best that could be said. I guess it was something to do with the ending of their dreams of having grandchildren. I was an only child.

“He’s called Mark. We’ve known each other for a while now.”

I wasn’t about to embarrass Mark by telling her any details. It really wouldn’t have helped any of us. My mother, although providing me with an excellent home, lacking for nothing including love and affection, was rather traditional in her thinking. Dad was a bit more broadminded, but would never go against her. So it was a case of what she didn’t know wouldn’t harm her.

“Although your father has arranged time off, you know what will probably happen.” Dad was an inspector with the West Midlands Police Force. He would often be called in at short notice to deal with some emergency or other.

“I know. It happens too regularly. He ought to put his foot down.”

“I’ve been telling him that for years, but you know your father.”

The conversation dragged on as it usually did, with mum passing on bits of gossip, which frankly didn’t interest me, but she thought I should know. At one point I turned to Mark and moved my fingers and thumb, imitating mum’s constant talking. Mark cracked up, but managed to keep quiet.

Eventually the conversation died down, and I was able to terminate it without offending her. I had a few words with my dad, then we disconnected the call.

“Phew, she does go on a bit,” I told Mark, collapsing on the couch beside him.

“I’m sure her heart is in the right place.”

“Don’t get me wrong. She’s a good mother, but why she thinks I’d be interested in what next door’s cat was getting up to on top of Dad’s garage with the Tom from across the road I’ll never know.”

Mark chuckled.

“I get on okay with them, but I can’t say we’re truly close.”

“That’s a pity,” Mark said, no doubt remembering his relationship with his dad and late mother.

“If I needed them, they’d be in the car heading back this way almost before the telephone receiver hit the cradle. We just don’t have that much in common. I’ll have to take you to see my gran sometime. She’s got a flat in Leeds. She’s a scream.” I related the funnier aspects of my coming out to her. Mark found it hilarious.

 “Tell you what,” I said. “When we go over to see Gran, we’ll take her to a gay pub.”

Mark looked amazed. “Are you sure?”

“Well, if you’d feel uncomfortable about going into such a place, I understand, I’ve only been in a few, and it wasn’t much fun on my own.”

“No, no, it isn’t that. I mean us taking your Gran.”

I laughed, knowing full well what Mark was thinking. “She’d love it. She’d probably end up inviting a lesbian back to her flat.”

“Wow, she seems like an amazing lady.”

“She is. I used to spend most weekends at her house. I got drunk for the first time when I was with her. Mum and Dad were furious when they found out. Didn’t bother Gran though. I’ll tell you the whole story someday.”

“Look forward to it.”

* * * *

“No, Dad. Please, no!”

Mark’s shouting and thrashing about woke me instantly. I’d never seen anyone have a nightmare before, so I was acting on instinct. I turned on the bedside lamp at my side and reached for Mark. We had somehow separated in the night.

“Mark, Mark, love. It’s
Simon.
You’re having a bad dream. It’s okay, you’re safe now.” I squeezed his shoulder. This seemed to rouse him. “It’s okay. Just a bad dream, sweetheart.”

“It was horrible.”

“Did you dream about your dad?” I asked, pulling the still shaking young man into my arms.

He nodded.

“I don’t know how you managed to stay with him.” I rubbed his back and continued to make soothing noises.

“When Mum was dying she asked me to look after Dad once she’d gone. She knew we didn’t really get on, but she thought we’d pull closer together after her death.” Mark gave a hollow laugh. “That’s the only reason why I stayed. I thought if I kept out of the old man’s way, I could put up with living at home.”

“I see.” I knew talking about his home life wasn’t easy, but I thought it better he get it all off his chest.

“I was dreaming about the day he found Danny and me in bed together. I’d never seen him so angry before. That’s when he came out with all the hateful crap I told you about earlier.”

I nodded.

“Dad pulled off his belt. Danny fled, and I cowered at the other side of my bed. When he lumbered round the room towards me, I leapt over the bed, and locked myself in the bathroom. He banged on the door for a bit, but he eventually went downstairs. I knew he’d soon drink himself into unconsciousness. So after a couple of hours I snuck out of the bathroom, got a few things together and left the house.”

I kissed his cheek, encouraging him to continue.

“I went round to Danny’s to see if he’d put me up for a while. He didn’t want to get involved. He let me stop on his couch for a night, but I knew I’d have to leave the next day. At the bus station in Newcastle I counted up what bit of money I had, handed it over to the guy at the ticket office and asked him how far it would get me. Don’t know if my question surprised him or not but he printed out a ticket for Littleborough, and here I am.”

Mark seemed to sag once he’d told his story. I ran my fingers through his curls for a few minutes longer.

“I’m here for you. I’ll do anything I can to help. I’m sure you know that by now,” I whispered into the silence.

“Thank you. I do, and believe me, without you I…I…”

“It’s okay.” I kissed his lips briefly.

“I’m sorry about earlier…when I asked if we could have a tree. It’s just…when those carol singers came round, I just wanted us to have a really nice Christmas. The last couple at home weren’t very nice.”

I kissed him again. “Silly man, we’re going to have a tree, and loads of streamers and stuff around the house. We’re going to have the best Christmas either of us can remember.”

“Thanks, love,” he said.

That was the first time I could ever remember Mark calling me love. This really wasn’t such a revelation though, as here in the North it’s a fairly commonly used word friends say to each other. But it sounded nice when Mark said it. I was determined to make this a very special Christmas for us both.

“And we’re having turkey, and some of those little sausages with bacon wrapped around them, and as many types of stuffing as Marks & Spencer sells.”

Mark sighed in happiness.

“We’ll make it one to remember.”

“Thanks.”

“‘S okay,” I yawned. “Now we’ve got all that sorted, can we get back to the land of Nod?”

Mark and I snuggled together again, and allowed Morpheus to enfold us once again in his arms.

Chapter 7

“Sorry, Mr Smith, the nurse is running about half an hour behind schedule,” the doctor’s receptionist told Mark. “But if you take a seat, she will see you as soon as she can.”

We found seats in the waiting room, crowded as usual with anxious mothers and their screaming, hyperactive children.

After a while I asked Mark if he’d be okay on his own for a bit. “I’ve just got a couple of errands I need to take care of.”

Mark gave me a smile. “No problem.”

“Thanks. I won’t be long. Probably be back before you get seen.”

“Okay, see you later.”

I’d decided to get a surprise Christmas present for Mark. I hoped he wouldn’t feel uncomfortable that he hadn’t been able to get me a gift in return. Not one he could wrap anyway. Mark agreeing to spend Christmas with me would be gift enough.

I went into the local branch of Waterstones, the booksellers. I thought Mark would appreciate a book. I know: what would you expect a librarian to buy? They had a few copies of Dickens’
A Christmas Carol
. One in particular had a bright-red cover in tooled-leather. I thought he would like that. It was also small enough to fit in my pocket, so it wouldn’t be difficult for me to get it home without Mark being aware of what I’d bought. I thought about writing an inscription in the book, but I couldn’t put down on paper what I felt. Maybe I would think of something before I wrapped it.