Secrets

by Peter Fuller April 2020

The back door crashed open and was almost immediately banged shut.  “It’s Ross.” thought Granny Nolan, “Why are young people always in such a tearing rush?”

“Tea, Grandma?” Ross shouted from the kitchen, already arranging the teapot and crockery on a tray, for this was, after all, nothing more than a perfunctory enquiry, since Granny Nolan had never been known to refuse a cup of tea.

“That would be very nice dear, thank you”.  She called back from her lounge.

“Biscuits too?”

“There are some Jaffa Cakes in the cupboard.  They are softer and better for my dentures, thank you dear”.

She curled her foot around a leg of the coffee table in front of her and pulled it closer to remove her books, newspaper and spectacles and make room for the tea tray.  She was stowing these items away when Ross with the tea arrived.  She looked up and observed her smiling grandson.

“Holy mother of God, what have you done to your hair?” she exclaimed.

“Don’t you like it Grandma?”  Ross said, still smiling.

She leaned forward for a closer inspection. “Well, I know that your Grandpa Frank preferred a short-back-and-sides style, but not like yours.  The hair on the top of your head is so long that it is obscuring most of your face!” 

“This style is all the rage at the moment.  My friends love it”. Ross said defiantly.  Seeking to strike a positive note he quickly changed the subject.  “Do you like my shirt, Grandma?”

He offered her the Jaffa Cakes and she took three.

“I don’t normally think that a floral shirt suits a man, but I must admit that it looks good on you dear”.  She looked him up and down in an exaggerated fashion and exclaimed, “But in heaven’s name, how tight are those trousers you are wearing?  Do you spray them on each morning?”

Ross laughed out loud.  “Yes, and I wash them off in the bath every evening!  And, just to aggravate you further, I’m not wearing any socks, look see”.  He lifted his leg to show her.   “Unlike Grandpa who wore brightly-patterned socks with his sandals”.  

“I have to tell you that being untrendy and utterly inept in most things were two of my Frank’s most endearing traits”.  She would always defend her husband to the hilt.

“You’ll be pleased to learn that I have had no more tattoos put on this magnificent body of mine since last week”. he said, quickly changing the subject once again, “Although, I have to admit that I have had one of my ears pierced.  The stud glistens like a diamond, do you see?”

But Granny Nolan had turned away and was glancing out of the window.  She seemed to be wrestling with her thoughts and eventually turned her head and looked directly into Ross’ eyes.

“When are you going to tell the family your secret, that you are a Homo?”

Ross dropped his gaze and took some time before speaking.  “We don’t use that term any more Grandma, not nowadays.  It’s derogatory.  We prefer the description ‘Gay’”.

He paused again. “When did you guess that I am ….?”.   He didn’t finish the sentence, but left the words hanging in the air.

His Grandmother cleared her throat and said as lightly as she could.  “I thought that you might be when you were ten years of age dear, then I guessed that you probably were when you were about twelve, but finally decided that you are definitely queer, sorry, I mean gay, only recently.”

“You were always the most perceptive one of the family”.  Ross said ruefully and respectfully.

Granny Nolan was looking out of her window again and she continued to gaze over the spick-and-span communal gardens as she spoke in a clear and firm voice.

“Your Grandpa had a special friend.  His name was George.  They served on the same ship together through most of the war.  His ‘buddy’, Frank used to call him.  Every three months, without fail, Frank would get all dressed up and supposedly went up to town for a quarterly ‘HMS Truro’ reunion, “To see his mates”, he would tell me.  The silly bugger would even wear his medals across his chest to lend weight to the lie”.

Ross found his voice.  “He was going to see George then, and they were more than just special friends?”

His Grandmother wasn’t listening and continued with her story.  “When George died I found your Grandfather crying on the bed.  I’ve never seen anybody so heartbroken.  I sat down next to him and put my arm around him.  We didn’t speak, not a word to each other.  We didn’t need to.  You see, I had known about their relationship for some time and recognised that I only had half of his love.  Over time I convinced myself that it was enough.  It was never sufficient, but it was enough”.

She turned back and held her cup out to him and asked for more tea.  He poured it and handed the cup back to her.  “Go and tell the family that you are gay, Ross.  Go and do it now.  Secrets are no good to anybody”.

She turned and gazed out of the window once again, but this time could only see the flowers through misty eyes.