BOTH SIDES OF THE MOON

 

                                                                             Chapter Four 

 

Edward was a new man. It had surprised him that John’s leaving had not affected him more than it did, and most unexpected, was the fact that he was able to look to the future with a confidence he would not have dared to hope for

    John had called one evening, and they had sat and talked about this and that, including the flat. It had been an easy friendly meeting, with they both seemed to enjoy, and they had settled the tenancy of the flat, it having been transferred to Edward. They arranged for the collection of Johns personal items; mostly clothes, and some small pieces of furniture.

    There were of course some belongings which had been shared, and they divided them according to whoever felt ‘closer’ to a particular item. There was even some mock arguing, and a good deal of laughter. As to the future little was said, for they were both at a cross road in their life’s journey, and both felt a little uncertain. As John was leaving Edward gave him a hug. It was the closest they came to intimacy, and they both knew that it was probably the

last time that they would make physical contact with each other. Nevertheless, it was an affectionate hug, to which John was very happy to respond, and they remained locked in that tender embrace for some time. They both knew that this was goodbye, and even though they each now felt that it was for the best - for them both - neither of them wanted to make the final move. It was perhaps an indication of the inner strength he was discovering, that it was Edward who gently pulled away.

    “Good bye John,” he said, “I do hope that you will be find what you are looking for.”

    John, quickly back to being the fun guy that he was, gave Edward a gentle slap on the face in response.  “Be happy.” he said, then turned and walked away.

    Edward was indeed a new man, and as he prepared himself for a new day, he was thinking ahead to the afternoon, and of Jonathan Marshall. A few days after meeting his mother at the supermarket, she had phoned him on the A & E ward, and said that she and Jonathan would be visiting the hospital on the pretext of signing some papers, and that he would be needed as a witness, as her next of kin. She was somewhat bothered by this plan, as she did not want to break any rules, and of course she did not want to involve Edward in any thing which might get him into trouble.

    “It was the only thing I could think of.” she had said, clearly worried that she might be going too far.

    “That will be fine.” Edward had reassured her, “It’s a good plan and I will see that there are no problems.” So they had arranged for them to call this day after school, and Edward had put together a few impressive, but meaningless, documents for them to sign.

     He looked at the clock, gulped down his cup of tea, and once again, knowing that he had left it to the last minute, rushed around the flat gathering together his coat and his old floppy briefcase, locking the door to his flat without seeming to stop.  In a well rehearsed routine, which would have told any observer that being in a rush was not unusual, he scoped and swooped, until all that was required was in his grasp, and anything overlooked would remain so. He ran down the road, looking at his watch as best he could, hoping as always that he would get to the bus stop before the bus did.

 

Jonathan was still in bed, though he had been awake for half an hour or so. He tried to see the time, but it was not quite light enough for him to see the clock without putting on the light, and he couldn’t be bothered to do that. He judged that it was still early, and in any case his mum would call him when it was time to get up. So he laid where he was thinking about Claire.

    “Do I love her?” he wondered. He thought he loved her.

    “I think I love her, I know that.” he said to himself, almost aloud. But it did not help his confusion.

    In the weeks that had followed his father’s death, she had been very close, and supportive. Gradually their intimacies had increased and they kissed each other when they could, with youthful enthusiasm making up for what they lacked in technique. Hands however, at least for the moment, were not used, save for some non-strategic over the clothes stroking. Quietly Jonathan was getting on with his life, and thinking less and less of the stress of recent weeks. Thoughts about his dad were now less frequent, and he and his mum seemed to be getting on alright.

    Thinking of her, he smiled at his thoughts, for she was acting a bit strange The tension that in the past had always present in the house had gone, and he noticed that his mum seemed to be happier that he remembered. Indeed, he had gone into the house one day and  was surprised to hear her singing. He stopped at the door for a moment or two, listening and wondering before going in. No matter how he tried, he could not remember ever hearing her sing before.

    When he mentioned it to her she told him not to be daft. He was sorry he had made a comment for he hasn’t heard her singing any more, but she did seem to be happy.

    He remembered that he had to go with her to the hospital after school. He was not too pleased about that as there was to be a  social at school after lessons, when he would be seeing Claire again.

     “ I hope it doesn’t take too long.” he thought, “I don’t want to miss that.” but concluded that there should be plenty of time.

   Putting that thought out of his mind was not too easy as he looked forward to getting close to his girl friend again; until a new thought immediately took its place.  ‘Plummy.’ he remembered, had asked him to call into his office after morning assembly. That didn’t please him either.

    “It will be a bit of a rush, and if I am late for the first lecture, it’ll be me that cops for it.” Then he remembered that the first lecture was English with ‘Plummy’, so it would be up to him.

    “I wonder what he wants with me?” he thought, as his mind explored the possibilities.

    “Don’t think it will be football.” he answered himself, provisionally eliminating that from the list. “!I like playing football, and I’m not bad; but I’m not that good either.” he concluded with rare modesty.

    He remembered that Claire had mentioned athletics. “I wonder if it’s to do with that?” he mused, but not with any great excitement. Any further thoughts on their meeting were then cut short by his mother’s voice, calling from the bottom of the stairs.

    “Jonathan; Emma” her voice strong over the radio playing in the kitchen. “I want you both dressed and down here straight away.”

    Some things don’t change, and when it comes to getting her children out of bed in the morning, Margaret was just as firm now as she had always been. Her children on the other hand, were just as reluctant to make that first move as they had always been. So once again the battle was joined, and once again the cry “This is the last time I will call you.” had shattered the early morning silence. It was a much repeated sound in the Marshall household, and of course, like any other empty threat it was ignored. They all knew it would not be the last time !.

 

Claire was waiting when Jonathan arrived at school. Though there had been no pre-arrangement they had both got into the habit of being early, so that they could spend a little time together. They did find themselves in the same class often enough, but there was little time between classes to get together, and it was a policy in this co-ed school, that students who had formed relationships, even ‘un-awakened’ ones such as their’s, should not sit together in class.

    They stood chatting and touching and pushing and laughing until the call for assembly was heard, and then slowly wandered into the building, not complaining as the bottleneck of other students caused them to be pushed together for a little while. Then to the assembly hall where they were addressed first by the head master Mr. Pickering on the subject of school discipline. After that it was the turn of Mr Jacobs, the science master, but this time wearing his other hat as school safety officer.

    Mr Wilson’s office was on the second floor, and Jonathan skipped the stairs two at a time in his haste to get his interview with ‘Plummy’ over as quick as he could. Mr Jacobs would have been appalled to see his words of caution forgotten; nay, disregarded; so quickly. More likely he would have been appalled to know that like most of the students, Jonathan had not even been listening, and worse, would not have thought it very important if he had.

    Jonathan’s knock on Mr Wilson’s door was answered by a brisk, “Come in” followed by “Ah, Jonathan, please come in and sit down” Mr Wilson smiled and pointed to a chair.

   “I’m sorry there isn’t much time to talk just now, but I want to ask you if you will give some thought to joining my athletics group?”

    Though this was not completely unexpected, it having been on Jonathan’s list of possibilities, just the same he could not help thinking “Athletics! - what do I want with athletics?”.

    Mr Wilson continued, “I know you like football, and you are pretty good at it, but I have been watching you for a while, and I am sure that with coaching you could be a much better runner; and possibly;” Mr Wilson paused, “Possibly to championship level.”

    He stood up, picking up a pile of papers from his desk as he did so, then passing them to Jonathan saying, “Would you mind carrying these down to the class room for me?” Without waiting for an answer he picked up another pile and headed for the door, Jonathan meekly following.

    “Close the door after you please.” Mr Wilson asked, and continued talking.“I want you to give it some careful thought.” he said, “Running is a fine sport, and good runners are not too easy to find, and...” he emphasized the ‘and’, paused and continued, “I think you have the makings of a very good runner.”

    By this time they were halfway down the corridor heading for the stairs. “There is a special training session on Thursday afternoon, and I really would like you to come along.”

    Up to now Jonathan hadn’t said a word, and as they had almost reached the classroom he was afraid he was going to be pushed into doing something he didn’t want. It was as though Mr. Wilson had read his mind. When they arrived at the classroom he stopped, hand on the door, but not yet pushing it open. “I do not want you to feel under any pressure about this Jonathan,” he said, “you must decide, for it will only work if you want it too, and;” once again that emphasis mid sentence, “ you should know that it will require a major commitment.”

    He stood still for one more moment. “It’s your life and your call, but I think you will find it very rewarding. Please come to the practice session on Thursday, and see what you think to it all, and we will have more time to talk about it.”

    “Here” he said, as though just remembering; clasping the papers to his chest with one hand, while fishing in his jacket pocket with the other, he produced a leaflet.

    “This is a schedule for our training sessions.” he said, putting the slightly crumpled note on top of the pile of papers that Jonathan was carrying, and then he repeated, with the hint of a smile, “Thursday - I’ll be looking out for you.”

    He pushed the door open and walked in, Jonathan following, aware of the surprised look on the faces of his fellow students, and even more aware of them noting that he was carrying for ‘sir’.

    The English lesson was largely lost on Jonathan, as he tried to fathom the gist of what Mr Wilson’s remarks. He didn’t notice that during the lesson, none of ‘sir’s’ questions were directed at him. Did Mr Wilson know that he had planted a seed, and that it might just be taking root ?. Jonathan was certainly thinking about it, and of Mr Wilson’s enthusiastic comments about his skills. Jonathan pondered on that. Did he really mean it or was he just flattering to swell the numbers of his running group?

    Jonathan had never done any proper running before, but he had always known that when larking about with his friends he generally caught the person he was chasing, and conversely, he could always manage not to be caught when he was being chased. His thought process took him, in the way that day dreams do, from a gang of lads larking about, to that same gang on a race track. They were nearing the finish but it was Jonathan who was just about to break the tape.

    “What if I could be a good runner?”, he thought ”I mean, a good runner, maybe even a champion. That would be cool”.

    Mr. Wilson would have been pleased if he had been able to read the young man’s thoughts at that moment, for he would have seen that he had indeed planted a seed, and that it might just be taking root.

 

The morning had gone very quickly for Margaret, and she had to rush round to do some shopping during her lunch hour, knowing that there would be no time later on. During the morning she had plucked up some courage to speak to her supervisor to ask if she might finish early today. She had an office in the stock room, and Margaret was a little nervous when she knocked on the door. They had spoken very little to each other since their public altercation the previous week, and although Margaret had come out on top on that occasion, she did not want bad feelings to continue, and was prepared to be conciliatory.

    “Come in.” she heard the voice inviting her to enter.

    “Hello Mrs. Marshall,” the supervisor said,” What can I do for you?”

    It wasn’t an over friendly greeting, but neither was it curt or aggressive.

    “Can I start by saying I am sorry that we had words the other day,” Margaret said, hoping to draw a line on the incident. “but I felt that I had to stand up for myself.”

    “Yes I’m sorry too, and I am sorry that you felt that I was not being sympathetic to your problems.” she paused, “Perhaps we were just out of step with each other that day.” Another little pause, and a smile. “What say we start again?”

    Margaret acknowledged to herself that she might have been too quick to pass judgment on this young lady. Clearly she can’t know everyone problems, and in any case, no doubt she had problems of her own. She was pleased too that there was no hostility towards her.

    “You told me I should see you if I needed some time off Mrs Woods, and I really could do with finishing about four today.” and before her supervisor could answer she continued. “I will of course work extra another day to make it up.” She stopped, her nervous tension making her a little breathless.

    “Is it to do with your husband?”

    “Well it’s connected,” Margaret answered, “it’s really about my son. He’s fourteen, nearly fifteen,” she corrected, “and he has not properly come to terms with losing his father, and I am taking him to see one of the doctors to find out what help he needs.”

    “Of course we will try to help you, but I do wish you had asked me sooner, so that we could arrange for someone to cover for you.”

    Margaret’s heart sank, thinking that once again that tempers would fly. “I know,” she said, trying to remain cool, “I have been wanting to speak to you for a few days, but couldn’t pluck up the courage, and now it’s nearly to late.”

    Margaret slumped a little, her courage starting to fail her, but she heard the supervisor say, “But it's not too late; we will find a way so that you can leave at four o’clock.” She smiled “It is a pity that you were scared to come to me, Mrs. Marshall, try to remember that we are hear to help if we can, and I hope that your boy will be Ok.”

    She left her supervisor feeling drained, but pleased that an obstacle had been overcome. Nevertheless, she had the strange feeling that in this little exchange, she had somehow surrendered the moral high ground to her young supervisor, who was now back in

charge.

    “Never mind about that,” she muttered under her breath as she hurried away, "at least I am free to go to the hospital.” Thinking ahead, she frowned “The only problem now is whether Jonathan will turn up.” She looked at her watch, her face showing her concern. Of course she hoped that he would turn up, but she was not at all sure that he would.

    She had the same thought later, and once again Margaret found herself looking at her watch. She had been waiting at the front entrance to Wixley General Hospital for ten minutes, and there was no sign of Jonathan. Her appointed time to meet Mr Willett was half past four and as it was nearly that now, she was starting to think that he would not come after all. Then she saw him strolling along with not the slightest sign of any urgency.

    “I’d just about given you up.” she said as Jonathan reached her.

    “You said half past didn’t you, and it’s half past now.” Jonathan answered in a slightly sullen tone, still feeling irritable that he had to be there at all.

    “No Jonathan, I told you that we were seeing Mr Willett at half past four, and now we will be keeping him waiting.”

    She let it go at that, remembering that the purpose of the visit was to try to find a way to release the feelings that Jonathan had kept bottled up, and she did not want to anger him. How ironic that all the trouble being taken was for him, and yet he was so off hand, seemingly without a care in the world.

    They found Edward in the A & E, and he took them to the same little room they had used the day Mr Marshall died.

    Edward asked them to sit down at a desk he had brought in, and then he produced a folder, from which he took out a couple of sheets of paper.

    “Here you are Mrs Marshall”, he said as he placed them in front of her, “These are the paper I need you to sign.”, and then turning to Jonathan, “and as ‘next of kin’ would you sign them as well please?”

    Jonathan was not particularly interested in the contents of the forms, nor was he well pleased to be in the same room as the man who he still blamed for letting his father die. His lack of interest was perhaps a blessing as the documents would not have stood up to close scrutiny. But he was curious about ‘next of kin’.

    “What does that mean?” he asked somewhat huffily, not want to concede a weakening of his aloofness, “what’s next of kin!”

    Edward reflected for a moment, “Well,” he said, “Kin is an ancient word for family, and ‘next of’ means nearest. So ‘next of kin’ simply means ‘nearest family’.”

    Jonathan seemed to be happy with that explanation, and took the pen from his mother, signed both papers and handed the pen back to her, who in turn passed it back to Edward.

    Margaret then stood up, with what seemed to be some urgency. “I’m sorry but I am going to have to leave you few a couple of minutes, I have been so busy, and then Jonathan was a bit late”, she was looking at Edward as though explaining to him, “ I must go to the ladies.”

    With that she was up and off, the little charade completed with some aplomb, leaving Edward and Jonathan together.

    “There are some easy chairs in the room,” Edward said, making a gesture towards them, “I don’t suppose she will be very long, but we might as well make ourselves comfortable until she returns.” He moved as he spoke, not giving Jonathan the opportunity to disagree, settling in one of them, and pointing to the other, inviting Jonathan to join him. As he sat down Edward asked , “How has your Mum been during the last few weeks, has she settled down do you think?”

    Jonathan was not quite sure if or how to answer but but he muttered a reply. “I think she is alright.” then after a little hesitation he continued “I think she is quite happy; most of the time at least; she seems to have got over it.”

    “What about you and your sister, have you both got over it?”

    Edward was being as casual as he could, trying to make it sound like small talk.

    “Emma was very upset for a few days, but I think it’s pretty much forgotten now.”

    Jonathan shifted in his chair, feeling slightly uncomfortable at the questions. Edward, aware of the significance of this body language, changed tack. “Your mum tells me you like football, is that right ?”

    “Oh yes,” he said, on easier ground now, “I like a good kick around,”

    “Do you play for the school?”

    “Yes when I get picked, but there are plenty of good players, so our sports master changes the teams so that everyone gets a chance.”

    “That seems to be a fair way of doing it” Edward remarked, trying to maintain a comfortable exchange, “He must be a good sports master.”

    “Mr. Wilson,” Jonathan volunteered, despite his intention to be uncooperative he was starting to relax. “He’s also the English master.”

    “ Ah’ yes, Mr. Wilson, I think I met him; didn’t he bring you in that day?”

    That day !. Edward reflected once again on the events of that day, fresh in his mind as though it were yesterday. It had somehow stayed in his mind ever since, and it had changed the life of the young man sitting in front of him.

    “Yes he brought me down, but I didn’t know you had met him.”

    “Yes he came looking for you, but you had gone.” Edward waited a moment:

    Jonathan’s new relaxed mood was soon to be tested. “I seem to remember that you were very upset, and you left us all.”

    Jonathan sat up in his chair, his composure suddenly gone. He had all but blocked it out, but now he was stunned by the memory of his reaction to the news of his fathers death. Suddenly he felt the same anger that had consumed him then. He stood up staring at Edward. “Why did he die” Edward said nothing. “Why did he have to go and kill himself.” Jonathan asked, his voice louder as emotion was starting to take effect.

    Edward was trying to decide how best to come in. He decided to remain silent as he guessed that something was happening.

    “What a silly sod for killing himself.” Jonathan was trembling now, and seemed to be asking for an answer.

    “It happens all the time,” said Edward, looking directly at the young man, “ and it’s the loved ones left behind who suffer.”

    “But I don’t know if he loved us,” Jonathan cried out, now close to tears “and I don’t know if I loved him.”

    Jonathan was now staring ahead but seeing nothing, trembling, his clenched fists going up and down as he tried to stop the tears. Then he gave in, the forces inside him too strong.

    “What a silly sod for getting himself killed.” he said again , and then he slumped back in his chair, the tears that he had been holding back, and the emotion that he had not allowed to reveal, now given full rain.

    Margaret had returned to the room during Jonathan's outburst, but remained quietly at the back, realizing that this was a critical moment and not wanting to break the spell. She watched, her own heart breaking as her child, her baby, sobbed his heart out. She knew how important it was for her son’s well being, and for his future, that he rid himself of this heavy burden. She knew also how much she owed to this relative stranger, who had come into her life so unexpectedly. For reasons she did not know he had been there to comfort her when she had needed it. Once again he had been there for her, helping her son to navigate a very rocky headland. Her heart stirred; an unfamiliar feeling, but she didn’t know if it was gratitude she felt at that moment, or the first awakenings of love.

 

The Marshall home was a rather gloomy place again. Margaret was very troubled after such a traumatic ordeal at the hospital the day before, and didn’t know what to do for the best. She and Jonathan had returned to their home in silence, and the thought that Jonathan’s pain would miraculously disappear, now seemed to have been wildly optimistic. When she had called him for breakfast she discovered that he was not in his bed. She had hoped that the school social the night before would have shaken him out of his gloom, but despite having looked forward to the event, he would not go. Instead, he had gone to his room and stayed there. Not even a call by one of his school pals, probably acting for Claire, would change his mind. Margaret had to tell a little lie, and said that he was poorly. It was very upsetting and disappointing, and Margaret couldn’t help thinking that her attempt to help Jonathan had backfired.  

    Had he got up early and gone out, or had he been out all night ?. She didn’t know. She didn’t know if she should be worried or cross, but mostly she was sad that her little boy was so unhappy. It had been a long time since she had thought of him as a little boy. He was big for his age, and so well built that she already thought of him as a young man.

    Without warning fate had dealt him a blow that had been too much for him to cope with.  For the moment he was a little boy again, no doubt being with his school friends - for Margaret had surmised that to be the explanation, content that it might be the best place for him.

    She called for Emma to get up and get ready for school, and was surprised to find that she was already up and in the bathroom. She too was unsettled, conscious of the feeling that there was something wrong. Soon they were both ready to go; Emma to join a neighbour who’s daughter went to the same school as she. She had stepped in, like the good neighbour she was, when she found out about Bill’s accident.

    Margaret would be going to her job, where, if possible, she would get more time off to go to the school. She knew that she would have to plea, and hoped that her supervisor was telling the truth when she spoke of ‘wanting to help’. If that could not be done, she would have to phone the school, first to check that Jonathan was there, before deciding on her next move.

 

Edward on the other hand, unaware of developments at the Marshall home, was feeling quite good about the way things had turned out. He felt that he had been able to help a young man with a problem, and in doing so had helped the family. He was naturally a caring person, and any success he had, however it occurred, especially if was beneficial to someone, pleased him. In this case there was an added personal involvement. He had become, purely by circumstance, the embodiment of the hate and the hurt that Jonathan was feeling, and was certain that getting him to display and discharge his emotions yesterday could only benefit him. There was also another reason why he was feeling good and that was Jonathan’s mother. He had not felt any attraction to a women for as long as he could remember, and now that this lady had come into his life he was thinking about her, and was thinking about ‘life’ in a different way. When John left him he did not expect to find another man to replace him, nor did he want one. Soon he started to notice the benefits of independence, and was quite happy to be on his own, and the idea of another partner was pushed to the back of his mind.

    Now there was Margaret, though he could not bring himself to think of romance with her. That, he reflected, would not be realistic. But neither could he deny that the thought of meeting her gave him pleasure. At the very least he hoped, they might become friends. After all he thought that she was a few older than he, and might not like the idea of a younger boy friend. Indeed, having just lost her husband she might not want anything to do with any man, especially one who was gay. But despite these mixed emotions he still felt good, and hoped it would not be too long before he saw her again.

    When they left the hospital the day before, Jonathan was quiet and clearly still upset, and no plans had been made to meet again, but he felt, and hoped, that she would want him to keep in touch, if only to be sure of Jonathan’s progress.

    He mused a little on what might be, but gradually the reality of the situation returned to dispel any unrealistic thoughts. He told himself to stop dreaming, and to accept what was true. He was on his own, he was gay, and that nothing was likely to change.

   “I know that.” he said quietly, as though arguing with himself. "But it still feels good."