Gran's House
by Kit
Chapter 19
At the end of the first week of January, Carol called and told me that they'd almost finished preparing the prospective adopter report and that there would be a panel meeting in the next couple of weeks. I would be informed of the date and would be interviewed briefly at the start of the meeting. She added that provided that the panel accepted me, the next step was to put together a matching panel.
The matching panel was responsible for matching the adopter with the child, but in this case much of that process had effectively already been done. My brothers and I had already spent a lot of time together, and although it was still necessary to go through the formalities, they already had much of the information required. Therefore, the matching process that usually took at least six months could perhaps take just a few weeks.
"I'm just thinking aloud and trying to get an idea of timing," I said, "but it seems that I should know if I'm accepted as an adopter around the middle of March, and then by the end of April I may know if I can adopt my brothers."
"Yes, that's about right," she replied, "but remember that those are just approximate timings, and after that, you'll still need to put in the formal application to the Family Court. Even under ideal circumstances, the adoption probably won't be official and finalised until the second half of May at the very earliest."
After that discussion, I had an idea about the timing of my brothers coming to live with me, and I decided to call Rose.
"The boys' school's only about half an hour's drive from my house, so if I take them to school and bring them back, then they could move in here with me as soon as the court agrees to the adoption," I suggested.
When she didn't reply immediately, I thought that perhaps she was thinking of a way to reject my suggestion. However, her response wasn't negative, though it also wasn't enthusiastic.
"That's certainly a possibility," she said thoughtfully, "but let's not get ahead of ourselves. We can deal with that when the time comes."
Connor spent considerable time looking through websites of Linchester Grammar and other schools, and he occasionally called me over to show me something or ask questions. On one occasion, he seemed particularly keen on drawing my attention to a couple of pages.
"You never said your old school had a sailing club," he complained.
"I didn't know they had. I'm pretty sure there wasn't one when I was there, so it must be quite new."
"But it says that activities like that aren't included in the school fees," he said, sounding disappointed. Then he clicked through to the fees webpage and exclaimed, "Have you seen how much it is? More than twelve thousand pounds just for one year!"
"Sounds about right," I said, remembering my own time at the schools and estimating the effect of inflation.
"You can't spend that just for me," he said with consternation on his face.
"Of course I can," I replied, putting my arm over his shoulder. "You're worth it, and it's an investment for your future."
After doing more research on various websites, he informed Uncle Geoffrey that he was very attracted to the possibility of going to my old school. My godfather said that he'd try to get permission for a late application and told my brother that he needed to be absolutely certain before it was time for the entrance exams.
With the cooperation of David and Sarah, who coordinated with Connor's school, I arranged with Dr Fredericks, the headmaster of my old school, to have a tour. It probably helped that the headmaster knew and liked me and that my godfather was on the school's Board of Governors. Also, when discussing the proposed visit, I told Dr Fredericks about the situation with my brothers, and he was very sympathetic.
Dr Fredericks, who pretended not to know that the boys referred to him as ' Uncle Fred ', was the firm but fair type of headmaster. He was a stickler for enforcing rules, but he was always prepared to listen to any reasonable excuses or mitigating circumstances. When discussing arrangements for the visit, he requested that after the tour, I bring Connor to his office for tea. Although he didn't say so, I realised that 'tea' would actually be an interview.
Connor and I arrived at my old school at precisely two o'clock on a Thursday afternoon in the middle of January. We were met at the entrance by a boy whom I vaguely recognised. Actually, as he was in the Upper Sixth Form and thus at least seventeen, he was really a young man and not a boy. Certainly, if he'd been wearing ordinary clothes and not a school uniform, few people would have thought of him as a boy.
He was a couple of inches taller than I was, and his short black hair was neatly combed. There was a sort of rugged handsomeness that might have been associated more with someone a little older than I knew him to be. I was impressed by the confidence in his hazel eyes as he looked at me with an open and friendly gaze.
"Paul," he said when he greeted me, holding out his hand for me to shake. "Paul Cooper. I thought I recognised the name when the Head asked me to give a tour."
"Yes," I replied, returning his broad smile and beginning to remember his name. "Pat… Patrick Staunton. Under Fifteens swimming team?"
"Not Under Fifteens anymore," he said, clearly amused.
"Of course not. You've grown a lot, and your chest is a lot broader."
"I specialised in breaststroke," he replied by way of explanation, flexing his shoulders.
"I see you're not only a prefect but also head of house," I noted.
"But didn't make it to deputy head boy like you did," he replied and smiled wryly. Looking at my brother, he added, "And who's this? Surely not your son."
"No," I said and laughed. "I'm not that old. This is my brother, Connor."
"Hello, Connor," Pat said and held out his hand. "I guess you're planning to join us here."
"Hi," my brother said hesitantly, tentatively shaking hands with the older boy. "Maybe."
"Okay," Pat said, "let's get this show on the road before the end of my free period."
The tour began where we were, inside the main entrance, where there was a long wood-lined gallery. It was more than two hundred years old and was part of the original school, most of which was now used for administrative purposes. As we walked along the gallery, Pat pointed out the glass cases with all the sports trophies and the photos of our winning teams. He stopped at one of the cases.
"Some of these trophies were won when Paul was captain of the school swimming team," he said. "Can you recognise him in that photo?"
"Oh, yes," my brother said, sounding more than a little impressed.
"And there's Pat when he was about fourteen," I said, pointing to another part of the photo. "See how much he's grown."
Connor didn't say anything, but the way he looked from the photo to Pat and then back again indicated that he wasn't completely sure it was the same person.
"Some of these were won when Paul was captain of the cross-country team," Pat, who seemed determined to embarrass me, said as he pointed to another display case.
"Didn't you get anything for playing footie?" Connor asked, casting a sidelong glance at me.
"I was hopeless at football," I admitted, "and even worse at rugby."
"Which is probably why you never got to be Head Boy," Pat commented.
All the teaching areas, classrooms, laboratories, library, art rooms, music rooms, etc., were in the newer part of the school. The main auditorium was at the junction between the old school and the newer buildings, and the gymnasium and sports facilities, including the swimming pool, were at the far end of the school grounds. About halfway through the tour, Connor attracted my attention and whispered in my ear that he needed to pee, so I escorted him to the nearest toilet facilities.
The students were in classes, so the hallways were very quiet as we went round the school. The tour ended in the headmaster's outer office, where I was warmly greeted by his secretary, who recognised me immediately. When the bell sounded to indicate the change of period, I thanked Pat, and we shook hands again before he went off. Tea with the headmaster went very well, and it felt more like a chat than an interview.
'Uncle Fred', who was a very imposing man in his mid-fifties, had a mane of white hair, and he'd been headmaster for as long as I could remember. His experience, combined with an undergraduate degree in psychology, a postgrad degree in education, and a PhD in child psychology, meant that he was skilled at putting people at ease while still getting lots of information from them.
As the headmaster brought up various topics such as hobbies, interests, favourite classes, what Connor had done over the summer, and even favourite TV programs, my brother quickly opened up and frequently even volunteered information. When the topic of sports came up, my brother enthused about football, which obviously amused Dr Fredericks. After almost thirty minutes, the headmaster stood up.
"Well, Connor, I'm sure you have lots of questions, and I'm sure your brother will be able to answer them for you," he said. Smiling at me, he added, "Probably better than I can."
Then he escorted us to the door of the outer office, where he spoke quietly to me as I was about to follow Connor through the doorway.
"Just in case you don't already know, Paul, the Entrance and Scholarship Exams are in the second week of February, and registration for the exams closes two weeks before that."
I took that comment as an indication that he considered my brother to be an acceptable candidate.
As we were returning to the car, Connor made a comment about how everyone seemed to shake hands when they said hello or goodbye. I pointed out to him that it was an old school and that there were a lot of customs there that he might find odd or old-fashioned. As an example, I told him that although the headmaster had used his first name during our visit, only his close friends would call him 'Connor' when he actually attended the school.
When he asked why some boys had different uniforms, I explained to him that the maroon blazers and ties were for all boys except Sixth Formers, who wore navy blue. I also pointed out that boys in the first year were not allowed to wear long trousers. After that, they had to wear long trousers except, of course, for sports. After I finished, I had the feeling that he wasn't at all impressed by the school traditions.
During the drive back to the foster home, where I'd accepted an invitation to stay for their evening meal, Connor was initially silent. I decided to remain quiet and let him process his thoughts. After a few minutes, as if a dam had been breached, there came a flood of comments and questions, some of which I'd expected, but some took me by surprise.
"That school's very big and a bit scary," he said as a sort of opening gambit, possibly wanting to see how I'd react before saying anything else.
"The place may be big, but there are probably fewer students than there are at the other local secondary schools. And a new school is always scary. I was terrified on my first day there."
"Really?" he asked doubtfully.
"Really. You know I don't tell you lies," I pointed out.
"But everyone there'll be much bigger than me."
"Actually, I doubt that it'll be 'everyone'. You're bigger than I was at your age, and I wasn't the smallest in my class. And if I remember correctly, Pat was smaller than average when he first joined the swimming team, but look at him now!"
"He's the guy who showed us around?"
"Yes, he's done really well at the school. He was just a nervous little kid when he joined the swimming team, and now he's not only a prefect but also head of his house."
"How did you know about the prefect and house thingy? And what's a head of house?" he asked after a brief pause.
"I knew it because of his badges. Did you see the badges on the lapel of his blazer?"
"Yeah."
"The only badges allowed at that school are official badges. The silver bar means that he's a prefect, and the red shield with the gold bar across the top means he's head of Peter's House. The deputy head would have the red shield without the gold bar…"
"That's too confusing!" Connor pronounced, making me realise that I'd been rambling a little.
"I'm sorry. I know it's a lot to absorb all at once," I apologised, "but it's like any new place you go to. You need to learn where everything is and what the rules are. But these are things you can pick up, and you don't need to learn them all at once."
"Okay, so is Peter's House like the Houses in Hogwarts, and which is Slytherin?" he asked, obviously amused by the idea.
"Yes, it's a bit like that," I replied, "but there's no Slytherin, just the names of saints."
"Saints," he said, becoming more serious, "and there's a chapel, so do we have to do religion and stuff?"
"Not anymore. It was religious when it was started, and there are still school services for big Christian events, but now it's voluntary. Anyone who doesn't want to go can do other quiet activities, like read in the library."
"Did you go?"
"When I first started at the school, I went to chapel because I believed in religion, but when I stopped believing, I sometimes still went along because I liked listening to the choir."
"What about the entrance exam , though? Won't I need to know a lot?"
"No, not really. The school is more interested in your ability to learn new things and how motivated you are. They test your basic knowledge of arithmetic and English, which I know you have, but the most important part of the exam tests your ability to think, and I know you're good at that."
"How can they do that?" he asked doubtfully.
"There are various ways, but one of the most important is to give you a few paragraphs to read, then ask questions to make sure you understand it. And other questions will see if you can deduce things that aren't specifically mentioned in what you read."
"Deduce like a detective? That sounds interesting, but it's maybe too hard for me."
"Look, I know you're intelligent, and I'm sure you can pass the exam, but like I said, if you don't, then that's life, and you'll always be successful to me," I assured him. "By the way, did you see on the website that the school believes all children are good at something and that they aim to help students find the things they're good at and encourage them to develop and improve?"
"Sounds a bit like the way you ramble on about things," Connor said a little dismissively, "but what does it mean?"
After months of getting to know him, I'd grown accustomed to his occasional disparaging comments and realised that he didn't intend them to be taken as personal insults. Thus, I was neither hurt nor offended.
"It means that they're more interested in your potential than what you know now."
"Okay," he said reluctantly, "I'll do the exam."
"You know you only need to do the exam if you want to go to that school," I said gently. "I think it would be good for you to go there, but if you really don't want to go, then I won't pressure you to do it. It has to be your free decision, or it probably won't do you any good."
There was another long silence, during which I presumed that he was thinking about the school, but when he spoke again, it was on a totally different topic.
"Mike's been nice to us recently," he said. "Nearly as nice as he is to Katie."
"That's good," I replied. "So why don't you seem very happy about it?"
"I think maybe it's just because you've been good to him and bought him nice stuff," he said. After a brief pause and with some hesitancy, he added, "And I think there's something else."
"Something else?" I prompted when he fell silent for a few seconds and showed no signs of continuing.
"Well, erm, promise you won't tell anyone?"
"Yes, I promise," I assured him.
"Okay, on Tuesday after we'd done our homework, Liam was on the keyboard with the headphones on, and Mike came in. He said he wanted to talk in private and asked me to go to his room."
"And did you go to his room?" I prompted after he'd been silent for several seconds.
"Yeah, and then he told me he's gay. It was a bit weird, and I wondered why he told me. But I said it was okay, and I wasn't bothered. Then I remembered what you'd said, and I promised that I wouldn't tell anyone else unless he said it was okay. And then he said it was okay to tell you."
"Oh, right," I said, unable to think of anything better to say but feeling the need to acknowledge what he'd told me.
Lost in our own thoughts, neither of us spoke again until we parked outside the foster home.
"I think he fancies you," Connor said, blurting it out quickly, almost as if making a confession.
At first I didn't know how I should respond to that, and my initial reaction was not to comment at all. Then I remembered when I'd had a crush on an older boy and how mortified I would've been if he'd found out.
"It's probably best if you don't tell him that you think that," I said before we got out of the car, "and definitely best if you don't let him know you've told me."
"Okay," he replied with considerable relief.
As had been planned, we arrived before the other children had returned from school. Katie and Mike didn't know that I'd taken Connor to Linchester, and I guessed that when they saw me, they just assumed that I'd come to socialise with my brothers. Before the other children got home, David and Sarah had time to ask Connor about the tour. As he answered their questions, he appeared to become more and more enthusiastic about his visit to the school.
Mike may have guessed that I now knew he was gay, but his behaviour toward me hadn't changed noticeably. For my part, I made sure that I treated him in exactly the same way as I had before. Although we'd had very few run-coaching sessions since the start of winter, that was because of the bad weather rather than anything related to our personal interactions.
For social reasons as well as professional reasons, my intention had been to start looking at possibilities for employment as soon as the adoption training and the New Year celebrations were out of the way. However, it occurred to me that my knowledge of the rapidly evolving subject was at least six months out of date. So I decided to spend some time catching up on the latest literature before contacting my ex-tutor for help and advice.
One evening while I was reading an article in an online computer science journal, I got an email notification.
Hi, Paul
Hope you're well.
I'm back in England.
Sorry about the pretentious cherry blossom rubbish.
Would be good to hear from you if you want to get back in touch.
Stephane
Of course I was happy that he'd changed his mind about making a clean break in our friendship, but I wondered why he'd used an email rather than phoning me or sending a text. Thinking that perhaps he preferred a less immediate form of communication, I decided to reply in the same manner.
Hi, Stephane,
Great to hear from you again.
Yes, I'm well and hope you are, too.
The cherry blossom thing was at least poetic, even though I didn't agree with it.
Of course I'd love to get back in touch!
If you've still got my number, give me a call whenever it's convenient.
Paul
Less than five minutes after I sent that, my phone rang, but the incoming number wasn't recognised.
"Hi, Paul. It's me. I changed my phone number," Stephane said a little hesitantly. Sounding slightly nervous, he added, "I thought it best to send an email because I thought you might not want to get back in contact, and it'd be easier for you to ignore an email than a call. Also less embarrassing for me."
"Why would I want to ignore you?" I asked. "I was the one who said we should keep each other's details in case you changed your mind about that clean break idea."
"That was over six months ago. For all I know, you could've forgotten all about me."
At first I had no idea how to respond to that because he surely didn't mean it literally. Presumably he meant it as a joke, so I responded likewise.
"Do you really think my memory's so bad that I can't remember things that happened more than six months ago?"
"Anyway," he said, clearly eager to change the subject, "what've you been up to? How are things with your brothers?"
I gave him a brief outline of how my relationship with my brothers had developed, and I finished off by telling him that I was planning to adopt them.
"Wow!" he exclaimed. "That's a big step. Are you sure that you're ready to become a parent?"
"It's not unknown for guys our age to become parents," I replied more irritably than I'd intended.
"Sorry," he said quickly. "I didn't mean to annoy you.
"No, it's not you," I soothed. "It's just that so many people have said the same thing. My godmother's the only adult I know who's been enthusiastic about it. Most of the others seem to react as if I would be taking on a huge burden. But it's not like that at all. My brothers are family, and I want to be with them. And it's not as if they're babies who need their nappies changed."
"I understand, and from what little I saw of them, they seem to be great kids, " he said. "By the way, I'm going to be an uncle, and I hope they never ask me to change a nappy!"
"You mentioned you're back in England," I said after a brief pause, "so I guess you spent the summer in France, as you said you probably would?"
"Yeah. In fact I only came back just before Christmas. My parents wanted me home for the holidays, and the resort gets very quiet after New Year, at least until Easter. So my uncle wouldn't have much work for me to do."
"When you said you'd probably spend the summer in France, you didn't say you'd be working for your uncle."
"I didn't think you'd be interested."
"What were you doing?" I asked, wondering why he'd thought I wouldn't be interested.
"My uncle has a small hotel and restaurant in a seaside resort near Bordeaux. I mostly did odd jobs in the hotel and later worked as a waiter."
"Was it well paid?"
"Not really, but the tips were sometimes good, and I enjoyed being with my cousins," he replied. "Anyway, from what you say, you've been too busy with your brothers to get a job yet, but presumably you have plans for the future?"
"I thought I'd look for something soon, but it'll have to be local and maybe part-time because I need to be available for my brothers. They have to be my top priority."
"Surely earning a living has to be high on your priority list?"
"Not really very high," I said evasively. Quickly changing the subject, I added, "Anyway, what are your long-term work plans? Presumably you'd like to use your history degree?"
"Actually, I thought maybe I'd do a PGCE."
"You want to be a teacher?" I asked before realising that it was a stupid question.
"Yeah, I like kids and enjoyed tutoring my younger cousins in English. That got me thinking about teaching."
"Hey," I said as a thought occurred to me, "do you have video calls set up on your phone? Or better still, do you have it set up on your laptop? It would be great to actually see you again."
"Maybe we can set it up for next time, but I need to hang up soon. When would it be okay for me to call again?"
"Any time you like. Don't worry if I don't pick up immediately. I'll probably just be out running or cycling, or going to pick up my brothers."
After I gave him an outline of my schedule with Liam and Connor, we ended the call. A couple of days later, he contacted me on a video link from his laptop.
"You're looking well," I complimented.
"I got lots of free food in the restaurant. Now, I suppose I need to lose a little weight," he replied, looking a little embarrassed.
"Good grief, no! You definitely don't need to lose any weight."
"But I've put on almost two kilos since I last saw you."
"That's good," I pointed out. "You were a bit, erm, skinny then, and you look much better now."
"Really?" he said and grinned widely. "You look the same as ever. You've always looked really fit. I suppose it's all the running you do."
"I run as often as I can, but the weather here's not been great recently. Since I've been living at home, I've also been cycling as much as possible, and since my brothers learned to ride, we go out together."
"Even the little one, Liam?"
"Yeah. He may have little legs, but he's got lots of energy," I said. "I don't need to hold back much to allow him to keep up."
We went on to discuss our time at university and the people we'd known there, and I got the impression that he felt quite nostalgic. He told me he was still in touch with one of our former flatmates, Kelvin, and a couple of other people from his course. I admitted that I hadn't really thought about contacting people I knew at university, although I might ask my ex-tutor for help with getting a job.
"Didn't you think about contacting me?" he asked, clearly trying hard to hide his feelings.
"I thought about you, but I didn't think about getting in touch. After all, you asked me not to do that," I pointed out. Realising that sounded a bit cold, I added, "But I'm really glad that you changed your mind and called me."
"I'm very glad that you're really glad," he said lightly, but although his lips smiled, his eyes looked more serious.
The discussion went on to cover more details of what we'd done during the summer, and he told me about his mother's relatives, most of whom still lived in the Bordeaux region. His mother had an older brother, the uncle for whom Stephane had been working, plus a younger brother and a younger sister. All were married and had children, so he had eight cousins whose ages ranged from early teens to late twenties.
"Sounds exhausting," I commented breezily. "It's all I can do to keep up with my brothers!"
"Well, you didn't grow up with lots of family, so you're just not used to it. Dad has a younger sister who has two kids, and she lives just a few miles from here. Most summers, Mum and Dad took me and Claire to stay with relatives in France, so I grew up with lots of family."
Apparently, he believed that growing up in a big family was a good thing, but I wasn't sure that I would've liked it. We carried on talking for almost half an hour before he said that he had to hang up.
A few days later, he called again, and as it happened, it was shortly after Connor had visited my old school. When I told Stephane about the tour, it led to us discussing our schooldays. He told me that he'd attended a standard state secondary school and commented that he'd have hated the formality of my school.
"Now I know that, it explains a lot," he said. "An only child brought up by religious grandparents and going to a school like that. It's no wonder you're so reserved and unsociable."
"I'm not unsociable!" I protested.
"You're good at socialising because you have charm and good looks," he said. "Look, I don't want to upset you, but it seems to me that being good at socialising isn't the same as being sociable or being able to relate easily to other people. Sometimes I used to think that being generally friendly and charming was really your way of avoiding actually getting close to people and really engaging with them."
I was a little upset because I knew that I got on well with other people and that most people I met seemed to like me. I tended to avoid large crowds, but I didn't believe that made me unsociable. In any case, I didn't really understand what he meant and couldn't think of a reply until I suddenly had a thought.
"What about Mai Li?" I said. "I was close with her, and we did lots of socialising."
"But you didn't seem particularly heartbroken when you split up," he pointed out. "And you told me you knew right from the start that she would be going back to Singapore when she graduated. Maybe you allowed yourself to become close because you knew it would only be temporary."
Initially, I felt insulted, and my first reaction was annoyance, but as I struggled to think of a suitable retort, I began to calm down. It occurred to me that he might possibly be at least partially correct, and I asked myself if I could honestly say that I'd felt emotionally close to anyone since Philip. Of course, there was a bond between me and my brothers, but that was completely different.
"I'm sorry," he said, sensing my agitation. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. It's just that, erm, I thought we were good enough friends to talk about things like that. I mean, I'm not criticising, just observing… well, maybe just making deductions…"
His speech tailed off, and he blushed, and my sympathy for his discomfort erased my negative feelings.
"It's okay," I said gently. In an attempt at humour, I added, "After all, I should be used to you being frank with me. Didn't you once say I was cold and aloof?"
"I thought I said that you seemed cold and aloof," he replied, his blush deepening, "and didn't I also say I changed my mind when I saw you interacting with your brothers?"
"Maybe," I teased, "or maybe you just said that to keep me happy."
"You're evil," he said, smiling and beginning to relax a little.
"I guess I must be," I said with pretended sadness, "because my brothers often say that I am."
"Anyway, I don't think you're cold now, just, erm, independent and self-contained," he said hesitantly, quickly adding, "and like I said, I don't mean it as a criticism, and I don't think it's a bad thing, just something that's sometimes difficult for me to understand."
"Okay," I replied, accepting what he said but not really understanding it. "Now let's stop talking about me for a bit and talk about you. I guess uni PGCE courses start in September. Have you applied yet? What's the deadline for applications?"
"I've not applied yet because I'm not sure what uni I want to go to. Apparently, there's no real deadline, but once places are filled, they won't accept more applications."
"Are you going to look for a job until the course starts?"
"Yeah, but there's not a big rush. Although my wages weren't great over the summer, tips were good, and my food and accommodation were provided, so I saved most of it. And my mum and dad aren't charging me rent until I get a job."
"If I remember correctly, I think you always got on well with your parents?"
"Yeah," he said. After a pause, he added, "But maybe not quite so well now."
"Did something happen?"
"Sort of, but it didn't make things bad, just maybe not so good," he said, then looked down and away from the screen, possibly deciding what or how much to say.
"I thought we could talk about things," I prompted him by paraphrasing what he'd said to me.
"On New Year's Day I came out to them," he said, lifting his head and looking directly into the camera.
"How did it go? I guess it couldn't be too bad if they're letting you live there rent-free."
"Mum was fine with it, and Dad was, too. At least I thought so at first. But since then, although he's still really good to me, I keep catching him giving me looks as if he's disappointed in me."
"Are you sure you're not just being a bit paranoid?"
"I've known him my whole life," Stephane replied, frowning with annoyance. "Don't you think I can interpret his expressions?"
"Sorry. I didn't mean to doubt you. I wanted to be supportive, but I just got it wrong. It's not really a situation I'm familiar with."
"That's okay. I'm sorry, too. I think maybe I'm a little too sensitive just now."
"Did you tell your sister?" I asked, hoping to leave behind the delicate subject of his father. "How did she take it?"
"Oh, she's known for years. She's my big sister and very protective, and she's always been fine with it."
"Does she live nearby? Maybe you could stay with her if things get too uncomfortable with your dad," I suggested, trying to be helpful.
"About an hour's drive away, but I wouldn't want to impose on her when there's a baby on the way."
The conversation carried on for a couple of minutes, and as it wound down, I got the impression that he wanted to say something but decided to hold it back. In any case, I didn't hear from Stephane again for a few days. When he did call, he looked concerned, and his smile of greeting was hesitant.
"Hi," I greeted him jovially, "long time no see."
"Yeah," he said, sounding a little sad. "I thought you might've called."
"Oh, sorry. I had the impression that you preferred to call me. After all, you know my schedule, and I've no idea what you might be doing. As you only recently came out to your parents, I thought it might make things uncomfortable if they were with you when I called."
"Actually, I don't have a schedule, and I just help out when Mum and Dad ask me to. Maybe it would be uncomfortable if you were some strange guy, but they know we were flatmates at uni, so it won't seem weird."
"Okay, I'll call you next time. Just let me know if there are any specific times to avoid."
"So what've you been up to for the past few days?" he asked, clearly happier than he was at the start of our conversation.
"I've been enjoying catching up on reading computing science journals. It has all the fun of studying but without the pressure of exams," I said light-heartedly.
"You always spent so much time studying that I suspected you might actually enjoy it," he replied, shaking his head slightly, "and now you've just confirmed that you really are weird."
"Also, I've been helping Connor prepare for the entrance exam," I said, ignoring his pretended insult. "He and Liam insist that we do that in weekday calls rather than at weekends when we're together in person."
"At least some members of your family are relatively normal then," he observed wryly.
There was a brief pause, during which he was clearly deciding if he should say what was on his mind.
"You know we were talking about if we're the sort of friends who can talk about, erm, sensitive matters?" he said hesitantly.
"Yeah," I replied slowly, wondering what he had to say that he felt needed such a preamble.
"Over the past couple of weeks it seems that we've talked more openly and shared more than in all the time we were at uni together. At least, I've shared more with you than anyone else. But you seem more private. So I wonder if you'd mind, if you'd be annoyed, if I asked about more personal stuff."
"Ask away," I replied, "but I can't promise that I'll answer."
"Okay, so you're bi, right?"
"Yeah, but generally, I'm more likely to be attracted to females rather than males."
"I'm pretty much one hundred per cent gay, and I've known that ever since I can remember," he said, gaining confidence from my willingness to talk openly about such things. "When did you realise you were bi?"
"Erm, I suppose when you and I became friends with benefits."
"Really?" he asked in disbelief. "You never felt attracted to guys before?"
"I had a crush on an older boy when I was about twelve, but that was mostly just hero worship. In my early teens, I messed around with my best friend, but we never did much. You were the first guy who I did, erm, oral with. In fact, so far you're the only guy."
"Wow," he said, apparently surprised. "So you thought you were straight?"
"Honestly, I never really thought about it at all. I was comfortable with the idea of sex with women, so even if I thought some guys were attractive, there didn't seem to be any need to do anything about it."
"But I bet a guy like you must have had sex with lots of women, then?"
"What d'ya mean, a guy like me?" I asked, mildly irritated. "Do you think I'm some sort of slut?"
"No! I didn't mean it like that," he protested. "I just meant that I'd expect good-looking guys usually have to fight off the women. So I bet you've had lots of girlfriends."
I sighed and was beginning to tire of the questions, not because they were so personal but because he seemed to be a bit obsessed by the subject.
"I've had three girlfriends and a one-night stand," I said a little impatiently. "What about you?"
"I've never had a real relationship, but since I was about twelve, I've had sexual interactions with nine or ten guys of varying ages. Some were one-nighters, and none lasted more than a couple of months or so. In fact, you were the longest."
I was still mentally digesting what he'd said and the possible implications when he spoke again.
"When we first started with the 'benefits', I thought it would be just a couple of times while you, erm, experimented. But you kept on wanting it, so I guess you enjoyed it. And that's the first time in my life that I thought I was attractive."
"Of course you're attractive," I said indignantly. "I wouldn't have had sex with someone unless I found them attractive."
"You may be surprised to know that not every guy is like that," he replied sadly and with a hint of bitterness. "Some guys get so horny that they'd find almost anyone attractive, at least until they've had their orgasm."
"I'm not like that," I said, frowning.
"I know," he said soothingly. After a short pause, he added more brightly, "And I guess I must be at least a bit attractive because one of the hotel customers offered me a hundred euros to go to his room and have sex with him."
"And did you?" I asked, slightly shocked.
"No, but he was actually quite nice looking, and if he hadn't offered to pay me, I might have had sex with him for free. But I didn't like the fact he seemed to think I could be bought."
"At least not for a mere hundred euros," I teased, then seeing his frown, I quickly continued, "Just joking!"
"Yeah," he said, his expression relaxing into a smile. "I guess I'm worth more than that."
"Oh, a thousand, at least."
"So, have you ever come out to anyone?" he asked quickly.
"Apart from just now to you? No. I mean, coming out as bi isn't really a big thing, is it? And it wouldn't really be of interest to anyone. I guess if someone important to me asked me under the relevant circumstances, I'd tell them."
"And, erm, do you have a girlfriend or boyfriend… or a friend with benefits at the moment?" he asked hesitantly.
"No," I replied. "I mean, it might be nice in theory, but as I said, my brothers are the most important thing, and anything else has to fit in with that. What about you? Any boyfriends?"
"No," he stated bluntly, making it obvious that he had no intention of expanding on that.
Again, he quickly changed the subject and asked how my brothers were doing and how the adoption process was getting along. Before we hung up, I promised to call him again soon, and a couple of days later, I did that.
"Ah, you called!" he greeted me.
Although he was obviously glad that I did, I had the feeling that he hadn't been sure that I would.
"I said I would, didn't I?"
"People don't always do what they say they will," he said flatly.
"I always keep my promises," I replied, "unless something crops up that I can't control."
"I thought you might've changed your mind because, well, the conversation last time became a bit, erm, intense."
"You mean about girlfriends and boyfriends and being bisexual?" I asked. "It's not something I usually talk about. In fact, I've never talked about it with anyone before, and it was a little uncomfortable at times. On the other hand, it's also nice to have someone to talk with about things like that."
"I'm glad about that," he said, looking quite relieved, "but I'm sorry it made you uncomfortable."
"That's okay. I guess I'll get used to it."
"What d'ya mean, 'get used to it'?" he asked, frowning.
"As you've given up on the idea of breaking off contact with me, we're going to be staying in touch," I pointed out, "and as you seem to like talking about personal stuff, I'm sure I'll get used to it."
"But I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable."
"Like I said, it's nice to have someone I can talk openly with, and any discomfort will probably fade with time," I said. Smiling, I added, "Like breaking in a new pair of running shoes."
"I'm not sure I like being compared to running shoes," he said archly. With a devilish smile he continued, "But the idea of breaking things in may be, erm, interesting."
Not wishing to dwell on the meaning of the latter part of his statement, I was now the one who quickly changed the subject.
"So, have you started looking for PGCE places or job hunting yet?" I asked. "And have things got any better with your dad?"
"Not yet. I'm still thinking about possibilities," he replied. "As for my dad, like I said, it's not actually bad, just sometimes a bit uncomfortable. And it isn't really his fault because I think he's really trying his best to behave just as he used to."
"You can always talk to me if things get difficult," I said sympathetically. Trying to inject a little humour, I added, "And I promise not to change my behaviour now that I know you're gay."
"Thanks. That means a lot to me, " he replied. " But I thought you already knew I was gay, especially after we went to bed together."
"I guessed you were, but there was always the possibility you were bi, and I didn't want to jump to conclusions."
"Your behaviour's already changed since we were at uni," he said thoughtfully, "but maybe that's because of your brothers."
"Changed?" I challenged, frowning.
"Don't get upset, but you really have changed since I first met you," he replied. "At first I thought you'd become a nicer person, but then I realised that you'd just stopped hiding the nice person that was always there. I think being with your brothers has made you more open."
That gave me a lot to think about, and I remained silent for a while. Stephane was correct; when I was with Liam and Connor, I did feel more comfortable showing my feelings. When they were with me, they rarely, if ever, tried to hide their emotions or their thoughts.
"Paul?" Stephane said, clearly concerned. "Have I said something to upset you?"
"No, no," I reassured him. "I was just thinking about what you said, and I think you're probably right."
"That's good to know," he replied, looking very relieved, "but sometimes being right doesn't make people happy."
"I'm happy," I reassured him.
"Anyway, now that I've told you nothing's happening here," he said jovially, "why don't you tell me what's happening with you?"
"The next few days are going to be hectic, with Connor's entrance exam , school midterm holidays, Uncle Geoffrey's birthday, and, of course, I remember your birthday's coming up soon. Do you have any plans for that?"
"Mum wants me to have a little family party. She said that when I was at uni, I never got home for my birthday. But I reminded her that I was home for the weekend of my twenty-first, and a twenty-second birthday isn't anything special."
"Still," I said, "it's understandable that she wants to have you home and do something nice for your birthday. After all, for the three years you were at uni, you lived a long way from home, and then you spent the last few months away in France."
"Yeah, I s'pose."
"That reminds me," I said. "I can't find your home address on my phone or computer, and I'll need it so that I can send you a card."
"Birthday or Valentine?" he asked with a cheeky grin.
"Maybe both," I joked.
"I'm not sure if you ever had my address, but I'll send it to you later," he said seriously. "Oh, and I don't have your address, either."
"I'll send it," I said, making a mental note for myself. "Do you know if you'll be getting anything special for your birthday presents?"
"Nothing special. I usually just get money," he said, sounding a little disappointed.
"Maybe I can get you something," I said, trying to cheer him up. "As it'll be for Valentine's as well, maybe I could send you a box of chocolates. What's your favourite?"
"You'd really get me a present?" he asked doubtfully.
"Why would I not?"
He was quiet for a few seconds, frowning thoughtfully and seemingly trying to decide how he could respond. Then, looking directly at the screen as he might look into my eyes if we'd been in the same room, he spoke very quietly and quickly.
"What I'd really like for a present is to come and visit you," he said, the words tumbling out.
What took me by surprise wasn't the request itself but the way he'd made it, as if it had been a really big deal.
"Of course you can visit," I replied. "Best to make it after Connor's exam and after your birthday. Oh, and if you want it to be over a weekend, I'll need to check a few things."
"Check a few things?"
"Yeah, Connor and Liam are here at weekends, and they're still in foster care. If a stranger is staying in the house while they're here, I need to clear it with the foster carers."
"But I'm not really a stranger, am I?"
"Not to me, obviously, but my brothers have only seen you briefly in a video chat, and the foster carers don't even know you exist."
"Okay, I was hoping to stay for a week rather than just a couple of days because, well, it will take me most of a day to get to you and another to get home."
"Right, so that means the visit would cover a weekend. That's fine with me. I'll talk to Sarah and David, then get back to you so we can arrange details."
"Sarah and David?" he queried.
"The foster carers. Sorry, I should've said."
"Great!" he said happily.
The next day, I checked with Sarah and David, and they asked for details about Stephane. They were reassured by the fact that I'd known him for about three years and that we'd been flatmates for most of that time. However, they said that he shouldn't be left alone for long with the boys and that they'd like to meet him.
When I spoke with Stephane, he commented that the instruction about not being left alone with the boys was a little hurtful. However, I reassured him that it wasn't personal and was a precaution that would be applied to anyone. He was further comforted when I told him that initially, I'd not even been allowed to speak to my brothers alone and that social workers had visited my home before my brothers were allowed to stay overnight with me.
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