A note was stuck under his door. Kenny rang and asked for you to call him back. Tom.
He hadn’t made plans with Kenny and Russell and forgotten about them, had he? Jonathan thought, frazzled, rooting in the jam-jar he kept coins in for the phone.
‘Hey, dude, were you looking for me?’ He pretended to be bright and chirpy when Kenny answered the phone.
‘Hi, Jonathan. Yes! Um . . . I was just wondering did you hear about Higgins? Did your mum call you?’ Kenny asked kindly.
‘Yeah, she did.’ Jonathan sighed heavily. ‘I’m just on my way home. I had to come back here because I forgot the frig-gin’ curtain material she’s expecting. How did you know?’ He was surprised that his former schoolteacher would have heard about his abuser’s death. Kenny had taught the Higgins girls a long time ago.
‘Sylvia O’Connell is coming up to Dublin during the week and we always meet up when she’s in the city and she said she was going to a funeral on Monday and I asked was it anyone I knew and she said it was Higgins. She knows his wife from playing bridge.’
‘Oh, right!’ Mrs O’Connell had taught him in third class. She and Kenny had been young teachers together and they had got on well. She had eventually become the headmistress of the primary school and Kenny still kept in touch with her.
‘I just wanted to make sure you’re OK. Did you say you’re going home?’ Kenny asked.
‘I told Mam I’d bring her to the removal. She expects us to be at it. You know what it’s like, us being next-door neighbours and all.’
‘Jonathan, could you not make some excuse? That’s going to be hard on you. It’s OK to put yourself first in a situation like this.’ His friend sounded perturbed.
‘I did make an excuse, but you know, Kenny, I’m not running away from it, him, or myself any more. I’m Jonathan Harpur. Not a victim! Not a gay! I’m me, a human being, and people can like me or lump me. And his power over me has ended. I’m not letting it continue now that he’s dead,’ Jonathan explained agitatedly.
‘Well said, buddy, well said,’ Kenny approved. ‘Stay where you are and I’ll be over in half an hour. I’m going with you.’
‘No! No! No!’ Jonathan protested. ‘I’ll be fine. I’m not putting you out and dragging you down the country on a Sunday.’
‘Harpur, do as you’re told,’ Kenny said in his best teacher’s voice. Jonathan laughed in spite of himself.
‘You’re OK, Kenny, I really appreciate your offer—’
‘Half an hour, Harpur! Have your shoes polished and your hair brushed.’ The phone went dead.
Jonathan shook his head and smiled. How lucky was he to have friends like Kenny and Hilary? Hilary had offered to get a babysitter for a couple of hours and come with him but he wouldn’t hear of it. He knew too that if Orla had known about his history she would have offered to come with him too.
He put the kettle on to make himself a quick cup of coffee before Kenny arrived, glad that he wouldn’t have to face the ordeal alone. To have someone at his side who knew what had happened to him and who understood his torment was a blessing Jonathan was very grateful for. He felt his spirit revive and his courage flow back. With a good friend beside him he could face what was to come and close that horrible chapter of his life once and for all.
C
HAPTER
E
LEVEN
Half an hour later almost to the minute he said he’d be there the loud beep of Kenny’s Peugeot announced his arrival. Jonathan saw with surprise that Russell was with him.
‘In case you have to be dragged off the coffin shouting obscenities,’ Kenny’s partner said irrepressibly when Jonathan opened the car door and carefully laid the curtain material, which he had wrapped in drifts of tissue paper, in the back.
‘You and whose army?’ he retorted. ‘It would be the talk of the town, wouldn’t it? Pity I’ll have to behave myself. Lads, you’re very kind. Are you sure about coming?’
‘Think where man’s glory most begins and ends, and say my glory was I had such friends. Who said that, Harpur?’ His ex-teacher glanced over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow.
‘Eh . . . Kavanagh . . . no . . . Yeats.’
‘Well done. Enough said. Get in the car, shut the door and sit back and relax,’ the older man instructed.
‘I never remember you being this bossy when you were teaching me,’ Jonathan remarked, stretching himself out across the seat and clipping on his seat belt.
‘Tell me about it,’ groaned Russell. ‘I live with it every day.’
‘You love being bossed about,’ Kenny retorted and they smiled at each other. Jonathan, listening to their teasing banter, wondered if he would ever be lucky enough to have a partner of his own. One that he could be so at ease with. Someone who would know him inside out and accept him, warts and all, and vice versa. What a comfort and joy it must be to have someone to share your life with. So far he hadn’t met anyone he could have that deep connection with, but he lived in hope. He was ever the optimist, he thought with a wry smile.
‘Son, you should have told me you were bringing friends!’ Nancy exclaimed when the three of them walked into the kitchen through the back door. She had been scraping carrots and was caught by surprise.
‘He didn’t know, Mrs Harpur. It was a spur of the moment decision. I’m Kenny Dowling, his old—’
‘Mr Dowling! You’re welcome. I remember you well. You were very good to my boy
