This is a story that involves sex between males. If such a story is offensive, or illegal for you to read where you live, then do not continue,
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This is a work of fiction and in no way draws on the lives of any specific person or persons. If there is any similarity to any real persons or events it is entirely coincidental.
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My thanks to John and Michael who have read this through and made a number of corrections and suggestions. Any remaining errors , grammatical, spelling or historical or whatever are entirely my fault.
We are back with a character who speaks with a fairly cockney accent, hence the dropped aitches, and Vs for Ths, and an ink' in place of ing' at the end of some words.
Thank you to those who have commented on my stories. If you want to comment on the story then do contact me on Jeffyrks@hotmail.com. I aim to reply to all messages.
Two Jubilees and One Spitfire.
Resume:- Trevor and Ross have been away to New Zealand.
Two Jubilees and One Spitfire. Part 43. The Year of the King of Terrors.
Trevor and Ross returned home on Tuesday 11th February 1997. It was a cold dreary day with the clouds low, and with patches of mist caught in the woods and valleys of the Chiltern Hills. The first thing they did on getting into the cottage was to turn the central heating on full. They were glad to be home. A neighbour had come into keep an eye on the place; but there was a stack of mail for them both. They had to make an expedition to the supermarket in High Wycombe to stock up on food. On the fourth day after their return they thought that everything was back to normal.
The Saturday of that week dawned a bright, crisp sunny day.
"Get your walking boots on," said Trevor as he brought Ross his early morning cup of tea. "It's bright and sunny, and we need some exercise and fresh air."
An hour and a half later they were off. They decided to do one of their usual walks. This involved going up the footpath from the village of Turville towards the old windmill that stood on the ridge above. It is not a long hill, but it is moderately steep. Half way up Ross stopped, gasping for breath.
Trevor who had pulled a short way ahead, came back to him. "All's not well with you, mate. This is the second time who've been caught for breath on a hill you normally get up easily. I think you should see the doctor."
"No way! It's just a little local difficulty." Ross who had been able to lead an active healthy life regarded doctors as people to be avoided.
"I still think you should be checked over. It may be nothing, but it wouldn't hurt to see the doc."
The rest of the walk was done without incident, though Trevor noticed there were no further steep gradients. But was Ross going slower than usual?
On Monday morning they were woken by the phone. Trevor answered it.
"Joseph here. I'm sorry if I've woken you. I'm afraid I have some worrying news. Isaac's been taken ill, and rushed off to hospital."
"When did this happen? What's wrong?"
"Fortunately he was with us. He collapsed. We rung for an ambulance, and he was taken off to hospital. This was yesterday evening. I have been round to the hospital just now. He's not at all well, Trevor. He's in quite a lot of pain. I thought you ought to know."
"Do you think I should come out?"
"That's difficult to say. They are doing various tests. I'll ring you again as soon as I know anything more."
Ross had put his ear to the phone so knew the situation. They discussed what should be done.
Later that afternoon Joseph phoned again.
"They've done a lot of tests. They think, but are not sure yet, that it may be cancer of the liver."
"Oh no!" Trevor knew how serious that form of cancer was.
"He is very poorly. I think you ought to come over. You'd never forgive yourself if you didn't and he died."
"I'll try to get a flight tomorrow."
Trevor was able to book a flight on an El Al flight from Heathrow. He had been able to get two tickets, so Ross was able to go with him. They arrived at Tel Aviv in the early evening, Israeli time. Joseph was there to meet them.
"We're going straight to the hospital. They say that you can see him, but only for a few minutes. It's a special favour in view of how far you've come."
The hospital and Isaac's ward were settling down for the night. A nurse led them to the bed. Trevor was shocked at how shrunk and ill Isaac's looked. He looked every bit of his eighty-four years. He recognised Trevor and Ross. Trevor bent over the bed and gave him a kiss. He sat by the bedside, and told Isaac about the journey from London - the usual small talk with which we so often fill such occasions. Then the nurse returned and said that Mr Rosenbaum needed his sleep.
Joseph drove Trevor and Ross out to his house on the outskirts of Tel Aviv. They were given a double bedroom. Trevor had a little smile to himself as he remembered how Joseph had walked out when he discovered that the relationship between the young Trevor and Isaac was a sexual one.
The next morning Joseph drove them back to the hospital. They made their way up to the ward. They were greeted by a nurse. "He's very poorly. He has had a bad night." Then in a whisper she said to Joseph in Hebrew, as the one of the three she knew, "I don't think it will be very long."
Isaac looked even older and more ill than he had done the evening before. He opened his eyes, and a light briefly came into them when he saw Trevor.
Trevor bent over the bed and gave Isaac a soft kiss. Then he took a hand and held it. "Love you, Isaac. Thanks for everything."
A slight smile formed briefly on Isaac's lips. "Thank you, Trev, for everything." There was a long pause. "I can go now," Isaac whispered, words which only Trevor and Joseph heard. He closed his eyes, and appeared to drift into a coma. Two hours later Isaac died. Joseph said the Shema, "Hear, O Israel the Lord our God is one Lord..." as Isaac breathed his last.
As an observant Jew he made a small tear in his shirt as a mark of his grief. Trevor, who knew from all his years living with Isaac something of the Jewish ways of mourning made a similar small tear. Ross copied them both.
Isaac was buried the next morning.
Isaac had been born a Jew in Austria. He had survived the war by fleeing to Britain while he could still get out of the country of his birth. After the years in England he had emigrated to Israel, the land of his forefathers. It was Wednesday 19th February 1997.
There was some discussion between Joseph and Trevor as to who should say the Kaddish. Joseph said that as Trevor was more or less Isaac's son he should say it. Trevor pointed out that he was not a Jew, therefore should not say it. They compromised and said it together. The tears poured down Trevor's face as he remembered the long agonising weeks at the end of the war, when each week Isaac recited the Kaddish for a different relative, who had been killed by the Nazis in the holocaust. He remembered how he had questioned Isaac and had got him talking about the one they were remembering, and how just talking seemed to help Isaac. Now he was saying the Kaddish and remembering Isaac. Joseph's family observed the seven days of Shevah when the family sat on low stools or on the floor as an expression of mourning. Trevor and Ross joined them.
"Every culture has its own way of mourning the loss of a loved one.," commented Ross. "They may seem weird to us, but they have meaning and in a strange way they help, even people like us from a different culture."
The remaining days that Trevor and Ross stayed in Israel were full of grief and activity. Trevor was conscious of the ending of one of the great chapters, perhaps a volume, of his life. Isaac had been an essential part of his life for fifty-three years. In those few days memories came crowding back from the first day when Fred had brought him to Isaac's door to earn some money for himself and more for Bill. The next week when he had waited shivering on Isaac's doorstep; Learning German and French; the doodlebugs and the rockets. The time when Isaac had smacked his bottom when he refused to tidy his clothes. Then there were the school years. The pain of saying goodbye to Isaac when he went off to Korea, and that wonderful sight of Isaac coming to visit him at the Royal Victoria Hospital, Netley, when he returned and was recovering from the wound to his leg. The time they had sat outside in the evening sun when Isaac had explained about his will. All the advice and help over the years.
Trevor was glad Ross was there with him. Joseph was a help, but he had never been very close to him.
Joseph, as co-executor with Trevor, knew where all the papers were. The two of them had a session together looking through all the papers. There was not much to do at that stage as Isaac had kept everything in meticulous order. What surprised Trevor was just how much Isaac had been worth. Isaac had lived comfortably, but not extravagantly. Trevor realised that he was going to be very well off.
"I had no idea he'd got so much. I knew he was a shrewd investor but!! We'll be able to travel first class, and go off on expensive cruises, buy new car, get a bigger house, whenever we want," said Trevor to Ross.
"It's like that, is it?"
"Yes. But I would prefer to have him around than have all the money."
"I'm sure. You don't really want all those things though, do you?" "No. I'm quite happy with what I've got." Trevor gave Ross a hug and a kiss. "Though I may get a new car."
When they got back to Potter's End there was the usual plethora of messages on the phone answer machine. One was from Paul, dated a fortnight before, asking Trevor to phone. Late on the evening of their return Trevor phoned Dewsbury.
"You're lucky to have got me, I've just got in from a confirmation at the other end of the diocese. Have you been away?"
Trevor told Paul about Isaac and all that had happened.
"I phoned you to say that I am going to retire. I have to get the Queen's permission, but apparently these days that is just a formality."
"The Supreme Governor thing?"
"Yes. I shall retire at the end of the year. Lizzie has been on at me to retire, as you know, for some time. She can't wait to get us moved back down to Gloucestershire."
They chatted on, catching up on all the other news.
Trevor and Ross resumed the normal pattern of their life. Trevor noticed that Ross was slower and often slightly breathless. He returned to his campaign to get Ross to visit the doctor. It took a lot of doing and it was nearly the end of March before he succeeded, and only then by making the appointment, and almost by frog marching Ross into the waiting room. Nearly half an hour later a serious looking Ross emerged. They walked out to the car and sat in it.
"Well?" asked Trevor.
"The doc. thinks it's serious. He's setting up an appointment for me to see the heart specialist in High Wycombe."
"You worried?"
"A bit. You only have one heart, you don't have a stand by."
"They can do great things today."
"It's a fine day. Let's go off and have a nice lunch. Somewhere down by the river?"
They went to a good pub that backed onto the Thames at Marlow. They had a good lunch, but in spite of the good food, the warmth of the room, and the river just outside sparkling in the spring sunshine, there was a dark cold cloud over proceedings.
Ross had to wait only ten days for his appointment. It was to see a Mr Laidlaw. Trevor went with him.
Ross was again about three quarters of an hour with the consultant. He was carefully examined. He was made to do various things on several items of equipment.
"I'm afraid the news is not good, Mr James. Are you married?"
"No."
"Live alone?"
"No. With my partner."
"Is she with you today?"
"It's not a she, but a he. And yes, he is with me, outside in your waiting room."
Mr Laidlaw instructed the nurse to fetch Trevor.
"As a matter of interest how long have you been together?"
"Thirty-three years."
"I thought such partnerships never lasted very long."
"Some do," replied Ross, as Trevor came into the room.
Introductions were made.
"I'm afraid the news on Mr James is not at all good. He's got a very severe heart problem. This is causing the increasing breathlessness. Unfortunately there is nothing we can do."
"How long, doc?" asked Ross.
"That largely depends on you. If you're careful and don't do anything strenuous. No long walks, no hills, no heavy lifting, keeping off the alcohol. I notice you don't smoke. You could go on for quite a while. However your heart is in a bad shape. I cannot say exactly how long."
Trevor and Ross looked at each other. There was a bleakness in the look; the future was too horrible to contemplate.
They made their way out of the hospital in silence and sat in the car. Trevor reached across and held Ross' hand. "I love you, Ross. I will make your life, whether it is long or short, the best I can. I will leave you to decide what you do."
"What, the old quantity versus quality dilemma?"
"Yes. You decide. I will not nag. Just let me help you in every way I can."
"I love you, Trev. I don't want to be an old invalid sitting at home waiting for the end."
"Well, what do you want now? Lunch at the Dorchester, or what?"
"Home."
They both laughed.
There was further discussion over the next few days. Trevor asked Ross if he wanted to go back to New Zealand.
"No. I want to die here. If at all possible in here in this cottage which has been my home for so many years. If possible, I want to die with you with me, holding my hand."
"I'll do my best to see that happens. I will look after you as well as I can. We can afford nurses and so on." Trevor paused. "While we are talking about these things, do you want to be cremated and ashes returned to New Zealand, or scattered somewhere round here..."
"I want to be buried. Be buried in the church graveyard. I would like it to be a double grave, so that you can join me, when your time comes."
Trevor lent over and kissed Ross. "Your will is my command. That's if the vicar will have us. We've not exactly been regular churchgoers."
They laughed.
"I know I'm dying. You know too, so we can be honest and open with each other. No playing games about getting better, and doing certain things when Spring comes or what ever. I only hope I do not drag on too long."
"We cannot decide our going. I'll be here with you, whether it is long or short. Who do you want to tell?"
Ross thought for a while. "I'll let my family in New Zealand know. I'd like Paul and Lizzie to know, and of course Zach and Adam."
Zach paid one of his one night visits, or 'one night stands' as he called them. Ross took him for a stroll across the common and told him. It was a very sad and sombre Zach for the rest of the evening. When the time came for bed Zach looked at the other two with a questioning expression on his face.
"I'm not that sick yet. Zach, go and have a shower, and get into bed. I'll follow. I want to give that cock of yours a good suck, and then I want to put my one between those lovely black bum cheeks of yours. I intend to enjoy what life I have to the full."
Zach leapt to his feet, came across and kissed Ross, and then quickly made his way upstairs.
Trevor and Ross looked at each other smiled.
Spring began to turn to early summer. The violets and primroses in the woods were over; now it was the turn of the bluebells, providing a mist of blue over the ground of the woods and copses. The days began to warm. Ross continued to go out for short walks, but avoided any with steep ascents. When the weather was fine they often went down to the Thames at Hambledon and walked along the tow path. It was always Ross that decided the length of the walk.
In the early evening of Tuesday the 19th May the phone rang. Trevor got up to answer it. It was his godson. "I'm afraid I've got some bad news, Uncle Trev. It's Dad. Apparently he had a tough day yesterday. A difficult finance meeting, and then an Institution in the evening at the far end of the diocese. Mum says he looked shattered. He went off to bed.
When they woke this morning he was paralysed and could not speak. He was rushed off to hospital. Mum phoned me and I dropped everything and rushed up to Yorkshire. He died just before I got to the hospital. I'm just getting down to phoning people."
"Trev, what can I say? How terrible. I've known your Dad for nearly 50 years. He was my oldest friend. How's your, Mum?"
The two Trevors continued to speak for several minutes, and then Trevor had a few words with Lizzie.
Ross looked up when Trevor went back into the sitting room. "It's Paul!" He sat down heavily alongside Ross. "He died earlier today. He had a stroke sometime in the night. Lizzie found him paralysed and unable to speak. He died in hospital."
Ross moved closer to Trevor and put his arm round him.
"I want to cry, but I can't."
"The tears will come in due time. You've known Paul for a long time. It's must be hard when people your own age start upping their clogs."
Trevor looked into Ross' face, and they smiled bleakly at each other. Both realised the significance of what Ross had just said.
"Some words of the bard come into my mind; I misquote, 'Be Ross the next that must be bankrupt so, Though death be poor it ends a mortal woe'."
"May that bankruptcy be a long time a-coming," said Trevor. "And not so much of the mortal woe."
"Do they know when the funeral is, yet?"
"Sometime next week. Private funeral for family and close friends. There'll be a Memorial Service in the Cathedral at a later date."
"You going to the funeral?"
"Of course! Lizzie wants both of us there."
Ross was quiet for a minute. "And he was so looking forward to retirement, and getting back to Winchfield. Poor Lizzie. They had so little real quality time together." There was another pause. "We're lucky. We've had many good years and good times together, and these years since you retired have been great." Ross kissed Trevor, and they cuddled up together and sat quietly, each lost in his own thoughts.
Trevor and Ross booked into a hotel for the night before the funeral. The service was a small one in the local parish church. Lizzie's request for a private funeral was largely respected. After the service family and friends went back to Bishop's Manor. Trevor was able to have a talk with Lizzie, and also with his godson, who was presiding over everything and organising things.
The next day Paul's body was taken down to Winchfield to be placed in the family vault with his forebears.
"I thought bishop's had to be buried in their cathedrals," commented Ross.
"They did in the middle ages," answered Lizzie. "Very few bishops seem to die in harness. We've been trying to think of the last one. We think it is Ian Ramsay at Durham."
Six weeks later Trevor and Ross made the journey north again. Trevor, as one of Paul's oldest friends, was asked to speak. He found it a daunting experience to put into words a tribute to Paul. He had spent hours preparing, and kept asking Ross, "What do you think of this? Can I say that?"
It was a bright sunny day and the cathedral was packed. Several of Paul's Episcopal colleagues were there. The choir sang, and prayers were said as the diocese remember a much loved and respected bishop. Ross pointed out to Trevor the entry on the service sheet among those to give a tribute, 'Professor Emeritus Trevor Russell, M.A., Ph.D.'. When the time came a verger came and bowed to Trevor. Trevor bowed in return. The verger led him to the lectern where he was to make his tribute.
"My first meeting with Paul showed me the sort of man he was. We were both being examined and interviewed for a place at Cambridge. I was a cockney speaking young man, from a state school, very unsure of myself in such ancient and august surroundings. Then this young man, with a luxuriant shock of golden hair, [a faint stir of amusement went round the congregation, because Paul was even more bald than Trevor] came and spoke to me. There was this confident schoolboy from Eton, with his posh accent speaking to me. It was the beginning of one of the friendships I have most valued in my life. He came from a privileged background, born with a silver spoon in his mouth, his family were gentry, mostly military men over the centuries. He wanted to know what it was like to grow up in the East End of London, as much as I wanted to know about life at Eton. Perhaps it was an attraction of opposites. Though he had 'all that beauty all that wealth e'er gave' it did not make him far removed, or stand-offish from those whose background was different. At the end of our first term at Cambridge he invited me down to his family estate in Gloucestershire. I was welcomed, accepted, and made to feel at home. My one regret is that over the years we did not see enough of each other; though we wrote to each other regularly, and when S.T.D. came in we talked on the phone regularly. He was a good friend, and a helpful counsellor, letting me know on occasion when he disapproved of where my life was leading. He and Lizzie conferred on me one of the biggest honours of my life, by asking me to be godfather to their son and heir, and naming the boy after me. Bishop Paul, as most of you knew him, and just Paul to me, was a man of integrity. Throughout the years of his ministry he gave of himself totally, as I am sure many of you will agree. I, we have lost a good and true friend."
There was a short address during which the preacher quoted from the Book of Job, Chapter 18v14 where death is referred to as the King of Terrors. They seemed to Trevor memorable words and he kept them in his mind.
The Cathedral Chapter laid on a buffet lunch for the family and those who had been involved with the service. Lizzie came across to speak to Trevor and Ross. "I'm moving down to Winchfield in a week's time. We must keep in touch. Paul always told me about your telephone conversations, and I know you both kept abreast of family news. I would like to be able to phone you, and hear from you, as Paul did."
"Of course, Lizzie. "We must make sure we don't drift apart."
There had been a memorable evening in June when the results of the General Election started coming in. Trevor and Ross sat side by side watching in amazement as the Labour landslide was revealed. The long years of Conservative government under Margaret Thatcher and John Major were over, and Tony Blair was into Number Ten. This General Election was to be placed alongside 1830, 1906 and 1945. Trevor just remembered the landslide of 1945 when Winston Churchill, like an old warhorse, was sent out to graze. He remembered Isaac talking about it, and explaining it to him, but he did not then understand the significance. The conservatives held no seats in Scotland and for the first time it was possible to walk from the Scottish border to the English Channel without setting foot in a conservative held constituency. It seemed as though a new era had dawned, and many thought it would be a brighter one!!
High summer began to show signs of approaching autumn. The days began to shorten, and the leaves began to change colour. Ross no longer went walking along the tow path by the Thames, but confined himself to walking across the common at the front of the cottage, often to the Post Office, where there was a seat and he could catch his breath.
When Trevor came to look back he was not able fully to recollect the last time they made love. He worked it out that it must have been sometime in early September. It must have been like the countless number of previous times. Because neither had expected it to be the last neither of them remembered it.
As the days shortened fast so Ross was increasingly out of breath. The walk across the common became too much. He liked to get a breath of fresh air each day at first it was a walk around the outside of the cottage. Then even that became too much so it was just to the front gate, where he remembered how he and Trevor had looked over it on the first visit and he had seen the name, 'Russell's'.
The last week in October brought a change in the weather. The temperature dropped and the was a gale which swept the remaining leaves off the trees in one night. Ross did not leave the cottage again.
Throughout this time Zach, usually accompanied by Adam came down for a couple of nights. They remained in the double bed in the other large bedroom. They looked after the garden, cutting the grass, and tending the flower beds. On one or two weekends they worked outside in pouring rain. As autumn ran its course the grass grew less, so they tidied the garden ready for the winter.
Godson Trevor phoned every week, and often made a detour on his way down to Winchfield from London on a Friday. Though he only stayed for about an hour, Trevor and Ross were conscious of his care.
Lizzie and Trevor had a phone conversation once or twice a week. She offered to come and help, but Trevor said no. She needed to get her life straight after the death of Paul.
The doctor was also a regular visitor. Then as October turned to November a nurse started visiting. A stool was placed in the shower, and Trevor would get in with him, and soap him. At first there was a lot of laughter,
and talk about their times together. But soon it was a strain on Ross, and the showering had to be done quickly. Trevor would get out of the shower and put on a bathrobe, and then dry Ross. He always dried him gently, and gave his cock a kiss, and then standing up gave him a proper kiss. "You don't know how much I'm going to miss you."
"You'll manage. I hope you find another man."
Trevor looked at Ross in horror.
"Yes, I mean that. I don't want you to sit around being a miserable old man.
If someone comes along, and you meet someone you like, then you will have my blessing. There is just one thing I ask."
"What's that?"
"I want you to be buried with me." Ross paused, and then smiled. "As there will only be the two of us, you will have to buried on top of me!"
"There will be the wood of our coffins and some earth between."
"The wood will rot, and your bones will tumble on top of mine. Our skeletons will be mixed together. A loving contact for the rest of time."
"You're macabre!"
"Think what the archaeologists of the future will say when they dig us up."
"I hope they say, 'Here is an early example of two men in the late Twentieth Century who lived together and loved each other."
"How will they know that?"
"If you are buried with your ring, and I with mine they will see that they are identical and put two and two together. And they will look with a hundred per cent approval, and wonder what all the fuss was about in that previous age."
They both laughed. "I'm thinking of giving up the apartment in town," said Trevor.
"Why?"
"I'm not using it. I cannot see myself using it."
"Trevor, you are not, repeat not, to give it up. At least not until nine months or so after I've started pushing up the daisies. I've a feeling it is going to be important for you to keep that apartment on."
"Why?" asked Trevor looking puzzled.
"I don't know. Maybe my Scottish ancestry is coming out, and I have the second sight, or the gift of prophecy."
Their conversation turned away into a discussion on the gift of the second sight. They did not argue. Later that day Trevor realised that a month or so before they would have argued over a thing like that. One strongly believing in the second sight, and the other totally disbelieving. But they had not argued. He then tried to remember when they had last had an argument. He could not remember. Things were changing.
At the beginning of October the vicar called. They had met him several times socially over the years. "I hear that Mr James is very ill," said the vicar at the door.
"Yes," said Ross. "It's good of you to call, but we're not church goers."
"Does that matter, Dr Russell?"
"I think we can drop that. I'm Trevor, or Trev, and I know Ross would prefer to be Ross. Come through." Trevor led the way into the sitting room. "The vicar's called to see you, Ross."
"Excuse me if I don't get up."
"We were just going to have a cup of tea. Will you join us, vicar?"
"Yes. But if you're Trev and Ross, then I'm Geof."
They all laughed. Trevor went off to the kitchen.
"So you think I'm going to peg it soon," said Ross with the old twinkle back in his eyes.
"Are you?"
The twinkle in the eye disappeared. "Yes, I'm afraid so." He paused. "It's poor old Trev I'm worried about. We've been together for over thirty years.
I'd be feeling terrible about facing being alone if the boot was on the other foot. He's had a hard year. In the Spring Isaac, his Guardian who really brought him up and to whom he owed so very much, died. Then a few months later Paul Driffield died."
"Paul Driffield the Bishop of Dewsbury who died suddenly?"
"That's the man. At Paul's Memorial Service the preacher called death the King of Terrors, from some book in the Bible. Those words registered with Trevor, several times he has talked about the King of Terrors striking three times."
"I didn't know Trevor was a friend of Paul Driffield."
"Had been since they were at Cambridge together. Two close deaths are more than enough in one year, and now I'm on the way out. I wonder how he'll manage."
"Trevor'll cope. It is surprising how people do. Often they surprise themselves."
"Will you keep an eye on him for me? See he doesn't go off the rails?" A brief smile crossed Ross' face.
"I will. Are you afraid?"
Ross thought for a while. "Yes, and no. Multitudes have made that journey before me. We all have to sooner or later. '...........Who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life, But that the dread of something after death, The undiscover'd country from whose bourn No traveller returns.' I learnt those words at school in New Zealand, when I was still knee high to a grasshopper. Didn't understand them then. Not sure I fully do now." He smiled.
"None of us know exactly what that journey is like, and what it will be like. As a Christian I believe in something very positive about it all."
"But what about me. I suppose I'm what you would call an agnostic on many of these things."
"I think there is more than a grain of agnosticism in us all, Ross. I know there is in me. I want to say something, but I'm afraid it might sound rather patronising."
"Go on, say it." Ross smiled.
"I think God's love reaches out to all."
"If there is a God I hope his love will reach out to me."
Trevor came back into the room carrying a tray with all the paraphernalia for a cup of tea and some biscuits. The conversation changed direction.
In the middle of November the stairs and showering became too much for Ross.
The nurse said she would give Ross a bed-bath. After the second time Trevor said he could and would do it. So after doing it under the eagle eye of the nurse that became another of Trevor's tasks.
It was late one Thursday night in the middle of November, when Trevor was just about to go to bed, there was a knock at the door. He wondered who it could be at such a late hour. When he opened the door, and in stepped Zach.
"Adam and I have decided that I should stay with you both for as long as you need me. Is that all right?"
"All right!" He flung his arms round Zach. "What about your work?"
"Adam says he can manage. If there's anything important I can pop up there and be back in four or five hours. If anything just needs signing he can either post it, or bring it down here. But how's Ross?"
"Not good. He is going down hill faster. There seems to be a difference each day now. He's spending all his time upstairs. He sits in an easy chair most of the day. We've got a telly up there. I don't think it'll be long." He put his arms round Zach and kissed him. "Thanks for coming. You're like a son to us."
Zach smiled. "I wish I was your son. But thanks for saying that."
"There is one thing I have dreaded. That is Ross dying in the middle of the night when I'm here alone. I could cope if it happens in the daytime."
"Uncle Trev, I promise you, you will not be alone of a night."
They went upstairs.
"There's a visitor, Ross."
Zach followed Trevor into the bedroom.
"Zach's come to help. He's going to stay."
Ross' face lit up. "Zach, it's good to see you. It's all getting a bit much for Trev. He needs some help."
"I'll go and get us all something to drink, and then we can settle down for the night." Trevor left the room.
Zach noticed how much weaker Ross' voice had become. He went over and kissed Ross and held his hand.
"I don't think it is going to be long now, Zach. I'm ready to go. I've made my will. Trev and I have arranged what's to be done. Look after him for me."
"Of course, Ross. We'll do that."
"I hope he meets someone else. But Trevor gets cross when I say that."
"I don't think he will. No one will measure up to you, Ross."
Ross smiled. "We'll see."
Trevor came back into the room, carrying a tray with hot drinks and some biscuits. He handed the drinks and biscuits round, and sat heavily on the edge of the bed, with a big sigh.
Zach reached across, and held Trevor's arm for a moment. "Trev, you need a good night's sleep. Let me stay with Ross. I can cope. If there is anything I can't do I'll come and call you."
So it was arranged. Trevor settled Ross for the night, and gave Zach and Ross a goodnight kiss. When he left the room, he saw Ross almost asleep in bed, and Zach settled into the easy chair. One bedside lamp was left on, casting a soft light into the room. He closed the door and went off to bed.
Trevor woke the next morning just after seven o'clock. There was no sound elsewhere in the house. He went along to the bathroom. Then softly he opened the door of the main bedroom. The bedside light was still on. Zach was in bed with Ross, holding him in his arms. Both were engaged in soft syncopated snoring. They looked so peaceful, and he wished the other two could have seen themselves. He closed the door and went down to make a pot of tea.
Trevor made his way upstairs again half an hour later. When he opened the bedroom door one eye of Zach's opened, and winked at him, but he did not move as Ross was still asleep in his arms. Trevor came in an looked down on the two men. After a few minutes Ross stirred and woke. Another day had begun.
"I need a piss," said Zach, lowering Ross gently back on to the pillows.
"So do I," said Ross.
Zach got out of bed, his rampant cock waving proudly in front of him as he made his way to the bathroom. Ross and Trevor saw, looked at each other, and smiled.
Trevor got a water bottle, and held it at Ross flaccid penis, to save him having to get out of bed.
The morning routine of breakfast, and the bed bathing of Ross, began.
Zach soon got into the routine of the nursing involved. He watched carefully as Trevor washed Ross all over. "Can I do that tomorrow?"
"Certainly. It was wonderful to see the two of you in bed together. I just wish I could have taken a photo. I always sleep in bed with Ross, he gets a better night that way. I didn't like to ask you to do it."
"Why ever not?"
"Not everyone likes to spent the night in bed with a dying man."
"But he's Ross. My second Dad. I love him too."
"I know, thank you. You don't know just how much it means to have you here." Trevor put his arms round Zach, and wept on his shoulder.
A couple of days later the nurse that came most often spoke to Trevor. "When I was first asked to come and see to Ross I didn't want to come. I was told he is gay, living with a gay man. I've been brought up to believe that sort of thing is wrong. One of the team is a lesbian, I thought, let her do it. But I decided to do it after all, and I'm so thankful I did. It has been an eye opener to see the two of you, and now Zach as well. Such love, such love. It cannot be wrong when there can be such love."
Trevor smiled. "Thank you for saying that. As you know Ross and I have been together a number of years. I don't know how I'll manage when he goes."
"You will. Strength to cope comes from somewhere. You'll manage." She gave Trevor a quick kiss before picking up her bag and leaving.
Godson Trevor called in on his way back to Gloucestershire late on the Friday afternoon after Zach had arrived.
Zach answered the door. "Trev, good to see you!"
"Good to see you too. You on a flying visit too?"
"No. I'm staying for as long as they need me. Trev pointed out your name in the paper this morning."
Young Trevor laughed. "Yes, the reports of that trial have been quite good. A trial at the Old Bailey always seems to get publicity."
"Trev said that your pockets will be heavy as a result."
Young Trevor laughed. "The trouble is Gordon likes to get his sticky fingers on a lot of it. [Gordon Brown, Chancellor of the Exchequer] Still it helps keep the wolf from the door."
Young Trevor went up to see Ross. He stayed for about an hour. Zach went with him out to his car, and then they sat in the car talking for a further three quarters of an hour.
"Where's Zach?" Ross asked Trevor.
"He's talking to young Trev. Sitting in the car, I think."
"It's a strange relationship, those two"
"Even more than the friendship between Paul and me. I think those two really like each other."
"It will do them both good to learn how the other half live."
The vicar called every week. He stayed for about twenty minutes. Then one time when he was alone with Ross he asked. "We are praying for you each Sunday. Would you like me to pray with you?"
"Please."
The vicar said a short prayer. The next week Trevor and Zach were there as well.
Trevor walked out to the car with the vicar. "Thanks for coming, and for the prayer for us all. We're all getting strength from somewhere."
"I like coming. Not just professionally, as it were. There is such an atmosphere of love and peace in your home. I can feel it. It does me good to visit you."
Trevor smiled. "Thanks again."
"I like Zach. He's a good man, and a handsome one too!"
Trevor smiled again. "His father made off shortly after he was conceived. I've known him since he was about four. He says Ross and I have been like a couple of Dads to him. He's been more than a son, especially over these last few days."
The dark days of the end of November passed. They were mostly damp and grey. The trees in the orchard seemed to drip incessantly. Each day saw Ross a little weaker, and with less that he could do. Trevor and Zach operated alternate night shifts.
Then as so often happens at the end of November the weather changed. One night the wind veered round to the north, the clouds rolled away and then, as the wind fell away to a calm, the temperature dropped. The first few days of December were cold, still and bright. The frost sparkled in the sunlight, the garden looked beautiful.
On Thursday the fifth of December Zach had just finished washing Ross, and making the bed. Trevor came into the room with cups of coffee for them all.
"It's beautiful outside. Very cold and crisp. But the frost glistening on every twig and stem of grass."
"I'd like to see it," said Ross.
Ross was still sitting in his warm dressing gown in the arm chair. Trevor and Zach stood each side of him and helped him to his feet. He panted and got his breath, and with their aid made the short steps to the window, and looked out.
"Yes, it is beautiful." He looked at the two of them and smiled. "Thank you."
They helped him back into bed. That day there was a change. Over the past few days he had slept most of the time, but that day his sleep was restless and fitful.
The doctor called, and gave Ross a short examination. "It won't be long now," he said to Trevor as he was leaving the house.
Ross seemed to be more comfortable when being held up in bed by either Trevor or Zach. They took turns. When it came to the evening meal he would only take a couple of spoonfuls of soup.
"I think we should continue as we've done during the day, turn and turn about," suggested Zach.
Trevor nodded in agreement. Neither of them undressed. One held Ross, while the other tried to doze in the chair.
As the evening progressed Ross' breathing became shallower and more irregular. When the grandfather clock downstairs struck midnight, it was obvious that the end was getting close. Trevor held Ross in his arms, and Zach came and held Ross' hand. What Trevor did not know was that Zach was holding Ross' hand in such a way that he could feel the pulse. Several times he thought it had stopped, only to feel the faint pulse continue again.
It was a quarter to three when Zach looked up at Trevor and nodded. "He's gone."
Jeff at Jeffyrks@hotmail.com
For those who like to identify quotations there are some Nifty points going!
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Three Nifty points for the correct name in the quote, "Be Ross the next that must be bankrupt so....."
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Just one Nifty point for identifying "All that beauty all that wealth e'er gave....."
It is after all from the most quoted poem in the English language, by the poet who has a higher percentage of quotes in the Dictionary of Quotations to the number of lines written.
- Two Nifty points for identifying who said, "Who would fardels bear...." etc.