Disclaimer:
Chapter 43 is the next chapter in an ongoing story about Stephen Gately from Boyzone and Eloy de Jong, formerly of Caught in the Act. I have no contact, alas with either gentleman or group, so these chapters exist within the imagination of the author's mind, combined with public events that happened during this time.
Cheers,
Musicfan
Stephen wandered the streets for what felt like hours. The sun dipped down and he found himself in the docklands. It wasn't the safest place to be if you didn't know the area, but he didn't care. He had grown up wandering the docks as a child, and it felt safe to be there again. Occasionally he'd see someone down the end of an alley doing something --- make a deal, prostituting, anything at all. He ignored it all in his wanderings, lost in thought.
When he had first walked out of the house, all he thought about was to get as far away from his brother as he could. All he wanted to do at that point was punch his lights out. Had he tried, he was pretty sure Alan would have clocked him. It had happened when they were kids, and Alan wasn't above showing his superiority again. Their mother wouldn't have been too happy about a scuffle in her kitchen, either. He eventually found himself sitting on the end of a pier as dusk settled. He shivered as the sea wind kicked up a breeze and ruffled his hair. He hadn't thought to bring anything on his way out the door, so he was without a jacket or his mobile. He was sure that his sister had probably gone nuts wandering the city looking for him, but she couldn't help him at the moment.
With a sigh he leaned back against the post and hunched down out of the wind. The sound of a step along the wharf made him tense up, but he knew he wouldn't run into anyone he knew here. A short time later someone sat down not too far from him, and he looked away, not wanting contact with anyone.
"Nice night," the voice ventured, coughing in the cool night air. He nodded, noncommittal. "Come here often?" He shook his head, not wanting to speak. He was hoping that the other guy would go away and leave him in peace. "Quiet type, are ya laddie?"
He didn't respond, and was startled when an arm came over his shoulder. "Cold night to be off by your own, you know." He could smell alcohol on the other man's breath as he tried to shrug him off. "Kinda dark, but you know, you have a look about you. Do I know you?" He held his breath as the other man leaned in to look at him in the face in the dim light. "I could swear I've seen you before."
"Sorry," Stephen said softly, frozen in place. He wanted to get up and run, but the weight of the other man held in him place. "Just enjoying a night on the dock is all."
"As we all do," the other man said jovially, rubbing his back in the process. "Hey," he said, hiccuping. "I'm not going to hurt you lad. What do you take me for?"
"Didn't think you were going to," Stephen said softly. He flinched as the other man placed a hand on his knee and rubbed it.
"You're a nice looking one. Don't see your lot around here often," the other man said softly, trying to speak clearly. "I don't suppose you wouldn't mind...?"
"No," Stephen said, holding himself rigid against the other man's arm. "I don't think so." He longed to move, to push the other man away, but he couldn't. "Please don't."
"Please don't what?" The voice said in his ear, sniffing his hair. "Ah, you smell nice. Really nice."
"I want to be alone," he pleaded softly. The other man leaned into him and he recoiled. He couldn't help it. The idea of another man touching him was distasteful. He closed his eyes, only wanting to be away from where he was.
After a few moments the other man pulled away. "Ah, I'm sorry lad. I didn't mean anything by it. It's just in this area, a man can get lonely you know. That's all." He patted Stephen on the shoulder again. "You have yourself a nice night and take care."
"Thank you," Stephen said, grateful that the other man was finally leaving him alone. He didn't really relax until he heard footsteps retreating down the edge of the wharf. He kicked his legs against the aging wood, listening to the hollow echo beneath him. When it was fully dark he knew he should go before someone accosted him again. He wasn't up to fighting off someone's advances tonight.
He picked himself off the edge of the dock and walked down the wharf, keeping away from the shadows where people tended to lurk. He wasn't sure where to go, and after a while found himself crossing the river and just walking around the outskirts of the city. He honestly didn't know what to do with himself. He didn't want to go back and deal with his family. He knew Michelle was going to go spare wondering what was going on. But running back to her house wasn't the answer. His meandering took him back to where he had started, onto the wharves again and he paused, trying to think of what to do. He stopped on a street corner and looked at the pay phone on the corner. Making a decision, he walked over and dialed a number by heart, adding his calling card number automatically. He could hear ringing and knew he was going to get an answering machine. He was surprised when he heard a voice pick up on the other end.
"Hullo?" A girl's voice said, giggling at something at the same time. "Hullo?"
"Hello, who's this?" Stephen asked, relaxing minutely as the giggles continued.
"Keavy," the girl continued. Stephen was able to identify the voice and put a face to the name.
"Hey Keavy, this is Stephen. Is your brother home?" He asked, leaning against the wall as he heard the phone drop down and a voice call out.
"Shaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaane! Phone!" Keavy shouted. Her voice drifted off as she walked away, having lost interest in the phone. Stephen waited patiently while Shane made his way to the hall.
"Yeah," Shane said into the phone. Stephen had to smile. Just hearing his friend's voice did that to him.
"Hey Shane, its Stephen. How are ya," he asked, a bit at a loss for why he called.
"Can't complain," Shane said. "You back home already?"
"Yeah, sort of." Stephen stopped, not sure how to go on. "Listen, think you can spare some time to talk?"
"Where are you," Shane asked. When Stephen told him he was on the docks, he blinked. Not much could surprise him, but that did. He asked Stephen to go to an area he knew well and told him to wait for him. He hung up the phone and walked out the door without talking to anyone. His mother looked up from where she was doing some crocheting before shrugging and going back to what she was doing. She was used to Shane doing what he wanted. The sound of the car motor gunning down the street brought a smile to her face, and she mentally compared her son to her husband, who did the same kind of thing many years ago when they were courting.
Shane wound his way around the city and into the north side, coasting along the Liffy until he turned north along the waterfront. He slowed down, knowing Stephen was around somewhere. Up ahead he saw a flash of a something and the form resolved into the shape of his band mate. He push aside his questions about why Stephen was where he was and opened up the passenger door so that his friend could slip into the front seat next to him. Stephen did, gratefully, shivering in the damp air as he closed the door.
"Hey," he said softly. "Thanks."
"No prob," Shane said, speeding up and heading out of the city. He took them into the hills until he found a place to pull over that overlooked the water. Shutting off the engine, he turned in his seat and waited for Stephen to say something.
Stephen had been staring blindly out the window for some time, not really paying attention to where they were going. Gradually he realised that Shane was waiting for him to talk.
"Why can't life be easy," he asked, leaning back against the headrest with a sigh. "Why can't I have a family that would just accept me for who I am? Is it so much to want?"
Shane watched him steadily before shrugging. "Don't have much choice about who you're related to, mate." Stephen gave him a startled look before bursting into laughter.
"You know, you're right," he said, relaxing back into his seat before turning to look at his friend. "Shane, have you ever felt like you've wanted to just tell someone off? Just let go, blast them and say what you really want?"
Shane considered his question. "Sometimes. But you know me, if I'm going to say something, I do. I don't dwell on it." He looked over at Stephen. "What happened?"
"Fecking Alan is what happened," Stephen said bitterly, his thoughts turning back to what happened back at the house. "I've been home a week now, but was staying with Michelle because I just wanted to have some time to myself." Shane nodded and waited for him to continue.
"My mam rang looking for Michelle while she was out with my brother-in-law and I was watching Jordan. I picked up the phone, not thinking she might ring over. She wasn't too happy to find out I had been home but couldn't be bothered to go over to Sheriff Street." Stephen looked up into the night sky and sighed. "So I figured I should go home. I was barely there an hour when Alan comes in and starts mouthing off. We got into an argument and I walked. I swear if I didn't, I was going to pop him one." Unconsciously he clenched his fists, digging them into his thighs. "He manages to do it every time."
"Does it really matter what the hell he says?" Shane asked. "You know he's an idjit. Just accept it and ignore it."
Stephen shook his head. "Not this. He brought up the fact that I obviously like shagging other men in front of our mam. You know how she is with that." He looked obliquely at his friend who nodded. "In one way I thought it was going to go okay, because it started a conversation about whether she really wanted to know what was going on in my life. But Alan had to open his fat trap and stick his foot in it again. That's when I walked." He leaned forward onto the dash and looked up at the night sky through the windshield. "Sometimes I wonder if I should bother coming home. That I should just stay in London, or I should have stayed in Amsterdam."
Shane watched him quietly, knowing his friend needed to just vent without hearing any advice. He let him wind down; talking about whatever he felt he needed to. After a while, Stephen quieted down and they both were left staring out the window together. When he felt like Stephen had said all he was going to say he reached out and clasped his friend on the shoulder.
"What do you want to do? Do you want me to take you to the airport? Why not get a plane back to see your friend?" He asked reasonably.
"Christ, I dunno, Shane. Running isn't the answer," Stephen said, leaning into his friend's touch. He looked over and smiled wanly. "I guess I should go home and just deal with it. Though I'm not too thrilled with having a run in with my Dad. I'm sure Alan told him everything that happened in the worst way, too. Besides, Eloy's on the road."
"Ah," Shane said in a knowing tone. "And how did that go?"
"That went fantastic," Stephen said with a smile that spoke volumes. "I got to meet his family, and it was lovely." He got a bit wistful when he did a mental comparison between their families. "His mam is a lovely woman. Very accepting, as is his sister. We got on well."
"That's great, Stephen." Shane said warmly. He could see that with the change in topic, Stephen's whole demeanor shifted. It was good to see that he was happy with that, at least. "Think of this, then. Nothing your brother can do or say can take away what you have with Eloy. Unless you let him hurt you. So ignore it. Every time he says something, just think of your trip, or something special that happened, and it won't bother you."
Stephen stared at his friend as he mulled the suggestion over. "You know, you're right. I don't know why I didn't think of that myself."
"Sometimes you don't think of things like that when you're mad," Shane shrugged. Stephen nodded thoughtfully. "Hungry?"
"Yeah, as a matter of fact, I am," Stephen said, smiling at his friend. They discussed finding a place to grab a bite and Shane started the car up and headed down to a local pub he liked to go to. They had a great meal together as he pumped Stephen for details about his trip, while telling him what he had been up to over the past couple of weeks. Afterwards, he drove Stephen home, dropping him off at the end of the street.
Stephen watched him pull away before turning and walking back to his house. No one was outside, for which he was grateful. While he was willing to deal with his family, he didn't want to have to talk to any of the neighbours just yet. He made his way up the walk and opened the front door, stepping inside. The television was on in the front room and he peeked in as he closed the door silently behind him. His younger brother was sprawled out on the sofa watching and didn't notice that Stephen had come in. Leaving him to the television, Stephen made his way towards the back of the house and saw his mother sitting by herself with some sewing in her lap. He was relieved to see that she was alone.
"Hi Mam," he said softly as he entered. She looked up briefly before giving him a small smile as she focused back on her sewing again. He closed the kitchen door behind him so that they would have some privacy. Now was probably as good a time as any to talk to her and straighten the mess out if he could. Preferably without anyone else barging in on them again.
"Your sister drove herself daft today worrying about you," She said, biting the thread as she finished darning the hole. He moved over to the refrigerator and opened it, looking for something to drink. He pulled out a pitcher of orange juice and finding a glass in the strainer, poured himself a glass before putting the pitcher away and making his way over to the table.
"I can manage well enough on my own," he said softly, watching her work his father's shirt over in her hands, looking for another worn spot to work on. "Mam, I'm sorry for what happened."
"Well, you didn't start it, that I'll give you," she said, looking up at him with a small smile playing on her lips. He smiled tentatively back at her and relaxed. "Sometimes I wish your brother would think occasionally before he opens his mouth."
"Yeah, I'm sure," Stephen said, wrapping his hands around the glass and turning it in circles on the table. They were silent for a few moments as he mulled over how to say what he wanted to say.
"Mam, I have something to say. I've thought a lot about it, and I'd appreciate it if you'd be willing to hear me out." He looked up and saw her watching him soberly. "Please?" She put down the shirt, thread and thimble down on the table and stood up.
"Let's go outside where we won't be bothered," she said softly and extended her hand. He took it and stood up, following her out the back door and into the night air. Their back yard wasn't much of anything other than a place to dry the wash on a warm day. There was a privacy fence that separated it from the neighbours on either side. A low wall shored up one fence where it had leaned over when Stephen was younger and his father had built the wall with stones he had found along the river. He sat down on the back stoop next to his mother.
"What is it that you want to tell me, Stephen?" His mother asked. Light from the kitchen window put her face in shadow and he hesitated. Sitting on the wharf, thinking it over it had seemed so easy and reasonable, but now that the time was at hand he was nervous. But he knew there wasn't going to be a better time than now, so he closed his eyes, took a deep breath and began.
"Mam, I know that there are parts of my life that you're not too happy with. Unfortunately they are things I can't change. I can't control who I like, or who I'm attracted to. And I know that's a problem for you. I'm sorry, but there's not much I can do about it. And that's part of the reason why when I came home last week I stayed with Michelle. Because I really couldn't take the abuse that I get from Alan. That's not what I want to come home to. And because I don't have the space of my own that I need to think, to be able to get off by myself sometimes."
"And that's why you want a place of your own," his mother said.
"Partly. And partly for the reasons I told you earlier." Stephen admitted. "That I want a place I can call my own, to come home to and to relax when I get a chance." He hesitated, debating on whether he should continue.
"And?" His mother asked softly, knowing that there was more.
"And... to have a place where I can bring a friend when I want to," Stephen admitted softly. He felt her recoil slightly at his words. "I'm sorry Mam, but there are going to be times when I want to spend time with someone special. I certainly can't do it here now, can I?" The thought of bringing Eloy home seemed inconceivable as he tried to picture his family reacting to them cuddling on the sofa together the way they had at Lenie's house.
"No, I don't suppose you can," She agreed. She hesitated, torn between wanting to know whether there was someone special in her son's life and not wanting to know. She felt him waiting for her to continue, knowing he wanted her to ask. "Is there someone in particular that you're thinking of entertaining?"
"Yes, there is," Stephen replied. "Someone very special." He longed to be able to tell his mother about Eloy but he didn't want to push it any more than he had to. "Mam, I know you don't understand, but let me just say that he's wonderful. He cares for me, and I love him." The soft intake from the other side of the stoop told him what he needed to know. "I know it's not something you want to hear, but I want to share it with you."
"And what about your work, and the band, and how do the rest of them feel?" She asked softly, retreating to something safe.
"He understands the work. He has his own to think of," Stephen said, smiling at the thought. "As for the lads, they know all about it and are very supportive."
"They are?" His mother asked, startled at the thought.
"Yeah, they are," he said firmly. "In fact, Ronan was the one who encouraged me to go visit when we took this break. Said it was about time I had someone for myself, and that in this day and age people should be more understanding of this kind of thing."
"Did he, now?" she asked, shaking her head in disbelief.
"Yeah, and he's not the only one. All of them want me to be happy." He paused as he stared out into the yard, dimly lit from the light coming from the kitchen window. "In fact, they've said it's more than since past time that I found someone for myself."
"Stephen, you're being honest with me, so I can only do the same with you." His mother said, her hands twisting the belt she was wearing. "I'm not comfortable with this. I know you want to be happy, and I know that I'm not making life easier for you by the way I'm reacting. But darling, it's so dangerous out there. There's so much that can go wrong. And with all the diseases out there, it scares me that you're not going to be careful." She put up a hand to forestall his retort. "No, hear me out. I stay awake at night scared that some night you're going to come home and tell me you've caught something like this horrible AIDS or something. I can't tell you how much I fear something like that." He reached out silently and touched his mother's hand, his eyes filling with tears. "I know I have a hard time expressing this, but I do want you to be happy. I don't want to see you lonely, no mother wants that for her child. But I also don't want you to be hurt. The stories I've heard..." she drifted off as she thought about the stories from people in the neighbourhood whose sons had gotten caught up in some horrible sickness because of drugs or illicit sex. "And you, being in the music industry where so much of that runs rampant..."
"Mam," Stephen intervened, touched by her distress. "Don't you think you've taught me better than that? You know well enough I won't touch drugs, nor will I hang around with anyone that would do that kind of thing to themselves. You know that, don't you?" He peered into her face as she nodded. "Then trust me to be careful with whom I'm with, won't you?"
She looked at him steadily for a long moment, wanting to believe him. She thought back to the stories that Alan had told her, but in the face of Stephen's earnestness, knew that they couldn't be true.
"Will you please trust me to make the right decisions?" He begged softly, still staring intently at her. After a long moment, she nodded and he gave her a hug. "Then trust me not to bring harm to you or the family, okay?" He rested his cheek against his mother's and felt the wetness from her tears. "Mam, please trust me."
"I do, Stephen," she said, wrapping her arms around her younger son and holding onto him tightly. "I do. I love you, Stephen, and it hurts me to think that you didn't want to come home to me."
Stephen started crying when faced with the painful admission from his mother. "It's not because of you, Mam. Honest, it isn't. It's just that sometimes I can't take Alan's taunts. I really can't. And coming back to Ireland, I really did need some time to myself for a bit. Never for a moment believe I would ever walk away from you."
They held each other for a long time, comforting one another in the dark. The sound of the front door slamming and voices coming down the hall interrupted their reverie and they separated as they recognised the voices of Stephen's father and brother. Stephen's mother wiped his cheek gently, smiling at him.
"Don't you worry none about your brother. I'll deal with him later. I don't think I ever realised how much his comments hurt you." She said softly, keeping her voice low. "Why don't you slip around the front and go upstairs to bed. That way you don't have to run into his nibs tonight and can get some sleep. How does that sound?"
"I like that idea," Stephen admitted, not ready for another encounter with his older brother. "Are you going to be okay?"
"I'll be fine," she said firmly, shooing him towards the gate. "Go on with you now, and everything will be fine in the morning." Reluctantly, he stood up, making sure he stayed in the shadows. He could see his father and brother in the kitchen through the window and didn't want to be noticed. His mother made another gesture with her hand and he moved towards the back gate. It was a bit of a walk through the empty area on the land behind them until he could circle past the row houses and back onto the street. All was quiet, except for the barking of a dog on the next street over. He made his way back down the street and in the front door, letting the sound of the television mask the closing of the door. His little brother was asleep on the sofa, oblivious to the noise he was making, or the sounds coming from the kitchen. He climbed the stairs and made his way to the bedroom he shared with Tony. He closed the door over and didn't bother turning on the light, feeling his way along the narrow space between the beds.
Quietly, he moved his bag off the bed and placed it down on the floor next to him. He felt drained from the encounter with his mother and the events of the day in general. Stripping down to his briefs, he dropped down onto the bed and closed his eyes. They burned from the tears he had shed earlier and he tried to ignore the pounding that was starting at the back of his head. Fleetingly he considered checking his mobile, but didn't have the energy. The messages would keep until the morning. With a sigh he covered his eyes and turned away from the light of the streetlight coming through the curtain. Eventually he drifted off to a dreamless sleep.
Stephen was woken up by the sound of the front door slamming and he stared disoriented at the ceiling as he tried to figure out where he was. The sound of his brother laughing outside with some friends oriented him to where he was and he groaned, rolling over and covering his head. His head ached and he felt like he hadn't slept at all.
He shifted around on the bed, trying to find a comfortable spot. Eventually after a time he fell asleep again. When he woke the second time, he felt marginally better. He glanced at the clock and saw that it was almost noon. With a grunt he got out of bed and digging into his bag, found some shorts to put on. He walked out of the bedroom and stumbled into the bathroom where he took a shower. When he was done, he went back to his room, a towel wrapped around his waist. He could hear his mother downstairs moving around. It didn't sound like anyone else was in the house and he relaxed from a tension he hadn't realised he was feeling. He got dressed, picking the first clean thing in the drawers that came to his hand. Brushing his hair back off his face, he made his way downstairs. He found his mother in the kitchen where she was putting a load of laundry in the wash.
"Good afternoon!" She said cheerfully as he came in and gave her a hug.
"Mmm, morning." He mumbled, brushing her cheek with his lips.
"You've missed the morning by a few hours, my dear." She told him with a laugh. "Are you hungry?"
"Kinda," he said, sitting down at the table and accepting the cup of coffee his mother handed him. "But you needn't bother."
"Hush," his mother said, dismissing his comment. The telephone rang and she gestured for him to pick it up. "That will be your sister. She's called twice this morning already."
"Has she, now," he asked with a sigh, getting up and going over to the wall phone. "Hullo?"
"Stephen!" His sister exclaimed. "It's about time. Where were you yesterday?"
"Out," he said noncommittally. "Michelle, I don't want to talk about it." He accepted the grilled cheese sandwich his mother handed to him and sat down, hunching his shoulder to hold the phone held to his ear.
A loud sigh met his comment and he imagined his sister rolling her eyes. "I just needed some time alone, okay?" He didn't want to get into yet another argument, and he wasn't going to debate the issue with his sister. Obviously she got the point, because she changed the topic.
"I've found some other places, if you want to go take a look," she said, telling him about the new houses she had found. In a way, he almost regretted telling her he wanted a place of his own, because he knew that she was going to be relentless in her search for him to buy one.
"What's wrong with the ones we saw the other day?" he asked, taking a sip of his coffee to wash down the cheese sandwich.
"Well, they aren't perfect, that's what's wrong. It has to be just right, Stephen," his sister said practically. She was watching her son play with a neighbourhood friend on the front lawn and had the phone cord stretched from the kitchen.
"I dunno, I liked them well enough," Stephen mumbled. He had no intention of running all over the place on his time off looking at houses. He had to admit to himself that he didn't really care what he got, as long as it was a place he could call his own.
"You know you just don't step into these things lightly," she said, overriding him. She knew exactly what he was thinking and wasn't going to be put off finding the right place for him. "Don't argue with me now."
"Who's arguing?" He asked in astonishment, hearing his mother chuckling softly from behind him. "Shel, I just woke up. Let's talk about this another time."
"All right then," she said. She paused, trying to figure out a way to bring up the topic of him coming back home again. He waited her out, wanting to make her ask the question. He wasn't in the mood to just give anything away, and right now he wasn't feeling very charitable. Even to his older sister. He could hear Soirise barking somewhere outside and the laughter from a couple of kids, and figured that his nephew was outside playing.
The silence grew as he finished his sandwich, content to let it stretch. He knew his sister well enough to know she'd break first. She did.
"God I can't stand it!" she cried as the quiet sound on the other end of the phone extended. "What happened last night?"
"Nothing," he said noncommittally, not willing to tell her.
"Nothing?" She asked in astonishment. "You mean, you just walked back in the house and up to bed?"
"Yeah, that's exactly what happened," Stephen said, not adding in the conversation with their mother prior to him entering the house for the second time that evening. "Nothing to tell, really."
"You didn't see Alan when you came in?" She asked, curious.
"Nope. He wasn't home." Stephen said truthfully about the first time he had walked back into the house, watching his mother take his plate away before filling his coffee cup again. He dropped some sugar in to sweeten it and drank it greedily. It was clearing out the muzzy feeling inside his head.
"You're not going to tell me, are you?" she asked accusingly.
"Absolutely not," he agreed. He didn't really want to hear advice from anyone at the moment. In particular his bossy older sister. He did love her so, but she had a way of getting into any argument he ever had with any one of their siblings and he resolved that this time it would be different.
"God, you drive me nuts sometimes!" she groaned. He laughed at her tone and she changed the topic back to the pieces of property she had spied in the morning paper.
"Michelle, leave it," he said tiredly. "I don't want to look at anything right now. I want to enjoy being home. Christ, I'm sick of running around!" His mother turned around, startled by the tone in his voice. It also served to silence his sister for a moment.
"Fine. Be that way. I don't care if you get a stupid house!" she said, cross with the way he was acting. "And to think I stood up to Alan for you. If you're going to act like that, I shouldn't have bothered."
"Michelle, that's not what I meant," he said tiredly. "I'm tired, my head hurts, and I just don't want to argue with anyone. All right?" Instantly she was contrite and stopped arguing with him.
"I'm sorry, honey. I didn't mean it, honestly." She said.
"I know. And I'm sorry I snapped at you," he said leaning against his hand. He missed the look at this mother gave him over her shoulder as she finished the dishes. "Anyhow, I think I'm going to just chill for a few days, okay?"
"Okay," she said softly. She was still shocked that he had talked back to her that way. She knew he probably hadn't slept well, and lord knew what he had gotten into after he had stormed out of the house. "I just worry about you."
"I know," he said in the same tone. "But some things I just have to do for myself, okay?"
"Yeah." A cry from outside distracted her from the call. "Oh, honey, I have to go. It sounds like the boys are murdering each other out there and if Jamie goes back with bruises, his mother is never going to let him over here to play with Jordan again."
That made Stephen laugh as he pictured Jordan's friend covered with bruises from playing at Michelle's house. "All right, go make sure they haven't killed one another. I'll talk to you later when I'm feeling a bit better." She rang off and he lowered the phone to the table. His mother took it out of his hands and hung it up on the receiver. She puttered around the house doing her cleaning while he sat there, not thinking about much of anything. Eventually he moved into the parlour where he sat watching the television without seeing much of anything that was on. After a while he decided to check for messages on his mobile. There was a hurried one from Eloy, who was on the road and having his schedule change even in the time he was on the phone leaving his message. Stephen's heart went out to his lover and he sat on the sofa after hanging up his mobile, thinking about Eloy's schedule and the possibility that they might have to cancel his second trip to Amsterdam. He felt a pang at the thought, but knew he had to be realistic. In this business, nothing was certain and often you were at the mercy of the company when doing promotion. He decided to leave that thought for when the time came and he laid back on the sofa with his arms behind his head. He could hear his mother moving about upstairs, straightening up the bedrooms. The afternoon sun was warm on his face and he drifted off with the sound of her humming in the background.