Professor Andrew Roberts meets Ben’s parents.
“That’s the car I’d have”.
“Ben you can’t drive”. I replied.
It had been like this ever since Ben and I had left Manchester. That car is so cool. Look at that Lorry, we must go there sometime, where are we now? Ben was excited that we were going to see his parents. He had been trying to persuade me to accompany him for over a week. I had been reluctant to go at first, it had even caused a falling out, which led to Ben getting out of and walking away from the taxi we were sharing, which then led onto Ben getting mugged on his way home. I realized then, that he was more important to me than I thought. I’ve realized he is more than a friend. So here we are driving up the M6 towards the town of Penwortham near Preston in central Lancashire, about an hour’s drive from Manchester.
“I know, but I think old Landrovers are so retro, you could teach me to drive Prof”.
“Erm I don’t think so, I wouldn’t have the patience. Don’t get me wrong, I think learning to drive is a good idea, but me teaching you, no, no way, over the years a driver picks up too many bad habits to be a good teacher, and as you know I’ve very little patience”.
“All the same I think that at least you could sit in with me while I practice, couldn’t you Prof, hmm”. The last bit was said with Ben sidling up to me and putting his hand on my thigh.
“Ben, I’m trying to drive, stop distracting me, even if you are a very nice distraction, not whilst I’m driving”.
I couldn’t help but smile as I said it. After our kiss in the middle of Manchester yesterday, Ben had been more hands on. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining, I like it now Ben is very much hands on, but It had taken an awful lot of persuasion and willpower not to have sex last night, I might have wanted to, but we were up early this morning to drive up to Penwortham, so we could beat the traffic. So sex was out of the question. Ben, though, slept really close all night with an arm and leg wrapped around me like a blanket. I could hardly move. Weeks ago, it would have been unthinkable that I’d be in this position. It still is. I’m only in this position with Ben. Absolutely nobody else. I’m still that introverted, grumpy 52 year old I was before. I’m just more comfortable around Ben, for some reason.
“You would help me practice though”?
“I would consider it, but learning to drive in and around central Manchester would be a nightmare. We’d have to drive out to Salford, Urmston and into the countryside beyond”.
“Cool, think of the freedom I’d have. I’d be able to come see mum and dad anytime I want to without relying on others or the train. It would make it easier for me to research in Preston or anywhere else for that matter. And also it would give you time on your own, Which you keep telling me you enjoy so much”.
That last bit struck a chord, ok I do enjoy my time on my own, is he implying something, or isn’t he? Anyway I ignored it and said,
Why now though? It can’t be the journey up this morning”.
“I’ve been thinking about it for a while, years even, it’s something I’ve always wanted to do but being a student for so long I’ve never had the money for a car, now I’ve got a career and my apartment sorted so I can think about learning to drive”.
“But don’t forget though once you’ve got your car, you need to take into account the running costs, like, fuel, insurance and repair bills. And old Landrovers may be retro but they’re expensive to maintain and run, slow and uneconomical on fuel, think about a smaller hatchback, like a Volkswagen Polo or a Vauxhall Corsa.
“You sound like my mum. She’d say a sensible thing like that”.
“Good, I’m glad someone has their head screwed on in your family”.
“You Cheeky sod Prof, I have my head screwed on as much as the next guy. How many young single men are going home to visit their parents at Easter, instead of tripping the light fantastic down canal street”?
“Yes, you’re right, as usual, and I’m glad we’re going, really I am and I apologize for previously being an arse about it. It’s just that I felt uncomfortable about our age difference, and being so far out of my comfort zone. Now I realize that our age difference doesn’t matter, we’re good for each other, we have a connection, which I have never felt before. As for my comfort zone, then I need to buck up as my old mum would say when I was a child”.
“You don’t need to keep being sorry. It’s water under the bridge now, I’m excited to be going and I’m so happy you’re here with me”. Ben said, with an unusually firm voice.
The day was cold and sunny with a stiff breeze coming out of the east, which kept a lid on the outside temperature, both Ben and I had bundled ourselves into hats and coats before we left. We traveled on in silence for a distance, me concentrating on the road in front and Ben staring out of the window, seemingly lost in thought, I left him to it, I decided that if he wanted to tell me his thoughts then he would tell me, it isn’t for me to ask. As we neared our final destination I grew more nervous, we were by now off the motorway and traveling up a busy tree lined dual carriageway, with roads veering off at traffic lights to some small village or other.
I glanced at Ben, his eyes were still black, his bruised body was still sore, he took some co-codamol this morning and I made us a bowl of porridge oats each for our breakfast, the doc had told Ben to increase his fiber intake, he wasn’t enamored with the porridge at first, but in the end I think he quite enjoyed it. I am determined to help him get through this in any way I can, I wondered what his parents are going to think when they see him.
We turned left into Penwortham proper. Going up a hill and past shops of all kinds and sizes ranging from a huge supermarket to small shops like a hat shop, hairdressers and even a micro pub. We turned left at the water tower down cop lane past a school and houses of varying styles, and finally after just over an hour’s drive turned right into Belgrave avenue, Ben’s mum and dad lived in number 35. At first glance 35 Belgrave avenue was an unusual design, in that the roof had a very high and narrow pitch and a dormer window on the right hand side. The upper half of the gable was painted white, there was also a window in the upper half and one below in the lower half of the gable end which faced the road and was faced in stone, then there was a small grassed area on the right.
We pulled into the drive and got out of the car. We left our bags in the boot and approached the front door, which was on the side of the house near a garage which I later found out was used for storage. Ben knocked.
I was standing behind Ben, when shortly the front door was opened by a woman, by her looks in her mid 50s.And slim, she was about Ben’s height with dyed blond hair, and the same color eyes as Ben, with a few wrinkles around her eyes, which added to her appearance of mature beauty. She was wearing white slacks and a purple jumper. I could see where Ben got his looks from.
“Hi Mum”
“Benjamin, I’m so glad to see you”. She hugged her son, not paying any notice to me. “It’s been far too long. I’m so sorry to hear of your misfortune, how are you feeling? Do you need any painkillers? Oh I do apologize, come in, the both of you”. We followed her into the hall which was decorated in magnolia with a brown carpet. She took our hats and coats.
The stairs were opposite the front door and a mirror was on the left hand wall, a ticking clock was on the right. The through lounge was on the left, the dining room on the right, and a small galley type kitchen was at the end of the hall.
She ushered us into the dining room, a brown dining table that seats 6 dominated the room with a cabinet and radiator along one wall, the other wall was bare, the walls were decorated with a subtle floral pattern wallpaper, with the odd family portrait hanging here and there. The carpet was gray and a window looked out into the garden. She then left the room saying she would make us a pot of tea.
I seated myself in one of the chairs, Ben set the table with mats ready for the tea, he then sat next to me. I felt nervous. Ben obviously noticed and rubbed my thigh, I turned and looked at him, I smiled weakly, my stomach was doing somersaults. Ben smiled back, he spoke quietly.
“You ok Prof? You look nervous.
“Yes I’m nervous, I’m not sure if your mum likes me”.
“She doesn’t mean any harm, that’s just her way, just you wait she will introduce herself and then ask you loads of questions. But remember she takes silence as guilt, she’s headmistress at the local girls school”. Ben warmed to his topic and carried on.
“When I was little, a friend of mine threw a stone at a neighbor’s window, he then ran off leaving me to take the blame. I was dragged by the ear back home, mum and dad questioned me, I stayed silent, for some reason I didn’t want to get my friend into trouble. So by mum’s reasoning I was guilty and punished with being grounded for a month and forced to apologize to my neighbor”.
“And your friend”?
I never spoke to him again, but a few weeks later he did the same thing again, but this time he was caught. But it didn’t get me off the hook, because then I was accused of lying, and grounded for a further 2 weeks. But it was during those final 2 weeks I found books and started reading. One of those books was a children’s history book, called the Oxford children’s book of world history. I was hooked, it even had pictures in it. History came alive, I read it from cover to cover and I’ve loved history ever since”.
Ben’s chatter was interrupted by his mother coming into the dining room with a tray, Carrying a ceramic teapot, 3 small cups and saucers, sugar, milk and teaspoons.
“Well here we are, a nice pot of tea”. She placed the tray gently on the table and gave us all a cup and saucer, then she put the rest of the things on the mats Ben had got out previously. And sat at the head of the table.
“So Benjamin, tell me all about your mishap”. He glanced at me and I at him, then related his story leaving out the part about us both arguing and him leaving the taxi to find Greg or Seb. As Ben talked I looked at his mother. She looked on impassively at Ben, seemingly ignoring me altogether. I sat quietly, feeling out of place in this neat little house occupied by Ben’s parents, while the tea brewed in its pot.
When Ben had finished speaking. It was silent for a couple of seconds. Then she spoke.
“Help yourselves to a cup of tea, it should be brewed enough by now”. Ben stood and picked up the tea pot and poured a cup for his mother, one for me and finally one for himself.
“Thankyou Benjamin. He’s always been such a nice, happy and polite boy”, she said looking at me for the first time, she helped herself to milk and stirred her cup placing the teaspoon on the side of the saucer with a clink.
Ben and I did the same, I added milk and one sugar, Ben milk and no sugar “ She took a sip of her tea, placing it back on the saucer she looked at me.
“ I’m Muriel Slocombe, Benjamin tells me your his old History Professor from University, we were both so proud of him attending university, though he wasn’t the first, I went to Durham university to study English, got my degree then my masters, I then went onto be an English teacher in Preston then finally I became Headmistress at the local girls school, where did you study Professor”?
“Oh erm Warwick, that’s where I got my degree, and masters then I attended Manchester where I got my phd, they offered me a part time lecturing job and I accepted. That was so many years ago, it’s a career I love, mentoring the students in the many fascinating periods of history”.
“And what do you specialize in”?
“Early 20th century history and I also lecture in the English civil wars, of King Stephen and Matilda and of course Charles 1st and the parliamentarians”.
Muriel looked at me as I spoke, her face was unreadable. Her face still. I was unsure as to why I was so nervous of her, she seemed pleasant enough, I don’t blame her for wanting to protect her son. Ben kept quiet either looking at his tea cup or glancing at whoever was speaking at the time.
“Have you always loved History”?
“Yes when I was young I was always reading about heroes of the past, then when I was 14, a History teacher taught us about the 1st world war. I was hooked on history from that day. He encouraged us to explore and research our own way, and not follow the text books blindly. I spent many hours in the school library reading about the 1st World War.
“I was always reading and learning even when I was very young, I lived out in the countryside on a farm, my few friends were miles away, my 2 sisters were older than me so I made my own fun, that fun consisted of reading history and fantasy books by Tolkien, Donaldson, Mervin Peake and others”.
“Were you proud of my son when he was a student”?
Ben looked sharply at his mother then at me then looked straight ahead, obviously nervous.
I was slightly taken aback by her change of questioning. I said nothing for a moment gathering my thoughts, but remembering Ben’s words, Silence is taken as guilt.
“Yes I was, he’s one of the brightest students I’ve ever had, he was always so curious and he asked the most awkward questions. He was confident and bright. He was popular but always studious. Oh yes I was very proud of him when he got his degree. He could quite easily have gone on to do a phd. Though I understand why he didn’t. Being a student isn’t cheap, I’m glad he’s followed you into your chosen profession”.
Ben glanced at me, blushing slightly, with a slight smile on his face, he patted my knee. The glance didn’t go unnoticed by his Mother.
“Teaching isn’t easy Professor, kids have so much technology to hand nowadays, it’s so easy to find the answers to questions, all they have to do is google the answer. In my day, like you said it meant a trip to the school library. I try to discourage it but I’m fighting a losing battle I’m afraid. Do you have that problem Professor”?
“Lecturing isn’t the same, google will only say so much, to find what’s behind the answers you have to delve deeper. Find the transcripts and books that aren’t easy to find. Then put your own spin on it. I go for depth of knowledge not the answers themselves. You teach them knowledge. I teach them to teach themselves, you teach, I guide”.
Muriel looked at me over the brim of her teacup, she placed it down with more force than was necessary.
“ You seem to have a very high opinion of yourself, Professor”.
“I apologize, anyone who knows me, knows I’m the opposite, I have a low opinion of myself, without you I couldn’t do my job, I can’t guide, if the students aren’t taught. I didn’t mean in any way to offend you”.
“So eloquently put and apology accepted Professor, but what I’m driving at is that an esteemed man such as yourself, to accompany my son who is 20 odd years younger than yourself here to his parents home, is questionable, I see by the way you glance at each other it’s more than what Benjamin told me on the phone”.
Ben stood up “Mother how could you say that. While you and dad were sunning yourselves in Tenerife over Christmas, I was alone in Manchester. The professor said I could go with him to his family so that I wouldn’t be alone. Then when I got mugged he came to me in hospital and helped me however he could, he’s been nothing but kind, courteous and helpful from the beginning. I reciprocated by inviting him here when he would be alone over Easter. He’s a quiet studious man popular among his contemporaries and students alike. The very least you could do is to show the same hospitality his family offered me. I can now count his family as my friends, maybe we should have gone there instead. At the very least we would have been made welcome”.
Ben was angry, his blackened eyes and bruised features couldn’t contain his angry look. I sat in stunned silence as did Muriel. It wasn’t like Ben to lose his cool. The silence was palpable. I drummed my fingers on the table nervously, I was quietly shaking, my nerves slowly getting the best of me,I didn’t like the tension. I sat and said nothing, waiting for one of the others to speak.
Ben sat back in his chair and looked directly at his mother and spoke quietly.
“Mother, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said we should have gone to the professor’s family. But it doesn’t alter the fact that you of all people. Who I’ve looked up to all my life. Who has always been so kind to my friends when I’ve asked them round, even the ones I shouldn’t have been friends with. Has been so discourteous to the man who mentored me, been a friend and an advisor. Let me into his life like nobody else has in my short life. I asked him to come. The prof didn’t want to but I persuaded him to. I won’t apologize for that ever, so don’t ask”. He took my hand. And placed it on the table.
“Yes I’ve fallen for a man who’s a lot older than me. Wasn’t it you who told me to follow your dreams wherever they go. To ignore the complaints of others. To hold my head up high when all others want to tear you down, who accepted my homosexuality without hesitation. This is my dream, mother, yes he’s older than me Andrew has reservations about that himself. But to me it’s my heart I’m following. His intelligence, his honesty and his reserved quiet nature means more to me than any other beautiful face or body that flaunts themselves at me”.
Again silence, I said nothing. My hand felt clammy in Ben’s, but I didn’t let go. Muriel was the next to speak, her voice was quiet, stern and determined.
“And how do you feel about this professor”?
I was nervous, shaking, I’ve never been good at this love thing. But I was determined not to let Ben down, if ever he needed me, it was now.
“Let me be candid. It’s taken me along time to accept how Ben feels, we’ve both spoken at length about our relationship, it’s still new, up until 24 hours ago I was determined that Ben and I were friends only, but then Ben got mugged, we could have lost him, if that passer by hadn’t been there, then I dread to think what would have happened. Seeing Ben in that hospital, so weak and fragile, made me realize how I felt. I’m 52 years old, I’ve never had a relationship, I’ve locked myself away, in my work, research and writing. If there’s anyone in heaven, and that someone wants me and Ben to have a relationship. Then I won’t stand in the way, I want to try and make a go of this relationship, whether it’s with your acceptance or not doesn’t really matter, Ben is 25 he’s an adult he makes his own decisions in life and nobody will change that fact”.
My voice, quiet at first, became stronger with each sentence, like I was on the podium giving a lecture. At that moment I stood up for what we both believed in and to hell with the consequences.
“My son has always been headstrong, he gets that off me, he was right in what he said about chasing his dreams and not letting anyone or anything stand in his way. I believe that, always have, always will. If this is what you both want then I won’t stand in your way. I don’t have to like it, but I won’t stand in the way. I don’t know what your father will think, Benjamin”.
With that she gathered up the tea things and placed them back on the tray. And walked out of the door.
“Well that was interesting,” I said.
“Could’ve been worse I suppose” replied Ben.
“So what do we do now then”?
“Let’s go and see dad”.
“And where is he then”?
“He will be on his allotment. Come on, let’s go”.
Ben stood and walked out of the dining room door. I followed closely behind him.
“We’re off to see dad”. Ben shouted from the hall as we put on our coats and hats.
“Ok Benjamin. He’s on his allotment”.
“Bye mum”.
Penwortham West allotments is a hotchpotch of sheds and greenhouses, some neat and well maintained others abandoned with plots overgrown with weeds, but most of them were neat and tidy capable of growing all sorts of vegetables, even flowers were being planted to help with the pollination, then they will be taken home for the wife to put in a vase. We found Ben’s dads plot without too much hassle. When we found him he was sitting in a chair, his coat hanging on a spade, a grubby hat perched on his head and he was smoking a pipe lazily. Watching the world pass by his plot.
“Hi dad”. Ben shouted.
His dad looked over to us.
“Son is that you, it’s so good to see you”. He said standing up, he met his son halfway, they hugged. He spoke again.
“I’m so glad you’re here, have you seen your mother”?
“Yes we have spoken to her. Dad, there’s someone I want you to meet. This is my old History lecturer from uni, this is Professor Andrew Roberts”.
I had been standing behind Ben while they said their hellos. Ben stood to one side.
“Professor it’s so good to meet you at last, Ben has told us so much about you, how are you, have a good journey up I trust”?
The man I was looking at was in his early 60s, with gray balding hair and brown eyes hidden behind smudged glasses, he had a grandfatherly look about him, he seemed happy and jovial. I can see where Ben got his cheerfulness from, I liked him immediately. We shook hands vigorously.
“I’m fine thankyou, Mr Slocombe, the journey was ok thanks, we set off first thing to avoid the traffic, hence being a bit early”.
“My dear professor, call me Geoff, set off early then? That’s why you’re a professor, eh. Always thinking ahead. So what brings you to Penwortham then”?
“I was alone with no plans except writing and research, and as a thankyou for helping Ben over Christmas he invited me here. And I’m glad I came, it’s good to meet you at last Geoff”.
Ben was standing by my side, his face split by a happy smile, the same as his dad.
“Dad, there’s something else I. Well I mean we need to tell you.”
“What’s wrong son? I heard about the mugging from your mother. Nasty business, you look awful, I hope you feel much better soon”,
He said, hugging his son again. I couldn’t help but notice the contrast between Geoff and Muriel. Geoff seemed laid back, jovial and relaxed, Muriel meanwhile seemed more tense, and maybe a bit of a snob.
“No it’s not that Dad, though thanks for asking. It’s just. Well I mean we”.
“Out with it son it’s not like you to mince your words son, come on out with it”.
Ben took my hand, he was shaking, if Geoff noticed he didn’t say anything.
“Me and the prof here, we’ve, well, we’ve fallen in love. Mum’s not happy, I thought it best if we came down here and told you personally”.
“Is that all? The way you were mincing your words I thought you’d murdered someone. Im glad you’ve found someone at last, I’m happy for you both”.
He shook our hands again.
“You’re not angry with us. Even with the age difference”?
“Age difference. Why should I be? There’s 10 years between me and your mother. I remember when I asked your grandfather for Muriel’s hand in marriage. He kicked up a right fuss. Accused me of being a cradle snatcher. But your grandma talked him round in the end. How’d your mother take it anyhow”?
“Not well, let’s say there were words. Though I think in the end we agreed to disagree. She said she wouldn’t stand in our way, but she didn’t have to be happy about it”.
“That sounds like you’re mother, I’d have thought she’d be happy welcoming a professor into the family. But you never can tell with her”. He suddenly shivered “It’s cold, let’s go into the potting shed, out of this dam wind”.
We followed him into the old shed. He picked up his pipe and chair, and opening the door walked into the shed with Ben and me trailing behind.
The shed was small. A small table with trays of seeds in the middle of being planted was along the far wall. And on the walls were different kinds of spades, rakes and hoes, everything a keen gardener needs. Geoff who had carried the chair in with him sat, Ben leaned on the table and I stood and leaned in the doorway, the door still ajar.
“A keen Gardener, are you Geoff”? I asked
He said nothing for a moment, he just concentrated on relighting his pipe, when satisfied his pipe was well and truly lit with smoke soon filling the small space. He spoke. Gesticulating with his pipe.
“I try, but with spring late this year everything is slow going, at least I’ve got plenty of seedlings in the green house, and the weathers dry, with luck and there’s no frost I can start planting potatoes next week, and my peas as well, although everything is still wet due to all the rain since October”.
He carried on in this vein for a while, occasionally stopping to puff on his pipe, at length he showed us his greenhouse with the seedlings in trays, and he showed us where the tomatoes were going to be grown. Then he showed us his plot. Most of the soil had been turned over with manure and compost being added into the soil to help the vegetables grow. I know next to nothing about gardening and admitted as much. Neither Ben nor I shared Geoff’s love of gardening.
Presently we said our goodbyes to Geoff. He said he’d be home later and that they’d take us for a meal to the Rams head. As we walked away. We noticed that Geoff had turned and started chatting to the man on the next door plot.
“It’s a wonder dad gets anything done, always puffing on that pipe of his and chatting away to someone or other. He only has his allotment to keep out of the way of mum. She won’t allow his pipe anywhere in or near the house”.
“Small wonder”. I replied. Ben laughed and held my hand as we walked back up the hill.
End of chapter 3