“How will we know what’s on there? Does anyone even have a cassette player these days?” asked Pippa.
“We have one,” answered Lenny, standing. “At least, Luke left one in the cupboard. I didn’t throw it away, but then I’m not sure if it actually works.”
“Only one way to find out,” said Adrian.
They brought out the old machine and placed it in the middle of the coffee table. Adrian found a mains socket and plugged in the device. On the display, a small green light illuminated, so he pressed a button to flip open the lid while Lenny slipped in the cassette tape and snapped the top down.
Everyone around took a breath and glanced nervously at one another.
“Are we ready?” asked Lenny.
Rather than reply, everyone gave a simple nod, and Adrian pressed the play button.
“Hello. This is Luke Darlington.”
The recording sounded loud and tinny, Luke’s voice too young, too vulnerable. Adrian adjusted the volume, and when he looked across at Pippa and Freya, he noticed their eyes had watered up.
“If anyone ever hears this, you have found my grandfather’s beautiful dresser and the photographs I hid there, and I hope they make sense to you. You also need to know that what I am doing, I am doing of my own free will. I know some of you who remember me will be sad, although my mother will likely call it a sin, but I cannot think of any other way out. I don’t really want to go on living, not without the one person who made everything make sense, who made everything feel good and right. I am finally of an age where I can be who I want to be, but the love I have been waiting for has been taken from me, and I cannot imagine—do not want to imagine—a future without him. Everything was bearable knowing he was out there, and especially when we were together. I was going to use this recording to name people who wronged us, but all I feel right now is a calmness I have not felt in over a year, so I am going to let things go and forgive anyone who did not have our best intentions at heart. I just hope this house that was supposed to be mine ends up with good people, who find as much joy here as I found during my short life. And who knows? Maybe we will meet one day, in another life, under different circumstances. Until then, I bid you farewell, and urge you to stay true to yourself—and keep the faith.”
This time a moment of silence was shared by all.
“I can’t believe he had nobody he could talk to,” said Pippa. “Maybe not family, but a helpline. Or why didn’t he pick up the phone and call one of us. I don’t understand.”
Adrian sighed. He had lived through the same time, although under very different circumstances.
“I think I understand. I’ve been that low once or twice when I was younger. And you know, sometimes it takes no more than a kind word or a sympathetic listener to bring you back from the edge. But you have to remember, this was back in the mid-eighties. AIDS had ravaged the gay community and homophobia was rampant. Lenny knows that I would have been around seventeen and living on the streets of London. And there were only a few gay support groups back then, the LGBT Foundation being one of them, and certainly no helplines that I knew of specifically aimed at gay men and women. Stonewall wasn’t established until the end of the eighties. And even though we’ve still got a long way to go, many people are more socially aware today, especially with the emergence of global movements like It Gets Better, The Trevor Project and LGBTQ+ Lifeline. Today we can be openly gay and aspire to become an athlete, or a film star or even a prime minster of a country. We can get married and have kids. We even have gay characters appearing in daily soap operas and gay-themed films where the gay men or women actually have a happy ending. Back then, as a gay young man, if you had described the world we live in today, I would probably have laughed at you. I hope that if there are any Lukes out there today, they know they are not alone and only have to pick up the phone to get not only a kind word and a sympathetic listener but someone to provide practical help.”
“Hear, hear,” said Lenny, nodding and smiling proudly at Adrian.
* * * *
By six o’clock a few of the guests had started to leave. Adrian found Toni helping to load up the dishwasher in the kitchen while Jack had decided to help Maggie’s friends collect up glasses and plates from around the garden. He noticed Lenny in the garden, laughing with his work colleagues, a silver tray in his hands, and felt a fresh wave of love fill him. Just as he turned away to check on the living area, someone tapped him on the shoulder.
“Adrian,” said the man Lenny had introduced as Kennedy, a close friend of his. Adrian had instantly warmed to him and his husband, as well as their two somewhat exuberant boys. “Can I have a word?”
“Of course,” said Adrian.
“In private?” asked Kennedy. “Maybe in the study?”
“Lead the way,” said Adrian, as much wary as intrigued.
As they opened the door and entered the large room, he realised Lenny had already made the double sofa bed to allow Kieran and Kennedy to stay the night. Their boys would be sleeping on an inflatable mattress on the floor with their dog. But Adrian hadn’t noticed what else Lenny had done with the room. Apart from a desk and the bookcases filled with Luke’s books and others Lenny had brought with him, there were also figurines and a framed collage of photographs showing the complete renovation of Bryn Bach to its current state, which hung in pride of place above the mantelpiece. More of Toni’s smartphone photography handiwork.
“Don’t worry,” said Kennedy. “It’s nothing serious. I just wanted to say thank you.”
“For what?”
“For giving my friend a new lease on life. He doesn’t stop talking about you.”
“Honestly, I think you’ve got that the wrong way around. Lenny’s done so much for me.”
“Well, I just wanted to say thank you. Kieran will tell you that I’ve always had a soft spot for Leonard, so I’m overjoyed to see him happy finally. You know—and I shouldn’t be telling you this, because he won’t thank me—but a friend of ours, Pete, nicknamed Leonard ‘Any Day’. When someone asked why, he replied, ‘Because any day is better than Lenny Day.’ Then went on to call him a walking misery. Of course, I stepped in and gave the friend a piece of my mind. But looking back, Leonard had become pretty sullen. He’s a different person today and I can’t help but think that’s because of you. So if you ever fancy a weekend up in Scotland, I’ve acquired a lodge on the banks of Loch Arkaig that overlooks Ben Nevis. You can either have the place to yourself, or join us for Christmas. We have a gathering each year and the two of you would fit in perfectly with our other friends.”
“Have you run the idea past Lenny?”
Kennedy laughed.
“What?”
