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Authors: Michael Arditti
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repeat, no – control. But I trust that that won’t deter you from celebrating.’
‘As soon as he saw my face, my boyfriend brought out a bottle of champagne ,’ Clement said, emphasising the relationship.
‘Quite right. Water into wine, as I always remind the Methodists,’ the Dean replied, leaving it unclear if he were diplomatic or deaf.
Although the imminence of the meal forced them to open the champagne before it was chilled, Clement professed not to notice. Mike proposed a toast to the window, which he insisted on interpreting as an allegory of a repressed man being liberated by his bolder self and calling Coming Out .
‘It’s The Second Adam ,’ Clement retorted.
‘Oh sure! And St Teresa never had an orgasm.’
Mike’s marking and his own self-restraint meant that they drank only half the bottle, so he took the rest in his saddlebag when he made his way to Dartmouth Park the following morning. He was having lunch with Carla, ostensibly to discuss the window, but he knew that she was preoccupied with thoughts of the child. He was anxious not to leave her in suspense and reckoned that, while a full bottle might raise her hopes, a half-full or, rather, half-empty one would let them down gently. In the event he miscalculated for, as soon as he opened his bag, her face lit up.
‘Oh Clement, thank you.’
‘Please, wait a second! It’s only what’s left over from last night.’
‘I think it’s great news. Really great,’ she said, in a voice so flat that he was eager to fill it with bubbles.
‘I thought we could have it at lunch. But if you’d like a glass right now.’
‘No, lunch is good.’ She led him to the spacious workshop which, without his qualms about working at home and with no Crown Estate Commissioners to object, she had built in the garden. A faint odour of linseed oil hung in the air. ‘Sit anywhere,’ she said, switching on the heater. ‘I’ve laid out some samples.’
‘You look stressed. I’m sorry. Shall we leave the window and discuss the other matter first?’
‘If you think it’s appropriate.’
‘I think it’s essential.’ Carla paced the room, as if anticipating the worst. ‘First I want to say how touched I am – and flattered – that you should ask.’
‘Oh God!’
‘I’d do anything… anything within my power to help. But I wouldn’t be bringing you life but death.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘I’m HIV positive.’
‘What?’
‘And I have been for twelve years.’
As Carla burst into tears, Clement knew that his instinct for secrecy had been sound. Even so, he felt an immense relief at having finally opened his heart to a member of his family. ‘There’s nothing to cry about. Truly! I’m in excellent health. God and the drug companies willing, I’ll live out my biblical span.’
Her initial shock gave way to hurt, tempered with resentment that he had kept the truth hidden for so long. ‘And all this time you’ve said nothing? Do you trust me so little?’
‘Believe me, it’s not you I don’t trust but myself. Knowing I’d never manage to tailor different stories to different people, I decided that the best thing would be to tell no one.’
‘Not even your parents?’
‘Them least of all. You, more than anyone, know what they’ve suffered. I can’t put them through hell every time I catch a cold.’
‘Yes, of course. I’m sorry. It’s very brave of you.’
‘Mike thinks it’s cowardly.’
‘Then he’s wrong!’ she said with unexpected vehemence. ‘I’ve always known you were a compassionate man, Clem. I never realised how much.’
‘You’ll make me blush!’
He explained that keeping well was a routine matter of taking his pills and managing the modest side effects. The real problem lay in his mind. The sense of playing host to a deadly virus not only alienated him from his own body but threatened his intimacy with Mike. He found it increasingly hard to respond to his lovemaking, let alone take
‘As soon as he saw my face, my boyfriend brought out a bottle of champagne ,’ Clement said, emphasising the relationship.
‘Quite right. Water into wine, as I always remind the Methodists,’ the Dean replied, leaving it unclear if he were diplomatic or deaf.
Although the imminence of the meal forced them to open the champagne before it was chilled, Clement professed not to notice. Mike proposed a toast to the window, which he insisted on interpreting as an allegory of a repressed man being liberated by his bolder self and calling Coming Out .
‘It’s The Second Adam ,’ Clement retorted.
‘Oh sure! And St Teresa never had an orgasm.’
Mike’s marking and his own self-restraint meant that they drank only half the bottle, so he took the rest in his saddlebag when he made his way to Dartmouth Park the following morning. He was having lunch with Carla, ostensibly to discuss the window, but he knew that she was preoccupied with thoughts of the child. He was anxious not to leave her in suspense and reckoned that, while a full bottle might raise her hopes, a half-full or, rather, half-empty one would let them down gently. In the event he miscalculated for, as soon as he opened his bag, her face lit up.
‘Oh Clement, thank you.’
‘Please, wait a second! It’s only what’s left over from last night.’
‘I think it’s great news. Really great,’ she said, in a voice so flat that he was eager to fill it with bubbles.
‘I thought we could have it at lunch. But if you’d like a glass right now.’
‘No, lunch is good.’ She led him to the spacious workshop which, without his qualms about working at home and with no Crown Estate Commissioners to object, she had built in the garden. A faint odour of linseed oil hung in the air. ‘Sit anywhere,’ she said, switching on the heater. ‘I’ve laid out some samples.’
‘You look stressed. I’m sorry. Shall we leave the window and discuss the other matter first?’
‘If you think it’s appropriate.’
‘I think it’s essential.’ Carla paced the room, as if anticipating the worst. ‘First I want to say how touched I am – and flattered – that you should ask.’
‘Oh God!’
‘I’d do anything… anything within my power to help. But I wouldn’t be bringing you life but death.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘I’m HIV positive.’
‘What?’
‘And I have been for twelve years.’
As Carla burst into tears, Clement knew that his instinct for secrecy had been sound. Even so, he felt an immense relief at having finally opened his heart to a member of his family. ‘There’s nothing to cry about. Truly! I’m in excellent health. God and the drug companies willing, I’ll live out my biblical span.’
Her initial shock gave way to hurt, tempered with resentment that he had kept the truth hidden for so long. ‘And all this time you’ve said nothing? Do you trust me so little?’
‘Believe me, it’s not you I don’t trust but myself. Knowing I’d never manage to tailor different stories to different people, I decided that the best thing would be to tell no one.’
‘Not even your parents?’
‘Them least of all. You, more than anyone, know what they’ve suffered. I can’t put them through hell every time I catch a cold.’
‘Yes, of course. I’m sorry. It’s very brave of you.’
‘Mike thinks it’s cowardly.’
‘Then he’s wrong!’ she said with unexpected vehemence. ‘I’ve always known you were a compassionate man, Clem. I never realised how much.’
‘You’ll make me blush!’
He explained that keeping well was a routine matter of taking his pills and managing the modest side effects. The real problem lay in his mind. The sense of playing host to a deadly virus not only alienated him from his own body but threatened his intimacy with Mike. He found it increasingly hard to respond to his lovemaking, let alone take
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