Page 33

Three years later

I look out across the packed university auditorium, searching for the faces that are familiar to me.

It takes me a while but eventually I spot them, my mum, dad, sister, and the one that’s most dear to me—Johnny.

They’re talking amongst themselves and not looking at me, so I spend a few minutes watching them in the lull before we start.

I allow myself a small smile as I see Johnny lean forward, rubbing his hands together.

I know he doesn’t feel comfortable here.

In this seat of academia he feels out of place, like he doesn’t belong.

He’s never gotten used to it over the last three years, and we’ve spent more of our time together in his flat in London than here in a place he says is full of stuffy and dusty old men.

I laughed hard when he said that because it’s true.

I pointed out that Cambridge had a rich history of homosexuals, and named a few such as E.M.

Forster and Alan Turing, to which he replied, stuffy and dusty old gay men.

But I’m grateful to those forebears, because they’ve helped make a community where—whilst there isn’t a vibrant gay scene—I didn’t feel out of place, and even managed to find others to hang out with when I was on my own.

And I have been alone for the most part while I’ve been here, without the distraction of Johnny, which has been good for my studies.

Though he’s a distraction I’d welcome anytime.

When my name is called, I adjust my gown and mortar board and proudly walk across the stage to receive my certificate.

Whilst collecting my law degree marks the end of an era, it also signifies a beginning of a whole new life.

I’ve been to several interviews and have been lucky enough to get a job at Standfords, where I’m going to train as a civil lawyer.

I plan to represent those who are prosecuted under the Sexual Offences Act, and have joined the Sexual Law Reform Society to advocate for change.

As soon as the graduation ceremony finishes, and I’ve given back the rented gown and look normal again, I go to meet my family.

“Well done, Francis. I’m so proud of you,” my dad says, hugging me first, followed by my mum and sister. No one calls me Baby anymore, a name I’m not sorry to leave behind. Johnny hangs back a little, but then he comes forward and swings me round.

“I’ll show you how proud I am of you later,” he whispers before letting me go, his husky voice holding a promise that makes me shiver in anticipation. I can’t wait.

“Do you have to go now?” my dad asks, and I glance at my watch .

“We have a few more minutes before the train,” I reply. Johnny and I are catching the next train back to London as he’s needed at work. My family, who came by car, want to have a look around Cambridge but will be joining us later.

After that summer at Poplins, Johnny, Billy, and Penny managed to afford a flat together in London.

Billy found a job in a hotel, started as a porter and worked his way up to concierge, and now has his sights set on the front of house manager one day.

Penny found a job in a chorus line, and there she met Alfie, the theatre manager.

They were married last year and she moved out of their place.

At the start, Johnny found it hard, working in a bar for almost six months just to pay the rent.

I know he was unhappy but he stuck with it and kept trying and going to auditions.

Eventually he got a break in a dance troupe.

Johnny being who he is, he was soon offering suggestions for what they could improve, and luckily the manager recognised his talent and he was soon leading them.

Six months ago he secured a position as the choreographer for a new production of West Side Story.

I’ve seen how hard he’s worked for this, and opening night is tomorrow, so him finding the time to be here with me today is even more special.

It hasn’t been an easy time for us over the last three years, we’ve been apart for a lot of the time.

I’ve split my time between Cambridge and London, spending many weekends and all my holidays with Johnny, and taking casual work over the summer months to help contribute towards the flat.

I’ve grown closer to Billy and Penny, who have become like a second family to me.

Penny worked evenings and Billy did shifts, so I’ve been grateful that I’ve had Johnny to myself some of the time too.

Though they’ve both been wonderfully supportive of our relationship.

We live in a great area, not too far from Soho, where we often go to a gay club—Le Duce.

There we can dance together, with nobody taking any notice of us.

I often wonder if it’s where Johnny learned to dance like he did the first time I saw the staff party back at Poplins.

When we get to Liverpool Street Station, just before rushing off to catch the tube to the West End for the final rehearsal, Johnny briefly takes my hand and gives it a quick squeeze before letting it go.

It’s pretty much the extent of how much affection we show in public.

Whilst I’m twenty-one now, and being together is no longer illegal, it’s still too risky to make it too obvious.

I go back to our flat, which is my home now.

When my wages start coming in we’re hoping to start saving up to buy our own house.

Probably still in Bloomsbury, or close by, as it has a good gay community.

I rest for a little while, rereading Maurice , which has been a favourite since its publication a few months ago.

Billy comes in from work and reports that my family, who are staying at the hotel he works at, have arrived safely.

It’s much later when Johnny comes in, tired but happy that the rehearsal went well.

He still makes good on his promise from earlier and I sleep deeply and sated.

He leaves fairly early the next morning, but not until I’ve given him a blow job so good he’ll keep thinking of me all day.

Then I go to meet my family, to show them some of the sights of London and the office in Clerkenwell where I’ll be working.

We go to dinner before the show, and I look around at my family with some pride.

My mum and sister have been great, but my dad found it hard to accept Johnny at first. He had years of prejudice he barely knew was there to strip off, and it took him some time but he’s managed it, and whilst I don’t go home often, I know Johnny is also welcome.

We take our seats for the performance in a box that Johnny secured for us, and my chest swells when I look around the packed theatre. The anticipation and the excitement in the air is palpable.

The show is incredible, and of course the choreography is amazing and the dancers are perfectly in sync.

By the roar of applause and the number of encores called for, it’s clear that the audience think it’s a success too.

I lead my family to the after-show party and seek out Johnny, calling congratulations to a few of the performers I’ve met through him.

My mum hugs her congratulations, as does my sister, and Johnny holds out his hand to my dad who, as he takes it, pulls Johnny into a hug too, which is the first time I’ve ever seen him do that.

Gratitude blooms in me and I stop the grin spreading across my face.

Johnny steps close to me, our bodies pushed together by the crush of people in the room.

“It was amazing,” I say, and then add, “As I knew it would be.” Because I always knew he could do this.

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” he says, looking deeply into my eyes.

“Nonsense,” I admonish lightly. “You could always do anything you wanted. ”

He snakes an arm round my waist and gives me the smile he reserves just for me. One full of love and the promise of a wonderful future.

“Sweetheart, you know I owe it all to you.”