Page 101 of These Old Lies
Ned's eyes darted over to Charlie in concern and Frank offered his dad an arm of support. “Let’s go sit down.”
Despite the fact that Frank’s parents hadn’t moved into this house until he was well into adulthood, Frank had always felt at home here. Decorating it had been his father’s project after selling the second Villiers Automotive, and he had filled it with brightness without being gauche. The walls in the living room were covered in pictures of exotic locales taken during Ned’s years as a governor and the high commissioner. Frank’s parents standing on beaches in the Caribbean, he and his sister making faces beside the skyscrapers of New York, Uncle Ned surveying the mosques of Istanbul.
“Is everything okay?” His father’s eyes were full of worry as he eased himself into his chair. “Violet? The girls?”
“Everyone is fine, Dad.” Frank squeezed his dad’s hand. “Violet sends her love. The girls would have come tonight, but they both had schoolwork to do.”
“They have good grades?” His dad was always anxious that his grandchildren did well in school. Frank had heard him recite his grandchildren’s end-of-year exam results like they were Arsenal footballscores.
Before Frank could answer, Ned joined them.
“William’s happily lost to the world of African jungle adventures in his books. As well as devouring the last of his grandmother’s biscuits,” Ned said, sitting down in his stuffed armchair, which was slightly to the side of Frank’s father’s. Closer than the settee where Frank was perched. Close enough to hold hands.
Frank looked at their faces, weathered and lined. He was struck with memories from his childhood—of his father’s hands, always embedded with motor oil and grease. Of the plaster dust that had covered his body when Frank had helped pull him from the rubble of their blitzed home. The silent tears that had streaked down his face when Frank had passed him the sleeping bundle of his first grandchild.
Uncle Ned had always been a force of nature to Frank. Slamming doors and calling out creative insults because of the latest catastrophe in the office. A solid hand on his shoulder as he walked Frank to the Higher School Certificate Examination, telling him, “Your future awaits.”
With each visit it hit him harder that he might not have as much time with either man as he wanted.
Which was why he had to be here tonight.
Frank cleared his throat. “Sorry to be arriving out of the blue. It’s only, well, I wanted to be with you tonight.”
“Tonight?” his dad asked neutrally, as if he had no idea what Frank was talking about.
Christ, this was hard, but he wasn’t giving up now. “Because tonight, Parliament will decriminalise homosexuality.”
Frank didn’t think he had ever experienced a silence so loud. His father’s hands were white, gripping the arms of his chair. Uncle Ned opened his mouth to speak, but Frank jumped in before he had the chance. “Dad, I worked out what you and Uncle Ned were to each other a long time ago.”
How could he not? Whenever Ned walked through the door, his father’s face would light up with a grin. He remembered how they washed dishestogether in the evenings, Ned’s shoulders relaxing as he and his dad chatted. The way their hands would accidentally brush when they thought no one was looking.
Frank met the eyes of both men, hoping his love for them came through. “I didn’t know how to tell you before now, but with the vote tonight, I had to be here. To share this moment with you.”
Ned spoke first, with an emotion-filled voice that Frank had heard only once before, when the old viscount, Ned’s father, had died. “I was about to get out the champagne.”
“Don’t jinx it.” His father’s gaze hadn’t left Frank’s.
Ned rolled his eyes and Frank couldn’t help but laugh. He had been shocked a decade ago when he had first realised that the love between his dad and Ned went deeper than that of two old friends. Had been angry, even, for his mother. When Frank got married himself, he realised that his template for a successful relationship was the dynamic between his dad and Ned. That mix of challenge and support. Of unflagging love. Frank had lots of questions, but he was long past any condemnation.
“I’m sorry, Frank.” His dad’s voice sounded smaller than Frank could ever remember hearing it. “I love your mother, and we were excellent business partners, but…”
“You are a wonderful father, an exceptional granddad. My life is richer for having Uncle Ned in it. And Mum, I always thought you made her happier than either of you realised. You gave her space to be herself, and never once discouraged her from her latest adventure. It might not be conventional, but I don’t remember Mum ever being unhappy.” Frank took his father’s gnarled, stiff hand. “I love you, Dad.”
“Love you, my son.”
The lamp light caught his dad’s cufflinks, battered and worn. Even for an evening at home, his dad always wore them. Frank knew they were a present from Ned, but it was only seeing them again that Frank was reminded of how little he knew of his father.
“How did it happen?” Frank tried to keep his voice casual.
“What?”
“How did you fall in love?” Frank continued, feeling braver now. “I know you two met in the war, but I can’t help but feel like I only know half the story—the version you edited for us. I want to know it all.”
Ned came back into the room, balancing a bottle of champagne and three glasses. “It’s a very long story. Took us nearly a quarter century to get ourselves sorted.”
Charlie smiled with touching fondness. “Your uncle is a very stubborn man.”
Frank leaned back on the settee. “Somehow I think you might have played a role in this.”