This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to any person, whether living or dead, is purely accidental and unintended. Copyright is retained by the Author and reproduction or distribution, in any form and whether for profit or not, without the written permission of the Author, is forbidden.
If reading this type of erotic literature is forbidden in the area where you live, you proceed at your own risk.
All my stories are written for those who have a moderate grasp of English and like a story in which there may be some sex. Any word you do not understand can be found in the Pocket Oxford Dictionary. 1992 edition. gspencer@amitar.com.au
Methuen Halverson sat waiting, hoping that his fare would not be long coming out. This was a regular booking, the dispatcher had said, and he was always on time. Met hoped it was right, because he was parked in a No Standing zone, and it was evening peak hour. It wouldn't be long before the camera picked him up, and an irate policeman arrived. Andrew Travesich fumed as he waited for the lift. Having just been made a partner, his position was not so secure that he could afford to snub the 'Head of Chambers', as the old boys liked to still call the senior partner, but the exchange of niceties had made him late. He had no illusions, if he was more than a couple of minutes late, the cab would be gone. He cursed his having lost his licence, and made a dash for the fire stairs. Met decided to make this his last fare for the day. It was after six, and he had been on for over twelve hours. This one would take him within fifteen minutes of home, and the run back to town would be dead kilometres, at this hour of the day, so it was a good one to finish on. It was rare to get someone going so far out. He wondered why anyone would regularly take a cab that far. If this Travesich bloke didn't turn up in the next sixty seconds, he was going to be walking. Andrew dashed out the front door and rapped on the half open window of the cab. "Are you for Travesich?" "Hop in!" Met answered. "You made it with thirty seconds to spare. I saw the camera turn this way about a minute ago, and decided I wouldn't wait more than another half a minute. It isn't worth the fine." "I would have paid it. It's worth it to me to know I'll be getting home at a reasonable hour." "That's what they all say," Met replied sourly. "But when it comes to doing it, then it's a different matter. I was silly enough to get caught once, by a detective of all people. I'll never fall for that again. He didn't even do anything to stop them taking the two points. That ruined my clean record. Not that it matters much, but it was nice to boast that I had a clean record." Andrew laughed. "A cab driver with a clean record? How long have you been driving cabs?" Met grinned. "Since I was twenty one. I've got well over a million kilometres under my belt now, and that's my only offence." "How long has that taken?" Andrew was staggered. "It's seven years next month." Met's grin was almost ear-to-ear. "If you live out in the sticks, like I do, and you work a minimum of twelve hour a day, you run up a lot of kilometres each year." "Where do you live?" Andrew was genuinely interested. "Milton's Reach" "Hey! That's not all that far from my place." "Nope! That's why you're my last for the day. I've decided to have an early night tonight." They chatted amiably as they swung onto the freeway that took them the first half of their journey. Both of them enjoyed people, and were happy to talk, as long as it didn't get too personal. The cricket finals, the new footy season, the weather, politics, all the usual topics of conversation were disposed of, by the time they swung down the off ramp and onto the country roads. Their shire was not renowned for road maintenance in its sprawling rural area, and they were fortunate to have asphalt on the roads for the last part of the journey. Met finally got around to asking the question which had piqued his curiosity. "Why get a cab all this way? You can obviously afford a car, and you could drive to the station if you don't want to drive to the city." Andrew almost snapped the standard put-down reply he gave to Met's colleagues, but stopped himself. There was a sort of kinship with this driver; they were both country boys, well not quite but near enough. "I love driving, and I've got a Jag. The trouble is that it's hard to keep it under the limit. I've lost my points, so I'm out for six months. You only have to be ten k over the limit to lose two points, and I got caught six times. I'll have to take it out for a spin somewhere very quiet. It hasn't had a decent run in weeks, and it needs it." "Not the brightest of moves." Met replied amusedly. "Get caught driving without a license, and you'll be off the road for much more than six months. Can't you get someone you trust to take it for a spin for you?" "I wouldn't trust any of the lot I know to drive it. It'll wind up wrapped around a tree. That's assuming I can find one of them that's not full to the eyeballs on uppers, downers, poppers, mull or booze." "Wild friends you've got!" Met grinned. "Worse than the lot I know. They might get into mull and booze, but they're petrol heads and would never go driving when they're high. The thought of bending their pride and joy would give them nightmares." Andrew laughed. "They're more acquaintances than friends. They can't understand why anyone wouldn't want to give up living in a little box of a flat, right in the middle of the café strip, and live in the sticks. They're fun to party with, but they haven't grown up enough to realise there's more to life than sex and drugs. It's a miracle they haven't caught AIDS by now, the way they carry on. You should have heard the flak I got when I bought this place, and sold my flat." "So you're not a local." Methuen looked puzzled. "You sound like a local boy though. Where do you come from?" "Mum and Dad have an orchard just this side of 'The Mountain'. I decided my future was in the law, not the land. Not that it matters much. Janine's husband loves the place, and he's gradually taking over from Dad. What about you?" "I couldn't be much more local if I tried. Dad owns Malvern Rural Transport, just up the road from you." "So you're one of the Halverson boys. Why aren't you working for your father like your brothers?" "You know how it is! Sometimes you just need to get away. Why don't you ask one of my brothers to take it for a spin for you? They're all pretty good drivers, and if they bent it, Dad would skin them alive and then make them pay for it." "What about I ask you? I already know your driving record, and I'll shout you dinner. We could take it for a spin down to 'The Loose Box'. We needn't be all that late, and you could still get an early night. If you like, you could even drive me in tomorrow. It's awfully hard to get a cab out here. Usually I get a local cab to drive me to the station, and catch the train. They won't take me in to the city, no matter how much I offer them." "That's because they've got restricted licenses. They can't get a fare back, and they can't work the city. I've got an unrestricted license." "What about it? I'd love some company for a change, and it'd be 'killing two birds with one stone'. I'm enjoying our conversation, and I promise not to put the make on you." When Andrew had said where he had lived previously, he might just as well have announced he was gay. Any taxi driver with Met's experience would have known that the area was mainly populated by gays. They were both well aware of the implications, and both aware that the other knew it. Met thought about it for a moment. Did he want to take the risk? There was no risk with Andrew. If he stepped out of line he was dead meat, living in Halverson country. The shire of Malvern was littered with descendants of old Gustav Halverson. The trouble was, the support network was also the risk. Did he want to proclaim to the whole extended family that he was gay? There was no chance their dinner together would go unreported. "Up the lot of them." Met decided. "I'm not some kid they can browbeat any more. I deserve as much of a chance at happiness as they do. At least if I accept, I'll make a friend like myself, and that's more than I've got now." He spoke before the silence got too uncomfortable. "What makes you think that I wouldn't like you to try?" Met was being as open as he dared. "I never make assumptions without some proof to back it. Your brothers have been quite forceful in making it plain, on several occasions, that they're straight, although they aren't rude to me, and they haven't done anything to make me think they hate me either." "They're pretty good, but they're uncomfortable around people like us." It was out in the open now. He couldn't just pretend it had been a joke. "That's why I decided to buy a cab. Dad was nice about it, but he thought it a good idea to move out so the others were more comfortable. He bought the cab and I'm paying him off. I bought the little place in Milton's Reach with my savings. It's an old shop, with a flat above it. Milton's Reach is not much better than a ghost town now. The car killed it off, and it's not picturesque enough for a tourist resort. Got it for not much more than the back rates." "What about it then? Game for dinner and a fare to the city in the morning?" "We'll give it a try and see how things work out. It might be a plan for the future, if I still manage to make enough in a day. It'll save me dead miles. I'll work out the financial side after tomorrow. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Met sat in 'Henry's Café' eating a late breakfast, or an early lunch, depending on how you viewed it. He was not a morning person, and his stomach had to be persuaded before it would accept a cup of coffee and a piece of toast, unless he had been up at least an hour and a half. There was a lull in business around this hour, but you had to be quick or you'd miss out on the upturn when it started. The arrangement with Andrew had turned out to be as financially profitable as anything in the wildly fluctuating cab business could be. With no dead kilometres, he didn't have to take as much as he had before, to show a profit. His last week's profit had been about normal. He and Andrew got on very well. They didn't seem to bore each other on the long drives, and they often found things to joke and laugh with each other about. They had notified the company that Andrew would travel with Met, but that he wanted to remain on the books as their customer, in case Met was involved in an accident or something. As a consequence, the dispatcher asked Met, every afternoon, if he was going to be able to fulfil the regular booking, and Met had answered yes. It was a good failsafe system. Dinner at 'The Loose Box' had been nice, but a bit stilted. That had not been helped by Rose, one of his second cousins, being their waitress. He was pretty sure all his relatives knew by now. The Bargos were pretty good at gossiping, and kept in touch with almost everyone in the family. So far there had been no repercussions, and he hoped it stayed that way. The Halversons were a bunch that placed great store in their macho image. If one of them felt that his masculinity was endangered, by having a 'fairy' in the family, he could be in trouble, and he wasn't at all sure which side his father would be on, let alone his brothers. The cab fraternity didn't know about him, and it wouldn't matter if they did. Most cab drivers were dysfunctional in one way or another. Most of them were avoiding a permanent relationship, although they would deny it if asked, and give some other reason. Many of them were gay, but afraid to admit it. Many of them were straight but had problems with relationships. Some of them were promiscuous and would fuck anything that would stand still long enough, but most were just ordinary people, with a bit of a problem and a lot of tolerance. You have to be tolerant, and adaptable, if you're going to survive for any length of time in cab driving, and buying a cab was committing yourself. Just because someone had a very upper class accent, expensive clothes and lived in an exclusive suburb, it didn't mean they could be trusted to pay their fare, especially if they were drunk. You had to be very shrewd and alert. For every armed robber, there were hundreds of 'upright citizens' who would try and find some way to cheat you out of your fare. The statistics showed there were four armed robbery attempts each year, per 100 cabs. That guaranteed that every cab got their fair share of runners, con men, and other types of cheats. Everyone had a story or two to tell, and everyone got caught a few times each year. Met glanced at his watch and gulped down the last of his coffee. Time to get moving. He began to feel a bit uncomfortable, about Andrew. He was enjoying his new friend, it was fun being able to be himself with someone who understood and enjoyed it. What was going to happen when Andrew got his license back? With Met working seven days a week, there would be no time for them to get together. Met gave a mental shrug. There was time enough to think about that later. Andrew didn't get his license back for another twelve weeks at least, but by then he'd have to have made up his mind. If he wanted this to continue, then HE was the one who would have to make changes. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Andrew was in a quandary. He had been invited to a barbecue to get better acquainted with some of the other partners in the firm. Although they knew of his work, and his record in winning the difficult 'Personal Injury' and 'Defamation' cases, there were three of them who hardly knew him at all, on a personal level. He had been invited 'with partner', and he didn't know quite how to approach this. He had never pretended to be anything but gay, but he had kept it low profile, since it was the sort of thing, which might put clients off hiring him. Should he or shouldn't he take a partner? If he did, then his first choice would have to be Methuen. They had grown close in the months Met had been driving him to and from work. They had gone out to dinner several times, ostensibly to give the car a run, but both of them knew it was more than that. Their friendship was beginning to become something deeper. The idea was fraught with problems. Would Met be willing to take a day off? Would their air of superiority irritate him so that he ended up insulting someone? Met was a hard working country boy at heart. Would he find it comfortable to be around people who were constantly trying to impress everyone else? It was so much part of some of the partners, and of that clique, that they didn't even know they were doing it. Met was no lover of pretentiousness, and made no bones about it. As far as rich went, Mr Halverson was probably as wealthy as any of the partners, but he had no intention of pretending he hadn't worked for his money, and neither did Met. They were proud of their background and looked on the majority of Old Money families as leeches on society, giving nothing back for what they took. Andrew had to admit there was a lot of truth in their opinion. Some of the partners were more 'Passengers' than partners, and their wives were on whatever committee offered the greatest prestige and publicity for them. One of the most telling insights he had got, into Met, had happened on one of the early trips home. Met had asked him how come he could work at that firm, and he didn't behave like some upper crust poseurs? Andrew had realised that Met was actually paying him a huge compliment. In Met's eyes, he was a successful legal eagle who hadn't lost touch with his roots. It wasn't a matter of preferring wine to beer, or of driving a Jag instead of a Holden; it was a matter of values. Met saw blue-collar workers as more honest and sincere than the upper class. It was just as stereotyped as Met's opinion of the partners, and like all generalisations it was easy to find plenty of exceptions. Andrew tended to classify people by their behaviour rather than their class, probably because he rubbed shoulders with all of them, every day. There were good and bad in every stratum of society. When you analysed it, what Met and Andrew found a bit repulsive, was people pretending to be something they were not. It was what was wrong with the Gay Scene, the Soiree Set and the Pub Culture. The majority of people seemed to be pretending to be something they were not, and concealing what they really were. It would be a good topic to talk to Met about, on the way home. Damn it all! If Met would take the time off, he was taking him to this barbecue, so he knew he would have at least one honest person to talk to. If the Soiree Set was trying to seduce him to their side, they were in for a rude shock. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Met swung the Jag off the main road onto the quiet streets of Riverside. They had been a little quiet on the drive in, thinking about the implications of what they were doing. They had discussed things in detail over the last few weeks, and had made their decisions. This was their first social occasion as a couple, and they hoped it wouldn't be their last. Now they had to face the crowd and find out if it was hostile. After this they had to face the Halverson clan. Would they survive? Met had considered his position with care. He didn't really need to work seven days a week; he did it to keep from having to face the loneliness. He had repaid his father at twice the agreed rate, for six years now. He could take the weekends off if he wanted to, but, until now, he had never wanted to. If this thing between Andrew and him was to survive, then they had to be able to spend time together, and once he got his license back, the only time they had, was the weekends. He secretly hoped it might mature into something more, but he was almost afraid to admit that to himself, let alone Andrew, at this early stage. This mob of Silvertails didn't frighten him; he had plenty of experience, and knew how to handle them. The reaction of the clan was the real problem. He didn't know many of them very well and he had no idea how they would react. Regardless, they would accept him and Andrew, or wear a bunch of fives. He hoped it wouldn't come to that, he intensely disliked fighting, but he had four brothers, and knew there were times when you couldn't avoid it. Andrew was in as much of a bind. He was burning his bridges. Taking Met to this social occasion was tantamount to 'nailing his colours to the mast'. He was demanding that the Soiree Set accept him as he was. He might well find himself excluded from future social occasions, except for those hosted by the firm, but he was determined. Met was his friend, and he secretly hoped they might become more than friends. They had a relationship that was unlike anything he had ever had with the café strip boys, and he loved it. They were so in tune with each other about almost everything of importance, it was as if they were brothers, or had been best friends for most of their lives. He would far rather have what he had with Met, than have the approval of his peers in the legal world. He had no wish to join the artificial world of the 'Glitterati' but he would prefer not to insult them; that could strain relationships within the firm. "Up the lot of them," as Met liked to say, either they accepted him and Met as they were, or they could stick their heads up their fundamental orifices. Andrew was much more sanguine about his acceptance by the Halverson clan, than Met. The comments various people had made to him, as he did his shopping and pottered around the shire of a weekend, made it plain that many people accepted there was something between Methuen and himself, and thought it was a good thing. Even Met's brothers had been accepting, and were just as blunt telling him that, as they had been telling him they were straight. In the next couple of weeks he was to find that Met had been more realistic about some of the clan than he had been. Andrew had no real understanding of the breadth and cohesiveness of the Halverson descendants, and the strange attitudes of some of the relatives. He was to find out how things were done in Malvern Shire. The Jag slid gracefully into a parking bay at the mansion, and a security guard came to check they were guests, and direct them to the gathering. They were right on time, which was typical of Met, even if it wasn't fashionable. As they walked, Andrew marvelled at how smart Met looked. He knew Met would not let him down by being scruffy, that would be impolite, and his father would have been livid if he found any of his boys being impolite. Besides, it wasn't Met's nature to insult people, even if he didn't particularly like them. He had not expected Met to be so fashionably dressed. He wore casual, but tailored slacks, an Armani shirt, which was a perfect colour compliment, hand made shoes and an Armani jacket over his arm. He was better dressed than Andrew, who had no idea that Met had picked his clothes from "DNA" magazine, and the shoemaker was a school friend of Met's, who made whips, cowboy boots and saddles for rodeos. It really wouldn't have mattered if he had known. The important thing was that Met looked magnificent, he would probably make some of the snobbish younger kids, green with envy, and he was there with Andrew. They were introduced around, and Met looked as comfortable as anyone else. He greeted the ladies politely, but was not very forthcoming. They wanted to pump him for information, so they could fit him into their all-important social ladder. He was just as skilled at avoiding or deflecting their questions, and when they did manage to get an answer from him, it often left them as puzzled as they had been before they asked. Andrew could see he was enjoying frustrating the old dears. The more he saw, the more he realised what a find Met was. His pride in his friend, he dare not call him boyfriend yet, was growing by leaps and bounds. "What do you do for a living young man?" The hostess had cornered him and was determined to get answers. "I'm in transportation Mrs Mobbs." "Do you have your own company?" "I work for myself now. I decided my father had sufficient help from my four brothers, and wouldn't suffer if I branched out on my own." "What is your company name? I might be interested in investing." "I'm afraid that won't be possible. It's a private company, and investment is by invitation only. I don't need more capital for the foreseeable future. I was disgusted by a speech of George W. Bush's s, so it's called 'The Taxis of Weevil,' but we don't trade as that." "What a peculiar name! What do you transport?" "We specialise in ensuring that the 'great unwashed' get to their appointed place at the proper time to undertake their meaningless little rituals." Alfred Mobbs was in stitches. He tapped Andrew's shoulder and gasped. "Go and rescue him. If he keeps this up he'll give me a coronary and frustrate my wife to death." He flopped into a chair with his back to his wife. "Sorry to interrupt Mabel, but Alfred would like a word with Methuen." Andrew led him away with a big grin splitting his face. "Come and meet Alfred. He's laughing so hard he's almost pissing his pants. I never knew a country boy would have the gift of the gab like you do." His look of pride and pleasure warmed Met's heart. "I don't know about that. You don't do too badly yourself, hayseed." They reached the chair of the still quaking Alfred Mobbs. "God forgive you young man! You're incredible. If I hadn't seen you drop Andrew off and pick him up, I'd have no idea what you did for a living. The amazing thing is that you've never told a lie the whole time. The women are going to be mortified when they eventually find out, and some of the senior partners still have no idea. That line about the great unwashed was brilliant. No wonder Andrew loves you. You would have made a brilliant barrister if you'd gone into law" "That's very kind of you sir." "I'm not sir to you Met." Alfred stood and clapped his shoulder. "I'm Alfred to you, and I'm bloody proud to know you. Am I wrong in assuming you're the son of Gus Halverson?" "I'm his second youngest son. Don't tell me you know Dad?" "We do a lot of work for your father, including drawing up the contract for buying your cab and the repayment agreement. You've got your father's sense of humour, but he's a bit more restrained than you are. If you're the one for Andrew, then he sets his sights as high in his personal life as he does in his professional life. I'd be proud to have you here as a guest, with or without Andrew, but I suspect he's not going to let you get away easily. Are you Andrew?" "We aren't quite up to that yet Alfred, but were working towards it." "Good for you! I presume you haven't announced it to the Halverson tribe yet?" Andrew looked at Met's grim face as he replied. "That's the next item on the agenda. At least we know we have the support of his brothers and his father. Met has a better idea of what we have to face than I do, but everyone has been pretty supportive so far." "Unfortunately, not everyone's as accepting as Aunt Hanna and my family." Met sounded almost depressed. "You're going to find out why I was never willing to draw attention to myself until now. If I didn't think you were worth it, I wouldn't do it, even now. There are some pretty hard men in the Halverson family." "I know there are." Alfred interrupted. "Ever since your grandfather Emil, started using my father's services, we've represented a lot of Halverson descendants. We've done a lot more for your family than just 'Wills and Conveyancing'. We've represented more than one of the Bargo's and the Snook's in the Criminal Court, over the years. Keep your chin up Methuen, there are skeletons in the cupboard that certain people don't want exposed, and if I know your aunt Hanna, they're in for a bad time if they give you any grief. She knows the family history of every one of them, and will use it, if she has to. Stand together and you might be surprised at how things turn out. Now go and enjoy yourselves. I'll try and keep the women from annoying you." They did enjoy themselves, and Andrew had been unmistakeably proud whenever he had needed to introduce Met to someone. It had made Met feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Even though he had only had four drinks over the whole night, he was feeling buzzed as he guided the car on the long journey home. Andrew was a bit sozzled, and kept up a rather disjointed commentary on the night, before he fell asleep. There was no mistaking his feelings though, he was ecstatic at how well things had gone, and how wonderful his Met had been. Alfred's easy acceptance of Met, and of their relationship had just been an added bonus. Several others had been just as accepting, but the one who had made a lasting impression had been Alfred. Met had to help Andrew into the house and put him to bed. He was only half conscious when he had dragged him out of the car. Met locked up carefully and drove home. He hoped Andrew wouldn't have a hangover when he came to pick him up in the morning. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ A few weeks later, the trouble started. Met was now spending Saturday and Sunday with Andrew, and there were a few things they wanted to buy for a little party to celebrate Andrew's getting his license back, the next week. They had decided to have a cooking spree. They were both fairly good cooks, but hardly ever cooked for themselves. This was to be a little get together for a few close friends. They were in the butcher's seeing if they could get a really big piece of blade steak, to roast for cold meat. The door warning-bell pinged, and a loud voice snarled from behind them. "Fucking hell, it's the two fairies. Don't get too close to them Doris, you might catch something." Uncle Gordon stepped out of the back room with his boning knife in his hand. "Shut your mouth Fred. You behave yourself while you're in my shop. If you don't want to treat my other customers with respect, then you can take your business elsewhere." "Don't start telling me how to behave. We don't want fairies in the family, and we don't want them anywhere 'round here. No decent person should have to look at that sort of filth when they're just walking around minding their own business." "You reckon you're decent do you Fred? You're a convicted violent rapist, but you're still decent? You managed to wriggle out of a charge of incest, mainly because you had Dulcie scared you'd kill Doris and Robert, if she opened her mouth, but you're decent? All your kids hate you because of your violent abuse, but you're decent? Don't make me laugh Fred. If there's any filth walking around the street, it's you, not them. We've put up with you all these years, so it's not much of an ask to put up with Methuen and Andrew. The worst thing they've done is get their license suspended for speeding. That's a bloody sight better record than you've got." "It's not natural Gordon! What about our grandkids! We don't want these filthy perverts interfering with them." "You fucking great hypocrite!" Graham stepped into the shop, still holding a cleaver. "I've known Met was gay since I was ten, and he's never laid a finger on me, or anyone else that he's helped. Where do you think I took Dulcie when she was bleeding and hysterical? Who do you think it was that patched me up when you laid my back open with your belt? If it hadn't been for Met and his parents you'd probably be in jail for murdering one of your own kids. You start bad mouthing Met and you're in for trouble like you've never dreamed of." "Fuck the lot of you! You're mad, you buggers!" Fred charged out the door dragging Doris behind him. Graham stood at the counter. He towered over Met now. He'd grown a lot since he was the skinny ten year old that Met had carried home on his bike, bleeding and almost unconscious. "Don't mind him! I'll get the others onto it. He's not going to spread that sort of hate, without everyone being reminded of what sort of man he is. Dulcie and Robert will help me. We might not have survived without you and your family, and your family mightn't have known if you hadn't taken me home that day. I know Morgan and Rose will help too. They've never forgotten how you helped them after their dad died. Aunt Hanna will flay the skin off him with her tongue, when she finds out. You're going to find out just what sort of man you've hooked up with Mr Travesich. There's an awful lot of people in this shire who owe a lot to Methuen for the way he's helped them. He's been at it ever since he was a kid, and he never looks for anything in return. If every gay in the world was like him, they wouldn't have such a bad reputation." The door pinged, but no one noticed. Andrew looked at the very embarrassed Met, and smiled. "He's never told me about any of that, but it doesn't surprise me. I knew what a catch he was, just a few weeks after meeting him. If it gets to the stage where you lot can't take care of it, I'm pretty sure Alfred will get himself involved. He likes Met, and keeps telling me how lucky I am." "Are you talking about Alfred Mobbs?" Gordon put a wrapped parcel on the counter. "That man knows almost as many family secrets as Hanna does. If he starts to get involved then a lot of the ones who think they're hard men, are going to be shaking in their boots. Here's your meat, now don't forget. Cook it slowly, but don't overcook it. Wrap it in alfoil to keep it moist, and let it sit for at least half an hour after it's cooked, so it sets before you carve it. If you want the best potato salad in the state, ask Hanna for her recipe. She's given it to a couple of her favourites, but they won't give it to anyone without her permission. I'll bet she'll be happy to give it to Met." Andrew and Met reached for their money at the same time, but Gordon stopped them. "There's no charge boys. This is my way of apologising for Fred's behaviour. I know what you've done for a lot more people than Lisa Bargo's kids and Fred's. I'm proud to have you as a customer Methuen Halverson, and if anyone doesn't like it they can shop somewhere else. Now go and get that recipe from Hanna." Mumbling embarrassed thanks, the pair turned to leave, almost bumping into the three people, who had slipped in unnoticed, behind them. Met went white as he looked into the face of his Uncle Damien Snook. He was Fred's brother, and as big as Graham. "You're Andrew Travesich?" He growled. Andrew nodded, as intimidated as Met. "Fred's been shooting off his mouth about you two. Keep well clear of him if you see him. I had to give him a lesson in manners, and he's not in a good mood. Glad to meet you" He stuck out his paw for Andrew to shake. "You'd better treat Met right, or you're going to have a lot of people gunning for you. If you make him happy, you'll make a lot of other people happy too. I'm his Uncle Damien and this is Agnes, my wife. If you need any earthmoving or that sort of work, give me a ring." He almost dismissed them as he turned to the counter and they went off with a spring in their step, to see Aunt Hanna, and get their groceries. As they went, Met looked at Andrew and asked. "Now you've got an idea of what you're in for. You sure you want us to be more than friends? They're so nosey, that about the only thing they won't know about you, is what time you got up in the night to take a piss." "Stop that Methuen!" Andrew was trying to be stern, but he was having trouble concealing his smile. "He isn't as eloquent and urbane as his nephew, but he told us an awful lot in those few words, and Gordon really opened my eyes to a whole new Methuen. I like what I'm seeing." Andrew triggered the supermarket door for Met. "I've just been told by three of your relatives that they don't give a damn that you're gay, you're such a nice person, they're willing to fight for you, even against their own father and brother. The only thing that frightens me about this is wondering if I'm good enough to be your partner." Met grabbed two baskets and dumped the meat in one of them. "Don't be stupid Andy! I'm the one who has to decide that, not you, and I think you'd better get to know a few more of my relatives before you make up you mind. There are plenty more like Fred." "Not as many as you think, young man, and they're going to have to accept you and keep a civil tongue in their head, or the family will send them to Coventry" The tiny elderly figure of Aunt Hanna was standing right behind them with a smile on her face. "You two boys will need some salads for your party. I'll write out my potato salad recipe for you. Go and get your things and see me before you leave." As they walked around the shelves filling their basket, Andrew whispered. "How the hell did she know about the party? Are your family psychic or something?" "You'll get used to it. We must have said something where we could be overheard, and the grapevine in this family is like greased lightning. Don't think that not talking will keep your secrets either. Someone will see something and someone else will see something else and before you know it someone like Aunt Hanna or Aunt Lisa has put it all together and come up with the right answer. I've never told anyone, including my father, that I'm gay, but they all know. I've never brought anyone home, if I did, it would be all over the shire before the end of the week. You still sure you want me to be your boyfriend?" "Wouldn't change a thing. You're still the best thing I've ever found. If putting up with being accepted and protected by people like Gordon and Damien and Aunt Hanna is part of the deal, then I think I'll take the job. Shitheads like Fred are everywhere. Just because he's your uncle isn't any reason to chicken out. He'd hate me, even if he didn't know who I was. This way, I'll never have to face him on my own, and I'll have the nicest person I've ever met as my boyfriend." "Flattery will get you everywhere!" Met mumbled as they sneaked a quick kiss behind the shelves. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Once the decision had been made, and their relationship was out in the open, things began to change rapidly. The lunch party had been a great success. Met had invited those of his school friends he was in contact with, so they could meet Andy. Andrew invited his sister and her husband, and the few close friends he thought should know, to meet Met. Most of them were straight, but they knew the pair was gay, and there were no bad reactions, in fact, they seemed pleased that their friend had found someone to share with. The only negative note had been sounded by 'Drongo' Lewis, Met's saddle-maker mate, and he had meant it to be kindly. "You do know how long most gay partnerships last, don't you mate? I hope you two are the exception to the rule. My uncle Dominic and his partner stayed together for thirty years, but it's not common. I hope you two make it. He seems like a real nice bloke." "We'll make it Drongo." Met was determined. "We know what it takes, and we're both after the same thing. You'll see." "Good luck to you then! Bring him in when he needs shoes, and it's about time you got a decent pair of boots. Now you're not driving seven days a week, don't give me that line about not having anywhere to wear them." Met laughed. "We'll be there mate. Just give us a few weeks to get things settled. We haven't even decided if were going to live together yet." In its usual fashion, the family took the decision out of their hands. The homestead was part of one of the original grants, and was pretty run down. Andy had been left enough money by his grandfather to buy the house outright, with the money he got for his flat, but he had no money to do repairs. He had spent all his savings on transport, over the last six months. Gus had taken over the planning, and informed Andrew of the family's decision. They were to be given the same right to a wedding present as anyone else in the family, even if they weren't 'married'. The house was a historic landmark, and would be restored by the family, with modern facilities being discretely added. They were to live at Met's, until the work was finished, and Met was to drive Andy to and from work every day. When the work was finished, they would move in together, and Gus would take Met's property as full payment for the outstanding loan on the cab. They tried to argue against such generosity, but they were wasting their time. No one would listen to them. The nearest Andy got to getting anyone to talk to him about it was cousin Graham, and he was very blunt. "Shut your mouths and accept it. Too many people owe too much to Met, and you're the one to make him happy. No one's going to listen to you, so just give in gracefully, and enjoy it." It took six months, before they were allowed to move in. Gus had to work like the devil to get everyone co-ordinated to help, when one of the families had a break between paying jobs. The results were stunning. The old place looked as if it had been built only a few years ago, and the plumbing and cooking facilities, were modern 'antique' reproductions. The house was a showpiece. The Heritage Foundation listed it as a model of how restoration work should be done. The place was worth more than double what Andrew had paid, and all the labour had been voluntary. The family stood back and gave itself a collective pat on the back. The community effort had a side effect that a few of the smarter ones had anticipated. Those members of the family, and of the wider community, who were homophobic, had been sent a very clear message. "These are our boys! Hands off!" Alfred had insisted on drawing up a pre-nuptial agreement for them, and wills for both. All he had charged had been the court fees for registering them. He insisted this was his 'wedding present' to them. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ They did beat the record of 'Drongo's' uncle, but there were plenty of ups and downs. Over those years, there were many people in the community who blessed the day they had settled in Malvern Shire. Met never lost his caring nature but, since Andy had the same problem, there was never any friction over it. That is another story, for another time. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Copyright March 2003. G. Spencer. gspencer@amitar.com.au Reproduction without the written consent of the author is forbidden.