Fic: Lives Are For Living. (23/40)
Dec. 12th, 2013 12:40 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
silver_sunTitle Lives Are For Living. (23/40)
Fandoms Torchwood/Being Human crossover fic.
Characters/pairings Andy Davidson/Tom McNair. Other Torchwood and Being Human characters will appear later on.
Word count: This part 4150 (Total posted 60,100 /90,000)
Rating This part pg13 (adult over all) – see contains below.
Contains Mentions of depression/anxiety. Mentions of past canon major character death. Mention of minor character death – not canon. In later parts canon level violence, graphic sex, Andy's homophobic mother. Spoilers for Being Human (UK version) up to series 5 episode 3, and for Torchwood up to Children of Earth.
A/N: Crossover with Being Human. Technically a CoE fix it as it's set in the same 'verse as Finding Ways To Smile Again (although that isn't apparent until about 2/3 the way through the story). Follows on from Break and Breakaway from Tom McNair's POV – which is where it breaks from Being Human canon.
Summary
After being pushed out of the police force following the events of Children of Earth, Andy Davidson tries to build a new life for himself in the deep in the Welsh countryside.
Tom McNair walked out off his old life after realising it wasn't what he needed.
A chance meeting would take their lives in directions that they had never expected and bring them love that they'd not thought they'd find.
Starts here: http://the-silver-sun.livejournal.com/214504.html
Part 23:
Nervous didn't even being to over it, Andy thought as he negotiated the landrover through the outskirts of Cardiff, the roads near gridlocked in places as people headed home to spend Christmas Eve with their friends and family.
“Lights are green.”
Andy turned his head to stare at Tom for a moment before returning them to the road. The gears crushed as he got it moving again, the car behind beeping at him for having waiting for so long before moving.
“You sure you'll alright?” Tom said once Andy had crossed the junction and was on a quieter, more residential street. “You were pretty restless last night.”
“I'm fine. It's just that...” Andy stopped, not wanting to give voice to his actual fears – that his mum would be horrified by his relationship with Tom should she ever find out. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “It's being back in Cardiff, that's all. I'll be fine.”
“Okay,” Tom said, not sounding entirely convinced. “Well if you're sure.”
Part of him wanted to confess it all to Tom before they set foot in his mother's house, tell him why he'd barely slept the last couple of nights. Perhaps if he could just get the words out, if he could tell Tom that no matter what his family he'd still love him, them they'd be alright. Tom would be his usual optimistic self and tell him it would all be okay, and then maybe, just maybe the thoughts churning in his head would stop. Not that he could tell Tom all of his fears, some where rooted firmly back in bloody Torchwood territory. Stupid fears of alien invasion, rampaging weevils and worse of all people who he'd thought were on the right side, on his side, trampling all over the lives the most vulnerable in society to save their own skins.
“It's well posh round here, ain't it?” Tom said a few moments later, looking out of the window at the neat rows of nineteen thirties semis with their red tile roofs and bay window. “Did you really grow up round here?”
“Yes, I never really thought about it being posh, it was just home,” Andy replied as his mother's house came into view. Seventeen Park Crescent had been home from the time he was born until, in his second year in the police force, he'd got a flat of his own in the city centre near the police station.
There were no flashy external Christmas lights, just a simple, traditional holly wreath on the well polished front door and in the living room window a candle lit nativity scene that had been part of his mum's Christmas decorations for as long as Andy could remember. Inside there would be a tree, ready for him to help decorate with whatever Good Housekeeping magazine or the Daily Mail said were fashionable this year, and Christmas cards. Lots and lots of Christmas cards. Andy smiled, remembering how they used to cover just about every available surface from mid December onwards. When he'd been small he'd thought that his Mum got cards from just about everybody in Wales – it had certainly felt like it when she used to ask him to help with writing the replies.
With Tom holding their bags, Andy held a potted poinsettia, his mum always liked to have one as part of the decorations on the table for Christmas dinner each year, and knocked on the door.
"Andrew, so nice to see you," she said as she open the door. “What a lovely She looked at Tom, taking in the shabby coat and scuffed trainers. "And this must be your friend."
"Tom McNair." Tom held out his hand for her to shake it. "Thank you for letting me stay for Christmas, Mrs Davidson."
“Well it is a time for family and charity after all.” She moved to one side to let them inside, and asked, “Would you both like some tea. It is a rather a long drive from Andrew's, isn't it?”
“Thank you, that'd be great,” Tom said politely, turning to Andy he said, “Do you want me to take the bags up or something?”
Andy nodded. “You can put them in my room for now, it's second door past the top of the stairs and has blue carpet.” He looked at his mum. “That's okay, isn't it?”
“Of course,” his mum said, indicating for Andy to follow her through into the kitchen.
Once they were away from Tom she said,“Well he's a little rough round the edges I suppose, but he's making an effort at least.”
“He's a good man,” Andy said, wishing that he felt able to add 'and I love him' without fear of it causing a scene. At least it wasn't going too badly so far, he told himself, hoping that slightly awkward was as bad as it was going to get. Awkward he could definitely live with.
“I wouldn't have expected you to employ anybody who wasn't. You are generally a good judge of character. That said, if you want set yourself up as a hotelier you really need to understand that there needs to be distance between oneself and the staff,” she said setting out a teapot and three cups. “You'll only create problems for yourself later if you don't.”
“It's going to be camp site, mam. It's hardly the Ritz,” Andy said, getting the milk out of the fridge for her and wondering if he should have warned Tom that his mam was one of those people who believed milk before tea was the only civilized way to drink it. “Anyway I don't know if Tom will still be working there when it opens. He's more of a builder really, although I suppose I'll need somebody to do maintenance, cut the grass and the like.”
“Well at least it's an honest trade,” she said, willing to concede the point. “There are too many young people today who think work like that beneath them. The country wouldn't be in the state it's in if they weren't.”
It was best never to get drawn into a conversation about what his mum thought was wrong with the country, as it generally took some time and would leave him feeling miserable and on edge in case he'd managed to say the wrong thing. Wanting to get back to safe territory he asked, “So what's the plan for tonight?”
“Are you wanting to go out with your friends from the police then?”
There was just a hint of accusation that he would be leaving her alone with Tom if he did, and Andy shook his head, not really wanting to have to point out that he had no friends left there any more. “No, I think they've all got plans. I know Gwen has, what with it being her and Rhys' baby's first Christmas.”
“Quite.” She paused a moment to look out of the kitchen window at the sparrows on the bird table in the garden, then said, “I'm going to the early service this year, as Marjorie's nephews are in the choir this year and I said I go with her, being as she lost her Bernard back in the summer. That's at five. I will be back by seven, but I'll let you decide what you wish to do about dinner, as it rather late.”
“I could make something for all of us,” Andy said, relaxing slightly as he looked forward to having a couple of hours alone with Tom. “And then it would be ready for when you came back.”
His mum smiled and patted his arm. “You're such a good boy. I really don't know why you've not settled down yet.”
"I am trying, I've got the farm, haven't I?" Andy said, wondering how his mum can both ask him to grow up and still treat him like a kid all in the same sentence. Before she can question him on just when the farm will be ready, he asked, "So will it just be the three of us over Christmas? Or are we expecting company?"
There was a slightly tautness to her smile as she replied. “Simon and his children are coming over tomorrow afternoon after lunch for a few hours. If the weather is fine we will go for a walk in the park. Children spend too much time sat indoors these days, so it will do them some good.”
“Isn't Rachel coming?” Andy asked, hoping that he hadn't missed some important piece of family news about his brother's marriage.
“No,” she said coldly, putting the sugar tongs down with rather more force than was necessary on the tray. “Simon knows how I feel about her. I will not have that woman in my house again.”
Andy sighed. Sometimes it really had been easier working out on the beat on a Friday night in the city centre than it was negotiating the minefield that was his mother's relationship with anybody other than his eldest brother, David. “What happened?”
“We had a disagreement over her work.” She looked pointedly at the tray set with the tea things until Andy picked it up to carry it for her.
Andy didn't know Rachel very well, but from what he remembered she'd been a very smiley person with chunky jewellery, who loved her children and worked as some kind of organiser or fundraiser for a charity. “Really?” he asked warily, not wanting to get drawn into a conversation where he was almost certainly going to find himself at odds with his mother yet again.
“Yes. Some charity initiative promoting same sex parenting. Disgraceful is what I call it,” she said self-righteously. “So I told her I wouldn't have a person who supported child abuse in my home and she just stormed out. I'd never been so insulted.”
So much for hoping her opinions might soften with age, Andy thought bitterly. Part of him wanted to call her on it, tell her to just listen to herself for a moment, to understand how appalling and hurtful the things she was saying really were. The other part knew she wouldn't listen, that she direct that venom at him. Had he still been in the police and heard that out on the beat he'd have called them on, but it was his mother in her own home and with Tom in the other room he couldn't face putting him thought the kind of argument that would be the result.
“I knew you'd be just as disgusted as I was,” she said, having taken his silence as an indication agreement. “You're a good boy. I pity Louise and Benjamin for having such a woman as a mother, I dread to think what sort of people she'll let them mix with.” She shook her head. “Now we shall talk no more of it. It's hardly a topic for conversation when we have a guest in the house.”
“No, of course not,” Andy said feeling sick at the hatred he'd just heard, but utterly powerless to do anything about it.
She smiled. “Good. Now I was thinking you could help me with the tree after we've had our tea. That way it will be finished by the time I need to go out.”
Decorating the tree took some time, but it was definitely preferable to the tense and carefully polite tea as they'd all not tried to say the wrong thing, Andy decided. Looking at Tom's honest enthusiasm and delight at the lights and decoration now on the tree Andy wished he'd got one for the farm. Next year they would, he told himself, and he'd let Tom put as much tinsel and baubles on it as he wanted.
While Tom took the rubbish out for her, Judith looked at the tree. “Are you sure he's really in his twenties?” she asked as he straightened one of the red and gold bows. “He seems younger.”
Although Andy had seen nothing definite with Tom's age on, he had little doubt that Tom had told him the truth. The real reason Andy suspected was much sadder. “I don't think he had much of a childhood really,” Andy said hoping that they'd finish this particular conversation before Tom returned. “Him and his dad moved around a lot, lived in a caravan or a camper van, I don't even know if they ever had room for a tree.”
“He's a gypsy?” Judith said appalled. She looked round at the drawer where Andy knew she kept the silver dinner service that her grandmother had left her. “Do you think I should lock it?”
“Mam, don't be awful,” Andy said shocked that she would even think that.
“I've read about people like him in the paper, how they trick you into getting new driveways and things, and then they take your money.”
“He's not a gypsy. His dad's work just meant they moved around a lot.”
“So he was employed then?” she asked rather happier now.
“Yes, building trade for the most part, not driveways as far as I know," Andy said knowing he was being more than a little economical with the truth. "He was a surveyor actually.”
“That a good job," she admitted, before looking round at the clock on the mantelpiece over the fire. "Oh dear, is that the time, I really must get ready."
A short while later and dressed in what she always referred to as her Sunday best, Judith came back into the living room where Andy and Tom where watching TV.
"Have fun at the service," Andy said getting up and giving her a brief hug. He'd met the vicar there a couple of times, when his mum had insisted that he come along. She'd been a nice woman, who he suspected was rather more tolerant of people than his mum had ever been. Maybe in time, he hoped, she'd be come more accepting by associating, either that or she would find a different church to attend where the prevailing views matched her own. Somehow he doubted she'd go elsewhere as all her friends attended and he knew she saw it as much as a social thing as a religious one.
Judith smiled and nodded. "It will be good to see them. I did tell you about Marjorie's nephews, didn't I?"
"Yes."
"Good, they are such nice boys. In the scouts you know." She paused to think for a moment then said, "If you're using the oven to cook this evening remember to put a sheet of foil in the base, it makes it easier to clean if you burn something."
Andy knew she probably meant when rather than if. "Okay. I'll see you later.
“I don't think she likes me, I heard what she said about locking things away” Tom said quietly once they had heard the front door close. “Maybe I should go.”
“It was just a misunderstanding. Please don't go, I want you here, and it's Christmas Eve. Any way she'll think it's a slight against her hospitality if you do, I'll never hear the end of it, if you do” Andy said, grateful to get some time alone with Tom. “I'm not sure she likes anybody much really.”
“Maybe. It must've bin nice all living here,” Tom said looking out the sitting room window at the small, well ordered garden. “A proper family home. I mean I liked my dad and the van, but sometimes I...” he stopped and shrugged. “I guess it don't really matter.”
“It does.” Andy put his arms around him.
Tom made non-committal noise and shrugged again. “'s all in the past though, ain't it? You can't go worryin' about the what might've beens.”
Andy smiled. Tom was so pragmatic sometimes it amazed him. “What did I do to get such a wise boyfriend?”
“I dunno.” Tom laughed and gave him a kiss. “But whatever it is, don't stop doing it. I might even end up smart at this rate.”
“You're smart already,” Andy said. Caught up in the moment he kissed Tom again. “I want us to be together forever.”
There was a thud and sharp intake of breath behind them and they broke apart. Turning round they saw his mum standing in the doorway, a look of shock and disgust on her face, her handbag dropped to the floor, its contents scattered across the polished wood.
“Mam.” Andy looked at her, eyes wide like a rabbit caught in the headlights.
“How could you, Andrew?” she said angry and hurt. “How could you do such a thing in my house?”
“It were just a kiss,” Tom said, defensively, before Andy could say anything.
“It's disgusting it what it is,” she snapped back. “Two men together like that, it's a disease. A mental illness.”
“Mam!” Andy said, shocked at the viciousness of her tone.
“My dad said I shouldn't be rude to ladies, especially not old ladies,” Tom said, standing between Andy and his mother. “So I'm not going to say anything rude. And 'cause he also said if you can't say anything nice then you'd best not say owt at all, I 'spose I'd better shut up as I can't think of owt polite to say to you yet.”
“You must have been such a disappointment to him,” she said sourly. “To have a child turn into little more than a beast.”
Tom frowned. “I don't think I was and Dad always said that were the best part of us, that it were natural. Primal I think he said or it might have bin primeval. But he were alright with it.”
She gave him a withering look and turned to Andy. “How could you let him corrupt you like that? I didn't raise you like this.”
“It's not Tom's fault,” Andy said looking down at the carpet, felt tears pricking in his eyes. “I've had these feeling for years, mam. I've just never told you, because I knew you be like this. You wouldn't want to even try to understand or be happy for me.”
“Oh I understand and it disgusts me. Now get out,” she said almost shaking with rage as she pointed at the door. “Both of you get out of my house.”
“What about our stuff?” Tom asked, looking worriedly toward the stairs.
“He,” she said pointing at Tom. “Can wait outside. As for you Andrew, you can collect your belongings and then you can leave.”
“Mam, just listen...” Andy began, scared that he was going to cry and give her something else to make him feel pathetic and ashamed about.
“No,” She said turning her back on him, sounding like she was going to cry herself. “I don't want to look at you and there is nothing you could possibly say that I wish to hear. I really only have myself to blame for this. It was a mistake to have had another child so late in life. Forty three was too old for another child, they warned me there could be defects, but I was foolish enough to believe that I knew best.”
“Mam, please.” Andy's voice cracked.
“Don't, I don't want to hear it. I'll tell your brothers after Christmas,” she continued as if she hadn't heard him, taking a handkerchief from her coat pocket and wiping her eyes. “I don't want you to bother them with this and ruin their holidays as well as mine. Now will you please just go away.”
She wasn't going to listen or even attempt to, so feeling numb and shaken, Andy all but ran up to his old room and collected his and Tom's bags.
“So what we gonna to do now?” Tom asked, taking their bags from Andy as he stepped outside. “Should we find somewhere to stay or something or are we gonna go home?”
“A hotel. I'll find us a hotel,” Andy said, faintly worried that if he drove that he might crash and Tom wasn't really ready for the kind of traffic that was on the road at the moment. Snow was starting fall, just a few light flakes, as he sat down on the step at the back of the landrover and got out his phone.
He could do this, Andy told himself as he connected to the internet, looking for last minute deals, he could still give Tom an okay Christmas, all he had to was give this his complete attention and find them somewhere nice and then it would be alright. He'd be alright.
Part way thought booking, Tom had taken off his own coat and put it round him, but Andy had still felt cold and numb by the time he'd finally secured them a room for a couple of nights. The short drive thought into Cardiff had passed in a blur and if he'd been asked which streets he'd driven down or how long it had taken he knew he wouldn't have been able to answer.
The city centre hotel was nice, modern and a bit more expensive than he would normally go for, but they didn't have much choice at such short notice and on Christmas Eve. The young woman on the reception desk thankfully didn't make any comment when he'd asked for a double room, just smiled politely at them, handed them the key card, wishes them a Merry Christmas and told them that food was being served until eight, but that room service was available until eleven.
Any energy that Andy had left seemed to fall away once they were inside the room, the world locked safely away outside and he sat down heavily on the edge of the bed.
He could hear Tom talking to him, the words jumbling together into a meaningless noise, although he nodded none the less, when he realised that Tom was waiting for some kind of answer from him.
“I shouldn't have kissed you where she could see," Tom said as he started to make them some tea, which Andy guessed he'd just agreed to. "You said not to let her know we was together. Now your mum's not talking to you and it's all my fault.”
“It's not your fault,” Andy said, hating the fact that Tom, who was so nice to everybody could think that any of this was his fault. Part of him wanted to blame himself for ever taking Tom to his mum's house, for not telling him the truth and for not standing up to her. All the problems came back to him in the end, he thought bitterly. He'd ruined every ones Christmas with his stupid plan. He closed his eyes. He was useless. Everybody would be so much better off without him.
“You gonna be all right, aren't yer?” Tom asked, abandoning the tea and sitting down beside him. “I were thinking, maybe if you give her a while she'll be okay with us. Maybe it were just the shock of it, like. She couldn't have meant all them things....could she?”
Andy shook his head. “She did. She won't forgive me for this. Not ever.” It had been worse than he'd ever thought it would be or could be. The disappointment and disgust in her eyes, he thought would be with him for life. If Tom hadn't stayed with him, if he'd been trying to face it alone right now, he didn't like to think about want he would have done – especially when he thought that the best case scenario was him getting stinking drunk and getting somebody, anybody at whatever club was open to pick him and do whatever they wanted to him, just so he wasn't alone.
“But you're her son. You're family and it's not like we've done anything that even needs forgivin',” Tom said sounding genuinely confused. “Why can't she be happy for you? 'snot like we're doing owt wrong. I mean me dad would have been right ticked off that I'd not done like he said and waited until we was married and the like. So we've have probably had a bit of a scrap and yelled about it, but he'd have seen you were the only one for me in the end.” He gave Andy an encouraging smile. “I think he'd have liked you.”
Andy wanted to tell Tom that not everybody was like that, but nothing would come out. He felt cold and tired. He was every bit a weak and pathetic as she had said.
“It'll be okay,” Tom said, putting an arm round him and holding him tight. “Wiv got each other, and that all we need really, ain't it?”
'No, it's not and it never will be, because I'm the problem,' rolled over and over in his mind, but he couldn't say it, couldn't hurt Tom like that, even if it felt like the truth. Nodding, Andy leant against him, too numb now even to cry.
Part 24 http://the-silver-sun.livejournal.com/226051.html
A/N
A pretty rough part for Andy, but things will get better.
Fandoms Torchwood/Being Human crossover fic.
Characters/pairings Andy Davidson/Tom McNair. Other Torchwood and Being Human characters will appear later on.
Word count: This part 4150 (Total posted 60,100 /90,000)
Rating This part pg13 (adult over all) – see contains below.
Contains Mentions of depression/anxiety. Mentions of past canon major character death. Mention of minor character death – not canon. In later parts canon level violence, graphic sex, Andy's homophobic mother. Spoilers for Being Human (UK version) up to series 5 episode 3, and for Torchwood up to Children of Earth.
A/N: Crossover with Being Human. Technically a CoE fix it as it's set in the same 'verse as Finding Ways To Smile Again (although that isn't apparent until about 2/3 the way through the story). Follows on from Break and Breakaway from Tom McNair's POV – which is where it breaks from Being Human canon.
Summary
After being pushed out of the police force following the events of Children of Earth, Andy Davidson tries to build a new life for himself in the deep in the Welsh countryside.
Tom McNair walked out off his old life after realising it wasn't what he needed.
A chance meeting would take their lives in directions that they had never expected and bring them love that they'd not thought they'd find.
Starts here: http://the-silver-sun.livejournal.com/214504.html
Part 23:
Nervous didn't even being to over it, Andy thought as he negotiated the landrover through the outskirts of Cardiff, the roads near gridlocked in places as people headed home to spend Christmas Eve with their friends and family.
“Lights are green.”
Andy turned his head to stare at Tom for a moment before returning them to the road. The gears crushed as he got it moving again, the car behind beeping at him for having waiting for so long before moving.
“You sure you'll alright?” Tom said once Andy had crossed the junction and was on a quieter, more residential street. “You were pretty restless last night.”
“I'm fine. It's just that...” Andy stopped, not wanting to give voice to his actual fears – that his mum would be horrified by his relationship with Tom should she ever find out. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “It's being back in Cardiff, that's all. I'll be fine.”
“Okay,” Tom said, not sounding entirely convinced. “Well if you're sure.”
Part of him wanted to confess it all to Tom before they set foot in his mother's house, tell him why he'd barely slept the last couple of nights. Perhaps if he could just get the words out, if he could tell Tom that no matter what his family he'd still love him, them they'd be alright. Tom would be his usual optimistic self and tell him it would all be okay, and then maybe, just maybe the thoughts churning in his head would stop. Not that he could tell Tom all of his fears, some where rooted firmly back in bloody Torchwood territory. Stupid fears of alien invasion, rampaging weevils and worse of all people who he'd thought were on the right side, on his side, trampling all over the lives the most vulnerable in society to save their own skins.
“It's well posh round here, ain't it?” Tom said a few moments later, looking out of the window at the neat rows of nineteen thirties semis with their red tile roofs and bay window. “Did you really grow up round here?”
“Yes, I never really thought about it being posh, it was just home,” Andy replied as his mother's house came into view. Seventeen Park Crescent had been home from the time he was born until, in his second year in the police force, he'd got a flat of his own in the city centre near the police station.
There were no flashy external Christmas lights, just a simple, traditional holly wreath on the well polished front door and in the living room window a candle lit nativity scene that had been part of his mum's Christmas decorations for as long as Andy could remember. Inside there would be a tree, ready for him to help decorate with whatever Good Housekeeping magazine or the Daily Mail said were fashionable this year, and Christmas cards. Lots and lots of Christmas cards. Andy smiled, remembering how they used to cover just about every available surface from mid December onwards. When he'd been small he'd thought that his Mum got cards from just about everybody in Wales – it had certainly felt like it when she used to ask him to help with writing the replies.
With Tom holding their bags, Andy held a potted poinsettia, his mum always liked to have one as part of the decorations on the table for Christmas dinner each year, and knocked on the door.
"Andrew, so nice to see you," she said as she open the door. “What a lovely She looked at Tom, taking in the shabby coat and scuffed trainers. "And this must be your friend."
"Tom McNair." Tom held out his hand for her to shake it. "Thank you for letting me stay for Christmas, Mrs Davidson."
“Well it is a time for family and charity after all.” She moved to one side to let them inside, and asked, “Would you both like some tea. It is a rather a long drive from Andrew's, isn't it?”
“Thank you, that'd be great,” Tom said politely, turning to Andy he said, “Do you want me to take the bags up or something?”
Andy nodded. “You can put them in my room for now, it's second door past the top of the stairs and has blue carpet.” He looked at his mum. “That's okay, isn't it?”
“Of course,” his mum said, indicating for Andy to follow her through into the kitchen.
Once they were away from Tom she said,“Well he's a little rough round the edges I suppose, but he's making an effort at least.”
“He's a good man,” Andy said, wishing that he felt able to add 'and I love him' without fear of it causing a scene. At least it wasn't going too badly so far, he told himself, hoping that slightly awkward was as bad as it was going to get. Awkward he could definitely live with.
“I wouldn't have expected you to employ anybody who wasn't. You are generally a good judge of character. That said, if you want set yourself up as a hotelier you really need to understand that there needs to be distance between oneself and the staff,” she said setting out a teapot and three cups. “You'll only create problems for yourself later if you don't.”
“It's going to be camp site, mam. It's hardly the Ritz,” Andy said, getting the milk out of the fridge for her and wondering if he should have warned Tom that his mam was one of those people who believed milk before tea was the only civilized way to drink it. “Anyway I don't know if Tom will still be working there when it opens. He's more of a builder really, although I suppose I'll need somebody to do maintenance, cut the grass and the like.”
“Well at least it's an honest trade,” she said, willing to concede the point. “There are too many young people today who think work like that beneath them. The country wouldn't be in the state it's in if they weren't.”
It was best never to get drawn into a conversation about what his mum thought was wrong with the country, as it generally took some time and would leave him feeling miserable and on edge in case he'd managed to say the wrong thing. Wanting to get back to safe territory he asked, “So what's the plan for tonight?”
“Are you wanting to go out with your friends from the police then?”
There was just a hint of accusation that he would be leaving her alone with Tom if he did, and Andy shook his head, not really wanting to have to point out that he had no friends left there any more. “No, I think they've all got plans. I know Gwen has, what with it being her and Rhys' baby's first Christmas.”
“Quite.” She paused a moment to look out of the kitchen window at the sparrows on the bird table in the garden, then said, “I'm going to the early service this year, as Marjorie's nephews are in the choir this year and I said I go with her, being as she lost her Bernard back in the summer. That's at five. I will be back by seven, but I'll let you decide what you wish to do about dinner, as it rather late.”
“I could make something for all of us,” Andy said, relaxing slightly as he looked forward to having a couple of hours alone with Tom. “And then it would be ready for when you came back.”
His mum smiled and patted his arm. “You're such a good boy. I really don't know why you've not settled down yet.”
"I am trying, I've got the farm, haven't I?" Andy said, wondering how his mum can both ask him to grow up and still treat him like a kid all in the same sentence. Before she can question him on just when the farm will be ready, he asked, "So will it just be the three of us over Christmas? Or are we expecting company?"
There was a slightly tautness to her smile as she replied. “Simon and his children are coming over tomorrow afternoon after lunch for a few hours. If the weather is fine we will go for a walk in the park. Children spend too much time sat indoors these days, so it will do them some good.”
“Isn't Rachel coming?” Andy asked, hoping that he hadn't missed some important piece of family news about his brother's marriage.
“No,” she said coldly, putting the sugar tongs down with rather more force than was necessary on the tray. “Simon knows how I feel about her. I will not have that woman in my house again.”
Andy sighed. Sometimes it really had been easier working out on the beat on a Friday night in the city centre than it was negotiating the minefield that was his mother's relationship with anybody other than his eldest brother, David. “What happened?”
“We had a disagreement over her work.” She looked pointedly at the tray set with the tea things until Andy picked it up to carry it for her.
Andy didn't know Rachel very well, but from what he remembered she'd been a very smiley person with chunky jewellery, who loved her children and worked as some kind of organiser or fundraiser for a charity. “Really?” he asked warily, not wanting to get drawn into a conversation where he was almost certainly going to find himself at odds with his mother yet again.
“Yes. Some charity initiative promoting same sex parenting. Disgraceful is what I call it,” she said self-righteously. “So I told her I wouldn't have a person who supported child abuse in my home and she just stormed out. I'd never been so insulted.”
So much for hoping her opinions might soften with age, Andy thought bitterly. Part of him wanted to call her on it, tell her to just listen to herself for a moment, to understand how appalling and hurtful the things she was saying really were. The other part knew she wouldn't listen, that she direct that venom at him. Had he still been in the police and heard that out on the beat he'd have called them on, but it was his mother in her own home and with Tom in the other room he couldn't face putting him thought the kind of argument that would be the result.
“I knew you'd be just as disgusted as I was,” she said, having taken his silence as an indication agreement. “You're a good boy. I pity Louise and Benjamin for having such a woman as a mother, I dread to think what sort of people she'll let them mix with.” She shook her head. “Now we shall talk no more of it. It's hardly a topic for conversation when we have a guest in the house.”
“No, of course not,” Andy said feeling sick at the hatred he'd just heard, but utterly powerless to do anything about it.
She smiled. “Good. Now I was thinking you could help me with the tree after we've had our tea. That way it will be finished by the time I need to go out.”
Decorating the tree took some time, but it was definitely preferable to the tense and carefully polite tea as they'd all not tried to say the wrong thing, Andy decided. Looking at Tom's honest enthusiasm and delight at the lights and decoration now on the tree Andy wished he'd got one for the farm. Next year they would, he told himself, and he'd let Tom put as much tinsel and baubles on it as he wanted.
While Tom took the rubbish out for her, Judith looked at the tree. “Are you sure he's really in his twenties?” she asked as he straightened one of the red and gold bows. “He seems younger.”
Although Andy had seen nothing definite with Tom's age on, he had little doubt that Tom had told him the truth. The real reason Andy suspected was much sadder. “I don't think he had much of a childhood really,” Andy said hoping that they'd finish this particular conversation before Tom returned. “Him and his dad moved around a lot, lived in a caravan or a camper van, I don't even know if they ever had room for a tree.”
“He's a gypsy?” Judith said appalled. She looked round at the drawer where Andy knew she kept the silver dinner service that her grandmother had left her. “Do you think I should lock it?”
“Mam, don't be awful,” Andy said shocked that she would even think that.
“I've read about people like him in the paper, how they trick you into getting new driveways and things, and then they take your money.”
“He's not a gypsy. His dad's work just meant they moved around a lot.”
“So he was employed then?” she asked rather happier now.
“Yes, building trade for the most part, not driveways as far as I know," Andy said knowing he was being more than a little economical with the truth. "He was a surveyor actually.”
“That a good job," she admitted, before looking round at the clock on the mantelpiece over the fire. "Oh dear, is that the time, I really must get ready."
A short while later and dressed in what she always referred to as her Sunday best, Judith came back into the living room where Andy and Tom where watching TV.
"Have fun at the service," Andy said getting up and giving her a brief hug. He'd met the vicar there a couple of times, when his mum had insisted that he come along. She'd been a nice woman, who he suspected was rather more tolerant of people than his mum had ever been. Maybe in time, he hoped, she'd be come more accepting by associating, either that or she would find a different church to attend where the prevailing views matched her own. Somehow he doubted she'd go elsewhere as all her friends attended and he knew she saw it as much as a social thing as a religious one.
Judith smiled and nodded. "It will be good to see them. I did tell you about Marjorie's nephews, didn't I?"
"Yes."
"Good, they are such nice boys. In the scouts you know." She paused to think for a moment then said, "If you're using the oven to cook this evening remember to put a sheet of foil in the base, it makes it easier to clean if you burn something."
Andy knew she probably meant when rather than if. "Okay. I'll see you later.
“I don't think she likes me, I heard what she said about locking things away” Tom said quietly once they had heard the front door close. “Maybe I should go.”
“It was just a misunderstanding. Please don't go, I want you here, and it's Christmas Eve. Any way she'll think it's a slight against her hospitality if you do, I'll never hear the end of it, if you do” Andy said, grateful to get some time alone with Tom. “I'm not sure she likes anybody much really.”
“Maybe. It must've bin nice all living here,” Tom said looking out the sitting room window at the small, well ordered garden. “A proper family home. I mean I liked my dad and the van, but sometimes I...” he stopped and shrugged. “I guess it don't really matter.”
“It does.” Andy put his arms around him.
Tom made non-committal noise and shrugged again. “'s all in the past though, ain't it? You can't go worryin' about the what might've beens.”
Andy smiled. Tom was so pragmatic sometimes it amazed him. “What did I do to get such a wise boyfriend?”
“I dunno.” Tom laughed and gave him a kiss. “But whatever it is, don't stop doing it. I might even end up smart at this rate.”
“You're smart already,” Andy said. Caught up in the moment he kissed Tom again. “I want us to be together forever.”
There was a thud and sharp intake of breath behind them and they broke apart. Turning round they saw his mum standing in the doorway, a look of shock and disgust on her face, her handbag dropped to the floor, its contents scattered across the polished wood.
“Mam.” Andy looked at her, eyes wide like a rabbit caught in the headlights.
“How could you, Andrew?” she said angry and hurt. “How could you do such a thing in my house?”
“It were just a kiss,” Tom said, defensively, before Andy could say anything.
“It's disgusting it what it is,” she snapped back. “Two men together like that, it's a disease. A mental illness.”
“Mam!” Andy said, shocked at the viciousness of her tone.
“My dad said I shouldn't be rude to ladies, especially not old ladies,” Tom said, standing between Andy and his mother. “So I'm not going to say anything rude. And 'cause he also said if you can't say anything nice then you'd best not say owt at all, I 'spose I'd better shut up as I can't think of owt polite to say to you yet.”
“You must have been such a disappointment to him,” she said sourly. “To have a child turn into little more than a beast.”
Tom frowned. “I don't think I was and Dad always said that were the best part of us, that it were natural. Primal I think he said or it might have bin primeval. But he were alright with it.”
She gave him a withering look and turned to Andy. “How could you let him corrupt you like that? I didn't raise you like this.”
“It's not Tom's fault,” Andy said looking down at the carpet, felt tears pricking in his eyes. “I've had these feeling for years, mam. I've just never told you, because I knew you be like this. You wouldn't want to even try to understand or be happy for me.”
“Oh I understand and it disgusts me. Now get out,” she said almost shaking with rage as she pointed at the door. “Both of you get out of my house.”
“What about our stuff?” Tom asked, looking worriedly toward the stairs.
“He,” she said pointing at Tom. “Can wait outside. As for you Andrew, you can collect your belongings and then you can leave.”
“Mam, just listen...” Andy began, scared that he was going to cry and give her something else to make him feel pathetic and ashamed about.
“No,” She said turning her back on him, sounding like she was going to cry herself. “I don't want to look at you and there is nothing you could possibly say that I wish to hear. I really only have myself to blame for this. It was a mistake to have had another child so late in life. Forty three was too old for another child, they warned me there could be defects, but I was foolish enough to believe that I knew best.”
“Mam, please.” Andy's voice cracked.
“Don't, I don't want to hear it. I'll tell your brothers after Christmas,” she continued as if she hadn't heard him, taking a handkerchief from her coat pocket and wiping her eyes. “I don't want you to bother them with this and ruin their holidays as well as mine. Now will you please just go away.”
She wasn't going to listen or even attempt to, so feeling numb and shaken, Andy all but ran up to his old room and collected his and Tom's bags.
“So what we gonna to do now?” Tom asked, taking their bags from Andy as he stepped outside. “Should we find somewhere to stay or something or are we gonna go home?”
“A hotel. I'll find us a hotel,” Andy said, faintly worried that if he drove that he might crash and Tom wasn't really ready for the kind of traffic that was on the road at the moment. Snow was starting fall, just a few light flakes, as he sat down on the step at the back of the landrover and got out his phone.
He could do this, Andy told himself as he connected to the internet, looking for last minute deals, he could still give Tom an okay Christmas, all he had to was give this his complete attention and find them somewhere nice and then it would be alright. He'd be alright.
Part way thought booking, Tom had taken off his own coat and put it round him, but Andy had still felt cold and numb by the time he'd finally secured them a room for a couple of nights. The short drive thought into Cardiff had passed in a blur and if he'd been asked which streets he'd driven down or how long it had taken he knew he wouldn't have been able to answer.
The city centre hotel was nice, modern and a bit more expensive than he would normally go for, but they didn't have much choice at such short notice and on Christmas Eve. The young woman on the reception desk thankfully didn't make any comment when he'd asked for a double room, just smiled politely at them, handed them the key card, wishes them a Merry Christmas and told them that food was being served until eight, but that room service was available until eleven.
Any energy that Andy had left seemed to fall away once they were inside the room, the world locked safely away outside and he sat down heavily on the edge of the bed.
He could hear Tom talking to him, the words jumbling together into a meaningless noise, although he nodded none the less, when he realised that Tom was waiting for some kind of answer from him.
“I shouldn't have kissed you where she could see," Tom said as he started to make them some tea, which Andy guessed he'd just agreed to. "You said not to let her know we was together. Now your mum's not talking to you and it's all my fault.”
“It's not your fault,” Andy said, hating the fact that Tom, who was so nice to everybody could think that any of this was his fault. Part of him wanted to blame himself for ever taking Tom to his mum's house, for not telling him the truth and for not standing up to her. All the problems came back to him in the end, he thought bitterly. He'd ruined every ones Christmas with his stupid plan. He closed his eyes. He was useless. Everybody would be so much better off without him.
“You gonna be all right, aren't yer?” Tom asked, abandoning the tea and sitting down beside him. “I were thinking, maybe if you give her a while she'll be okay with us. Maybe it were just the shock of it, like. She couldn't have meant all them things....could she?”
Andy shook his head. “She did. She won't forgive me for this. Not ever.” It had been worse than he'd ever thought it would be or could be. The disappointment and disgust in her eyes, he thought would be with him for life. If Tom hadn't stayed with him, if he'd been trying to face it alone right now, he didn't like to think about want he would have done – especially when he thought that the best case scenario was him getting stinking drunk and getting somebody, anybody at whatever club was open to pick him and do whatever they wanted to him, just so he wasn't alone.
“But you're her son. You're family and it's not like we've done anything that even needs forgivin',” Tom said sounding genuinely confused. “Why can't she be happy for you? 'snot like we're doing owt wrong. I mean me dad would have been right ticked off that I'd not done like he said and waited until we was married and the like. So we've have probably had a bit of a scrap and yelled about it, but he'd have seen you were the only one for me in the end.” He gave Andy an encouraging smile. “I think he'd have liked you.”
Andy wanted to tell Tom that not everybody was like that, but nothing would come out. He felt cold and tired. He was every bit a weak and pathetic as she had said.
“It'll be okay,” Tom said, putting an arm round him and holding him tight. “Wiv got each other, and that all we need really, ain't it?”
'No, it's not and it never will be, because I'm the problem,' rolled over and over in his mind, but he couldn't say it, couldn't hurt Tom like that, even if it felt like the truth. Nodding, Andy leant against him, too numb now even to cry.
Part 24 http://the-silver-sun.livejournal.com/226051.html
A/N
A pretty rough part for Andy, but things will get better.
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Date: 2013-12-12 10:47 pm (UTC)Poor babies.
What a great read, though, my heart was in my mouth.
<3
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Date: 2013-12-13 12:12 pm (UTC)Sadly to say Andy's mum is based in part on my own mum, although dialed up a bit as I don't think she'd go as far as throwing anybody out. As for whether Andy's mum will come to accept their relationship I'm not sure yet, although at the moment I'm tending towards that eventually she will - probably trotting out 'love the sinner, not the sin.' (Which I very much dislike - as love between two consenting adults, regardless of sexuality, gender etc shouldn't ever be seen as a sin in the first place. I can see her saying it though.)
Thankfully for Andy's sake not all of his family's opinion are the same his mum's and he has Tom there for him.
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Date: 2013-12-13 07:59 pm (UTC)