Goodmans Hotel

Andrew's revelation about Tom's past demolished the illusion that I had escaped from the ruthless culture of City opportunism into a new sunlit world of honesty and fraternity with other gay men. All the warmth and colour my new life appeared to contain had existed in my imagination; the reality was as cold and grey as concrete. Rather than being a place of openness and honesty, concealed motives and deception were as pervasive at Goodmans Hotel as they had been in the 'straight' world I had left behind. Those life-changing decisions to accept redundancy and buy the lease on Goodmans Villa were not, as they had seemed, informed judgements made from sound knowledge and understanding, but reckless gambles based on false information.

However foolish the change might have been, it could not be reversed. The hotel had to be run, as did Andrew's businesses. Hard work would provide me with a diversion from self- pity and constant suspicious thoughts about everyone and everything around me.

Even to speak to Tom on the 'phone was unbearable, and when he rang the day after that dreadful meal with Andrew, in a calm deep voice I said 'I have nothing at all to say to you,' and when he began to plead I repeated the words and hung up.

Andrew's first call from New Zealand came over a week later. With a determined effort to avoid making accusations, I asked politely about his journey and we discussed his plans for the week. My good opinion of him had been shaken, but his personal qualities and achievements in life had to be balanced against the way he had misled me about Tom. His failing health and the need to ensure his staff would continue to have jobs to go to were good reasons for moderating my antagonism towards him. If only for their sake, I would fulfil my promise to check that his businesses were run properly.

Darren made allowances for my low spirits. He did not take offence at my constant grumpiness. I suspect he had warned Cheung about my state of mind, because although I was as curt with him as I was with everyone, he always greeted me with a smile and tried to make conversation, asking after my health or whether the hotel was busy. They avoided displays of affection for each other in front of me, perhaps afraid of reminding me of my own freshly acquired solo status, but passing the lounge one day I saw Cheung affectionately pat Darren's backside as he reached up for a book from a high shelf. Well, enjoy the fascination with one another before it fades, I thought cynically.