The Rainbow Conspiracy Read online

  ‘And then I added to everyone’s vexation by still being at home when you arrived.’

  ‘Spot on … I really thought Dennis had planned the whole thing and knew you were going to be there all along. Now I realise it was a genuine surprise for him too and that he’d been completely taken off his guard. Honestly, Michael, I wasn’t upset with you, although I have to admit that I did view you as competition, but I also knew full well that you would always come first for Dennis.’

  As they sat opposite each other and tucked into their dinner, which Heidi had served far too eagerly, Clive recalled the first impression he’d had of Michael. He was struck by the distinctive colour of his eyes: they were blue-green, and he still had thick dark brown curly hair and masses of it. He was also reminded that he had judged Michael highly on their first meeting and he remembered thinking how fortunate Dennis had been to find such a bright, handsome and intelligent partner: Clive could always trust that Spoke nose.

  ‘You were in your late twenties when we first met, and because of your colouring, I remember thinking you must have been of Irish or Italian descent.’

  ‘And you were right.’ Michael proudly responded. ‘Italian!’

  ‘We were so different, not just in looks but also in temperament. I tended to blurt out the first thing that came into my head, without giving myself time to think things through. Whereas you expressed yourself in a much more considered way and were more slowly spoken. I could have been the Yank and you the Limey.’

  ‘Clive, what I still remember about you is your zest for life and your great sense of humour.’

  ‘You were a very striking tall young man and still are.’

  ‘Well, that’s very sweet of you to say, but I’m really not feeling my best at the moment.’ Then, changing the subject he asked, ‘And how’s that hamburger, by the way?’

  ‘Delicious – the best I’ve had in years.’

  Michael poured more wine. ‘This certainly is a much more relaxed meeting than our first.’

  ‘Yes, we seemed to stand on your back porch for ages, but once the embarrassment had subsided, you graciously invited us in and offered us tea.’

  ‘And I remember you asked for coffee.’

  ‘I think, in my head, I was playing the Cecily–Gwendolyn scene from The Importance of Being Earnest.’

  ‘The what?’

  Clive didn’t need to answer the question. Instead, they both burst into laughter again and clinked glasses as the wine helped them unwind.

  ‘Look, I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve taken the liberty of inviting my dear friend Steve Leggard over for lunch tomorrow. I don’t think you met him on your first visit to Columbus, but I’ve known him for years, and he’s one of my closest pals. Dennis told him a lot about you and he’s so very keen to be introduced to you. I feel sure you two will hit it off.’

  The name Steve Leggard struck a familiar chord in Clive’s memory and although he was beginning to feel the effects of jet lag, his manners were still intact, and so he assured his host that he’d be delighted to meet Steve the following day. Michael picked up on the fact that Clive was beginning to fade and called for Heidi, who was devastated that her two gentlemen were going to pass on the strawberry cheesecake and coffee on offer. Clive explained he’d only just arrived from London and was exhausted, which appeared to pacify her somewhat. His host picked up the tab, left a handsome tip and as they drove back to Michael’s house, Clive asked to know more about this Steve Leggard character.

  ‘I think you’ll really like him. Steve’s a social worker by day and he’s been very committed to assisting us in establishing a self-help group here in Columbus at what we call the Men’s Center. Because of the current crisis, our main aim there is to educate the entire community about AIDS and give maximum support wherever possible.’

  ‘And how many cases have there been here in Columbus?’

  ‘About a dozen, so far.’

  ‘Really! That many?’

  ‘That’s nothing to speak of, compared with Cincinnati or Chicago.’

  ‘No, I suppose not.’ And Clive tried to change the subject by asking more about Steve.

  ‘What can I tell you? He’s such a great guy and has been such a terrific help, and because he’s got a lot of experience in dealing with bureaucracy and working the system, the Men’s Center has benefited enormously from having him on board.’

  Clive told him that there was already something similar in London, called the Terrence Higgins Trust. He explained that it was a voluntary organisation set up with the help and advice of doctors and social workers and was named after one of the first Brits to die from AIDS. Michael said he was glad that the UK was getting itself organised and agreed that it was really important to get the message across without scaring the shit out of everyone.

  Back at the house, they went through the kitchen, then finally settled in the room that looked on to the street, which Clive remembered as a comfortable lounge. There by the side of one of the sofas, he noticed another pair of suitcases next to his own.

  ‘They’re mine. If you don’t mind, I thought we’d stay at Dennis’s old house. We’ll be a lot more comfortable there. Here, there’s only one bedroom cause I still use the other as my studio and besides, you can help me with all the packing up I have to do at number 257.’

  Clive tried to camouflage how uncomfortable he felt about returning to Alexandria Colony Court so soon after arriving back in Columbus but assured Michael that he was there to help in any way he could. Then he added: ‘I don’t know about you, but I could do with a nightcap. There’s some duty-free in that plastic bag, and a quickie might help me sleep better.’

  Michael thought it an equally good idea and the two men drank a toast to friendship and downed their shots in one.

  ‘The Colony has a leisure centre available to residents, and I can easily get you a pass,’ said Michael. ‘Yes I remember the gym and its facilities, but I’m not a very strong swimmer and will pass on the pool, if you don’t mind. I never really gained my sea legs.’

  Then, reminded of what a strong swimmer Den had been, Michael broke down again. Clive hugged him close and told him that he could cry whenever he felt like it and insisted that there were to be no barriers between them. ‘Are we agreed?’

  ‘Agreed! Let’s get straight over to Alexandria Colony right now, and get some shut-eye.’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ALEXANDRIA COLONY COURT TUESDAY AND WEDNESDAY

  ‘I’ll put the bags in the car while you lock up,’ Clive suggested as he carried the luggage into the kitchen and then down the back steps. It was quite dark by now, and he found it absolutely pointless working out the time, let alone what day of the week it actually was.

  As the brown sedan turned off the highway and Michael took the exit for Alexandria Colony Court South, the rows of houses they passed began to look strangely familiar to the Englishman. When Dennis had driven him there all those years ago, Clive had been struck by what appeared to him to be a very pretty little suburban toy town of a place. There was row upon row of what were – by American standards – small, two-storeyed houses with neat, low hedges and well-trimmed front lawns all joined together. All the residences seemed to be individually designed from the outside, as well as from the inside, as he was later to discover. These surroundings were in such contrast to the sprawling Californian haciendas he’d got to know on the West Coast, let alone the tall Manhattan skyscrapers with which he’d become even much more familiar.

  On that first visit to Columbus, Clive recalled that before getting out of Benjy, Dennis had proudly presented him with his own set of keys with a great flourish. There was a nameplate attached, with ‘Clive Spoke’ printed clearly on it, and it contained the address details of the house as well as its telephone number. Clive remembered being touched by such a kind gesture and wanted to show his appreciation by giving Dennis a peck on the cheek. However the ex-marine gently pushed Clive to one side and invited him to open the front
door.

  ‘Let’s wait till we’re inside, shall we?’

  Now it was Michael who opened the front door to number 257 and ushered Clive into the sitting room, which appeared just as he remembered. Nothing much seemed to have changed at all and, not for the first time, Clive was struck by how cosy he found the house, although it was by no means small. He had always thought the main room tastefully decorated in its varying shades of grey, with that comfortable, large sofa still taking up the entire length of one wall, while a vast bookcase occupied the opposite side of the room, with all the record albums and stereo equipment still kept just where he remembered. The long dining table was placed parallel to the rows of bookshelves, while along the third wall was an open staircase leading up to the bedrooms and a large window, looking on to the street, completed the oblong-shaped room, in the middle of which stood an enormous coffee table laden with magazines and more books.

  Then Clive noticed the drawing placed in a very prominent position in one of the alcoves next to the bookcase. Back in the seventies, he’d been surprised to discover that Dennis had been an artist’s model in his spare time, and, once a week on his free morning, he would drive over to the Dennison University campus and pose in the nude for the life-drawing class. On that first day of Clive’s visit back in ‘76, Dennis had told Clive about his modelling sideline and suggested he accompany him and watch the class. As they drove out to Dennison the following morning, Dennis told Clive that in some states it was still illegal for a male model to pose completely in the nude, and he revelled in the fact that elsewhere in the US he could be accused of breaking the law and locked up in jail.

  The fine art department at this university, where Michael had been a student, was long established and it struck Clive that the building in which it was housed was located in a delightful rural campus setting. Although a smaller university than Ohio State, Clive soon found out that Dennison was large enough to harbour a very first-rate reputation in both the performing as well as the visual arts.

  When they entered the room Dennis introduced his guest to the tutor in charge, then Clive went and sat down on the far side, so as to be as unobtrusive as possible. Several rostra were placed up against one of the walls, forming a dais, and in a carefully arranged semicircle around this podium were a series of chairs, easels and artists’ desks, as well as some expectant students. Dennis disappeared from view momentarily and, in no time at all, reemerged stripped and stark naked, carefully placing his clothes to one side. The lesson was to last a full three hours with a short break halfway through, enabling both model and class to rest and relax their concentration. By ten o’clock the semicircle was packed, and before Clive knew it, Dennis was off.

  It was so gratifying for Clive to witness the transformation in his friend and watch Dennis utterly free from the inhibitions he might have demonstrated in Provincetown. The ex-marine showed no qualms about modelling in the nude and was now more than comfortable showing off his body to great advantage, and he was clearly in his element. He flexed his muscles and his torso positively rippled. He stretched, contracted and sat; he extended, knelt, crouched and stood, each pose occupying a given amount of time in which the students had to commit a likeness to paper.

  Sometimes the tutor allowed them time for fine detail; at others, she made Dennis whip through a series of positions, barely giving him a moment to think up the next move. Although he obviously adored presenting himself in the nude and gloried in his manly beauty, he seemed, at moments, to display a genuine vulnerability, which also appeared to win over the class.

  Despite the strength and power of his muscular physique, Clive felt that Dennis still possessed that same gentle quality that had been so attractive all those years ago back in Provincetown. Like so many extroverts, beneath his flamboyance there was a side to his nature that demonstrated that he could be very easily wounded and it was that chink in his armour that had endeared him to Clive when they had first met.

  As Dennis’s parts swung free, the performer in him revelled in the keen attention he was given by all who occupied that semicircle and Clive thought it was as though the very sound of the charcoal scratching on paper stirred his friend on to create bolder and more intricate poses. The passage of time had in no way diminished his muscle definition nor the splendour of his physique, and it was little wonder that the fine art department had kept the ex-marine so very busy, and Dennis told Clive that he was in such great demand that his bookings stretched well ahead into the following year, which seemed to please him no end.

  The session finished with a series of quick-fire, sixty-second poses, barely giving any of the students enough time to commit his contortions to paper. Dennis appeared to speed up towards the end, like a runner towards the finishing line, and the class erupted into an almighty cheer as he suddenly jumped down from the platform that had served as his stage. He broke into a broad grin, bowed slightly apologetically, and seemed to step into his clothes with a good deal more embarrassment than when he had stripped them off. Little could anyone there at Dennison have possibly imagined that some eight years later that powerfully built human being would be reduced to a contorted and wizened little old man.

  Dennis approached Clive where he was still seated at the back of the class, beaming as he carried one of the sketches.

  ‘Look what I’ve just been given.’

  He was holding a life-sized drawing: it was of his arse sketched out in orange chalk, and there, appearing on the horizon of his upper thigh, were a pair of distended testicles, which dropped down into the frame.

  ‘Isn’t it great?’ said Dennis.

  ‘You both are! And who did it?’

  ‘That beautiful quiet boy with the glasses,’ Dennis responded. ‘He always sits at the end of the front row. I think his name is Edward.’

  Now, on his second visit to Columbus, there in the alcove hung Edward’s drawing, just as Clive had remembered it, showing Dennis off in all his glory and truly in his element. Clive had been dreading that it might still be there in the living room, and, on seeing the sketch again, he fought hard to control his feelings and not completely break down in front of Michael.

  But the sight of that picture on the wall brought back such vivid memories of Dennis, so fit and strong, posing nude for the art students at Dennison, it just tipped Clive over the edge and he couldn’t stop himself. With tears trickling down his cheeks, he began to sob like a baby. It was now his turn to feebly apologise for his outburst, causing Michael to retaliate by scolding him for even trying, and reminding Clive of their mutual pledge of trust.

  With his voice still quivering, Clive said: ‘I feel a lot better for that. I suppose walking in here, seeing that etching on the wall and knowing that Dennis isn’t about any longer has finally hit me and I’ve been wanting to really let go ever since you picked me up at the airport. Now I feel I’m ready to hit the sack.’ And with that, they both got to their feet, hugged each other yet again and Michael carried Clive’s bags upstairs and placed them in the guest room.

  ‘My old room,’ Clive announced, trying to put on a brave face.

  ‘With all that closet space for you to hang your clothes in,’ Michael added in an attempt to lighten things up.

  ‘Yes… funny, I just never could learn to travel light.’ Clive seemed to have composed himself, ‘Now, I’d like to take a shower before turning in, if that’s all right.’

  ‘Oh puh-lease, Clive, don’t even ask. Just make yourself completely at home. Remember, mi casa es tu casa! Clean towels are on the bed and you know where the bathroom is. I hope you sleep well.’ And with that, Michael was gone, leaving Clive alone to unpack.

  So there Clive was, on his first night back in Columbus, Ohio after so many years’ absence, unexpectedly sleeping in his old room at number 257, Alexandria Colony Court South. As he began to hang his clothes away, he was reminded of his first visit. He had brought Dennis a house present from New York, the original cast recording of A Chorus Line, which Clive had se
en on Broadway and, as a theatrical agent, was extremely excited about. He’d insisted on playing it, but he had noticed that it seemed to make very little impression on Dennis, who impatiently ushered Clive upstairs and suggested that he take a shower. The ex-marine seemed always to insist his friend take a shower and Clive now reflected affectionately on how he thought Americans were obsessed with cleanliness, although he was also prepared to consider that Brits, himself included, didn’t pay sufficient attention to personal hygiene, especially back in the seventies.

  Clive felt that the compact bathroom hadn’t changed either: it was well designed and very comfortable. The washstand still sported a small portable colour television set, which, on his first visit, Clive thought the height of decadence: so he now turned it on in an effort to keep himself awake – and to see whether it still worked. It felt good under the hot water, helping him relax, but, after a while, he finally allowed his jetlag to take over and was now more than ready for bed. Once all tucked up, Clive soon dozed off and fell into a very deep sleep. The next morning he was gently woken by Michael, who was sitting at the foot of the bed.

  ‘Did you sleep OK?’

  ‘Like a log! I always do when I’m away from home, and to tell you the truth I didn’t get much sleep last night, so the time difference didn’t give me a problem.’, Clive replied as he took a good long stretch. ‘Although it’s very disconcerting waking up in this room after all these years.’

  ‘I suppose it must be.’

  ‘Added to which, my body clock is all over the place. What time is it Michael?’

  ‘It’s just after ten. I didn’t want to let you sleep too long because Steve is coming over for an early lunch.’

  Clive nodded as he got out of bed. ‘Yes, I remember.”

  Then as Michael stood up to leave, he asked Clive whether he would like a cup of tea in bed.

  ‘That’s sweet of you,’ came the prompt reply. ‘But actually I’d kill for a coffee. Do you mind?’