[If you have not already read the two-part story 'David Begins Graduate Study,' you should read that first, as it introduces all the characters]
Chapter 21 Jon
The Camford Men's Fitness Trust
Shortly after his return from seeing his senile Nazi-loving grandfather, it was David's birthday. Although up till then he had not used cosmetics or male fragrances and was rather contemptuous of them as effeminate, I had bought him a large and expensive box of 'Storing pour homme' products made by a distinguished Belgian perfumer: shower gel, shampoo, deodorant, aftershave and a small bottle of the fragrance itself. "I know you think nothing of such products," I said, "but I want you to use these in place of the cheap stuff that you have been using until now, just to please me."
He sniffed the perfume suspiciously. "Actually," he said "it is rather nice, subtle, and not a bit like the musky products that they push on the male toiletry market. But what will they think in the lab if I go round smelling like a tart? I'm only going to use the perfume at weekends, and as you know, I don't use aftershave. But I will use the other things if it will make you happy. 'Storing' means 'disturbance' or 'disruption' in Dutch. Is that the effect that it has on you? Does it excite you and drive you wild? You're randy enough as it is! And as we often shower together, you'll be using it as well, so it's a good job that I like it!" As a matter of fact it did actually excite me. I loved David's own scent, but 'Storing pour homme' seemed somehow to enhance it.
One morning early in the Martinmas term, David went off to work in the lab straight after breakfast. I was working at home that day, and having turned the computer on, while I was waiting for it to boot up and connect to the network, I went into the sitting room of the flat to tidy up. The morning post had arrived while we were eating breakfast, and David had opened his and left the open mail on the coffee table. While tidying up the table, I noticed David's bank statement, which had been pulled out of the envelope and carelessly left on the table. David and I had an agreement that we would not be nosy about each other's financial affairs, but I could not help noticing some of the details on his bank statement. To my amazement I noticed that this young man with subsistence level financial support from his studentship and a small allowance from his parents, was paying out significant sums each month in donations to no less than ten charities.
David's living costs were not high: the monthly rent that he paid me covered 50% of my relatively modest mortgage costs and he paid me an additional monthly sum to cover the cost of his share of food, housekeeping and utility bills. The rest of his money was his to dispose of as he wished, and I assumed that he used it as pocket money to buy drinks, meals, clothes, books and trips to the cinema and all the other items of expenditure that young people of our age incur. It amazed and humbled me that somebody who, although he had no financial worries, nevertheless had by the standards of most young people of his age a relatively meagre income, should choose to give about a third of it away each month. Once again a deep feeling of love and respect welled up inside me, and once again I felt selfish and worldly and unworthy of the boy that I loved so much. The feeling was all the greater as I was due to spend the following day in London, discussing with Tim Ingledown a rent review of my family trust's property portfolio that was the major source of my income.
The Camford Bach choir was going to perform Bach's Christmas Oratorio at the end of term, and David was busy with rehearsals. He also spent quite a lot of time practising for his singing lessons. Marcello Fabioni was teaching him the techniques of singing Italian opera, and just occasionally he could be caught singing snatches from 'Aïda.' He didn't talk much about his progress in the lab, except to moan when things went wrong. This was because our research fields were diverging at a rapid rate.
I had become involved with a new source of expenditure. I had come to hear, via various gay fitness acquaintances, that there was a proposal to start a new men's fitness club in Camford. Several influential people in the city who were gay or who had gay sympathies felt that a fitness club along the lines of the Corinthian Club in London (made famous in a novel by Alan Hollinghurst) would be an appropriate institution for the city. The proposal would provide facilities for weight-training, general exercise training, a squash court and swimming facilities for men above the age of 18. Unlike the London Corry, it would not provide accommodation or meeting rooms. There would be a snack bar and a licensed bar and of course appropriate shower and changing facilities.
The proposal was that it should be built on a derelict site quite close to the city centre. Because it had been the site of industrial activity, it had been acquired for a relatively small sum, but several million would be required to build the necessary facilities. I asked around at the lab and among acquaintances and it was clear that the demand for such facilities was high among both straight and gay men. The colleges of course made good provision for their undergraduate and graduate student bodies, but these did not usually extend to swimming pools and were more sport- than fitness-oriented. Moreover for the very large number of men working in industry in Camford, and in the service facilities of the University, many of whom lacked access to college facilities, there was very poor provision. Admittedly Camford had an excellent Olympic size swimming pool, but it was in the suburbs and relatively inaccessible for activities such as weekday lunch-hour exercise.
A trust, the Camford Men's Fitness Trust, had been set up to campaign and raise money for the new facilities. I thought that this was such an excellent proposal that I immediately offered half a million towards the construction costs, with the promise that as soon as a second half-million had been raised, I would double my original donation, subject to the proviso that ownership and management of the facility should never pass to the commercial sector. Although I had arranged for the donation to be made via Tim on behalf of an unnamed trust, I felt that it was necessary for me to be on the board of management for the fundraising campaign. While intended for all men, irrespective of sexual orientation, the prohibition of female membership made it clear that there was a substantial gay interest in the new facility. At that time, gay men were much more interested in bodily fitness than straight men.
Getting involved on the management side of the campaign inevitably raised my profile in the gay community in Camford, which by now no longer worried me, what did worry me was the possibility of the media becoming aware of my existence as a person of wealth, so I never mentioned that I was behind the unnamed donor trust. The steering committee of the Trust after I had joined consisted of ten men, of whom three including myself were openly gay. Two other members, one of whom was the Provost of M College, were gay sympathisers, which meant in practice that they were bi or closet gay. The remaining five were hetero, but had been checked out to ensure that they were not homophobic.
David was very enthusiastic about a facility that did not discriminate against gays. He reminded me that for many years there had been a nude bathing place for men on a tributary of the Camwell, but that it had been closed, allegedly on public health grounds, in the 1970s. Any man could go there, but for obvious reasons it had been particularly frequented by gays.
Chapter 22 David
The Crabtree Family
Early in the Martinmas term, my supervisor, Charles Crabtree, invited me into his office, a tiny room opening off our lab in the Pharmacology Department. Charlie's door was kept permanently open except when he did not wish to be disturbed. As I sat down, he closed the door. I had often wondered why our acquaintance had not deepened over the past two years. In my undergraduate year, I could understand it, final year undergraduates are unpredictable and sometimes unreliable, and it was not the norm to have them in research labs in pharmacology. However I was a bit surprised that our relationship had not deepened during my first year as a research student. Charlie was an excellent supervisor, always at hand, always helpful, full of good advice and wise tips for a person starting off on research, indeed his professional aspects were outstanding. But in spite of him coming most weeks with the group that went to the pub from the lab on Friday evenings, I did not feel that I had got to know him better during that time.
"David," he said, "I know that you are very active in non-laboratory pursuits in the evenings and at the weekends. But I wondered if you would like to come round and have dinner with my wife and myself one evening, if you can fit it in. To be perfectly frank, I have an ulterior motive in making this invitation. One reason is that next month we are going to need a babysitter, and none of our regular babysitters or friends or relatives is available. My wife wants to meet you so that she can decide whether, if you are available, you would be a suitable person to babysit for us on 20 November. If you are free on 20 November could you pencil that in?
"The second thing that I wanted to talk to you about is much more difficult for me. I have had other Ph.D. students in the past and in most cases I have shown them greater friendship that I have shown you. I want to apologize for this. It is totally irrational of me, but I do not number a large number of gay people among my acquaintance, certainly not at student level. I had a stereotyped image of the typical gay man, with a high voice, a camp attitude, an obsessive interest in clothes, and generally a man who is not afraid to show his feminine side."
"I don't think that I have a feminine side, even though I do have long hair!" I said. "I know lots of women and have friendly relationships with them, but I am not attracted to them sexually, in fact most of them frighten me. Men in contrast I can identify with and have no problems. They don't frighten me, because I know how they feel, being a man myself."
"This interesting you should say that," said Charlie, "because that's exactly the conclusion I have come to after knowing you for nearly two years. I don't know whether you have a feminine side! But I am sure that my wife can decide about that, because women are much better at recognizing female traits in men. Obviously to babysit you have to have an interest in and liking for young children, even if your charges don't waken up during your period of duty. So, could you come round and have dinner with us next Monday?" As it happened, Monday was one of the few nights of the week when I did not have a regular commitment so of course I said yes, and mentioned that I had a younger brother of 13.
I thoroughly enjoyed my evening at the Crabtrees'. They were relaxed, comfortable well-educated people interested in classical music and culture in Camford. I tried to be more open and forthcoming than I was accustomed to be with Charlie, because I realized that that was the only way to overcome his reticence about gay acquaintances. It was difficult for people who were older than us and accustomed to dealing with homosexuality on a 'don't ask don't tell' basis to find themselves in a situation where they needed to be completely frank and open about sexual orientation. It is still possible nowadays to find people with that reticence, though it is becoming increasingly less common. Nowadays, even some schoolchildren seem to want to declare themselves gay, often without much grounds or justification for their assertions! One sometimes wonders whether some boys in particular do it in order to gain what they perceive as the advantage of being in a minority group in society, although in the real world gays can have a very rough time.
