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In our new home we kept ourselves to ourselves, making our local pub and evenings out more than an hour's drive away where we were most unlikely to encounter any of our neighbours. Exmoor has a simply zero gay scene so any forays into the rainbow world were always by way of week-end trips to London.
I don't know what I thought would happen that day: armed police waiting outside at dawn? Bus loads of immigration officials laying siege to us? Terrible thoughts pervaded my mind and refused to go away. That night, the last night of Danny being legally in the country, I held him so tight in bed and mentally bound him ever closer to me. Nobody would ever take my Danny away from me.
And they didn't. A day passed, then a week and then a month. Soon it was Christmas. Until I met Danny Christmas had always been a time of anti-climax. The shops tend to declare Advent ever earlier each year and by the time December 25th actually dawns there's not a lot left to do other than to collapse in exhaustion and beg for the New Year. But that Christmas together was different.
I bought Danny a gold signet ring and had it engraved with his name. I had gone to great length to find the Albanian translation for I Love You and to have that recorded by his name.
I was so full of joy when I handed Danny my gift and imagine my overwhelming emotion when he too handed me his gift in a small wrapped box. Tears fell down my cheeks as I opened it and saw that he too had chosen a ring as his gift. I threw my arms about him and we cried tears of happiness in each other's arms.
"Nigel," Danny said. "Will you marry me?"
I answered with a single word: "Yes."
We were married exactly one year to the day from the time we met back in Kosovo. It was a simple enough ceremony; we were the only people there, just Danny and I. Of course the vows and promises we exchanged had no standing in law, we did not even have anyone to witness them, but they meant everything to us. I had no family I could have invited and since meeting Danny there had been little reason to see many of those who had previously been my friends. Danny had a mother and a sister but it was, of course, quite impossible for them to travel from Albania.
After dedicating our lives to one another we consummated our love with a passion that lasted much of the afternoon. I made love to Danny and then him to me. Danny was becoming more experienced as a top and I loved having him inside me. How I loved Danny, words are not enough to tell.
I would have liked for us to have gone away on holiday to celebrate our union but leaving England was impossible. Instead we spent a couple of nights in London staying bin a top class hotel where we were pampered from dawn to dusk. We had a meal at The Ritz and brought one another expensive gifts in Harrods.
Danny was fairly well off in his known right; his internet design business was doing well. I had an offer from a publisher for my book; all I had to do was to finish a rewrite of two chapters. Life was being good to us.
As we drove back home from London we were in a light, airy mood so happy and by the hour falling more and more in love. But back at the cottage there was something waiting for us that would bring us down to earth with a terrible crash.
The answer phone was flashing four messages. While Danny went to make some coffee I listened to them. Three were of no consequence but the other was from somebody speaking frantically in Albanian.
"Danny," I called, "This message is for you."
"Who's it from?"
"I don't know they are speaking in Albanian."
"I'll be there in a minute."
He came in with coffee, offered me a cup and pecked a gentle kiss on my lips. "I love you," he grinned.
"And I love you too. I think you had better listen to this message, it sounded important."
"Oh," he said casually. "Don't see who'd be calling me."
I watched as he listened to the message and saw the expression on his face change. My suspicion of the message being urgent was confirmed and I realised it was bad news.
"What is it?"
His face went grey.
"What is it?"
"It's my mother."
Terrible thoughts ran through my head. "What? Tell me!"
"There's been a fire. Her home is destroyed."
"Is she hurt? Is she alright? What happened?"
"She is burned and in hospital. That was my sister on the phone. She will be alright I think but I don't know." He began to cry.
I did not know what to say. What could I say?
"Nigel I am going to have to go to Albania. I have to see her."
Of course he did, the thought didn't hesitate in my mind for the slightest moment but by its side there were dozens of terrible thoughts along side it that I would lose him. If Danny were to return to Albania, and Danny had to go back to Albania, how ever would he come home again to England? It would be impossible. Would the embassy realise he had overstayed his visa and refuse him another? It was almost certain they would. Was I about to lose him? I could not bear that. But he had to go.
The same thoughts must also have been spinning through Danny's mind. "I'll come back," he said. "As soon as I can."
But how? I wanted to ask the question but could not. However, I did not need to ask the question for Danny knew well enough my thoughts. "There are other ways," he said.
"How?" I said.
"There are people," Danny started to explain. "People who can do that ?"
"Do what?"
"Get me back to England from Albania."
"People traffickers you mean?"
"If you like, I can return that way."
To be continue...
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chaloemponn  
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29 ต.ค. 53 21:35:36
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I LOVE YOU DANNY [GAY FICTION]
