JOHNNY'S JOURNAL. Chapter 6. The Expectant Daddy?

JOHNNY'S JOURNAL. Chapter 6. The Expectant Daddy?
by Michael Knell
plug itBabs bursting into the projection box to loudly announce she was pregnant came as an Almighty shock. Not only to me, I might add. Terry, The Third, whose buns my eyes were appreciating at the time, and which noticeably tensed to the news as he patiently peered out looking for the change-over cues, missed them completely and the end of the film on the other machine rattled through the gate to show a white screen immediately followed by usherettes from both the stalls and the circle persistently pressing their attention bells. He'd never missed a change-over before, and so it went to add extra dramatic effect to the statement.
Having kids was something I had never even remotely considered. We had always been so careful, taking all the precautions. Did I want to be a father? No, I most definitely didn't! I was homosexual. I was only playing at being straight. That was hard enough as it was, how could I be a daddy too? Nevertheless I grinned, told her it was great news, and she departed, probably to announce it to world in every way possible but flash it on the screen. I could picture whole gaggles of the female staff pouring over a catalogue with her in the staff room to pick out baby clothes. God! What had happened to my life?

Kids need loving parents, a two-some, and it had to be faced: I didn't love Babs, not in the way I should for being a parent. I couldn't. That kind of love was kept for Tony, or whoever might one day follow him. To be tied down to a commitment for something like sixteen years or more, whilst the child grew up, might be to lose all chances of one day finding true happiness.

So the prospect of fatherhood hung over me like a heavy, dark cloud, although I did not allow Babs to see it. For her sake I made out I was happy, when all the time I was looking for a way out. I considered what Adrian, the Third when I started at the cinema, had done on getting Janet pregnant - he'd had it away on his toes, sharpish! - but I knew I couldn't do that, it was not me.

Then that Thursday afternoon, whilst Babs was up the West End doing some necessary shopping - there was always a lot of that to be done, she spent money like water! - I happened to be foraging around in her office looking for a receipt for some carbon rods I was sure we were being billed for twice, when my eyes fell on an envelope addressed to me and marked: "Personal". It had been opened, and yet I was sure not by me. I had not seen it before.

Picking it up, I noticed Babs had scrawled on the back of the envelope: "Replied 4th April". That was a week ago! I opened it up, and after reading the first few lines had to sit down. The letter was from Head Office, and from none other than Ted Shields himself. He wanted to see me. Why had Babs kept this from me? I liked Ted. He had given me the job without question when my father asked, and the few times I had seen him he had always made time to have a word with me. He was a nice guy. I rang him.

I had to suffer the line being diverted a couple of times, but finally spoke to him - and later that afternoon I removed all my personal belongings from the house in Knighton Park Road, bundled them into a taxi, and headed for a certain Guest House just outside Croydon.

The car pulled up on the gravel drive to this very large Victorian house that stood back from the main road. As I fumbled to find some money to pay the driver, he put up his hand declining it before quickly driving off. I looked after him in amazement as I sauntered towards the front door. Inside, with no double glazing in those days, I could quite plainly hear a lot of noise, as if there was a bit of a party going on. At least two people seemed to be jokingly arguing in the passageway over who should open the door to me.

The teapot that finally opened it looked me up and down, comically pursed his lips several times, and then spluttered, "Ooh! Well, I say! Mmm . . . Oo-er. Well, yes. I s'pose you'd better come in then. Hmm . . . This way. Ooh, I say, who's your tailor, duckie? Can't be one of us!"

Gobsmacked at who it was, I followed his limp wrist into the lounge where I straightaway recognised Ted sitting in the corner, with a grin from ear to ear. Sprawled across his lap was quite a good-looking guy, perhaps a bit younger than me. Then my eyes fell on all the other faces in the crowded room. They waved and greeted me, and I recognised several of them. This was undoubtedly a gathering of the greatest, and many of them had young lads in attendance.

I had not witnessed such freedom to be oneself since the Winchester basement parties, and for those, as great as they were, who I now realised must be homosexual too. Pushed into a chair and fussed over for what was my poison, I was dumbfounded, absolutely speechless, and my mouth must have been wide open, because everybody's favourite schoolmaster stood up, unzipped himself, and threatened to fill it!

This, it turned out, was Ted's way of thanking me for all I had done at the cinema - and I very nearly missed it! With the demise of so many theatres at that time, and with them all the actors' boarding houses, many of the famous names of a like clan that had played them, along with some of the theatre owners, were having a nostalgic party at this well known accommodation which had so many special fond memories for them. But how Ted knew I was "one of them" and would appreciate all this, I could not work out - and he refused to tell me! But then Ted seemed to know everything. He'd certainly opened my eyes in that phone call - stupid young fool that I was!

The drink flowed, the laughter roared, the stories rolled on and on into the night, and the young guys in attendance were most obliging. It had been years since I enjoyed proper sex; proper sex for me, anyway. That night I made up for everything. Mainly going for the young lads, but often finding myself in a threesome or a moresome with some of the much loved people there, I had the most wonderful time.

Next morning there were no big farewells. Few took breakfast. Cars just arrived and people left with little more than a quick wave of the hand. I think many were suffering from the abundance of drink. Thelma, the lady who ran the place, handed me a large envelope. Inside was a gold watch, and I believe I know who left it for me - a lovely teapot. I still have it today, but I don't wear it. For reasons, I wear another one.

I had to wait around for some considerable time, whilst Ted held long conversations with other theatre owners, before we left in his chauffer driven white Jaguar. It had been a hectic night, so not unexpectedly within minutes of departing my head kept lolling onto Ted's shoulder as I was falling asleep. He dropped the blinds, and then cuddled me in his arms, pulling me in tight to him. I felt warm, safe, and strangely at home there.

What about Barbara call-me-Babs Bloomfield, and the Century cinema? She, as it turned out, hardly even missed me. Because I didn't have that "proper" love for her, there was none of the inbuilt jealously that though often denied always comes with it. I could not have, and did not, notice all the advances she made on others. She had been putting it around with a lot of guys, including one up the West End where there had been many shopping expeditions, but more closer to home her talons had been in Terry, the Third. Little wonder he missed those cue dots! No, I didn't hate him. Why should I? But I did miss his buns!

The cinema had enough staff to cope, and my job there was done. Ted promised to pay for any blood test needed if Babs tried to hit me with a paternity order, and pay her off if it was mine, but it didn't come to that. She had an abortion, and apparently not the first.

Ted was a great guy, and he sure knew how to run things. Nothing escaped him. Old Bill, the doorman who looked as old as the cinema, continued to feed him all the latest news until his death several years later. He had a remarkable funeral - Ted saw to that, even closing the cinema for an afternoon.

I loved having a sugar daddy, but I was not to stay with him for long. More on that next time, when I tell you how I go overboard for someone and land up all at sea!

Johnny.