Chapter 1

I was drying myself after a shower and thinking about today. It wasn’t one that I had expected, as today was the day that I’d say a final goodbye to my Uncle Tom. Well, I say Uncle, but he was more a cousin to me in reality. He had taught me a lot in the time I really knew him and was already missing him terribly. I really wasn’t looking forward to see his coffin carried away. I suppose that I should make things clearer by going back a few years, first.

My name is Anthony Underwood, and Tom was my mothers’ nephew. In her family, the Andersons, she was the last child of a large family, and her brother was the first-born, so making Tom around eight years younger than my mother. Her family had been in Stevenage a long time. The eldest brother had been born after the war, and my mother in nineteen sixty-one. My grandfather had worked in the Vincent factory until it closed in fifty-five, having to find another job after the closure. A couple of his sons had inherited his small collection of Comets and Shadows and had moved away from the area. Those that had stayed were all working in skilled, but manual, work. The Andersons were a family of tradesmen.

Not my mother, though. She found work at the library after she left school, meeting my father there. Robert Underwood, my father, had been a law clerk who had been sent up from London, in nineteen eighty-four, to sort out some glitch or other at the British Aerospace Dynamics Group, and had wandered in to look at a few local history books in his time off. Mary Anderson and Robert Underwood were married in early nineteen eighty-five, and they set up home in a flat in one of the London suburbs. He went on to Law School and became a specialist in company law, while my mother used her time to get accreditation as a Librarian.

They returned to Stevenage to live in ninety-nine, after several failed attempts to start a family. It must have been the easier life out of the big city, as I came along in June, two thousand and one, with my mother just on forty. My sister, Margaret, was born in January two thousand and three. Both of our births were difficult. I was a premmie and Margaret was taken by Caesarean section. My parents were just thankful that we lived, but the two of us were all Mum could have.

Dad was now working for Glaxo Smith Kline, in the ninety-odd acre site that held their research and training centre. Mum had been employed back in the Library, and my earliest memory was the playpen that had been set up next to one of the floor to ceiling upper windows. I must have been around four, as I remember my sister in a bassinette with me on the floor.

The first time I met Tom was a bit of a shock. I was thirteen, in high school, and the family was having a big get-together at the Bedwell Community Centre, in the summer of two thousand and fourteen. It was a stroll from our house on Abbots Grove. In fact, it was a stroll for most of the family, as they had settled in the newer houses when they had been built. Tom had driven down from his home in Ickleford, less than ten miles north.

I had always thought that my slight stature was caused by being premature, but, when Tom walked in to say hello to Mum, he wasn’t much taller than me.

“Hello, Mary, long time since we last met.”

“It is, Tom. This is my son, Tony. He’s in high school here. And this is Margaret, she’s going to high school with the new term.”

“Tony looks like he got hit with the Anderson Curse. Our grandfather was, from the pictures I’ve seen, a nuggety man as well.”

“It didn’t help that he was a premmie. We’ve had him enrolled in martial arts since he was seven, to be able to see off anyone who wants to bully him.”

“Next term, he’ll have his bigger sister to look out for him.”

I gave him a glare that would melt steel and he laughed.

“It’s all right, Tony, I’ve been on the end of every short-arse jibe known to man. At my workplace I’m known as ‘Lofty’. I teach Music Appreciation at St. Francis’ College in Letchworth, so I see a lot of guys your age. Point me at the drink table and tell me about yourself.”

That afternoon, I found someone who I could relate to. I spoke about my love of classical music, and he laughed as he told me about his lessons.

“I must have the cushiest job in the school. They all come in and sit down, I start a piece of music on a CD. It lasts about forty minutes, they do their homework and fill out a questionnaire about the music, while I sit and read my latest novel. It’s a win for everyone, and there’s no playing up in my lessons. I also have an after-hours class with the piano.”

“I’m a readaholic as well. It may be from having a Librarian as a mother and spending most of my days in the library before I went to primary.”

We talked about music, we talked about books we liked, and were ignoring everyone else until Uncle Henry came over.

“Well, look who we have here! Don’t let Tom pass his strange ways on, Tony. There’s a reason he doesn’t live here in Stevenage. As the black sheep of the family, I warn you to stay away from him, or you may catch something nasty.”

He was laughing as he went off to bother someone else. I watched him go.

“I hate that man! He may be family and you can’t choose your relatives, but, when I can, I’m going to be somewhere a long way away. How did you get to be the black sheep, Uncle Tom?”

“I’m your cousin, Tony, but, given our age difference, I’ll accept the Uncle tag. There’s another tag that him and his cronies gave me, some twenty years before you were born. That was ‘queer’ when they were feeling good, or ‘faggot’ when they had a few drinks. Like you, I was bullied at school, and it affected my life. I wasn’t included in the usual boy antics, so found friends with the girls, friends that have remained with me since those days.”

“So, Uncle Tom. Are you queer?”

“I am, young Tony. While I was studying music in London, I met Albert, who was studying cooking. I’m now a music teacher, and he’s a chef at the Two Chimneys, north of Letchworth. We live just out of Ickleford, on Lower Green. It’s the last house on the road, if you can call it that. The road isn’t paved, and just looks like a track to nowhere, with nowhere being the next place along from us. We have a small henhouse and a few ducks. I suppose that you’ll now stay away.”

“No, Uncle Tom. I’m not one with fixed ideas. There’re a few at high school who have been picked on as queer, and I try my best to guard them from too much bullying, so I’ve been tarred with the same brush. Liking books and classical music didn’t help.”

“Look, Tony. I’ll have a word with your mother to see if you can visit us for a few days. The house has a small annex, which is self-contained, where you can lock the door if you want. Do you have a cycle?”

“Yes. It’s a mountain bike, but with a big gear set and is good for a longer trip.”

“You’ll just need a backpack with spare clothes for a few days. I’ve got a Defender, so will bring you and the bike back.”

By the end of the event, I was booked to cycle to his home in two days’ time, to stay for a week. Dad thought that it would be good for me to see something different, but not to ask for chickens or ducks when I came home. Mum told me to see if I could learn to cook, as my sister was already taking up all of her time in the kitchen.

On the morning that I rode away from home, pack on my back, and a bit of money in my pocket, it was a straight-forward ride. Home to the north of Stevenage, under the A1 motorway, and following the road to, and then around, Hitchin, and off to Ickleford and finally to Lower Green. It was as he had described the final part, an unpaved road that led me to his home, the last house on the left, just past an entry to a farm complex.

When I arrived, I was greeted by a couple of small, but boisterous, dogs, who were told to back off by a large, jovial man with a red beard. He shook my hand.

“Hello. I’m Albert. You must be Tony, I can see the family resemblance, and not just your size. Like Tom, you have the look of someone who wants to enjoy life by learning as much about it as you can. I’ll show you where you can drop your pack. Then, we’ll cycle to my workplace where Tom will join us for lunch.”

He showed me the annex and I dropped my bag on the floor, used the toilet, and rejoined him outside.

“Here’s the key for that door. Now, get on your bike, we have a little cross-country ride.”

The dogs followed us as far as the bridge under the railway line and left us to scamper along the small river back towards the house. Alberts’ bike was like mine and he led me through a farmyard, past the lavender fields and on a track that skirted a large field. We came out at the Wilbury pub, and turned left, up the Stotfold Road to the Two Chimneys.

There, I was introduced to a group of people that I had never met but who treated me as if I was an old friend. I was given an apron, hairnet, and was set to working in the kitchen to prepare lunch. It was a dive into the deep end of preparing meals, and I must have done well enough, as I was given smiles and taps on my shoulders. When the customers had finished, it was time for the crew to have their own meal. We were joined by Tom, who gave me a hug and then was quickly kissed by Albert.

Tom had been giving a piano lesson in the morning and would have another in the afternoon. During all that time, I was treated like an adult and tried to join in with the conversation. When we had tidied up, Tom went off and Albert asked me if I could remember the way back, as he needed to stay to get dinner ready for the paying customers.

I rode back the way we had come, breathing the fresh country air and humming a tune. I took it easy and stopped at the lavender fields to look at the colourful vista. When I arrived back at the house, the dogs came out to greet me and I rubbed their bellies and played ball with them. They followed me around as I looked around the property. There were chickens and the ducks, and I found a shed which held their feed, which I scattered around to make friends.

When Tom came home, he opened up the house and showed me around, including his two libraries. One was several hundred books, and the other was a similar number of classical CDs. He gave me an MP3 player, with earbuds, and told me to choose what I wanted to listen to, each day, and he would download it from his computer. We put together a simple meal, and sat in the lounge, me starting a book that I had heard was good, and him reading one of his own, until Albert came home. I took the book to my room in the annex and read some more in bed.

In the morning, I helped feed the dogs, the chickens and the ducks, then we collected the eggs, gave them a wash and put them in egg trays. I went with Tom as he delivered them to the Cricketers, in Ickleford village.

“We drop off all the ones we can’t use for ourselves. The Two Chimneys get their own from a supplier, that are certified as perfect. The Cricketers use them in breakfasts or eggnogs, and we get the odd free meal there. It’s good on a night when they have live music.”

“This is all so different from what I’m used to, Uncle. Is there a music night while I’m here?”

“There is, on Friday. Now, we’d better get back to the house, so you can tidy up and then you can join me today, to go to the school. I have a piano lesson this morning. If you want, I’ll give you a short tutorial after lunch.”

At the school, I was told to explore, and to be polite and civil if anybody wanted to know why I was there. It was certainly a much bigger place than my high school. We went to catch up with Albert for lunch, and then I was introduced to piano playing in the afternoon. I enjoyed it and was told that I had promise.

The rest of my time with them flashed by far too quickly. I did some more helping in the restaurant kitchen, played more piano, became firm friends with the dogs and poultry, and had a good evening out at the Cricketers. When my week was up, we loaded my bike in the back of the Defender, followed by my repacked luggage. He took me home in the evening and stayed to talk to my parents. Something must have been said, as my bike stayed in the vehicle, and I had a case with extra things on the ride back to Lower Green. I stayed with the two of them for most of the summer.

When it was time to go home and get ready for second year at high school, it was almost time for tears, except that Tom told me that my parents would allow me to spend some of my holidays with him, to perfect my piano playing, my musical and my literature appreciation.

Except for Christmas and Easter, I spent most of my school holidays at Lower Green. My piano playing became almost second nature. I learned the life cycle of poultry, realising that the birds came, grew up, and became dinner, home cooked that Albert taught me how to prepare, from beheading the bird, cleaning and preparing it for the oven.

By the time I left school, at seventeen, I had become an adult, a bit short, maybe, but happy in my own skin. I had learned so much about life, literature, music and grief. I was there as Albert went from a large and jovial man to a shadow of his former self. He had liver cancer, and died in hospital, with me on one side of his bed and Tom, weeping, on the other side, both holding his hands.

After that, Tom took me back to my home so that he could clear out Alberts’ things on his own. The next time I saw him, he looked several years older. When I did leave school, I got myself a steady job at the Poachers, next to the Community Centre and just five minutes’ walk from home. I served behind the bar and worked in the kitchen. The food was just simple bar snacks and breakfasts for the guests staying in the hotel rooms, and I was happy to do the work.

I still saw a lot of Uncle Tom over the next couple of years. He had taken early retirement from teaching, saying that he couldn’t take the stress without Albert to keep him grounded. I would ride my new motorbike to Lower Green on Sundays, to cook him lunch and talk about life, the universe, and everything.

Of course, that all stopped with the lockdown of March 2020. I was in luck as the Poachers was designated a lunch place for emergency services, so I got half a day of work. Mum was home, with the library shut, and Dad was at the GSK site, in accommodation there. Margaret was the one most affected. She was in her last term of high school and had to do her lessons, and the final exams, by Zoom. When the lockdown was lifted, in July, I rang Tom and arranged to go and see him on my next Sunday off.

When I rode into the property and put the bike on its stand, he didn’t come out to welcome me as usual. I found him out by the chicken coop, stone cold. He must have been there since last night, or even early this morning, as the chickens still had some feed left. The dogs, however, were whining. I phoned for an ambulance and then fed the dogs. There was a swing seat out the back, so I sat on that with a dog each side as I waited. I sighed and pressed the home number on my mobile. Mum answered.

“Mum, it’s Tony. I’m at Toms’ home and I’m afraid I have bad news.”

“Is he sick or injured?”

“I’m so sorry, Mum. I found him in the yard, next to the chicken coop. I think he’d been there all night. I touched his face, and he was stone cold. I’ve called for an ambulance. Can you call your brother to let him know, please?”

“Oh, honey. That must have been a shock for you. I’ll call Eddy and give him your mobile number. I expect that you’ll be there for some time. If he’s dead, the police will be calling and will need to speak to you, seeing that you’re the only one that’s kept in contact with him since he retired.”

“I may have to be here longer, Mum. There’s the poultry to find homes for, and I don’t think the dogs are going to realise that they’ve lost their owner. I’ll have to provide some calm and attention for them.”

“You’re such a caring boy. I’ll walk over to the Poachers when they open and talk to your boss. I’ll ask him to give you a couple of weeks to sort things out. I expect that Eddy will let you stay at the house to keep it secure and give the dogs a home. I think that the funeral will be sometime next week, and we can see what happens after that. I’ll give you a call after I’ve seen him. Is there anything you want brought over?”

“Not at the moment. I’ve got enough in the annex from other times I’ve stayed. If I do need something, I’ll come home and get it during the week.”

Five minutes later, the small, fast response ambulance unit pulled into the property. I had told them that I thought that he was dead. I remained in the swing seat as the two paramedics went and examined the body. On made a call on his radio and came over to me.

“The police will be here to talk to you, lad. Were you the one who called this in?”

“Yes. I came to visit for the day and found him there. I only touched his face and felt the cold.”

“You did well, lad. The police will need to make sure that it was natural causes before we can transport the body, but my first guess was heart attack. The body stiffness shows that it could have been last night. He may have been frightened by a swooping owl or a fox when he was feeding the birds. Are you all right to stay around?”

“Yes, I’ve often stayed here, and have things in the annex if I need to stay overnight.”

“All right then. We’ll stay until the police have checked and the coroners’ van arrives. Is there anywhere we can brew some tea?”

I showed him into the kitchen and we both stopped and stared.

“Bloody hell, lad. I think we can confirm the heart problem.”

There, in the kitchen, it was a total mess. Tom must have bought frozen pizza and packets of potato chips by the box during the lockdown. The paramedic took several pictures of the scene, ‘for the coroner’, and then he put a kettle on while I tidied up, putting all the old boxes and packets in a big bin outside.

I was sitting outside when the police arrived. It was a couple of detectives followed by a couple of guys in a black van. They conferred with the paramedics and turned the body over to check for any obvious sign of violence. Then, the coroner guys got a stretcher and a body bag from the van. Before he was zipped up, the officer in charge checked his pockets and pulled out some keys. As the body left its home for the last time, the officer came over to me, his companion talking to the paramedics with a recorder.

“Nasty business, sir. Sudden death is always a shock.”

“It was officer. He was always so full of life when I used to visit.”

“Will you be securing the property?”

“I will stay on to look after the animals. My mother is ringing her brother, Toms’ father.”

“OK. Here are his keys.”

The other policeman shook hands with the paramedics and came over as they went to their vehicle.

“They seem pretty positive it was a heart attack, sir. I was shown pictures of the kitchen before it was tidied up. It looks like he lived on pizza and crisps for the entire lockdown.”

“Thank you, Sergeant. Now, lad, if you’re up to it, we’ll ask you some questions and my colleague will record it to be transcribed into our written report. Do you have any problem with that?”

I told him that I was good with things, and we went through who I was, why I was here, my connection with the deceased, and Toms’ details. When I told them that, the Sergeant went to their car and sat with the on-board computer, while the Inspector and I talked about my times with my cousin. The Sergeant came back.

“All checks out, sir. Anthony has no record with us, other than the notification of passing his driving license and getting his police check to serve in a place selling liquor. Mr. Anderson has more. Lately, there are the usual licensing updates, his accreditation for his teaching. The only other things are from his younger days. He did have an arrest record for drunk and disorderly, back in ninety-four, in London, but there was no sentence.”

The officer looked at me, and I thought a bit.

“He told me that he was in London in his late teens, studying music. That was where he met Albert, his partner from then until he died a few years ago from cancer of the liver.”

The Sergeant nodded.

“He was on our records as living with a man in a homosexual partnership. I didn’t want to bring it up in case you didn’t know. Did you know the other man?”

“I did. He taught me how to cook. He worked at the Two Chimneys until he got sick. Albert was one of the nicest men I’ve met, and he loved Tom unconditionally. I was at his bedside as he died.”

“I have to ask, Anthony. What is your own sexual orientation?”

“I’m not gay, sir. I had a girlfriend until the lockdown messed everything up. We’ve spoken on the phone, but not in the last few weeks. I’m still in the process of regaining my life, and this was my first visit here since February. I’d been coming over and cooking Tom a Sunday lunch. There’s the makings of it in my pannier. I never realised that he couldn’t cook, he always had Albert around to do that.”

They left, and I stayed on the seat, my hands on the dogs, soothing them, until an elderly lady walked into the property and saw me.

“Hello. You must be Tony that Tom raves about. I saw all the vehicles coming this way and came over to see if anyone needed help. I see that you’re very friendly with Boobs and Boots.”

I smiled for the first time since I had arrived.

“Do you know, that’s the first time I’ve heard their names. Usually, all that’s been needed is to call for Boo to get the attention of both of them. I’m sorry to tell you, but they took my cousin away in the black van. I found his body this morning.”

Marianne Gregory © 2026