A secret between friends

Darren hummed to himself as he carefully stacked the breakfast dishes onto the trolley. He'd only been working in the care home for two weeks but was finding it shaping up nicely into an enjoyable job.

That was, until the old lady in the armchair in front of him snapped 'do you mind? SOME of us are trying to listen to the tv without that racket!"

Darren sighed.  Doreen. Or 'Doreen the destroyer' as he'd heard some of the carers refer to her - rumour had it that she'd reduced some very experienced staff to tears whilst she'd been a resident here. Although cruel, it wasn't far wrong, nothing was ever good enough. If she hadn't been moaning about him disturbing her, she would have been harassing someone else to turn the tv over, or off altogether had she detected someone else watching it.

Without a word, he trundled the trolley off to the kitchen where Cook was waiting. She took one look at his face and grinned. "Which one upset you this time?"

"Doreen" grumbled Darren. "I get this place doesn't exactly feel like the Ritz for them, but honestly. Last week I made the mistake of giving her two choices for her meal, neither of which she wanted, then yesterday I made her bed all wrong because I gave her the extra pillow she asked for".

Cook patted his hand. "Give her time lad. I've seen them all in here. She's like a battle axe, lots of them are but it's just fear. Not many come in here by choice you know, Doctors can sometimes be quick to say they aren't capable on their own, sometimes family members aren't up to it, or don't want to be up to it.  Sometimes the loneliness is just too much."

Darren tried to heed Cooks words over the next few months but Doreen's tirades never seemed to let up. The other residents seemed far calmer compared to her!  Sarah, another carer, took pity on him and often assisted him in tasks where Doreen was concerned. She didn't seem quite so vitriol with two people around. 

Sarah held Doreen's hand to guide them towards the walking frame Darren was holding steady for her. It was time for her shower. Once she was safely ensconced on the chair, Sarah would help with cleaning her whilst he sorted out clean clothes and made her bed. They were taking a long time today. Darren could hear her grumbling, but Sarah remained cheerful enough. He wished he had her patience.

Enjoying a few moments peace he could, he took his phone out of his pocket, scrolling through his recently received messages. The bathroom door opened suddenly, Sarah wheeling the shower chair out of the small space.  Darren hastily fumbled to hide it but wasn't quite quick enough - Doreen's hand reached out and grabbed for it, knocking it to the floor in the process. Laid face up on the lino, the picture on the screen clearly visible, showing Darren kissing a strange man. Sarah picked up the phone and handed it back to Darren quickly, but it was too late, Doreen was staring at Darren with her lips pursed.  

"Get out" she hissed.

"Mrs....Doreen....I'm sorry you saw that but this is my private life and..."

"I said get out. Now. And you" she added to Sarah. "You think you can keep secrets from me? I wonder if you've kept this little secret from the boss?"

She scowled at them both. "No doubt she'll ask when I tell her you aren't to look after me anymore. I don't want your kind here." This last sentence was aimed in Darrens direction. He opened his mouth to argue but Sarah pushed him towards the door. "I'll calm her down" she whispered. "Don't antagonise he. No doubt she will have forgotten tomorrow".

Doreen didn't forget. Thankfully, Darren thought, she hadn't 'outed' him to management. Not that he cared, he wasn't embarrassed of his preferences but he suspected many of the residents may have the same reaction - the looks of disgust from Doreen constantly were enough to deal with, without adding more to the mix. It was his own fault he sighed to himself. If he'd just left his damn phone alone! That on its own  was more likely to get him into trouble with the management rather than his sexual preferences.

It was inevitable though, that he would be tasked to caring for Doreen, he wouldn't be able to avoid it forever, no matter how many other duties he took on. The supervisor had her hands full with a resident with medical issues - it was Darrens duty to help Doreen to the dining room.  

Bringing the walking frame over towards her armchair, he leaned over to assist her upright. She shrank back, twisting in the cushions away from him.

"I can do it myself, I certainly don't need YOUR help" she frowned in annoyance.

"Doreen, I'm just trying to make sure you're safe. I can't force you to let me, but first and foremost I'm a carer, it's my duty"

Darren sighed heavily. It was no use. "Fine, I'll go and get someone else, someone who you can bear to be around. Now, who can I find to inflict on you?" He stood up resignedly.

"You know, my son was gay" Doreen spoke quietly but clearly.  Darren had walked away, but he turned round and came back to sit beside her. She continued "he had a childhood sweetheart, our neighbour, Irene's daughter.  Katie, she's called. They were best friends. We wanted them to get married, we'd be great mother in laws together. So we encouraged them. It didn't last long, Katie wanted to go to university and live abroad. My son then met HIM. He told me he loved him and they were going to get married instead. I couldn't have that, what would everyone have said? So he moved away. I haven't seen him since."

Darren took a deep breath. He hadn't expected that, nor for Doreen to open up to him. "We could get in touch with him, if you'd like...."

"No point. I don't know where he is. He'd feel guilty that I'd ended up in this place. I wouldn't want to go and live with him, or his husband, if they did get married after all. I've got no money left for him, selling the house didn't get me much then paying for this place...Not exactly the best mum was I?

She eyed Darren. "So what else do you do? I know you've got another job, I heard you telling Sarah. What do you do when you're not here?"

Darren wondered whether to tell her. Although things seemed better at the moment, they were still on shaky ground, the truth might ruin things. Yet Doreen had shared her secret with him. It wasn't fair not to do the same.

"I'm a drag queen. I perform on stage in a club"

Doreen stared at him. "You mean you..." she snorted "bloody hell, being a poofter is one thing, but tarting yourself up in knickers and a frock? I've seen you dancing and singing. But I bet you look bloody stupid in a wig an’ all!"

Darren got up to leave. He should have known it was too much to take in. Being a carer was one thing, but his drag queen persona was where he really felt he belonged. No prejudiced old lady was going to ruin his dream.  

Doreen reached out and grabbed his arm. "Take me with you lad". 

At his shocked expression she continued "I haven't had a night out since I arrived in this dump. Here it's all bingo and bed at 8pm. I used to go to the club every weekend with Irene. Beat the gentlemen at cards. I miss that..."

She sniffed a little "please?"

"I....I can't Doreen.." stuttered Darren. "I wouldn't be allowed. You couldn't be left on your own whilst I'm on stage. Plus you think I'm an idiot"

"I already think you're an idiot, lad. But it doesn't mean I don't want to see your show.  Sarah knows. She could take me".

Friday night and Darren was backstage, adding the final touches to his outfit. Somewhere out there, Doreen was waiting, a shandy in hand, no doubt, with Sarah sitting beside her. They'd had to convince to the boss of course, the two of them taking her out for a sedate drink and a game of dominos at a local pub. She'd given in, anything to stop the old bag being any more crochety; she'd already had several staff meetings around Doreen's moods and her treatment of the carers. Maybe a change of scene would make a difference. She didn't know it actually involved a nightclub in town, filled with entirely unsuitable company for an 80 year old lady.

In the spotlight Darren launched into his  routine, strutting round stage in a sequinned dress and high heels, sarcastically responding to his usual hecklers, drawing laughter from the crowd. By the end he was glistening with sweat, but buoyed up, he turned to the audience

"I've got a new fan in tonight, her first time seeing me up here. We had to break her out of prison, so I hope it was worth it, before we smuggle her back in.  Doreen, this is for you."

He launched into a song he knew was one of her favourites, he'd seen her listening to it on the radio and being uncharacteristically quiet. She'd probably never envisioned it being sang by a 6' man in a long red wig and matching lipstick though, but he figured, it was never too late!

He made his way back to the table afterwards, out of costume, but still recognisable to the regulars who greeted him along the way. By the time he arrived, it looked like Sarah was trying to prevent Doreen from attempting to dance on the table - she'd moved on from the more suitable shandy to what looked like whiskey.  Sarah sent Darren a pleading look.

"Can we get her out of here? Please? She's going to have a heart attack, or get arrested if she carries on!"

The next few weeks returned pretty much to normal. Once Doreen had recovered from her hangover (or a 'touch of flu' as she insisted to the home manager) she continued to snap at the carers as before, keeping them on their toes and dancing to her demands. She relented slightly in the presence of Sarah and Darren, never failing to cackle when she saw them, and reminisce in private with them about 'the bloody brilliant night'. She'd had a wonderful time. A nice young man had asked her to dance and she'd ignored Sarah's nagging about her recent hip replacement. She'd never let on to anyone else about Darrens double life though.  He'd been worried about that, he wasn't ashamed of his second career but he didn't think everyone's reaction to his secret would match Doreen's.  

The telephone call had come out of the blue, a talent scout in the audience the same night Doreen had been. He'd loved his rendition of one of his grandfathers favourite songs, he'd be perfect for a new show, she was helping with, an already established club in London.....

The day after his interview he'd practically skipped into work, he couldn't wait to tell Doreen his news.  She hadn't been in her usual seat, griping about breakfast being late or the tv volume being too low. One of the carers told Darren she was in her room, she'd refused to leave it.

Fearing she was ill, he'd hurried in. She didn't look well, didn't bark out demands as soon as he'd entered. She was laid in her bed with her curtains closed, the sunlight peeping through the gaps. She tiredly patted the seat next to her, indicating he should sit.

For the next few days she remained in her bed. In gaps between tasks, Darren had excused himself to visit her, even going in on his days off to sit alongside her, making small talk. They discussed anything and everything, the weather, politics, titbits about her former life. They talked about his new future. She was adamant in her displeasure that he was still at the care home instead of packing his bags for London.

"This, this isn't where you're meant to be lad" she told him tiredly. "Wiping ancient arses for a living when you've got legs that I'd have killed for when I was 19. You've been given a chance which you must think you've earned. Even I can see how hard you must have worked, fake tits or not. If you don't go now you'll blink and find yourself sitting in a puddle of piss haranguing poor young sods like yourself just to give yourself summat to do." 

Darren grimaced. He knew he wanted to go, he also knew he was scared. Here was safe. He was popular on the scene here, but London? It was a whole different ball game. Brighter lights. Bigger money. More competition - a lot more. A small town in Yorkshire was hardly teeming with likeminded men queuing up to join him on stage, especially one in a working men's club. But the possibilities in a big city?

"Speaking of ancient arses Doreen, when are you dragging yours out of this bed?"

Doreen looked at him with heavy eyes. Her hands twisted in the bedsheets.  

"We all knew that was my last hoora lad. I haven't got any more in me, I'm bored of all this". She glanced around the room, indicating what she meant. "I haven't got time to change anything, to make it up with my son even. God knows what he'd have thought of me in that club. Might have been ashamed of me!"

"Or he might have been proud. Let me call him, Doreen. Tell me his number"

She shook her head, laying back on the pillows. "Not today. Maybe later".

Darren quietly left the room, resolving to both pack that night, and find out the sons contact details tomorrow. 

Three weeks later, Darren stood on a small railway platform, surrounded by two suitcases, his train ticket to London in his back pocket. He'd finally plucked up the courage to go, bolstered on by Doreen's belief in him, as well as the phone call he'd received at 8am the following morning after he'd left her sleeping. He'd never had a chance to find out her sons contact details, or even his name. The care home hadn't had any success either, nothing was mentioned in their notes about her. Doreen's funeral had been a quiet affair, attended by just him, Sarah and the care home manager in the end. Darren had handed his notice in straight afterwards and booked his train ticket the same day.