No Regrets

This story has been a labour of love for me. I had requested the help of editors but non seemed to want to commit to helping me so I was left with no other choice than to self edit.

The basic theme of the story has a connection to my own experiences although the story it self is pure fiction. Any similarities to anyone living or deceased is purely coincidental.

I hope you enjoy.

Chapter 1 -- Caring for Donald

London had just woken up and people were bustling about in the rush hour. It amused Tommy that he was just coming home when everyone else was starting work. He was on his way home after a night caring for a sick elderly woman and he was tired. That was his job, he was a carer, not working in a home but for the rich and elite who could afford care at home. Tommy liked it, it paid well and as a fully qualified nurse he got a better rate.

As he continued his journey home it's then he saw him, a young man in his twenties walking his way. He was slim with jet black hair, his jawline strong and defined. His mouth featured a set of plump rose coloured lips framed by a pair of dimples that would most definitely become more pronounced when he smiled. His eye's were like dark brown pools that seemed to draw you in as they glistened in the sun. To Tommy it was the most handsome face he had ever seen, well, since his first love.

Their eyes locked and neither of them could look away as they passed, it was as though they recognised each other. Tommy definitely had the distinct feeling they had met before.

It wasn't unusual for Tommy to attract attention, he still looked good for his age and at forty one, most would say early thirties. His natural blond hair was soft and his boyish looks often courted the interest of both male and female alike. His body was still lean too, he hadn't put on an ounce of fat throughout his life. It always flattered Tommy that he would receive such interest but he never paid it much attention, until now.

They were both lost in their stare at each other when the young man slammed into a lamppost. Tommy gasped as the young man fell on his back. Tommy ran over.

"Are you ok?" He asked.

"Ow!" The young man cried holding his hand on his forehead.

"Let me see," Tommy said and pulled the hand from his face. Blood poured from a fairly large cut.

"Ooh, thats nasty. Come with me, I can clean that up for you. I'm a nurse. My apartment is just round the corner," Tommy suggested.

"Thanks," the young man said as Tommy helped him to his feet.

This was a first for Tommy, he never

ever

invited strange men back to his apartment but there was something about this guy that was so familiar.

Inside, the young man sat on a couch holding a handkerchief to his head. Tommy appeared with a bottle of antiseptic and dressings. He dabbed the cut with cotton buds, the young man yelped from the stinging.

"What's your name?" Tommy asked.

"Thomas."

"Really? It's not often I meet someone with the same na..." He trailed off as a feeling of deja-vue overwhelmed him, "wait, we've met before, haven't we?"

"Yes, this isn't the first time you've rescued me."

"I'd hardly call it a rescue," Tommy suddenly remembered, "It was years ago, you were being chased by some other kids."

"That's right," Thomas replied, "Ten years to be precise, I was fourteen. You were very kind to me, as you are being now."

Tommy laughed, "It's my job, I'm a..."

"Nurse, yes, you said already."

"You never did tell me why they were chasing you."

"Because they found out I was, er, am gay."

Tommy looked at him a little shocked, he'd never met anyone so open and confident about their sexuality before, but then again this was London in the sixties and times were changing fast.

Tommy studied the young man in front of him, those large brown eyes seemed to draw him in, almost hypnotise him. Suddenly he felt an attraction that he hadn't felt for years. His head became light, his heart raced and he got an erection, he was very very hard. He knew, however, he would never let anything happen between them, he was celibate and that's how he wanted it to stay. He was never going to let go of that first love he had when he was younger, no one will ever take that away from him.

As he knelt in front of Thomas he felt the air become sexually charged with his confession.

"That's a bold thing to admit to a stranger," Tommy said nervously.

"I don't consider you a stranger," Thomas replied, "you were so nice to me I knew it would be ok to tell you. Besides it's not illegal anymore."

Tommy knew what he was referring to, the year was 1967 and just that week the UK government had made sex between men legal. "Yes but there are still a lot of people out there that don't understand."

"True."

They fell silent for a while as Tommy cleaned Thomas's cut. Thomas looked around, "So, are you married?"

"Are you hitting on me?" Tommy teased.

Thomas blushed, "No I'm not, honest, it's just that I see you're wearing a wedding ring."

"Oh, yeah, I wear it to keep stalkers like you away."

Thomas laughed but he seemed to be really happy to hear that Tommy was not married. As he laughed Tommy noticed his eyes seemed to sparkle, his dimples deepen and his perfect white teeth dazzle him. It reminded him of his first love.

"Have you ever been married?" Thomas asked.

"Almost, but I chickened out at the last minute."

Thomas's mood changed from joy to sadness, surprising Tommy somewhat.

"Why?"

"Well I just didn't think I was ready," Tommy said using his stock answer for anyone that ever enquired into his marital status.

"Or is it because you loved someone else?"

Tommy gazed at the young man in shock, how could he have possibly known? He seemed to be very very perceptive.

"Well now you mention it there was someone else." Tommy smiled.

"A man?" Thomas asked beaming.

Tommy almost fell back on his ass. "What?"

"I know you're gay."

Tommy choked, "I-I-I'm sorry?"

"I knew you were gay the moment I met you, especially the way you looked at me in the street earlier."

Tommy placed a dressing over Thomas's cut, "Well that's as maybe but I don't go sleeping around with just anyone you know." He snapped. In fact he didn't sleep around with anyone full stop.

"Neither do I you know. I really am not trying to hit on you."

Tommy felt a bit silly about being on the defensive, "No, of course not." he said as he cleaned the rest of the blood from Thomas's face.

Thomas look around the room, "Nice place you have here."

"Took years to get it like this."

Thomas noticed a photograph of a man holding a baby, it's in a frame, but the edges of the photo were singed. He studied it in his hands.

"Where did you get this photo?"

"Oh, it was sent to me by some people in America, why?"

"This is him, isn't it?"

Again Tommy was astounded by his perceptiveness, was there no end to it? Normally he would just deny it but there was something about Thomas's charming personality that he felt comfortable with. For some reason he couldn't explain he felt okay telling him the truth. "Yes, he was my first and only love."

"Only?"

Tommy nodded.

"You've never been with anyone else since?"

Tommy shook his head.

"Wow," Thomas gazed at Tommy, "you still love him, don't you?"

Tommy took the picture off him, "He was a very special man, I don't think I could ever love anyone else," he said dreamily to the photo. "Anyway," he said snapping out of his trance and returning the picture to its place.

"What would you do if you met him now?" Thomas asked.

"That's not going to happen."

"Why not?"

"Because he's dead," Tommy stood, "would you like a coffee or something?"

Thomas appeared confused and shocked. He stood too.

"Er, no thanks. Are you sure he's dead?"

"Yeah, the people who sent me the photo said that he died with his wife in a fire."

Thomas went silent for a moment, he seemed to be thinking, "I have to go, but first I need to ask you a favour. Are you freelance?"

Tommy was half expecting a further barrage of questions but this change of subject surprised him.

"What, nursing you mean?"

Thomas nodded.

"I do a fair bit, yes. Why?"

"My father is dying, and quite frankly the nurse we have now is useless. I'd like to hire you, will you come round tomorrow morning, it would mean the world to me."

"Well, I don't know, I have a lot on my case right now."

"I'll pay you well, shall we say £5?"

Tommy was going to say forget it as five pounds for a shift was a bit of an insult, "An hour," Thomas added, Tommy's eyes widened, he was stunned at such a figure.

"No? How about £10 an hour?"

For that kind of money Tommy would gladly cancel his other cases, "Ok, what time?"

"10 a.m, here's my card."

He handed Tommy his business card, then kissed him on the cheek. Although Tommy wasn't used to such a show of affection, especially from a man, it felt wonderful, like a butterfly kiss.

Thomas made his own way out leaving Tommy feeling a bit stunned. He picked up the photo and wondered why Thomas showed such an interest in it. He looked at the business card, Thomas Richardson, suddenly he realised he had just been sitting with the son of Donald Richardson, the wealthiest, yet most elusive business man in London.

* * * *

Park Lane, with its magnificent Victorian buildings and expensive cars, was the favoured haunt of the elite and wealthy. Tommy had only passed through this street once before and he wondered what secrets lay behind the walls and doors.

He looked at the address on the card and quickly found the building, one of the largest in the street. He walked up the steps to the large black doors and pulled on a brass lever. Shortly the doors opened and he was greeted by the butler, an elderly gentleman of about fifty-five who carried himself with an air of gentry, walked with grace and spoke clearly and slowly without the slightest hint of emotion.

"Good morning sir, Mr Anderson I presume?" Theodor asked.

"That's correct."

"Please enter," Theodor said.

As Tommy moved past him into the hallway he gasped.

"It has that effect on many that visit for their first time," The butler said.

The black marble floor of the entrance hall sparkled with gold speckles like tiny stars, or was it copper? A splendid staircase split into two and curved to each side of the room. The ceiling, awash with intricate plaster mouldings and carvings looked like a work of art. But the thing that really caught his eye was the massive chandelier. It had an unimaginable amount of glass in it, how the ceiling was strong enough to hold it was beyond belief.

"This way please sir."

Ascending the stairs they eventually came to a pair of double doors opening into a plush bedroom with white chiffon curtains, Georgian wardrobes and a large four- poster bed. Enough light streamed through the gaps in the shuttered windows to illuminate the room.

On the bed lay a frail looking man, gaunt, his eyes sunken into their sockets and his hair falling out in clumps. An oxygen tank fed him via a tube through his nose and an intravenous drip was connected to his arm. Donald Richardson had his eyes closed and seemed to be sleeping.

"Oh you must be my replacement," A female voice said with a strong Irish accent.

Startled, Tommy turned to see a nurse who must have been just behind the doors. She held out a clipboard so he gracefully took it from her.

Theodor made the introductions: "This is Thomas Anderson, Thomas this is Nina Macintyre,"

"Please call me Tommy," he said holding out his hand.

"Everything you need to know is on there." She shook his hand, and pointing to the clipboard, said, "His next medication is due at 3:00pm."

"How long does he have?" Tommy asked.

"The doctors are amazed he's lasted this long, should have died two months ago according to them."

Then, as abruptly as she had appeared, she was gone, "Wow! That was short and sweet," Tommy said.

"I believe the twenty-four hour shift she has just finished my have something to do with that." Theodor surmised.

"I will take my leave, sir, Mr Richardson is quite keen to see you."

Tommy nodded and the old man gracefully closed the large doors behind him.

Tommy walked over to the windows and opened up the shutters to allow more light in the room. He sat on the bed and while taking Mr Richardson's pulse studied the sleeping man, there was something vaguely familiar. It was hard to judge his age for in his current condition he would look much older than he really was. Tommy had seen this before, his condition seemed to be in its final stages, he guessed the poor soul wouldn't be around for much longer.

The doors opened again and Thomas came into the room.

"I'm so glad you came," Thomas said.

Thomas stood by the bed and took hold of his father's hand.

Tommy couldn't see any resemblance in them but then Mr Richardson was so gaunt and pale.

"He should have been dead months ago but it's like he's hanging on, as though there's something he needs to do," Thomas said.

Tommy didn't say anything, he wondered how the poor man could do anything in his current state. He gazed at Thomas, he could see the love in his face for his dying father. This was the part of his job he hated most, seeing grief and worry in the faces of the patients, family or loved ones. He had learned years ago not to become attached to his patients or their families, it was a cold necessity that helped him do his job, otherwise he would have quit a long time ago.

The young man leaned in and kissed his father on the forehead, tears welling in his eyes. Tommy did his best to ignore it and proceeded to take Donald's pulse again, having lost concentration when Thomas had entered the room.

"I'm sorry," he said, wiping his eyes.

"No need for apologies," Tommy replied.

"Would you like me to leave?" he asked.

"No, you're fine. I'm just making a few notes, and checking his medication. You're welcome to stay," Tommy said, "besides it would be better for him to see a familiar face when he wakes up instead of a complete stranger."

Thomas had a smirk on his face, Tommy ignored it as part of the young man's quirky nature.

"You know you never finished telling me about your first and only love. I would love to hear the rest." Thomas said.

"What? I can't do that," Tommy replied, a little embarrassed.

"Please, I really

would

love to hear it."

He stared into Thomas's big brown eyes and couldn't refuse. He had never told anyone about his first love, it was a secret he kept only to himself. Perhaps it might be okay to tell someone; to share it. Tommy walked to the window and sat in one of the two armchairs. Thomas followed.

"Well, it all started in 1944."