Albert has given permission for me to tell you the first instalment of his story, as long as I change all the names. I'll let Albert, I mean Alec take up the story....
My name's Alec Bronson. Once upon a time I was crazy about someone, let's say her name was Dee. It lasted 2 or 3 years, in some ways the most loving years of my life.
Dee was the youngest of three siblings. Brother 1 joined the Marines and stayed single. Brother 2 was the only one who married and had a family. Dee was the baby of the family. All of them were alcoholics.
Dee's best friend called me with the news she had died (alone in middle age). "And by the way, did you know Dee was abused by her brother?"
Well no, I didn't know that. I thought back to the times when I stayed over at Dee's place, and Brother 1 would sometimes turn up at her door late at night. She would have to get out of bed and cook him a meal or whatever. At the time I thought - what a close loving family! Sometimes I would get dressed and go home, rather than just lie there till she was free again.
On a recent trip to Scotland, I visited Biffo, a chum from way back. His wife overheard us talking about Dee, and said "hang on - I recognise that name". She works in patient records at the psych hospital, and had dealt with the files on Dee. She says there was some debate about the cause of death. Apparently Dee wasted away to nothing, with no clear organic cause except multiple drug use (legal and otherwise) plus alcohol and mental illness.
Back in the day when Dee was in perfect shape, we were all getting out of a taxi after the pub, and Biffo fondled her bum on the way out. Which was more than I had ever done at that point. I went on the huff, even though Biffo was gay in those days.