On December 10th 1936, having only acceded to the throne a few months earlier, King Edward VIII abdicated so as to be able to marry the woman he loved. I remember that the young people of Britain were deeply moved: everybody was on the side of the romantic king, prepared to renounce the throne rather than renounce his beloved.
England's youth wanted him as their king... but the establishment won the battle, and Edward Windsor departed in voluntary exile, giving up the throne to his brother George. I was twenty-one at the time and said to myself that, if I loved somebody, I would renounce ten thrones rather than lose them. But when I had been separated from Michel, neither he nor I had a kingdom to renounce in order to protect our love.
At my Journalism School they asked us to write an article about the historic event of the abdication. Mine was written in the spirit of what I've just said, though in speaking of my love, I didn't let out it was for a man. It was judged to be very original, but was never published. One of my fellow students asked me a copy, because he found it very beautiful. His name was Richard, he was the son of a baronet. We were friends because he was really likeable and, although a noble, was not a bit snobbish. Physically, he wasn't my type, though even if he had been, I would never have tried anything with a fellow student. He often invited me to his home, as some of the other students did. One day he asked me if I would care to go to his riding club with him. I often went riding when I lived in France and I enjoyed it, so I was delighted to go with him.
Richard belonged to a really exclusive club, but thanks to his introduction, I could enter as his guest. Not being a member, I was not allowed to ride, so I stayed sipping tea in the lounge and waited for him. After a while, a really handsome young man in riding attire came in. He looked all round, nodded to the barman then came straight towards me.
"Mind if I join you?"
"Yes, please do..."
"Your first time here, isn't it?"
"Yes."
"Let me introduce myself: my name is Benjamin."
He said just his Christian name, which seemed odd, so I did the same. His proximity had the power of arousing me very much. That young man radiated sensuality like an aura around him. I chatted with him briefly, trying not to show my discomfiture. We discussed the weather, the compulsory subject in England, and other banal subjects.
Then someone called him. He excused himself and left me. Even though I hadn't yet got know him, I felt a sense of emptiness when he went away. I stood up and went to the window. Several riders were training on the manège. Amongst them I recognised Richard, unmistakable because of his Celtic red hair, and then Benjamin too. He was riding with great style: his elegance was breathtaking. I couldn't take my eyes off the magnificent rider. It was a long time since I had been so struck by a man!
Richard came back into the lounge: "Are you bored, Andrew?"
"Not at all. Who is that rider?"
"Benjamin? He is the best."
"Does he win competitions?"
"No, never."
"How come?"
"He refuses to take part in competitions."
"But why? With his style..."
"He says that competition kills both the pleasure and the sport..."
"I see... maybe he's right."
"Could be. But if he were to compete, he'd take all the trophies. So it's better this way, don't you think? At least I can get a look in!"
"I'd love to be able to ride like him."
"I don't doubt it, and you're not the only one."
"Listen, Richard, is it possible for me to become a member of this club?"
"Well, it's not quite that simple... To be accepted, you have to be introduced by five members... I could be one, but we'd still have to find another four. If you really are keen to join, you'll need come here with me for some time, make yourself known... But I warn you: it won't be easy, there's no guarantee, and it may take quite a while..."
"That's fine by me!" I answered enthusiastically.
At that moment Benjamin came back in: "Hello Richard, Andrew."
"You two have met?" asked my friend, surprised.
"No..." I said in the same breath as Ben answered: "Yes."
We both looked at each other and burst into laughter.
"We just exchanged names." Benjamin explained.
We all three sat at a table and started to talk.
"Ah, so you're studying journalism like our dear Richard. Do you enjoy it?"
"Very much..."
"May I ask why?"
Then I explained to him what journalism meant to me. I don't know how long I talked for, but when I stopped I realised that a dozen of the other members had gathered round us. Benjamin began to applaud and soon the others joined in. I blushed violently.
"It's a pity you're not a barrister: I would have placed my trust in you, if I had problems with the law." one of the members said.
I was embarrassed. "I do apologise, I let myself get carried away..."
"Apologise? What for? It's been a real pleasure listening to you." another said with courtesy.
Back home, I couldn't keep Benjamin out of my mind. His penetrating look, his frank, sincere smile, his perfect lips... I saw again his beautiful physique, lean and athletic, light and skilled on his horse, as well in the lounge. He looked almost like... a king.
The following day someone rang at our door. I heard my mother go to answer, speak with somebody, and then the door closing.
Mum entered the living room with a strange expression in her face, an envelope in her hands: "It's for you, Andrea."
"What is it?" I asked, puzzled by her expression.
"Don't know, I don't understand. It was a man in livery, in a car with a coat of arms... he gave me this..."
She handed me the envelope. Upon it was my name, in elegant calligraphy. I opened it. It contained a single page bearing a coat of arms and the address of Lord C**. In the same elegant hand were the words:
"Andrea Nike Esq.
I apologise for having had the temerity to ask our mutual friend Sir Richard for your address. I felt I simply must write you those few words to thank you for the interesting conversation you honoured me with at the Club. In response to my probably facile question, you were so gracious as to reveal to me the noble values carried in your soul. What you said has impressed me deeply. Desirous of the pleasure of your precious company, I pray you, if it would not trouble you too much, to pay me a visit at home next Sunday, for luncheon at noon. If you already have other commitments, I pray you to let me know and it will be my pleasure to invite you at a time to better suit your convenience. In anticipation of your gracious reply, please believe me
Your very devoted
Benjamin, Lord C**"
My mother saw my gaping mouth, my wide open eyes and asked: "Bad news?"
"N... no... read it."
Mum read, and gave a little cry: "An invitation to Duncaster House ?! That's splendid!"
Soon great confusion reigned at home. Everybody was speaking at once. I was dazed. I didn't know what to do, what to say.
The next day at college, as soon as I saw Richard I handed him the letter and asked: "What ought I to do?"
He read it and said: "Well, good heavens, accept, of course! I've never had such an honour. Did you not know that Benjamin is one of the King's fourth cousins?"
"Yes, I know; that's why I don't know what to do. I wouldn't know how to behave at Duncaster House... and I don't have the right clothes, and..."
"Andrew! He has invited you, it's he who wants you to be his guest. And he's one of the owners of 'The Times', too! Surely you wouldn't let such an opportunity go by? And for the Club, too - he would only have to propose your admission for at least a dozen other members to be glad to second your application!"
"But, why didn't you tell me the other day that he... he was Lord C**?"
"Because... I don't know. At the Club we never use our titles, out of respect for those members without them. It's an old tradition to use only Christian names between members..."
"But does he know that I'm not of the gentry? That I come from a modest family? That I'm a foreigner?"
"Yes, of course: he asked me all about you yesterday. He seems to have taken quite a liking to you. He asked me all sorts of things about you... and I told him. Did I do the wrong thing? Do you mind?"
"No... no, not at all."
So I wrote a card thanking him and accepting. Sunday I wore my best suit, and drove over in my little runabout, arriving at Duncaster House at five to twelve as etiquette required.
The door was answered by the butler, to whom I handed my visiting card and said simply: "Good morning. I am expected." as Richard had instructed.
The butler gave my card an almost casual glance and, bowing slightly, said: "Yes, Mr. Nike. Please come in."
The mansion was a superb 17 th century building, and sumptuous, to say the least. I was shown into a drawing room. A few moments later Benjamin came in.
Excited, I bowed slightly and greeted him: "M'lord..."
"Hey, Andrew please! Don't let's stand on ceremony. Don't take any notice of what Richard said. My name's Benjamin, and that will do. I'm so glad you accepted my invitation."
I felt embarrassed but tried to behave as naturally possible. He led me into another salon, where he introduced me to his mother, two sisters and youngest brother. Then we went through to the dining room. His father being no longer alive, Benjamin sat at the head of the table. On his left, his mother, with me opposite on his right. Then his brother and his two sisters, as etiquette required. Liveried servants began to serve lunch. The entire meal passed with all the solemnity and ritual of a religious ceremony. But the conversation was perfectly pleasant and ordinary. Once lunch was over, his mother, sister and brothers excused themselves and we were left alone. Benjamin led me to the library. We sat down, he lit his pipe and we continued to talk.
"I was tremendously impressed by your enthusiasm for journalism. No, to be more accurate, I was impressed by your enthusiasm, full stop. You really are an exceptional person, and that's why I'm hoping so much we shall be able to develop a real friendship."
I was deeply excited by the proximity to that man, young and with a beauty that almost overwhelmed me. My head was buzzing and my heart was pounding fiercely.
"You are too kind, sir..." I managed to say.
He looked at me, then laughed. I stared at him: half taken aback by his unexpected laughter, half fascinated by the radiant beauty of his face.
"Sorry, but... I think we should stop being so formal. Let's just relax and be ordinary, shall we?"
The buzzing in my head seemed to increase: everything was happening too fast, everything was beautiful, incredible. He was still looking at me, cheerfully, awaiting my reply. But I couldn't utter a single word. My throat seemed to have dried up. So I simply nodded yes.
Benjamin was a true gentleman. In a relaxed manner, realising my embarrassment and confusion, he started talking easily in such a way that I could answer with just monosyllables, thereby bearing the brunt of our conversation. So, I gradually managed to relax and regain a degree of self-confidence. My confused state was certainly made worse by the strong attraction Benjamin was exerting on me. I was completely, totally fascinated. I can say that it really was a crush at first sight, a real bolt from the blue.
But Benjamin belonged to the highest nobility in the land, a peer of the realm, fourth cousin to the King, very rich, famous... how could I even imagine, hope... And also, who could tell if he had the same tendencies? And even if he did, how could I hope that I would be his type? True, he had invited me, probably he had taken a liking to me; or perhaps he just wanted to be entertained by my conversation...
All this pragmatic thinking couldn't alter one jot the fact that I was utterly absorbed with him.
When, thank Goodness, I finally went home, I felt drunk. My mind was elsewhere as I drove, and it is only because the Sunday afternoon traffic was so slow that I got home without an accident. My family was waiting for me. Even Carlo was there with his wife. I had to tell and retell, to describe over and over again... they were all really excited.
But I could only think of Benjamin's beauty, his charm and his likeableness.
I wrote a thank-you card that I intended sending by post, but Carlo was so insistent that he should deliver it that in the end I had to agree and entrusted it to him. To be honest, I had to try I don't know how many times before I finally managed to write a card that suitably expressed my feelings. In the end I wrote something more or less like this:
"Dear Benjamin,
I thank you most sincerely for the kindness and warmth of the welcome I received from you and your family, and even more, for your offer of friendship. I hope that it can blossom and that I will be able to live up to your expectations."
What I felt very important was that Benjamin wouldn't think that my acceptance of his proffered friendship concealed the hope of receiving from him favours or advantages, because of his high rank. What I didn't yet know, on the other hand, was that Benjamin was a homosexual like me, that he too had got a crush on me at first sight, the moment he entered the club lounge, and that this was strengthened talking with me. Neither did I know, at that time, that his mother knew very well what her son's sexual preferences were, and that she neither judged nor condemned him for that. Benjamin had told her about me and so she wanted to know me, though her son had told her that he didn't really know if anything there might be any attraction between us, given the fact that he didn't even know if I was homosexual or not. But, he had said to his mother, he wanted me near him as a friend at least.
I don't know if his mother had assumed that attitude of remarkable open-mindedness, all the more remarkable in a person of her rank and generation, simply out of understanding and love for her son, or also to protect the family from possible scandal. Certainly, without either Benjamin or myself knowing, she had engaged a private detective agency to investigate me and my family. All this I was to find out later.
Fortunately, from that day when I was invited to lunch, and when, incidentally, I had made a good impression on his mother, I stopped going out looking for adventure, because I was totally taken with Benjamin and couldn't think about anyone or anything else.
My twenty-second birthday arrived. As a present, I received from Benjamin my admission to his Club and a horse. Our friendship was growing and we met quite often, but our relationship was still only platonic.
Benjamin wanted to meet my family, but he asked me not to introduce him with his real name, so as not to embarrass them. So I brought him home without telling them in advance and introduced him as Ed, a horse-riding chum. My family welcomed him with their usual simplicity and asked him to stop for supper.
Hearing he was a member of the same Club as me, they asked him if he knew Lord C**. Benjamin answered yes, and added: "I've known him quite well for many years. I'd even go so far as to say he's a very dear friend of mine."
I held back my laughter with difficulty and noticed that Ben was enjoying himself too: though he remained impassive, in his eyes flickered an impish smile that made him even more adorable to me.
When Benjamin left, I took him home in my car. He told me he had found my family delightful: "Can you imagine, Andrew, what a pleasure it is for me to be among genuine, spontaneous, simple people at last... What warmth there is in your family! I have spent a splendid evening and I really do thank you very much"
He said those words with such a surge and such a truth that I in my turn thanked him: "You know, Ben... I'm really happy that this beautiful friendship is growing between us. I hope it can grow stronger and stronger. I feel so good around you."
Looking at me with his usual merry, bright glance, he broke into one of his fresh smiles that made him resemble a kid, notwithstanding his twenty-six years, and said: "Me too, I feel very good with you. You are probably the only friend who has ever seen me as a person first and foremost, and not a peer. It's so awkward, sometimes, to be a Lord! It's almost a prison. A gilded prison, it's true, but a prison nonetheless. And you are like a ray of sunshine..."
Oh, how much I wanted to embrace him! But I was afraid of spoiling the burgeoning friendship that was so precious to me, if I so much as let him suspect my desire for him. The truth is that I had to exert incredible self-control not to allow him to suspect my true feelings.
1937. Christmas came. It was seven months since we had met. That year there had been the Hindenburg disaster and news of the terrible Stalinist purges. I wrote articles about these two events and both were published. I was in the penultimate year of my course. Ben suggested I should join 'The Times'.
"Ben, I would like to very much. But I don't want to be hired just because we are friends. I'd rather join another newspaper."
"But why? You are a born journalist, you are smart. Why should 'The Times' have to lose you, just because we are friends? It's not right!"
"If 'The Times' wants me, I will accept. But you have to swear to me that you'll not do anything to make that happen."
He looked at me, serious, then said: "That's good, you're right. I promise." Then continued "You really are unique. And I really am a lucky man to have met you and to have your friendship."
For Christmas I presented Ben with a book on the natural and artistic beauty of Italy. He gave me a wonderful typewriter.
At times it was difficult for me to be near him: my body cried out for him, I was inflamed with a desire of an intensity I'd never felt before and it was increasingly difficult for me to hide that from him. I never suspected that he was feeling the same. But at that point, he too cared so much about our friendship that, rather than risk ruining it, he preferred to sublimate his own desires.
It was the middle of February 1938 when at last one day something happened that solved the problem for both of us.
I was in Benjamin's library, waiting for him. Taking out a book at random, I started to read. It was a private, complete edition of Oscar Wilde's "De Profundis". On the first page was an autographed dedication by Lord Alfred Douglas, Oscar Wilde's famous lover:
"To my dear Benjamin, hoping he can find the love I had with Oscar, but without as much sorrow."
My head was like a volcano as I read and re-read that dedication: perhaps it meant that Ben too... or there was no connection at all? And yet the dedication seemed rather transparent...
I didn't hear the door open, nor I did notice Benjamin come in, until I saw him beside me. I blushed and closed the book. Ben realised from my blushing that I had read the dedication.
Hesitating, he said: "You read it, didn't you?"
I nodded yes, my heart in my throat.
Ben stared into my eyes and, in a low voice, said: "Now... you know about me. I too I am one of those who... who live the kind of 'love that dare not speak its name'..."
I was silent, still unable to put my brain into order.
Ben continued: "Will... will this change anything in our friendship?"
At that point, making a terrific effort to speak coherently and to resist my immediate impulse to fling my arms around his neck, as I was considering the fact that he too was homosexual like me didn't automatically mean he fancied me, I answered in a small voice: "Yes... I hope so."
"You... you hope so? I don't understand..."
"Ben, oh Ben! Me too; I'm like you!"
He looked at me, at first astounded, then he brightened up and seemed like happiness personified. He took the book from me, took one of my hands in his own and said, his voice broken by emotion: "Andrew, my Andrew!"
We embraced tightly. His lips searched for mine and we kissed. Our bodies quivered and when we moved apart, we were both as transformed.
A kind of radiant aura shone from his face: "Oh, God! How many months I've longed for this, for this moment. How many months my flesh burned in desire for you, my heart burned in love with you, my mind had no thought other than you! Oh, my Andrew..."
"And me, Ben? From the first moment I saw you I desired you. But if at the beginning it was mainly a physical desire, aesthetic, very soon, knowing you, it was transformed in love. And how difficult it has been for me to hide it from you!"
"Why did we waste so many months?"
"No, they're not wasted. It has been a kind of long and unconscious... betrothal. It's allowed us to transcend the simple attraction, the bare physical desire, even though they are so strong. Now, finally, I can say to you in full certainty: I love you, Ben!"
"Me too, I love you too!" he said with emotion.
We embraced again and kissed, and each of us felt excitement and desire rise in the other. Our happiness was complete.
"I need you, Andrew."
"And I you, my love. But... we mustn't rush, now. Allow me time convince myself that all this is not a dream..."
"You... you won't... come upstairs with me?" he asked almost stupefied.
"No, not now, not today. Now we know, so we have no need to hurry. Even if I would like to unite with you here, straightaway, I think it would be better for the future to give ourselves to each other little by little. Today, our emotions would be too violent. Today I would be thinking just of my own happiness. On the contrary, what I want is to make you happy."
"Yes. As usual, you are right. Notwithstanding I'm older than you, you are more mature than me. But... for months I've been wanting to shout something to you, an urge in my chest, in my lips: I love you, I love you, I love you! And at last I can say it to you without fear."
I brushed his cheek with my fingers, then his lips and murmured: "I love you too, Ben. I love you too, and desire you and want you!"
We again embraced and kissed. Then he parted from me, slowly, as if reluctantly, and said: "Let's go out. We have to celebrate."
"Yes, we should. Where do you want to go?"
"I don't know. Let's just take my car and go..."
Thus began a strange period for us both: we burned with desire, yet we held back. We caressed, kissed each other, but, notwithstanding the passion that was devouring us, we decided not to take the final step. However, our intimacy was growing step by step.
So, one day when we were alone, embracing, I said: "Ben, I can't resist any more... please..."
He smiled sweetly, put a finger to my lips and said: "Not yet, my love. Be patient until Monday..."
"Till Monday? Four whole days? But why till Monday exactly? What's happening on Monday?"
"Be free on Monday. Tuesday too, if you can..."
"Where are we going?"
"That's a surprise. But you'll see that it's worth waiting; at least, I hope so."
"All right. But we'd better to stop embracing like this, or I won't be responsible for my actions."
He smiled and left me.
Those four days passed so slowly... But at last it was Monday and we were off. He drew out of London, towards Canterbury. Arriving at Sittingbourne, he turned left and, two miles later, he took a narrow lane. He stopped in front of a small, elegant, Victorian building.
"Here we are, my love."
"What is it? Where are we going?" I asked curiously, "Who lives here?"
"What a lot of questions! It's one of our cottages. My grandfather had it built. Then, on his death, it remained shut up. In these last few days I've had it cleaned and refurnished: it will be our nest, our home, just yours and mine alone. Come in, my love."
We went inside. It was really beautiful, delightfully furnished. He led me by the hand on a tour. There was just one room left on the first floor.
He stopped in front of the door and said: "I'd like to carry you over the threshold..."
I understood and answered: "What are you waiting for?"
Then he picked me up, opened the door and carried me inside in his arms. He set me down onto the big bed and lay on top of me. We embraced very tightly and started to caress and to kiss. Little by little we undressed each other, caressing with more and more intimacy until we both felt ready and coupled without restraint, with no hesitations or limits.
For the first time, I saw his body naked: to my eyes it had a radiant beauty. It was a feast for all my senses: my eyes glided insatiably over his perfect physique, my hands touched all his silky body, now lightly, now with frenzy, my ears rejoiced in the sound of his warm and sensual voice, his scent, light but unequivocally male, intoxicated me, his taste was the joy of my eager mouth.
It had been worth the effort of waiting, of holding back, to be finally able to experience such intense and magic moments.
And that miracle happened that occurs when two persons share love and friendship, affection and sex, strength and weakness, passion and tenderness. That miracle happened, as splendid as it is rare, that makes two beings a single entity. That miracle that makes you feel outside space and time, so that only you and the other exist, melted in a unique, marvellous, sweetest reality.
We passed two dream-days where the moments we spent united in love alternated with others when we went on long walks, cooked, read, or listened to music on the wireless or gramophone - but always, we were lost in each other.
When we left the cottage to go back to London, Ben said: "It doesn't have a name yet: will you give it one?"
I pondered for a moment, then suggested: "Sunshine Hut. Because you are my sun..."
"... and you, my shining boy: so we are both in the name." Ben completed immediately, starting the car.
But the surprises were not over yet. Back in London, Ben drove into Cadogan Lane, a street almost half-way between my house and Duncaster House. He stopped and we alighted from the car. We entered a front door and went up to the first floor.
Ben took out a key and holding it out to me, said: "Open that door."
We entered a small apartment. The rooms were empty.
"This is my gift. You can furnish it how you like. This will be our city hideaway. Do you like it?"
"But, Ben... don't you think this is going a bit over the top?"
"No. It's good to have our own place here in the city too, just yours and mine. And I want you to furnish this one, just as I furnished the other one. I'll arrange for you to meet a friend of mine, an interior designer. You explain to him what you want, and he will take care of everything. And don't worry about the money. Do you like it?"
"It's beautiful. But I... I... I have nothing to give you..."
"Silly boy! You have yourself and you have made me a priceless gift: your love and yourself."
"But you too; you have given me the same gift. So we're not even..."
"Listen: if you give me a thousand million pounds, and I give you the same sum, plus sixpence more, can you really say that my gift is bigger than yours?"
I laughed. "Ben, oh Ben! You make everything seem so simple..."
"Hurrah! At last it's my turn to be right for once!" Ben answered merrily and closed my mouth with a kiss full of passion.
So, when I had finished furnishing the apartment, I brought Ben and led him in. He was really delighted with what I'd done. So we inaugurated it as we had done the cottage, but this time it was my turn to carry him in my arms into our bedroom.
The same year Ben made me another important gift: in Italy my family was considered as exiled and, not having obeyed my call-up, I was considered a deserter. So Dad applied for British citizenship, but the file was progressing very slowly. Thanks to Ben's interest, we were granted British citizenship on 18th March 1938, and we renounced our Italian nationality.