Dickie Williams

He may have lost his sight but the other four senses worked overtime to compensate. There was also something else, it was difficult at the time for me to understand it fully and it is difficult now for me to properly find the right words to tell you now exactly how it was. It was as if some kind of thought transfer was taking place between us, as if the sight patterns which registered through my eyes could also give him a picture, however faint, of that I could see.

“You know,” I said one day, “I think I could stay here for ever. Just you, me and this sunshine.”

“We can,” Dickie said. “Paradise lasts for ever.”
But we decided that we could not live our lives no matter how lovely the island was away from everything we knew. We were both very active people who needed a purpose in our lives. We talked and made a perfect plan. 

We would return to England where Dickie would pick up his music career. I would join him and Cliff’s promotion company would do all it could to make us number one. The media was still very interested in our story so we had a good chance of success. We would set up two homes for ourselves, one in England and on in Barbados.

“I would like to suggest something,” Dickie said.

“Yeah.”

“I already have a lot of money, god knows how many times over I am a millionaire – I don’t need any more money. Add to that the fact that we are both going to make even more money. But we don’t need it do we ? I mean providing we are comfortable and have each other what more is there ?”

I knew what he was trying to say.”

“How about we take what we need and rather than squander the rest or simply hoard it we give it away ?”

“Sounds good to me.”

“I would like to help those who saved my life: the hospital, air ambulance and now organisations who support the blind.”

How perfect. Indeed how wonderfully perfect.

In time our holiday in the sunshine came to an end. We bade farewell for the time being to the beautiful island of Barbados making a promise to return as soon as we could and to buy our own home on that idyll of paradise.

Back in England things moved so very quickly and within weeks both Dickie and I had recording contracts. Hours of tortuous work in the recording studio and our first single was ready to be released. Our dear friend Harry’s promotion company worked twenty-five hours a day and it took but a few moments in the shops for us to make it to number one on both sides of the Atlantic.

Marvellous though this was there were some special events coinciding with the success which were even more so.

Dickie’s old football club played host to a pop concert as our first fund raiser for the charities e had chosen to support. Dickie and I set an ambitios target of one million pounds but with ticket sales, TV and video rights and the marketing of souvenirs we were confident we would achieve it.

Hours of rehursal did not dull the excitement and as the day drew ever closer we were like two small kids anticipating a special treat.

We didn’t sleep very much at all the night before but lay awake cuddling each other, the warmth of our bodies only surpassed by the warmth of the love we had found. How truly lucky we were.

There had simply not been the time for us to look for a new home and so we were still living in my little flat. It had become our special place and I just could not remember what it had been like to have lived there alone and without Dickie.

I had discovered that my multi-talented lover was also a fantastic cook who loved preparing meals for us but that morning I determined that I would the one to prepare breakfast. I awoke my lover to a full English platter followed by champagne and fresh strawberries.

Dickie placed his hands on my face, smiled and said, “I am so lucky, what have I done to be so fortunate and find you ?”

A single tear rolled down my cheek and touched his finger.

“Why are you crying ?”

It was a tear of joy but I have to admit to some sadness that my beloved Dickie could no longer see anything. He knew exactly what I was thinking.”

“Don’t cry, I can see you perfectly in my heart and that’s where it counts.”

“Oh Dickie you are everything to me.”

We arrived at the football ground before mid-day and went into a final rehearsal. Of course we weren’t the only ones performing, the line up read like a who’s who of pop music over the past two generations. Every one of them gave their time free of charge to raise support for the charities.

Since I had known Dickie I had got used to being around famous celebrities but so many together there in one place just made me nervous. The thing was they were all just supporting acts, Dickie and I were billed as the stars. How daunting. The TV was broadcasting the concert live and rights had been syndicated the world over, god only knew how many would be watching us.

But when Dickie and I walked out and onto the stage the roar of our wonderful fans and the warm, warm welcome they gave to us quelled any fears. A sudden rush of adrenalin surged through my body and it was terrific.

The concert began with Dickie singing that ancient old disco classic Hi Ho Silver Lining, originally recorded by Jeff Beck. When he had finished he offered the audience some poignant words.

“Thank you, thank you -,” he said. “I know it is more usual top finish a party with that rather than use it as an opening number but the thing is I was so nearly finished myself – if it had not been for the caring and skilled support of so many people I wouldn’t be here, I would be dead. Tonight is about those people and raising as much money as we can to help them save the lives of many, many others. Thank you all.”

The applause was phenomenal and I guessed that those watching on television at home were clapping too.

Dickie and I then went into a harmony duet, the voice coaching and singing lessons arranged by the promotion company boys certainly paid results. Then it was my turn to sing solo. I had chosen a re-write of the Blondie song Denis singing Dickie instead. A few bars into the song it occurred to me that I was probably making the biggest statement ever in support of gay love. Millions the world over were watching and hearing me declare my love for Dickie. I could feel huge waves of support form oh so many of them.

Oh Dickie doo be do,
I’m in loved with you Dickie doo be do -
I’m in love with you Dickie doo be do -
I’m in love with you.

Dickie, Dickie oh with your eyes so blue,
Dickie, Dickie I’ve got a crush on you,
Dickie, Dickie I’m so in love with you.

Oh when we walk it always feels so nice,
And when we talk its seems like paradise,
Dickie I’m so in love with you………………………………………

I was in a dream, a wonderful beautiful dream. The rest of the concert passed that way. A magnificent finale saw Dickie and I front an extravaganza of stars to form a choir and sing John Lennon’s All You Need Is Love. Such a gathering could only come together on the rarest of occasions.

When we eventually got home in the tiny small hours of the morning the last thing I could possibly have done was to sleep. So for a second night we lay together in bed just hold in each other. We savoured that fantastic evening, made wonderful love to each other and finally dozed in each other’s embrace. How I loved Dickie and how he loved me.

We awoke to the phone ringing, that special mobile phone Dickie had where only his closest friends, associates and family knew the number. It never left him and he never turned it off. I heard it calling faintly in the distance and awoke properly to hear Dickie talking.

“What time is it ?” I yawned.

Of course Dickie did not know, how could he see the clock ? I looked across the bed and saw it was a little short of one o’clock. One in the afternoon. I kissed my lover. ”Who was that ?”

“Harry.”

“Oh.”

“He wants us tome go round to his home tonight.”

“OK.”

“Something special,” he said.

“What ?”

“Don’t know, he didn’t say. He was a bit strange and vague.”

“Well it will be good to see him, we can thank him properly for last night.”

“Yes, it was good wasn’t it ?”

“Wonderful Dickie, wonderful.”

The rest of the day was one of the laziest I can ever remember, we didn’t even get out of bed until late afternoon, breakfast was at tea time and then it was time to make the drive to Harry’s.

We pulled into that long driveway leading down to Harry’s mansion at five minutes to eight. The large gates which normally had to be opened electronically from within the house were already wide ajar. I though that was strange and said so to Dickie.

“Something is going on,” I said as we neared the house.

“Wheat ?” Dickie asked. “What can you see ?”

“There are lights on everywhere,” I said, “and cars – lots of cars. Everywhere.”

Not only that but there were guys who were obviously security managers hovering discretely yet obviously. One approached us and opened the car door.

“Good evening Sirs. If you would care to leave your care here we will take care of it. Come this way, everyone is waiting for you.”

Harry, wonderful hay – bless him – had arranged a special party in our honour.

“What’s this for ?” I asked dazed and a little confused.

“Do I need a reason,” he smiled. “Because if I do I can think of more than a million.” 

And that actually was what the party made. One thousand guests crammed Harry’s house and garden that evening and every one of them had paid £1,000 to be there as a donation to our charity efforts.

I think we spent most of the time trying to speak with every one of the guests: film stars, singers, sportsmen, politicians and even a couple of minor royals. But there were some extra special guests for whom Harry’s had paid himself to give them tickets. There was the air ambulance crew who had attended Dickie at his accident, there was the surgical team and that lovely, lovely young nurse who had sat so patiently and comforting with me while Dickie had been in theatre. I was so happy to see her. The poor thing was so out of her depth among such a gathering, I just took her by the hand and insisted she stay with Dickie and I all evening.

Thanks to Harry’s party our charity fund raising made a magnificent two and a half million pounds. We did not wan t to burden ourselves with administrations, trust funds and grants so we simply divided the money into three giving equal shares to the hospital, the ambulance service and the Royal Institute for the Blind. We fully intended to raise more money and made plans. We also managed another number one hit and began work on an album. A property agent sent us some details of houses on the market in Barbados and so we were kept very busy indeed.

Time sped past and the weeks turned into months. The hospital used our cheque to fund its much needed development of a new intensive care ward. We received a letter from the chief executive which I opened and read to Dickie.

“They want to name the intensive care ward the Dickie Williams Unit.”

“No way !” He said firmly. “No way !”

I knew how he felt. Neither of us were in it for glory and the last thing I would have wanted was for them to have used my name. But what to do ? How to diplomatically change their minds and come up with a new name ?

“I know,” I said. “Let them call it the Anne Barber Unit. Name it after Anne.”

Dear, dear Anne. That little young nurse who had sat with me and who we had taken under our wing at Harry’s party. Young Anne had now become one of our special friends and we just loved having her and her boyfriend round to see us.

“Yes ! The Anne Barber Unit.”

And so that was decided.

We agreed to be with Anne as she formally declared the unit open. Dickie did make a speech, he is so much better at that kind of thing than I, where he said how he knew many more lives would now be saved though the dedication of the staff working there.

My life had been turned upside down since meeting Dickie. Not just because I had fallen madly in love with him but also because of everything surrounding it. I was no longer a manager with a chain store but instead a pop star and becoming something of a fashion idol in my own right. Life was a roller coaster of incredible things but for me the opening of the Anne Barber Unit was the most special day of all.

After that most special day we took some time to ourselves and returned to our island paradise of Barbados where we found the perfect home. We were lucky to be able to speed things through and managed to move in very quickly, Our idea was to keep on my little flat in England from which we would work but to make Barbados our real home together and to spend as much time there as possible.

It wasn’t a mansion but it was truly lovely and had its own small private beach which we could walk down to when ever we wanted. Most people visiting Barbados tend to stay on the Caribbean side of the island where the water is calm and deep azure blue. Our home was on the other side facing the Atlantic where the sea was just as vivid in colour but roaring with surf and breakers as it rushed to the beach over a coral reef.

The descent to the beach was down a rough path between a small glade of trees. The walk was not easy for me and I had to watch my step with care, for Dickie who could not see it was quite tortuous. He was so independent and refused my help, insisting he could walk unaided. I knew we would have to get a contractor in to build us some proper steps and I mentally made a note that it was a priority.

After breakfast earlier today we left the house to spend the morning on the sands and soak up some more sun. We were near the top of the path when Dickie stumbled, missed his footing and fell. He tumbled all the way to the very bottom as I watched in horror. I snatched to grab him and save him but was momentarily too late. I cried out after him “Dickie !!!!!!”

I ran as fast as I could after him. I just knew he was going to be badly hurt. Not again ! Oh Dickie no ! Please no !!

“Dickie !!!!”

When I reached his side he rolled and turned to face me.

“Are you hurt ?” I asked begging that he was alright.

“I’m fine, don’t think that I have broken anything but I guess I’ll have some bruises.”

His face was cut and so were both of his arms.

“Let’s get you back up to the house.”

“I’m OK.”

“No,” I insisted and I got my way although he refuse all my attempts to have him see a doctor.

Dickie complained of a headache, he was lucky his head was not broken, and when I resolutely demanded that he lay down and rest he did agree to that. I knew then that he had to be hurt some how and prayed that he would feel better after sleeping a while. I thought I would leave him alone for a few hours then prepare a light mid afternoon snack. While I was alone I decided to put into action something I had been planning for some time. 

I have always loved writing and as our relationship deepened I had this desire to sit down and write a special story for Dickie telling of our life together. A bit silly in a way because, of course, he could not read it but perhaps I could read it to him.

I got out my laptop computer and began to type but some how it did not feel right committing a work of such importance to a micro chip and so I set it aside in favour of a pen and pad of paper. I sat at the dining table and began to write. As I reached the bottom of each page I tore off the used sheet and set it to my side.

I don’t know how long I was writing for but when I paused and counted the number of sheets there were fifty-six of them. If there was an average of 300 words on each sheet that was an amazing 17,000 words. Wow ! But the writing came so easy, it was a labour of love and I poured the love that existed between us into every stroke of the pen. This was going to be a very special gift for my lover, I would read it to him in bed that night. 

I continued writing for at least another hour when I became aware that Dickie was in the room. I had not heard him come in, so engrossed was I in what I was doing, and I do not know how long he had been there. I turned to look at him and smiled that he was alright.

“What are you doing ?”

I briefly explained.

“Why are you writing by hand and not using the computer ?”

I told him how it did not feel right not to do it by hand.

“Well that’s good then.”

He walked to my side and picked up the papers, shuffled them together and said, “There’s a lot here, you have been busy.”

“It’s nearly finished,” I said.

“Finish it now,” he said. “I’ll just sit here and wait.”

Another thirty minutes I thought would conclude the tale so returned to my scribbling.

“This is good,” Dickie said.

“Want me to read it to you ?”

“No you finish writing, I’ll just sit here and read what you have written so far.”

“Ok.”

I guess I wasn’t listening properly, so keen I was to finish that I did not see what Dickie was doing and the content of his words passed me by.”

“I like the opening bit,” he said.

“Thanks.”

Then he began to read the words I had written earlier, to read them aloud. 

I am not sure if I heard it first or if I felt it. The impact was certainly violent as I was thrust forward with so much force it made the restraining seat belt punch my chest with the force of a boxing world champion. 

I stopped. How did he know what the words were ? he could not read them, he could not see ! A shiver ran through me and I dropped the pen, stood up and faced him.

Dickie continued to read before tears just flowed from his eyes.

“Do you believe in miracles ?” he said. “I do Nigel, I do. I can see ! I can see again ! It must have happened when I fell earlier, god alone knows how or why but I can see !”

He may have been able to see but I could not for tears of sheer, absolute joy were filling my own eyes. “Thank you God,” I called aloud, directing my word to who ever it was that controls the destiny of the universe. “Thank you, thank you, thank you !!!!!!!!”

We held each other and sobbed, daring not to question the miracle that had restored Dickie his sight. 

“I love you,” he said. “I can’t say how much I love you.”

“But I know how much you love me,” I cried. “Because that’s just the same way I love you.”

“I know. I can not tell you just how much I know”

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I kind of think we have not heard the end of Dickie yet. Wait for the next installment. Do let me know what you think of this one – leave me comment here. By the way: I would like to dedicate this story to two very dear friends of mine: Chris and Dave. 

Nigel