June
SHAWN LASTING LEANED back in the café chair that was surprisingly more comfortable than it looked and stretched his legs out, taking a sip of his dry stout. The table had ceased its wobbling only after Shawn conscripted a couple of beermats to act as shims. There wasn’t often a lot of foot traffic worth watching from the pub’s front beer garden, despite the proximity to Kew Gardens and the National Archives, but it was a quiet neighbourhood pub that suited the situation best that evening.
Shawn adjusted the shawl collar of his jumper a little higher as a breeze of typical British summer weather delivered a chill. He was waiting for his best friend, James, to join him for their usual Thursday dinner get-together and was beginning to question his decision to sit outside. Shawn’s attention was caught by a fit jogger going by the cricket grounds across the road. The jogger’s abbreviated running shorts—a throwback style that took him back to adolescent PE classes in the late 70s—showcased a pair of long, toned legs that more than made up for the weather.
James approached from around the corner while Shawn was leaning half out of his chair to watch the jogger’s progress toward the Thames. “Well, at least that explains why we’re sitting outdoors in fourteen degree weather,” James said, sitting down.
“Sheer stubbornness, I reckon. It’s summer and not raining, ergo, we sit outdoors,” Shawn said. “Anyway, I figured you could do with some fresh air. Expect this is the first you’ve been beyond your front steps since the weekend, isn’t it?”
James shrugged and took up the pint that Shawn had waiting for him. “Laying low, that’s all.”
“Not that I blame you,” Shawn said. “Especially since Michael’s little meltdown made it all public fodder.”
James sighed.
Shawn glanced over apologetically. “Sorry. We can leave that subject out for the duration.”
“Appreciate it,” James nodded.
“What about what’s-’e-called? Talked to him at all?”
“Merrick. His name’s Merrick. I did talk to him yesterday, as it happens. Wanted to talk to him all week, really, and again today. But I’m doing my best to give it space. And time.”
Shawn hummed understandingly. “How did it go?”
“Fine, really. He’s very easy to talk to,” James said.
Shawn noted the immediate change in James’s demeanour as soon as he started talking about Merrick. He was pretty certain James had never looked at ease like that when Michael was discussed, even before things had started to go genuinely bad between James and his ex-fiancé.
“Not been round to see him yet, though, right?” Shawn asked.
“Not yet. Thinking about asking him to get a coffee with me on the weekend or something.”
Shawn gave James a hesitant look. “Sure that’s wise at the moment? With that big bouncer bloke hanging around him an’ all?”
James snorted. “Henry’s not a bouncer; he’s Merrick’s mate. He explained the situation when we talked yesterday. Henry’s been his closest friend since he was in uni; he was there when Merrick went through his own nasty breakup with a control freak. He was also the one who saw that awful joke of a wedding announcement in the paper. He’s very protective of Merrick. Not so different from you, really.”
Shawn rolled his eyes. “Yeah, only difference is I don’t use my physical stature to intimidate people.”
“Shawn, your physical stature is a trace better than average. Besides, you’re all Big Dick Energy, so you don’t need to.”
“And what the bollocks is Big Dick Energy when it’s at home?” Shawn said doubtfully.
James laughed. “Confidence. You know—like you know what you’ve got and don’t have to prove it to anybody. That kind of thing.”
Shawn considered it for a moment before saying, “Well, can’t argue wi’ that.”
James just shook his head affectionately. “What are you eating?” he asked, standing to go put their dinner order in.
“Salad,” Shawn practically grumbled. “Knee was giving me shit this morning; missed my workout.”
James patted Shawn’s shoulder sympathetically. “Add on chicken or anything?”
“Grilled, yeah,” Shawn said with a nod.
IT HAD JUST gone two on Friday afternoon when Shawn woke on the couch of his library on the first floor of his detached house, a copy of The Life of King Alfred fallen to the floor beside him. The library, in fact, was a bedroom in which Shawn had walnut wood bookcases built in all around. The room was big enough for a matched pair of sofas on either side of a coffee table and allowed enough natural light through the west-facing picture window to accommodate reading without lamps until almost dusk on bright days.
“Sorry abou’ that,” Shawn apologised to the book in a grumble as he picked it up and set it on the coffee table. Sitting upright, Shawn stretched deeply and yawned. Naps were a rare occasion, but after missing his workout the day before, he’d decided to increase the intensity that morning to catch up while keeping the impact relatively low, and it had caught up with him by midday.
After giving himself a minute to shake off the lingering sleepiness, Shawn went downstairs to the kitchen to fix himself a cup of tea and message Nigel and Theo to confirm they were coming round for a meal that evening. Sitting at the kitchen island, Shawn opened his laptop and went through emails, deleting the numerous adverts before sending a progress update on the autumn gala for the Richmond Rainbow Club. Receiving a confirmation from Theo that he and his partner would be over around five thirty, Shawn turned off his computer and fetched out the necessary cooking implements for that evening’s meal, then headed back upstairs for a long bubble bath before getting started on cooking.
A couple hours later, he was just finishing plating a selection of cheeses with crackers, nuts, and stuffed olives while a pan of paella simmered on the cooktop when the doorbell rang, and he buzzed Nigel and Theo in, saying, “If that’s burglars, I’ve got a big knife in my hand and know how to use it.” He could hear his friends’ laughter as they shrugged off their jackets in the foyer before heading back to the kitchen where he’d put a jazz mix on for background ambiance.
“Is that the latest euphemism for wanking?” Nigel asked, stepping around the kitchen island and pulling Shawn into a one-armed hug.
“Nah, not into knives like that, mate,” Shawn snickered.
“A little something for you,” Theo said, handing Shawn a bottle gift bag, in addition to the chilled rosé they brought for the meal.
“Wha’s this for?” Shawn asked.
“For services rendered on the Michael problem,” Nigel said. “Your intervention exceeded all expectations. That was genuinely epic.”
Shawn shook his head humbly. “It was all James, I scarcely even broached the subject. Turned out he was just about there already, or near as dammit. All he really needed was a mate to talk him through it.”
“And you were that mate,” Theo pointed out. “A good deed by any measure.”
“Anyway, this isn’t quite your elderly Redbreast, just a bit of ‘barely legal’ Glenfiddich,” Nigel said.
“You lads are too kind,” Shawn smiled. “Make yourselves comfortable. Paella’s not got long to go now.”
Theo brought an extra pub chair over to the island while Nigel sorted out a couple tapas plates for them, and Shawn poured three glasses of wine.
“How’s he doing, then, our James?” Nigel asked. “We talked to him briefly Monday evening and he seemed okay, if pretty worn out by the whole thing, but I expect you’ve got a little more of a view on the situation.”
“Yeah, he’s all right; coming through it. He’s seen what a bullet he dodged, so I think that helps. There’s another mitigating factor that I think is keeping him going, but I’m not quite at liberty to divulge details. Save to say that this particular factor was what made him see the light about how he felt about Michael in the first place.”
“Crikey, that’s our second mystery in less than a fortnight,” Theo said. “Just last week our mate Merrick, the one who danced at the stag, told Nige he’d met somebody we know but didn’t want to say anything more in case it was nothing after all.”
Shawn hummed and turned to check the paella.
“So, anyway, how was Marseille?” Shawn asked, turning off the burners to let the meal rest before serving.
Nigel pointed at the bottle of wine, which they’d brought back from their weekend away and said, “Just about that good.”
“MEZZA! JUST BACK!” Henry Martin called out, walking into the sitting room of Merrick’s small Balham flat.
“Ar y ffon,” Merrick called from the bedroom before remembering to code-switch. “Sorry! On the phone.”
“Oh,” Henry murmured. “Tell your mam-gu I said hello,” he called back, putting away the shopping he’d picked up for Merrick on his way back and setting aside a couple bottles of beer.
A few minutes later, Merrick emerged from the bedroom, gratefully taking the lager Henry handed him. “Cheers, mate. Mam-gu says shwmae.”
“Your gran’s brilliant. Wish I had time to get up to visit her while I’m here,” Henry said. “Have to make sure to work that in next visit.”
“So did you have any luck with the car in Brighton?” Merrick asked, settling on the couch.
“Not entirely decided on it yet,” Henry said. “The rotary engine is definitely as good as they claimed, but…there’s a lot of other bits and bats that’ll need work. Like the paint job—it’s bleeding canary yellow at the moment. But it might be worth it. It’s pretty rare to find an RX-7 in any fixable condition, and as long as the rotary made it through its first few years, the rest is fairly standard as long as you know where to source parts. It really handles like a dream though. Felt like she was reading my mind with every turn,” Henry said wistfully.
Merrick’s eyes started to glaze about halfway through Henry’s response. He knew better than to ask car questions of his honourary big brother without being braced for a lot of technical details that went right over his head. Earlier that week, Henry had been out to Towchester to look at the work that had been done on his convertible Jaguar F-Type that had been all but a write-off after a crash shortly before Henry had moved from London back to Sydney. Merrick had just about managed to pay attention to Henry’s enthusiastic rambling about that car because he’d ridden in it a number of times with Henry and even driven it a few times himself.
Merrick decided to stop Henry before he went too far down the path of auto obsession. “I was going to do a carbonara for dinner, if that sounds good,” Merrick said.
“Ace!” Henry grinned. “Need a hand with anything?”
“Nope,” Merrick said, taking his beer around the half wall that divided the sitting room from the small kitchen. “You did pick up a packet of bacon, yes?”
“Of course. I didn’t nick your list just to ignore half of it,” Henry said solemnly.
Earlier that morning, as Merrick had been getting ready for work, Henry asked if he could take a look at the list Merrick had made in planning a shop during his lunch hour. Henry had promptly pocketed the list and refused to give it back, promising he’d take care of it on his way back from Brighton. He knew his mate always ended up doing more than twice the shopping when he was staying with him and wanted to do his bit.
“How was work then?” Henry asked, leaning back in Merrick’s armchair.
“Pretty quiet all morning,” Merrick said over the sizzle of the bacon in the hot pan. “Got a fair number of orders finished up before the afternoon rush. I’ll be in the shop till noon tomorrow as well, just to dole out pickups and take in any new repairs.”
“Anything doing after that?” Henry asked. “I haven’t got anything on my slate, could do a drive or something.”
Merrick snickered. “Anybody would think a professional driver would like nothing more than to not drive all over on holiday.”
“Nah, can’t get enough of it, mate. Besides, totally different driving up country lanes and stuff. Nothing like being on a circuit.”
“If you say so,” Merrick said. “Anyway, I wouldn’t mind going for a drive, but would a little later in the afternoon be all right?”
“No reason why not,” Henry shrugged. “Something you got on?”
Merrick took a deep breath as he put the linguini into the boiling pot. “Yeah, actually. I’m having coffee with James.”
There was a long pause as a tendril of tension coiled its way between the sitting room and the kitchen.
“On what would have been his wedding day,” Henry finally remarked, under his breath.
Merrick sighed softly. “Henry, please leave it.”
Henry rolled his eyes while Merrick’s attention was on the bacon. “You did say you were gonna take it slow, Mez.”
“It’s coffee for an hour, not the romance package at the Savoy, Henry.”
“I just don’t want to see you hurt again,” Henry said, stepping into the kitchen and putting a hand on Merrick’s shoulder.
“I know,” Merrick said, pulling Henry into a hug. “And I appreciate it, truly. But, here… Think of it like that car you looked at today. The engine’s in great condition, and that’s the main thing. Yeah, there’s some other things that need work, and it may or may not prove worth it in the end, but…it felt good when you were driving it, yeah?”
Henry looked at Merrick for a long moment, then said, “You’re learning my language, damn you. All right, then. Enjoy your coffee, remind that bloke I’ll break both his arms if he hurts you, and then we’ll go for a nice, relaxing drive.”
Merrick shook his head and laughed, thumping Henry on the shoulder for good measure.
“Oh, and tell him to keep that aggro mate of his the hell away from you as well,” Henry grumbled, fetching another beer from the fridge and sitting back down. “I’ll give him a fucking gobful next time.”
Merrick just laughed to himself as he poured the pasta into the strainer in the sink. He had a pretty fair idea of just what sort of a gobful Henry would like to give James’s best friend, given half a chance.
ABOUT ONE FIFTEEN on Saturday afternoon, Merrick texted Henry to let him know he was about to leave the café and they could head out for a drive wherever Henry fancied. Merrick had planned on stopping back at his flat and meeting Henry there, but when he and James stepped out of the café, Henry had his hired Aston parked at the kerb a few spots up from the café. Merrick wouldn’t have put it past Henry to have been waiting there the whole time.
James reached to shake Merrick’s hand, thanking him for agreeing to give their budding relationship a second chance. Merrick held James’s hand in his, then said, “Come with me for a moment?” and led James over to Henry’s car.
The top was down and Henry was wearing sunglasses, but Merrick could easily guess at the look in his friend’s eyes as he walked over with James.
“Ready to go?” Henry asked as they approached, essentially ignoring James’s presence.
“Well, I was going to stop back to mine and not wear a three-piece suit for a drive through the countryside,” Merrick said dryly. “Henry, I’d like you to meet my friend, James. James, this is Henry, my best friend who you’ll have heard a lot about,” he said, figuring offering an actual introduction might help James and Henry get over their less-than-amicable first impressions.
There was a half moment’s hesitation from Henry, during which Merrick knew Henry was mentally glaring at him for putting him on the spot. Then Henry extended his hand, with a fairly subdued, “How ya goin’?”
James smiled gamely and shook his hand. “How do you do,” he said.
Henry paused for a moment and took off his sunglasses to look James in the eye, no doubt as much of a warning as a polite gesture. “I’d offer you a lift wherever you’re on to, but I hired the sport model,” he said with a slightly smug ‘apologetic’ shrug.
James just laughed and shook his head. “Not a problem. I drove. Not exactly an Aston, but it gets me around when I don’t fancy the Tube,” he said, nodding across the road at his emerald-green Audi.
Henry glanced over and nodded with a thoughtful hum. “S7?”
James nodded. “Yeah. I don’t generally give the twin-turbo much of a workout, but it’s still a nice feature.”
“Sound choice,” Henry concurred. “Practical, but stylish and handles well. You oughta run that twin-turbo a bit though. Get it out of city traffic on occasion. It can eat through your oil, but might as well use it, yeah?”
“Yeah, I can’t disagree about that,” James said.
Merrick all but breathed a sigh of relief to see Henry giving James a chance, and yet he was torn between interceding before Henry went off on an automotive discourse and letting him and James build rapport.
“Well, I know you’re just heading out,” James said, resting a hand on Merrick’s shoulder. “Don’t want to keep you.” He offered his hand to Henry and said, “Again, nice to meet you a bit more properly.” Then he turned to Merrick and said, “Talk to you soon?”
Merrick nodded, giving James’s hand a quick squeeze before getting into Henry’s hire car. “Thank you,” Merrick said softly as Henry pulled onto the high road.
“What for? Oh, do you really wanna stop back and change first? Kinda forgot you’d be doing your show-pony routine for the morning.”
Merrick couldn’t help laughing at Henry’s distracted train of thought. “For being polite, yes, I do, and that’s because you were still asleep when I left for work this morning, you lazy git.”
“Well, can’t fault his taste in cars, anyway,” Henry said, turning toward Merrick’s road.
“I knew it would get him in your good books as soon as he said his car was one of those alphanumeric jumbles you always go for,” Merrick said with a snicker.
A LITTLE OVER a week after Henry returned to Australia, Merrick was on his way up to the Lions, one of his favourite local pubs in Balham, for an early evening dinner and drinks with James and Shawn. Ordinarily, Merrick might have felt odd about having a third wheel along, but since they were rather intentionally not ‘officially’ dating yet, he thought it just as well to keep it clearly more matey than datey.
When Merrick arrived, James and Shawn were already stood at the stately, imposing dark-wood bar that was so incongruous in the pub’s otherwise bright and spacious front room.
James offered introductions, and Shawn took Merrick’s hand in a warm handshake. “I owe you an apology for what I insinuated the first time we met. I never meant to impugn your character or imply your affections were for sale,” he said honestly. “I hope you can forgive that.”
Merrick looked a little surprised by the quick and forthright apology, but could easily read the genuineness of it in Shawn’s eyes. It clearly wasn’t a forced confession. “I think our tempers were all a bit frayed at that moment. I’m happy to forget the matter.”
“Good,” Shawn said, clapping Merrick’s shoulder. “First round’s mine, then, and where do we prefer to be sat?”
“The side room is cosy here, and quiet, no tellies,” Merrick recommended, nodding to the televisions in the corners of the main dining room, all showing tennis matches. “Unless you’re following the matches, that is.”
Shawn shook his head as they headed over to the quieter section. “Nah, not particularly interested, me.”
“Shawn’s sporting aesthetics are otherwise inclined,” James explained with a smirk.
Shawn rolled his eyes. “My interest in sport is hardly as shallow as my interest in men, thank you. In any event, James tells me you’re a Wales supporter as well, so that’s me outnumbered already.”
“Have you noticed,” James stage-whispered to Merrick, “how England supporters will take any excuse that presents itself? And you’re not outnumbered. Theo is an England supporter.”
“Yes, but Nige pulls for Ireland, so if it’s a question of England against Wales, guess where he comes down?” Shawn pointed out.
Merrick laughed and said, “As it goes, that’s exactly how I met Nige and Theo. I was out at some pub or other to watch a Wales-England match, in which Wales were systematically taking the wheels off England’s old chariot, and I think Nigel and I were the only two lads in the place cheering every Welsh try.”
“I think there’s one thing we can all agree on, though,” James said. “None of us like the Springboks.”
“Too bloody right!” Shawn said, raising his glass to his tablemates.
After drinking to their ‘union in rivalry’, Merrick set his glass down for a moment. “Speaking of our friends in common,” he said to James, “I really haven’t talked about all this with them. I saw Nigel at the shop a few weeks ago and mentioned a new…well, interest, rather vaguely, and Henry and I had dinner with them while he was here, but I said nothing and they didn’t ask. They are unavoidably involved, though, and I don’t like keeping things from my mates, but I kind of felt it needed to be a joint decision.”
James nodded in understanding. “Yeah, I haven’t said anything yet either. Obviously they know about the wedding being off, but I haven’t exactly elaborated,” he said, glancing to Shawn, who tended to see Nigel and Theo more regularly as they were closer neighbours.
Shawn shook his head. “I haven’t said anything particular. I did have them round for dinner, but I’m not one for telling tales out of school.”
“No, I know that,” James said straight away. “I’m inclined to say the best way to go about it is to just ask them to get together with us sometime. I don’t think we need to be secretive, and I think they’re unlikely to be offended by our reticence to share details too soon.”
“Agreed,” Merrick said.
“Why don’t I organise something?” Shawn offered. “All of you come round to mine for a meal, maybe Saturday if they’ve got nowt on already?”
“That would work for me,” James said.
“Saturday’s fine for me as well, after about midday,” Merrick agreed. “Where are you located?”
“By Kew,” Shawn said. “Any dietary restrictions?”
“Well, sort of,” Merrick said. “My diet is limited to lamb, cheese, and leeks.”
“Lamb stew and cheese toasties it is,” Shawn said readily with a cheeky wink.
James just shook his head and chuckled but was incredibly glad to see Shawn and Merrick already getting on well enough to have a laugh.
“To be honest, though, that actually sounds bloody good. Might have to give it a go at some point,” Shawn said. “I was in Cardiff for the rugby last year and had a rarebit and a bowl of stew in one of the pubs near the stadium. I still get cravings for that.”
“That doesn’t exactly narrow it down. I can think of about two dozen pubs by the stadium right off the top of my head,” Merrick laughed.
“It was on a corner across from the big shopping centre. I know that much. It was a nice pub, small but very friendly, despite the combination of my England strip and accent. Actually, I’ve never had real trouble in my shirt, no more than a good tease anyway.”
“Well, one thing, in Cardiff you’re generally safe from everyone switching to Welsh as soon as you walk in the place. You get out to some of the smaller grounds, Llanelli for example, and you might want to hire an interpreter,” Merrick teased.
“Actually, Parc y Scarlets is one of my favourite grounds,” Shawn said. “But Stradey Park was absolute legend. I was gutted to see it go. And I’ve never had anyone refusing to speak English when they’re speaking to me, so I don’t give a toss what language is being spoken the rest of the time. I couldn’t care less if people are talking about me in a language I don’t speak. I don’t expect Italian tavernas and French bistros are actually all English-speaking until I walk in flashing my rose badge or summat.”
“Told you he’s an all right bloke once you get to know him,” James smiled, patting Shawn’s shoulder. “What’s everyone eating? I’ll put the orders in.”
“Fish, chips, mushy peas,” Shawn said without hesitation.
Merrick glanced at the menu on the table for a moment, then said, “Steak and ale pie and mash,” reaching into his pocket to hand James a tenner.
James held up his hand, though, refusing Merrick’s money. “I insist,” he said. “You can get a round in later, but dinner’s on me.”
Merrick smiled and shook his head but put the note back in his pocket.
“Good luck getting a round in. He has a tendency to sneak them in before you get the chance,” Shawn said as James went back to the bar to put in their orders. “So…everything all right with your mate?” he asked casually.
Merrick paused for a moment. “You mean Henry? Yeah, he’s fine. Just back to Oz a few days ago, but he says he’ll be back up in autumn for one of those antique car shows. Actually…I’m sure I owe you an apology on his behalf. I’ve explained it to James, but I know there was tension with you and him as well. Thing is, Henry’s been my mate just about since I moved to London for uni. He’s always looked out for me, and he’s kind of like the older brother I never had, so he’s a bit protective. He’s really a complete teddy bear though.”
Shawn just nodded in acceptance, having known a fair few of the type. Time, he reckoned, would tell if Merrick’s strapping Australian friend was more teddy or bear.