Chapter Three

July

 

“ALL RIGHT, YOU two?” Henry called as he crossed through the crowd to Merrick and James waiting near the arrivals hall exit to the car park. Henry pulled them each into a one-armed hug. “You guys really didn’t have to pick me up. I know you’re pretty busy at the moment.”

“We’ve been doing nothing but moving preparations for weeks. From Mer moving his stuff over to mine last month to getting all of it ready to go to the new house in Cardiff…trust me, this is a nice break for us,” James said.

“It is, really. Plus, you haven’t got my awful sofa to sleep on anymore, and you’ve come up early to help,” Merrick said. “This is the least we can do.”

“You’re mistaken, mate,” Henry said. “I came up early for the leaving do, which I fully expect will render me practically paralytic and incapable of doing more than hiding under the feather doona and whimpering whilst room service brings up tea and toast. Should have cleared the hangover right around the time I’m due down at Goodwood,” Henry said with a teasingly relaxed smirk.

Merrick just rolled his eyes and reached for Henry’s suitcase as they made their way out of the crowded atrium. “You’re coming out to see the new place even if I have to pack you in the moving van, Henry Martin,” Merrick threatened.

“Go on, ya goose! Of course I’m coming up to see your new joint and might as well shift a few boxes for ya into the bargain. Besides, I need to assess if the new digs are gonna be worth driving out to whenever I’m up here, or if I should just stick to hotels from now on. I know you said you’re having a guest room, but…I don’t know… That’s a lot of mileage, yet another foreign country, have to get a whole different set of jabs, change the currency, hire a translator…”

James laughed, but Merrick said in a warning tone, “You let my mam-gu hear you talking shit like that, you’ll be deaf for a week, mate.”

“Stone the flamin’ crows… This move is making you stroppy, Mez.”

Merrick frowned but paused, then sighed. “Is it?” he asked, glancing between James and Henry as they made their way through the car park. “I don’t feel stressed, but…maybe I am. Have I been bitchy?” he asked James. “You can tell me if I have.”

“No, you haven’t been, sweetheart,” James promised, wrapping an arm around Merrick’s shoulders and leaning in to kiss his cheek.

“Yeah, I’m just razzin’. You know me,” Henry said apologetically. “You’ve got every right to be arsey if you damn well want. Look at all you’ve got on—moving and taking over a business, as well as your blow-in bestie popping up for a visit… That’s mental. Anyway, dinner’s on me, lads. Let’s go eat.”

“That’s probably what’s doing it, actually. I was so keen to get as much packing done as I could this morning all I had was a bit of toast and coffee,” Merrick said.

“I’d’ve done you a proper brekkie, but you said you’d eaten already,” James said, shaking his head fondly as he led the way to his car.

“I had eaten, more or less,” Merrick contended. “And I’d already packed your pans because we’re either out or doing ready meals next few days.”

“I’ve seen him move house before, James. The efficiency is disconcerting,” Henry said.

“Oh yeah, I saw the inventory spreadsheets involved when he moved over to mine last month,” James said with a nod. “So, I know we’ll be there tomorrow night, but anybody fancy the Lions?”

“You’ll be glad I’m that organised in a few days’ time,” Merrick said confidently. “And Lions always works for me,” Merrick said. “I think that’ll be one place I genuinely miss around here. That and the café.”

“Lions would be bonza,” Henry agreed. “You found your new local yet?”

“Might have done,” Merrick said. “There are a few reasonably close to the new place, so I think it’s just a matter of seeing which we gravitate to the most.”

“It’s also only about twenty minutes on the train down to the city centre, so I expect I’ll be meeting up with Mer pretty routinely after he’s closed the shop for the evening,” James said, popping open the boot and helping Merrick lift Henry’s suitcase in.

“Good onya, the two of you,” Henry said, tossing his carry-on into the back of James’s Audi as he climbed in. Much as he loved Merrick and James, he hadn’t realised how much deeper and more obvious the connection between them had grown since his last visit. It made him wish yet again to share a connection like that with someone special, if only he could find such a thing. Henry knew his only thoughts would be of food once they were settled into the pub, so he decided to close his eyes and zone out for the ride down to South London.

After a burger, chips, and a few coffees at the pub, Henry asked James and Merrick to drop him at the hotel he had booked near James’s house in Dulwich. He promised that once he was checked in and settled, he’d walk down to James’s to help with whatever moving preparations he could turn his hand to. Henry had always found fresh air the best thing for powering through jet lag, and it was an easy walk up to the house according to GPS.

When James and Merrick got back to the house, they were immediately aware of signs of activity coming from the kitchen—the general clatter of cooking and smells of sautéing onions and freshly chopped root vegetables. The slightly off-key humming gave it away to James right away.

“Shawn? I thought you were stopping tomorrow,” James called, going through.

“Still am,” Shawn replied. “Only, Merrick mentioned something about you doing ready meals the next few days, and I thought, ‘Bugger that. I’ll stop down and do a pot of soup.’ Nobody needs all the sodium and cholesterol in that pre-made rubbish.”

“That’s really decent of you,” Merrick said. “Where’d you get the pots, though?” he asked as none of their already packed boxes had been disturbed.

“Brought my own, didn’t I? Not leaving the two of you washing up. You’ve got enough on your plates. Couple bottles of wine for you there as well,” he said, nodding toward the kitchen table. “Just going to finish with this lot, and then I’m happy to throw in wherever you need it.”

“If you’re serious about that…” Merrick said, going to fetch his colour-coded to-do spreadsheet.

“You’ve had it now, mate,” James snickered.

Shawn shook his head. “Nah. Happy to be useful. I am going to miss having my best mate right down the A205 though,” he said honestly.

“Yeah,” James nodded. “I’ll miss doing Thursdays. We’ll have to do a rota or something. You come out to Cardiff, we’ll come up to London. Couple hours on the train, so maybe switch to Saturdays or something.”

“On the plus side, I’m kipping at yours whenever I’m out that way for the rugby or football,” Shawn said with a grin.

Just then the doorbell rang, and a few seconds later, Merrick came through with Henry. There was a moment of tension suspended between Henry and Shawn that seemed to be unnoticed by either Merrick or James and was only eased by Henry’s polite nod.

“Well, I’ll get on with some of this,” Henry said with a wave of the list Merrick had handed him when he’d walked in. “Mind showing me what’s where, Mez?”

“Of course, one tick,” Merrick said, passing his spreadsheet to Shawn. “Anything you fancy tackling on that, mate. The only things we’re not doing until the night before are in red, all else is fair game.”

“I’m sure I can find plenty I wouldn’t mind tackling,” Shawn leered with a fleeting glance at the tall Aussie.

Merrick just chuckled as he led Henry up the stairs.

“I know you’re still not exactly keen on Henry,” James said quietly after they’d gone, “but might I prevail upon you to be somewhat civil when he’s around? Particularly tomorrow evening at the leaving do?”

Shawn looked surprised by James’s request. “You’re right. I’m not his top supporter. But have I been at all uncivil or discourteous?”

“No, and I’m not trying to give you a bollocking, Shawn, honestly. I know you don’t care for him, and you’ve been exceptionally diplomatic about the whole thing. But, we’re all going to be together in the pub tomorrow night, you know?”

“Right, along with Nige and Theo, a few others who stop for a bit, whoever Merrick’s invited. He and I won’t be sat there glaring daggers at one another all night,” Shawn assured James. “Now, what’s on this list I can get on to?”

 

THE NEXT EVENING at the Lions, several tables had been pulled together in the side room and additional chairs were pulled up as more well-wishers joined the party. The owners of the tailoring shop in Balham had stopped briefly to toast Merrick’s future success and to gift him a pair of high-end sewing shears, engraved with their well-wishes. James’s art agent stopped to congratulate him on the move, to insist on a whole new series of works based on ancient Welsh legends, and to gift him with a specialist plein air painter’s umbrella. It was mostly intended as a joke gift as such umbrellas were decidedly not meant to be used in windy or rainy conditions such as those endemic to South Wales.

Eventually, the celebration began to wind down, and by the time Theo and Nigel were hugging James and Merrick and extracting promises to ring as soon as they were ready for visitors, it was just the guests of honour, Shawn, and Henry remaining. When Henry went out to the bar to bring in a last round of the night, Shawn excused himself to the loo.

As Shawn was washing his hands, the door opened and Henry stepped in. Shawn gave him a mild glance but said nothing as Henry stepped to the other sink to wash his hands as well. Shawn remembered James’s request that he try to be a bit more cordial toward Merrick’s closest friend and tried to think of something polite to say that didn’t have to do with the weather.

“So…you driving out with them on the day?” Shawn asked nonchalantly.

“Is there some reason you care to know?” Henry responded.

Shawn held back a sharp retort but was fairly sure his expression held one anyway. “Not really, beyond attempting civil conversation,” he said evenly, then added, “But I suppose you will. How else could you keep guard over your mate?”

Henry let out a long breath as he dried his hands, clenching the paper towel in annoyance. “You know, mate, if you’ve got an issue with me after two years, maybe you want to be man enough to just say it to my face.”

“Would do, if I had a bloody step ladder handy,” Shawn threw back.

“Yeah, I never heard that before,” Henry sneered.

“Right, I’ll tell you my issue with you, then,” Shawn said, stepping close enough to crowd Henry. “I don’t take kindly to big blokes who use their size to intimidate others, especially before they know both sides of a situation. That’s my issue. I would gladly have handed you your arse that day James came to explain everything to Merrick if James hadn’t asked me to back off.”

“You were gonna hand me my arse?” Henry laughed. “Good luck with that, mate.”

“Oh, I’ve dealt with your type before, sunshine,” Shawn said with a complacent grin. “I’ve made harder ones than you whimper.”

“You think you can make me whimper?”

“I know I can,” Shawn guaranteed him.

“I’d like to see you try,” Henry challenged, hands on his hips as if to invite Shawn to take his best shot.

Shawn’s grin turned practically feral as he moved closer still. He pinned Henry with a piercing gaze as he firmly took a handful of Henry’s shirt and walked him two steps back until they were up against the wall. Then Shawn pulled Henry down for a searing kiss that was as much a battle of wills as their verbal sniping had been.

Mid-snog, Shawn’s fingers began to trace up Henry’s inseam until they encountered the solid bulge rapidly growing there. Shawn intensified the kiss as he began to firmly massage Henry’s cock through his dark chino trousers. Just as he felt Henry begin to lean, slightly and subconsciously, into the kiss and Shawn’s touch, Shawn stepped smartly back, breaking all contact.

A short sound of frustration left Henry’s lips before he could suppress it, and Shawn grinned widely. “Like I said,” he said smugly, opening the door and walking back to their table.

“What’s that look for?” James asked as Shawn sat back down and took up his pint.

“Wha’ look?” Shawn said innocently.

“Probably had a snog offa that waiter,” Merrick said, snickering.

“That was my guess as well,” James said. “Legs like a fly half on that one.”

Merrick and James were still laughing rather drunkenly about Shawn’s supposed assignation when Henry returned to the table, if but momentarily. “Popping out for a smoke,” Henry muttered, taking a long swig of his lager before heading toward the door.

“Did he say smoke?” Merrick said in surprise. “Henry’s not smoked in years. I don’t think. I think I’ll go have a word about that,” he said, getting up but not without hanging onto James for support until he cleared his chair.

“Need to get your taxi sorted out. None of you are driving,” Shawn said as Merrick went out.

“Yeah, it’s fine. We’re going to share an Uber with Henry,” James said. “And I do know that look on you, Shawn Lasting. You definitely had at least a snog with somebody.”

Shawn just shrugged and sipped his ale.

Outside the pub, Merrick found Henry leaned against the building, taking a drag on the cigarette in his hand. “Are you really smoking again?” Merrick asked.

“Nope. This is a banana,” Henry said dryly.

Merrick rolled his eyes. “All right. What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Henry insisted. “Just had a craving. Old times. That’s all.”

“You’re sure that’s all? Everything’s okay?”

“Yeah. No worries,” Henry said, stubbing out the rest of the cigarette on the wall. “Craving satisfied. Won’t do that again for another five years.”

“Right. Well, just let us know when you’re ready to go, all right? I’ll sort out the Uber.”

“Yep. Whenever you two are ready,” Henry said, following Merrick back inside. He guessed it hadn’t been that snog-and-grope session they’d been laughing about after all because Merrick would definitely have peppered him with questions if he’d had the slightest notion. It was just as well he didn’t, Henry thought, because examining that encounter too deeply was not high on the list of things Henry Martin wished to accomplish any time soon. It was bad enough that James’s mate was a walking amalgamation of all the things that turned Henry on but that he had so far managed to convince himself were off-limits for more reasons than he could count.

 

MONDAY MORNING SAW a flurry of activity in James’s street as he and Merrick carefully packed James’s car with their last minute necessities and their most fragile or valuable articles while the hired removers handled the furniture and more unwieldy items. James’s art agent had already picked up all in-progress canvases with plans to deliver them once James had his studio set up in the new house. Shawn offered the use of his Land Rover to pack as many boxes in as possible, and Henry had even opted for a distinctly un-sporty estate hire car to help with the move.

Thanks to Merrick’s efficient organization, the morning went quickly and smoothly and once the two removal vans were off it remained only for James to lock up the house until they returned to do cleaning and upgrades prior to listing the property with an estate agent.

James and Merrick shared a long hug on the front step, excited to begin a new chapter in their lives together before getting in James’s Audi and driving 150 miles up the M4. Henry found himself looking away, wanting to give them a private moment. As he turned, he saw Shawn leaning against his Rover, smiling warmly at James and Merrick. It was such a difference from the smug, leering grin Shawn had fixed him with two nights before in the loo that Henry was struck by the contrast. After a moment, Shawn’s attention shifted toward Henry. His smile turned a bit more perceptive but without so much of the arrogant edge it usually held.

Caught looking, Henry quickly diverted his gaze and got behind the wheel of his hired Ford to wait until James and Merrick were off. He had their new address in GPS but didn’t want to get a head start in case it looked like he was in a hurry to get out of there just because Shawn Lasting had smirked at him.

Three hours later, the group was already back at it, shifting boxes from cars into James and Merrick’s new home in a quiet, tucked-away housing estate just north of Cardiff. As soon as they’d arrived, Merrick had ordered several pizzas delivered so they could all have a lunch break as quickly as possible. Once again, getting everything unloaded and boxes distributed to their correct rooms was a well-managed operation thanks to Merrick’s planning. Nevertheless, once the removers had all the furniture brought in and set more-or-less in place, everyone was quite happy to stop for pizza and a few sips of beer.

After eating, Shawn decided to go down to the city to check in to the hotel he’d booked into for the night, promising to be back up to help with any unpacking they could get done that evening. Henry couldn’t deny that it was a tactful way of granting the couple a few hours alone in their new home and decided it was also a good time to drop off his practical hire car and pick up the sportier one he’d booked for the remainder of his week in Blighty.

By the time Henry and Shawn returned, James and Merrick had unpacked most of their essentials well enough for the first night, along with towels and linens and had their bed neatly made. Clearly, they’d made judicious use of the alone time, as both were freshly showered and visibly rather tired but glowing. Henry was happy to help with unpacking and shelving their books, CDs, and DVDs as Shawn had taken on the task of unpacking their pantry goods and getting kitchen appliances hooked up.

As evening rolled in, the group ended up sitting in the back garden after working inside all day. Merrick and James decided to order in a few Thai dishes to share and to open the bottle of champagne Shawn had given them.

At one point, James and Merrick had both gone inside for a few moments, leaving Henry and Shawn sat at the patio table. The knowing smile Shawn had turned on Henry earlier that morning returned almost immediately.

“Is it possible for you to not look at me like I’m a meat pie?” Henry finally said, growing uncomfortable with the silent attention.

Shawn’s smile just widened. “Meat pies are one of my favourites,” he said.

“You won, all right?” Henry said. “You proved your point. Can we just ignore one another now?”

Shawn shrugged. “You’ve done your share of paying attention. If you’d like to ignore me, be my guest. I’m leaving shortly as it is. Will be back for a bit tomorrow, though, so maybe you want to arrange a rota?”

“Surely we’re not that immature,” Henry said dryly.

“Up to you,” Shawn said neutrally, draining his glass of champagne before standing and fishing his keys out of his pocket.

“Hold it, mate,” Henry said jumping up. “You can’t drive.”

“I can’t?” Shawn said, surprised.

“After three glasses of champagne, no,” Henry said firmly.

“Come off it,” Shawn scoffed.

“I’m serious, mate. You’re not driving. Give me some credit; I am a professional here.”

Shawn rolled his eyes. “All right, officer,” he said sarcastically, walking into the house and dropping his keys on James and Merrick’s kitchen table and taking out his mobile as James came into the kitchen.

“Heading out?” James asked.

“Aye. But apparently not driving,” Shawn grumbled.

“Probably wise,” James said. “We were a little free with the pouring.”

“I just had the one with dinner,” Henry said. “Why don’t I drop you at your hotel?” he offered in conciliation.

“Don’t want you going out of your way,” Shawn said.

“Don’t worry about it, all right?” Henry insisted. “We’ll both be back here tomorrow, might as well. That Rover of yours isn’t exactly environmentally friendly, is it?”

“That’s rich coming from you, boy racer,” Shawn snarked but kept his tone mild.

After saying goodnight to James and Merrick, Shawn got into Henry’s hired convertible TT, expecting Henry to put the top up when he started the motor. Instead, Henry just switched on the heated seats and pulled away, letting GPS direct him to the North Road toward the city centre and onward to the bayside. Shawn just zipped his jacket and stuffed his hands in his pockets as the chill night air whipped over the windscreen.

“Nice of you to take such a personal interest in my safety,” Shawn said eventually.

“My primary concern was for other motorists, pedestrians, and stray animals,” Henry said. “However, I don’t want to see anyone in a crash if I can prevent it. Cars are my life. I understand the risks better than most people.”

Shawn just nodded in acceptance. “So where’s your hotel?” he asked as Henry turned from North Road onto Boulevard de Nantes which ran away from the northeastern corner of the Norman-era curtain wall of Cardiff Castle, directing motorists toward the link road that circumnavigated the capitol’s compact city centre.

“Not bothered booking one. There’s loads here; was just going to pick one that looked good enough for a night.”

Shawn grunted. “Nah, think we can do a bit better than that, now. Mine’s five-star. Can’t beat that, can you?”

“Are you asking me up to your room?” Henry laughed incredulously.

“Why not?” Shawn said matter-of-factly. “If you don’t mind my saying so, I felt a rather distinct interest the other night. And not to put too fine a point on it, you’re exactly the type I go for. I’d be happy to thank you for looking after my well-being, and possibly resolve this tension that seems to linger between us. Not really fair on Jamie and Mer, you know—their best mates being so chilly with one another…”

If Henry hadn’t been driving down Lloyd George Avenue at that moment, he would have turned to stare outright at Shawn. “You don’t half have a set on ya, do ya, mate?”

Shawn laughed and said, “I’ve been accused of much worse than that. I won’t push the matter, but at least let me buy you a drink, eh? They’ve got a good bar inside, or there’s plenty of places right on the quay. I’ll see you get a comfortable room as well, even if you decline to share mine.”

“Know this place well, do you?” Henry said, hedging the subject.

“Oh, aye. Always book it when I’m up here for the rugby,” Shawn said.

Henry sighed as he turned onto the short road leading between the bay and the wetlands, at the end of which was situated the hotel and spa. “All right,” he said. “Reckon it’d be churlish to knock back an offer of a peace pint. But that’s all, one pint. And for fuck’s sake, not in a hotel bar.”

“Attaboy!” Shawn said, clapping Henry’s shoulder as he pulled into the pay-and-display car park. “There’s a good place right down on the bayfront. Three minutes’ walk. I recommend a pint of Reverend James, but your choice, whatever you fancy.”

A short, brisk walk beside the 19th century graving docks of Cardiff’s coal-empire past and Shawn and Henry were sat with a pint each on a couch looking out at Mermaid Quay on Cardiff Bay. The pub was a modern construction of clean lines, high ceilings, and sharp angles that suggested ships’ prows and sails, while the wood-panelled bar and gleaming chrome fixtures were reminiscent of smart brightwork. Floor-to-ceiling windows on the long sides of the isosceles-shaped building gave the impression of weightless forward motion. The blend of industrial, nautical, and sleek modern atmosphere surely would have clashed abrasively anywhere else but in that particular location made all the sense in the world.

“I remember coming in here a few years ago after the Six Nations final,” Shawn said, waxing nostalgic as he relaxed back against the leatherette cushions. “Wales fucking murdered England. I was sat just about in this section, drowning my sorrows, and this group of jubilant Welsh lads come up, daffodil hats and all. I’m thinking they’re on the piss and want to have a go at the tosser in the England strip, you know? And they just sat down and one of ’em says to me, ‘Right, so, we reckon as you’re probably a bit gutted at the moment right now, but if you wanna come along with us, we’re on the lash all night and promise not to rubbish you too much’.”

“I see why Mez gets on with you, then,” Henry said. “You obviously don’t barrack for Wales though.”

“Not in internationals, no,” Shawn said. “But there are a few club sides here I support. I have a deep appreciation of the history around here, and more so than just in sport.”

“You studied history, then?” Henry asked, surprising himself by actually engaging Shawn with questions.

Shawn laughed ironically. “Wish to hell I had. What I studied was bugger all. Quit school at fifteen and went to work in a metal fabrication shop, didn’t I? Until all industry packed it in, anyway.”

“You worked in a fab shop?” Henry said doubtingly. “I was given to understand you were in the tall poppy club, despite sounding like the Pom version of an Ocker from beyond the black stump.”

“I did. Drove a fork truck for several years. Then, of course, everything closed down, and I went to a trades school for electronics. It’s a long story, but I made a few smart moves, got some stock options, and cashed out wisely at the end of the millennium. It’s allowed me to be basically retired since then and living rather comfortably. Keep m’self from going stale by volunteering my services with causes I support—setting up fundraising events, consulting on projects, things like that—just because I can. Got lucky, that’s all,” Shawn said. “But even after more than half a century of life, I’ve never forgotten what hell I went through until then, what it was like growing up in an industrial wasteland and fancying other lads. I’ll never forget being bashed, no matter how careful and circumspect I was,” he said, indicating a faint scar that interrupted the hairline at his left temple. “You wouldn’t have believed how scrawny I was back then. Was scrappier than they reckoned, though, and once I learned to fight properly and put a bit more muscle on…well, just glad I never really harmed anybody in self-defence.”

Henry let out a heavy breath and took a long drink of his pint. “Yeah. You never stop hearing the bullshit, even if it’s not aimed at you. Had a few dust-ups in my time, but not many bashers actually tried it on. I didn’t ask to be tall and imposing, and I don’t know how much power I have at day’s end, but if my standing in the way can keep someone safe, I’ll do it, any day.”

By the time they’d finished their pints, Shawn and Henry were regarding one another quite differently as they talked about their backgrounds and experiences.

“My shout if you want another,” Henry said, picking up his empty glass.

“I’ll do a nightcap, but that’s it,” Shawn agreed. “If they’ve got a cream liqueur or sherry, I’ll have that.”

Henry nodded and, a few minutes later, returned to the couch with a couple snifters of Irish cream and a slice of black forest gateau with two forks.

“I couldn’t resist this,” Henry said, only slightly apologetically.

Shawn gave Henry a cheeky grin. “Sweet tooth, eh?” he said, taking a fork and wasting no time digging in either. “How does a lad like you manage to have such a Grecian physique, then? It’s not from driving; that’s plain.”

“No, I actually have to work out,” Henry snorted.

“I admit that I don’t exactly follow motorsport,” Shawn said, “but aren’t most racers a bit more average-to-short build? Bit like jockeys or summat?”

“Yes, no doubt. I’ve got to be really careful to keep my cars as light as possible because extra inches means extra weight, but beyond that, it’s not a disadvantage. I mainly do touring and endurance races, production stuff, not much of that stock car rubbish, so, as far as I’m concerned, it’s more down to my skills than some of those other tangential factors.”

“You obviously enjoy it,” Shawn said. “I’m glad your physique doesn’t present a hindrance, though, because I have to say, I find that a lot more attractive than headlamps and tailpipes. Even if I think you’ve got quite a nice tailpipe of your own.”

Shawn’s voice had definitely dropped an octave or two there, Henry thought as Shawn’s fingertips suggestively stroked Henry’s knee. Henry knew his judgment was clouded, but for that moment he found himself not caring and leaned toward Shawn, who met him in a kiss that was much more cooperative than their first. Within moments, the remnants of the rich chocolate cake and traces of cream liqueur were abandoned on the low table in front of the couch as Shawn and Henry made for the door and headed quickly back toward the hotel.