Chapter Five

September

 

“WELL, GOOD MORNING,” Shawn said as the video screen opened on his laptop. “Or evening, I reckon, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, gone seven just now,” Henry said, taking a sip from the wine glass he had at hand.

“That wine looks nice,” Shawn said with a grin. “Bit early for it here though.”

“Guess there’s one definite advantage to the time difference,” Henry smirked. “Just got this one in this morning, and I could hardly wait to crack it open this evening. I kinda like to try out uncommon wines, unusual varieties and stuff.”

“Oh yeah?” Shawn said, intrigued by the new discovery about Henry. “I quite enjoy a nice glass of wine as well. What sort is that one, then?”

“It’s called Tannat,” Henry said, giving his glass a swirl. “Fairly obscure one from Uruguay, only just starting to get some notice with your typical wine snobs. It’s definitely not everybody’s cup of tea, though. It’s really dark and tannic, almost astringently bitter on the palate. Kinda full throttle.”

“A bit like baking chocolate, is it?”

“Yeah, a lot. I guess I’m weird, because I can eat that stuff totally unsweetened. Love it. Don’t care for milk chocolate so much and won’t touch so-called white chocolate.”

“There’s a man after my own heart.” Shawn grinned. “Bitter wine, bitter chocolate, bitter ale—I’ll have any of that. Not sure what it says about me, liking all that bitterness.”

“Reckon it just means you’re sweet enough and need to balance it out.” Henry smirked. “What have you got going today, then?”

“Bugger all, basically,” Shawn shrugged. “It’s chucking it down out there, so I’ve missed out on my morning run, and I’ll probably just go completely shiftless and do a bit of reading most of the afternoon.”

“Nothing wrong with that sometimes. What are you reading?”

“Couple things on the go at the moment, but I’ve also just got in one on the Celtic Iron Age that I’m itching to delve into, so probably that one.”

Henry couldn’t help snickering. He never would have associated someone so sexy or so down-to-earth and blokey with such scholarly interests, but he found it endearing. “You really missed your calling, mate,” he said.

Shawn laughed good-naturedly and nodded. “Yeah, I know it. Life is like that, I suppose. Can’t say I’ve not been compensated for it, though.”

For the briefest moment, Henry wondered what his life would have been like had he never had the opportunity to race professionally. It didn’t bear thinking about, and he knew that even if he couldn’t compete at the highest levels, he still would have been doing it as an amateur any chance he got.

“Hey, do they have any sort of clubs for people interested in that stuff, history and archaeology and all? I mean, there’s every sort of hobby you can think of out there, isn’t there? I bet you’d get on really well with that.”

“I’m not exactly short of mates,” Shawn said with a smile.

“Nah, of course not, but that’s something you really enjoy, right? Something you’d like to be more involved in? Surely you don’t have to be a professional to get together with likeminded people. You’d have a lot to contribute.”

“I don’t know about that,” Shawn said rather doubtfully. “Reading a few books doesn’t likely qualify my thoughts on anything.”

“Does it have to?” Henry shrugged. “The point of amateur clubs isn’t exactly to advance the field, but you could get a lot out of it. And your thoughts are probably perfectly valid. I mean, don’t doubt yourself before you even give it a go. It’s like some of these car clubs—I usually don’t bother with them because so many of them are a buncha self-styled experts who talk outta their arses, but they think they know best so don’t see any point in putting in any actual research and certainly not in listening to anybody else who might know more than they do. You’re already well ahead of that sort of shit.”

Henry could see the point at which Shawn began considering the possibility when he crossed his arms and absently stroked his thumb across his lower lip.

“Well, maybe I’ll ask around. I know a few people in museums, maybe one of them has some connections or something,” Shawn said thoughtfully.

“Yeah, that’s the idea. Let me know what you find out. I’m sure there’s something you could be involved in. Reading is good and all, but…take it from me, there’s nothing that beats getting out there and applying your knowledge,” Henry said encouragingly.

“Speaking of knowledge…” Shawn said, a subtle leer sweeping his features as he leaned toward the laptop’s camera. “How goes it with those plugs I sent?”

Henry’s gaze involuntarily flickered over toward the nightstand beside a hastily made bed in the background as an uncharacteristically coy grin crept upon him. “Uh…I think it’s going well. It’s kind of been more enjoyable than I really thought it would.”

“Yeah? Good!” Shawn said with a genuine smile. “You’re using loads of lube, right? More than you think you need.”

“Yeah, going through plenty,” Henry laughed. “Actually, I just started trying out that third one the other night. Not all the way there yet, but”—he shrugged—“the process makes sense.”

“I’m very glad to hear that,” Shawn said. “I hoped it would be fun for you, opening up new avenues to enjoy… Pardon the pun.”

“I might or might not pardon that pun.” Henry smirked. “But, I am kind of looking forward to trying out the real thing, eventually. Maybe next time I’m up that way again.”

“I’m sure I’d be more than happy to help you with that,” Shawn said, grinning widely.

 

October

 

IT WAS A gorgeous Saturday afternoon for a drive down the M4, through many a sprawling field with the occasional local parish church steeple all but indistinguishable from the treelines of field boundaries. The robin’s egg sky with its friendly, fleecy clouds was just begging to be featured in an advert by the English tourism schemes.

As the M4 curved westerly again after diverting north of Bristol, the fluffy clouds cleared out and made way for thinner, more diffuse cloud forms that masked the horizon and presaged the approach to the Severn estuary.

After crossing the span of the Severn Bridge and getting a fair way inland, Shawn told his car’s on-board computer to ring James.

“All righ’, Jamie? Just coming up on the Newport bypass,” Shawn said when James answered. “Going to top up my petrol at the Cardiff Gate services but shouldn’t be more than about twenty minutes now.”

By the time Shawn had filled his gas tank, the shining, hazy clouds had massed together into a canopy of grey, and he could tell rain would be coming and going the rest of the day. Rather than finding it depressing, Shawn thought it was much more genuinely honest weather than the brash blue skies he’d had on the drive in.

As Shawn parked in James and Merrick’s cul-de-sac and picked up his overnight bag, James opened the front door.

“Ringing just before Newport is perfect,” James said as Shawn came up the walkway. “I can drop my brushes in the thinner and be showered before you’re in.”

“What can I say, mate? Timing is everything,” Shawn said with a grin as he pulled James into a hug.

“You want to take a break before we head out?” James asked, bringing Shawn into the sitting room.

Shawn shrugged. “No difference to me, I’m ready when you are,” he said, setting his holdall beside the couch.

“Okay. I’ll just grab my wallet and coat,” James said. “Take your bag up for you?”

“Ta much,” Shawn said. “Don’t have to tip the porter here, do I?”

“Nah, just buy me a porter in the pub.” James laughed, going up the stairs.

Moments later, James and Shawn were in James’s Audi sedan, driving up to Thornhill and Lisvane station to take the train down to Cardiff city centre. As they waited on the platform’s simple sheltered benches, James rang Merrick to let him know that the car was at the station and they’d stop into the shop and drop off the keys before heading out on the town.

“’Lo, Merrick,” Shawn called out, leaning in toward James’s phone. “I’ll try not to get him too pissed up. See you in a bit, mate!”

James snickered and relayed Merrick’s response, “‘Pob lwc, mêt!’ Merrick says. Which is basically to say ‘chance would be a fine thing’,” before he rang off with Merrick with an affectionate “Caru ti, cariad.”

“How are your lessons going, then?” Shawn asked as they stood to board the approaching train.

“Really well,” James said. “It’s helpful having a built-in tutor, of course, but I’m getting all the immersion I possibly can too. And Merrick’s mam-gu is an invaluable resource as well. I remember Merrick telling me when we first met that she was made of the language. He wasn’t kidding!”

“That’s very cool. Well done.”

James nodded in thanks. “I’ve never had such an encompassing life change,” he said. “I was too young to remember much about living in France those first few years, and young enough to easily make the transition to full-time English, so that didn’t impact me all that much. This has been good, though. Really good. And not just because I’m gaining a language into the bargain.”

“I couldn’t be happier for you, Jamie. We miss you up in London, me and Nige and Theo and all, but the two of you have been so good for one another. It’s brilliant to see it going so well for you both.”

“Mer and I miss all of you too. We haven’t entirely decided on it, but we might be hosting a New Year’s do, which, at the presently unconfirmed stage, would basically be pub crawl down here and offering the guest room, couch, and floor space for anybody who wants to crash with us after.”

“Sounds brilliant. Let me know if you decide to do it. I’ll be happy to come up,” Shawn said.

Within minutes, the train pulled into Queen Street Station, and James and Shawn headed down the platform to the way out. Shawn followed James through the narrow Victorian side streets and through the massive modern shopping centre to come out onto Working Street across from the medieval church of St. John in the midst of the busy pedestrian streets. James lead the way across the spacious plaza lined with banks, souvenir shops, and cafes to an Edwardian arcade where “Teilwra Meredydd Rhys | Meredydd Rhys Tailoring” was located.

The shop’s brass doorbell jingled, and James called out, “Mae’n mi, cariad”, when he didn’t see Merrick behind the long glass display counter that housed an orderly array of neckties and bowties, handkerchiefs and pocket squares, collar stays, tie bars, and cuff links. The three walls not taken up by the shop windows were lined with walnut wood racks of trousers, jackets, and dress shirts and the dark green plush carpeting gave the shop a warm and elegant atmosphere.

Merrick called back a greeting before he stepped out from the back half of the shop where racks of fabrics were stored with the cutting table, ironing boards, and sewing machines. He set a large, steamy mug of tea and a plate with a couple Hobnobs on the counter.

“Well, I was going to ask if you wanted us to bring you anything, but looks like you’re sorted,” James said, slipping behind the counter to give Merrick a quick kiss and to hand over his car keys.

“’W i’n iawn, diolch,” Merrick said, thanking James and indicating that he was fine with tea and biscuits. “Hey, Shawn.”

“Guess I don’t get a kiss?” Shawn teased.

“I’m sure you’re not short of snog candidates,” Merrick said with a grin. “You lads taking the train home tonight?”

“Might do,” James said. “Depends how long the show goes. If not, we’ll do an Uber.”

“Right. Tell Morgan I said to ‘break a nail’ and be sure to let me know how the costume worked and if he needs any alterations or repairs to just ring.”

“Will do,” James promised. “Tell Henry I said hello.”

“Of course,” Merrick said. “Where are you guys eating?”

“Old Arcade,” James said.

“Solid choice. All right, well, enjoy the evening. Don’t worry about keeping quiet when you get back; I’ll sleep through it.”

James leaned back over the counter for another kiss, and he and Shawn headed out of the arcade and back toward the old church to the pub in the next street. They opted for a cosy booth in the pub’s airy, oak-panelled front room, surrounded by local rugby ephemerae, from jumpers to photos through the years, and Shawn got in the first round, bringing a couple pints of stout over to the table.

“So where’s this show tonight?” Shawn asked.

“Pretty close, just the other side of the library at the end of the plaza, really,” James said. “It’s a beautiful old pub, all dark wood and glazed tiles, right up your street. And really lovely crowd, Mer and I often hang out there on a week night. You’ll like Morgan as well. He’s very talented and really very sweet. Or she is, I suppose. Depending on what attire he’s in at the moment.”

“More talented than I were in those canary yellow sequins, you mean?” Shawn smirked.

James laughed. “Shawn, a half-dead seagull would be more talented than you were at that event. But yes, significantly more talented. I learned quite a lot while Mer was working on Morgan’s frock. Such as, those were technically not sequins you were wearing that night. They were paillettes, and Merrick says they’re extremely difficult to work with but would have been more comfortable if you’d worn a slip.”

Shawn groaned. “Well that advice is generous but useless because that’s never happening again,” he said firmly.

“You never know, Shawn,” James said with a snicker. “Once you meet Morgan Y Glam, you might find a whole new world opening up before you!”

“Yeah, well… Actually, there’s something I was meaning to tell you about,” Shawn said, turning serious.

James’s brow creased as he looked at his friend and set his pint down slowly. “Is everything all right?” he asked hesitantly. “You’re not sick or something, are you?”

“Oh, god no, Jamie, nothing like that!” Shawn said quickly. “It’s not bad news, just…well, potentially surprising, I guess.”

James didn’t look particularly comforted. When he thought of all the things that could be ‘surprising’ from Shawn, the list didn’t narrow down much.

“Don’t look so worried,” Shawn said, smiling. “Guess I better put you out of your misery. It’s nothing really big or serious, for reasons that will be immediately obvious, but just thought you ought to know that ever since you and Merrick moved up here, Henry Martin and I have sort of…taken up wi’ one another, in a manner of speaking.”

James looked at Shawn for a long moment, waiting for Shawn’s gotcha smile. It didn’t appear, and Shawn looked as matter-of-fact as James had ever seen him. “You’re taking the piss,” James said. “I know you, Shawn; known you well for decades. You can’t stand Henry Martin, and the two of you are like caged tigers when you’re around one another. Merrick and I have decided not to make a thing of it, hoping the animosity will just wear—”

“The day after you moved in—” Shawn cut in. “—did he and I have that same tension that day? After he’d driven me back to my hotel the night before?” Shawn’s grin was back, but it was subtle and confident now, and James knew that look well.

“Holy fuck. Seriously? You and Henry…?”

Shawn shrugged. “Like I said, not especially serious, for obvious reasons. Also not a secret, but neither of us were sure if it was fair to say anything at first, since it might just have been a one-off and nobody else’s business.”

James was stunned quiet and took a long drink of his pint. “Wow. Do you know if he’s told Mer about it?”

“Said he planned to talk to him about it on their Skype this evening. That’s why I wanted to let you know about it now as well.”

“Okay… And…does Henry know about your…ya know…?”

Shawn laughed. “Wha’? My ‘Big Dick Energy’?”

“I meant your proclivities,” James said dryly. “I presumed he was at least passingly acquainted with your dick if you’ve slept together.”

“Yes, he does. And I decline to elaborate any further on that matter.”

James held up his hands quickly. “I don’t ask for elaboration, just confirmation. You’re both adults. As long as everything is mutually satisfying, it’s none of my bloody business. Still, though—cheers, eh?”

“Yeah, well enough,” Shawn said, raising his glass.

“So, just for clarification, the two of you somehow hooked up that night we moved. But Henry was down at the races the next weekend and flew back to Sydney on Monday, didn’t he?” James asked.

“That’s correct. As it happened, I attended the Goodwood festival that weekend as well,” Shawn said innocently.

“Now that is a coincidence. You attending a cars weekend when you have less interest in vehicles than you have in underwater basket weaving,” James said sarcastically.

“Will wonders never cease?” Shawn said with a smirk.

“And you guys have been keeping in touch since then? Again, I do not require details!”

“Yes, we have,” Shawn confirmed.

“Wow,” James said again, shaking his head. “Well, one thing’s for certain—there’s never a lack of intrigue with you, mate.”

Shawn just winked and turned his attention to the menu.

 

WHEN MERRICK GOT home, he went straight upstairs to hang up his suit and change into his customary after-work pyjama bottoms and T-shirt. After fixing himself a quick meal of leftover sausage and leek pappardelle, he poured himself a lager and opened up the laptop in the dining room, logging into the video call app to wait for Henry to connect from Sydney.

Within a few minutes, the notice of a call request popped up, and Merrick accepted the connection.

“Mezza!” Henry said, his video opening on the screen.

Merrick snickered. “I see the bedhead look has yet to depart the Land Down Under,” he said.

“Rack off. Haven’t even started on my coffee,” Henry grumbled, still in his rumpled T-shirt and uncombed hair.

“So? I haven’t even started on my lager,” Merrick said boastfully, holding up his glass.

“Nice for some,” Henry said.

“What’s with the schedule swap, anyway?” Merrick asked. “You’re not usually up and doing before ten if you’re not racing.”

“Right, well, there is a point to it, more than just the usual yabber,” Henry said, pausing for a sip of coffee.

Merrick took a long breath to reign in his impatience while Henry savoured his coffee as dramatically as usual, leaning back in his chair with a long sigh.

“Anyway, you’re gonna think I’m taking the piss, so let me assure you straight away that I’m not.”

“All right. In your own time…” Merrick said, just about managing not to roll his eyes.

“Also don’t want you to think I’ve been hiding this from you. It’s just that…didn’t want to call it a thing if it wasn’t, you know?” Henry said.

“Henry, I give up. Will you please tell me what this is about because you’re worrying me,” Merrick said seriously.

“Nothing to be worried about, Mez,” Henry said with an apologetic smile. “I just wanted to prepare you for the disbelief, not just chuck it out there.”

“Henry!” Merrick all but shouted.

“Okay. When I was up helping you move, Shawn and I hooked up. A couple times. And we’ve been keeping in touch pretty regularly the last few months.”

Merrick displayed no reaction for a long moment, then gave an epic eye-roll. “Gotta hand it to you. That was an awfully long way to go for a wind-up, mate.”

“Not winding you up.” Henry shrugged. “Dinky-di, Mez. Dead set.”

“Yeah. Try the other one; it’s got bells on,” Merrick said.

“Why don’t you ask James? He’s having dinner with Shawn now, right? Pub called the Arcade?” Henry said. “And they’re going to a drag show after. Thanks for prioritizing a chat sesh with your best old cobber, by the way, ’cause you could have just said you’d done the outfit for one of the performers and wanted to go see how it worked out. I mean, according to the text I had from Shawn while I was making my coffee, anyway…” he said, holding his mobile phone up to the camera to show Merrick the text chain.

“You’re fucking serious?”

“Dinky-di, as previously mentioned,” Henry said. “Anyway, it’s kind of a casual thing, so not, ya know, like anything major, not an item. But…yeah. It’s been fun and interesting. Eye-opening, in some ways.”

“Wow,” Merrick said, after taking a long draught of his lager. “So, you’re saying the two of you went from at each other’s throats to down each other’s throats?”

“Well, that’s one way of putting it,” Henry laughed.

“How, exactly, did that happen? James and I have been trying to ignore the tension between you two, not give it any weight because there’s no reason for it. We figured you’d stop acting like school boys eventually, but hooking up? No way.”

“Nobody’s more surprised than I am, mate,” Henry said. “It was that night you moved and I drove him down to his hotel because I wouldn’t let him drive after several glasses of champagne. He threw out a proposition that maybe we should shag and clear up the hostility, which I thought was genuine brass knackers on his part, but I accepted his offer of a pint ’cause it seemed like it would have been rude not to. We got to talking and…don’t know, he didn’t seem like such a hard-arsed dickhead once he started talking about where he came from and stuff. And, from there, ya know… I mean, he is a right bit of spunk, those golden but rough-hewn looks… In my book, anyway.”

“Yeah, well, I knew that from the start. You always go for the sugar-daddy type,” Merrick said.

“I do not!” Henry protested.

“Yeah, you do, butt. How long have I known you? I know exactly what sort you’d break your neck just watching walk down the road.”

“He’s not a sugar-daddy anyway,” Henry grumbled.

“Didn’t say he was. But he is that type. Mature, self-assured, smart dresser.”

“Not like you can say much—you always go for the ones with a few miles on the old odometer too,” Henry pointed out.

“Different type though,” Merrick said. “Of course, my type is now just about limited to handsome, mature, ex-London artists so kind of a moot point.”

“He gonna ask you to marry him properly one of these days instead of just living in sin? Or is that still kind of a tender subject for him after the last one?” Henry asked, glad to get off the subject of his attraction to Shawn.

“Haven’t really talked about it,” Merrick said. “I have kind of been thinking about it, though, and I think I’m going to bring it up with James sometime soon. It’s not a huge deal to me whether we do or not; it’s not going to change what we’ve got, but besides making it ‘officially official’, there are some practical reasons in favour of it.”

“I was sort of teasing about that,” Henry said, “but I hope you know if you two get hitched and don’t invite me I’ll never speak to you again.”

Merrick laughed. “This is all very hypothetical,” he said, “but you’ll be the first to know, I promise. And we’ll be sure to consult the racing schedules before we set the date, should there be one.”

 

May

 

“WELL, HELLO THERE,” Shawn said, smiling broadly as Henry walked toward him at the Heathrow arrivals meeting point.

Henry’s corresponding smile was a little more tired than Shawn’s until Shawn held out a large takeaway coffee cup. “Oh, yes!” Henry moaned obscenely, getting his hands around the hot paper cup.

“Thought you might like that,” Shawn said smugly as he reached for Henry’s suitcase and led the way to the car park. Within minutes, Henry was settled into the passenger seat of Shawn’s Land Rover and looked like he might sleep the whole way back to Richmond even with the coffee.

“You all right?” Shawn asked, getting behind the wheel and patting Henry’s knee.

“Yeah, I’ll be right, just didn’t get a lot of sleep on the overnight. Screaming infants, bit of turbulence, and first and business were both booked solid so no upgrades available. Had business on the second leg, but that only helps so much.”

“Well, let’s get you home, and you can sleep as long as you like. I guarantee no infants, no turbulence—until you want it—and everything will be first class,” Shawn promised. “Does music help you relax, or do you prefer quiet?” he asked as he navigated out of the car park.

“Music’s nice,” Henry said around a yawn.

Shawn smiled fondly and put on a quiet jazz mix. “Close yer eyes and rest, luv,” he said, softly stroking Henry’s knee.

It seemed like no time at all had passed when Shawn stroked Henry’s cheek to wake him again. “Bugger. Didn’t mean to drop off already. Sorry about that,” Henry grumbled as he got out of the car and took his carry-on from the boot while Shawn maneuvered his case.

“Don’t worry abou’ it,” Shawn said, putting his hand on Henry’s shoulder and gesturing to the corner house on the road. “Come on in, and we’ll get you all settled, yeah?”

“Nice digs you got,” Henry said, glancing around the entryway.

The slate-tiled floor leading back to the kitchen and traditional cream walls with dark-brown trim echoed the exterior mock-Tudor exposed beams. The wall left of the stairs hosted Shawn’s collection of sport memorabilia, while the walls of the downstairs corridor were filled with photographs featuring Shawn’s mates—Henry recognized James, Nigel, Theo, and Merrick. The front sitting room to the right of the entryway looked tidy, bright, and comfortable but seemed primarily for show, more of a reception room than private living space.

“Gets the job done. Got more space than I need, and it’s an easy walk to my preferred local, as well as a decent walk over to Twickers if it’s not chucking it down. Not walking to Stamford Bridge, though,” Shawn said. “You still want to have a lie-down for a bit?” he asked, leading the way up the stairs.

“Yeah,” Henry said, sounding apologetic. “Would you mind if I showered first, though?”

“Not at all,” Shawn said, parking Henry’s case in the bedroom. “I always prefer to freshen up after flying as well.” He opened the door to the small but uncluttered en suite bath and switched on the light, then took a couple of towels and a flannel out of a meticulous linen cupboard that seemed infused with the healthful scent of French lavender. “Now, help yourself to whatever you like and let me know of anything you need, all right? You’re welcome to make use of my dressing gown. I prefer wearing mine a couple sizes big, so it shouldn’t be too small on you,” he said, indicating the sea-green robe on the back of the door.

“Thanks, Shawn,” Henry said. “I’ll be more energetic company once I’ve had a sleep, I promise.”

Shawn stopped Henry and clasped both of his shoulders. “Henry. You’ve nothing to apologise for.”

“I know, but—”

“No. But nothing,” Shawn said, shaking his head. “Now, I want you to relax and rest as much as you need, got it? You’re not disappointing me in any way. I think you know by now I enjoy seeing you taken care of. So, you go on and wash up and sleep. I assure you I won’t be bored. I’m going to have a hot bath myself down the hall, do some reading, do up something for tea. Whenever you’re properly rested, come find me, and I’ll make you a brew and something to eat, all right?”

“Thank you,” Henry said appreciatively, wrapping his arms around Shawn.

Shawn reached up and pulled Henry in for a kiss. “That’s better,” he said with a smile. “Is there anything you want me to unpack for you?”

“Nah,” Henry said, moving toward the bath. “Unless you don’t want me sleeping in the nuddy in your bed.”

Shawn threw his head back in laughter and promised Henry that would never be a problem with him.

It was past eight that evening when Henry ambled down the stairs in just his jogging trousers to find Shawn sitting at the kitchen counter with a mug of mint tea and a book, wearing a slender pair of reading glasses.

“Hi, handsome. How’re you feeling?” Shawn asked, marking his page, taking off his glasses, and setting the book aside.

“Infinitely better, thanks,” Henry said, pulling out the other pub chair.

“Good,” Shawn said, standing and stroking Henry’s cheek before leaning in for a brief kiss. “I’m willing to bet you’re hungry,” he said, going over to the fridge. “I made a pan of lasagna this afternoon, if you fancy some of that.”

“Yeah, that sounds ace,” Henry said.

Shawn smiled and dished out a big slice to heat up in the microwave. In the meantime, he took a tea towel off a loaf of bread and sliced off two pieces, buttering them liberally with chive butter. “Starter for you,” he said. “Still a bit warm and all.”

“Did you bake this?” Henry said, neglecting his manners as he bit into the bread.

Shawn nodded. “You want a cuppa as well? I stick to herbals or decaf in the evening, but you can have whatever you fancy,” he asked, refilling the kettle.

“Yeah, ta, whatever you’re having is fine. What were you reading?” Henry asked, pointing his slice of bread at Shawn’s book on the coffee-and-copper brown granite counter.

Shawn took the dinner plate out of the microwave and set it on the counter in front of Henry. “Give that a minute to cool,” he advised. “Bronze Age history. Nothing I’ll bore you with,” Shawn said.

Henry shrugged. “I will still need a night’s sleep tonight as well. Why not have a burl?”

“Because you need to eat first, big boy.” Shawn grinned, dropping a bag of mint tea into a mug before pouring the boiled water in.

“You reading for that group you joined up with?” Henry asked.

“Well, not as a requirement. It’s an archaeological society, not a book club,” Shawn said with a smile. “I’ve been enjoying a lot of the programmes though. Gotten to know a fair few people in the group as well. I might actually volunteer to go help on a dig before too long.”

“That sounds exciting,” Henry said, digging into his meal.

“It is,” Shawn said. “I want to get a little more versed in some of the techniques and whatnot, don’t want to do more harm than good, but won’t be long, I think.”

“Told you you wouldn’t go wrong,” Henry said confidently. “You’re always talking about doing all that networking and fundraising sort of schmoozing. No reason you wouldn’t get on in just about any group, especially when it’s something you have a passion for.”

“Thank you for encouraging me,” Shawn said honestly as he set the mug in front of Henry and sat back down. “It’s not often that I need someone to tell me to have a go at something, but, well, ya know…it always seemed like a lost dream, and I’d just accepted a long time ago it wasn’t in my cards or summat.”

“That’s kinda sweet,” Henry said with a goofy grin, “you actually needing encouragement. I’ll remember that! This is really delicious, by the way. You want to join up with a Michelin chefs’ club next, mate.”

Shawn just rolled his eyes and went back to his own cup of tea.

“I mean it about the tucker though. This is bonza.”

“Thanks, again,” Shawn said. “It’s too easy, if I’m honest. Same with the bread. It’s all a piece of piss. As long as you’ve got half an idea what you’re doing and decent quality ingredients.”

Henry shook his head. “I’m useless in the kitchen. I can chop stuff and measure it, but that’s where my skill set ends.”

“Well, maybe I can teach you a few things to make you a bit more useful in the kitchen,” Shawn said with an easy, but not at all innocent, smile.

 

THE NEXT MORNING, Shawn woke curled up with Henry moulded against his back. It was rather unusual for Shawn to be the little spoon, as he was typically the one with an arm and leg draped over his bed partner. It was also the first time he’d woken with someone since he and Henry had stayed together those two nights during the Goodwood festival, nearly a year earlier. It surprised him to realise that it had been that long already and the number of things in his life that had also changed in that time—from his best mate moving to another country to turning his lifelong interest in history and archaeology into a proper hobby.

He wondered what exactly it said about him that he hadn’t been bothered pursuing hook-ups in the last ten months, but before he could analyse it too deeply, Henry started to wake and wrapped his arm tighter around Shawn, pulling him close like a teddy bear.

“’Ut ti’e ee got lee’f?” Henry mumbled, his face still smashed against the pillow.

“Was that any form of English?” Shawn snickered.

“What time have we got to leave,” Henry said, momentarily lifting his head to clarify. “Dickhead.”

“Not till afternoon,” Shawn said, reaching back to stroke Henry’s thigh. “So I’ve got loads of time to pay you back for that comment.”

“Promises, promises,” Henry said coolly.

Shawn turned over to face Henry with a feral grin. “You’re in my sanctum now, remember? I’ve got all my equipment here, not just a few travel samples.” Shawn pointed across the room to a closet with mirrored doors.

“Oh, hey…” Henry said, suddenly awake, “will you bring a couple things for the weekend? Maybe a few different ones to try out too?”

“Of course,” Shawn said, tenderly stroking Henry’s stubbled cheek. “Why don’t we go through together and pick a few before we head out?” He was sure just going through the options for travel toys would prove enjoyable, especially if Henry wanted to sample any of them before deciding which to take along.

“You know… I never would have believed I was really a sex maniac. You did that to me,” Henry accused mildly.

Shawn smirked. “I only opened the door, hot stuff. Walking through it was entirely up to you.”

Henry snorted. “Yeah, with you displaying your gorgeous arse on the other side? Not much of an option there.”

Shawn shrugged. “It was worth it, though, wasn’t it?” he said, stroking Henry’s cheek.

“It’s been worth it,” Henry nodded.

“I just hope I can survive what I’ve roused,” Shawn said, running a finger down Henry’s chest.

“Right. I’ll be the one trying to keep up with your libido, mate. Uh…would you be okay with me driving out today, incidentally?”

“If you want to, sure,” Shawn said. “You don’t fancy just relaxing for a couple hours? Or is my driving that bad?”

“Your driving is fine.” Henry shrugged. “But, thing is, I don’t know if you know this about me, probably don’t because I don’t really talk about it, but…I kinda like driving. Like…a lot.”

Shawn just raised a brow and shook his head. “Daft bugger. You’re welcome to drive, but on one condition.”

“Yes, I will put the seat and steering column back where you had ’em,” Henry promised.

“That wasn’t going to be my condition,” Shawn said. “Actually, I just want to be sure you’ll keep within the limits, don’t try to overtake, drive carefully.”

Henry gave Shawn a long look, wondering if he’d forgotten who he was talking to.

Then Shawn smirked. “Nah, I’m taking the piss. I really do just want you to put the steering wheel back.”

Henry groaned and pushed himself upright in bed. “Where’s coffee?”

“You lie down. I’ll bring you a cup,” Shawn said. “Then I’m going for a short jog, not more than about twenty minutes. I’ll get something for brekkie going soon as I’m back and showered. Thinking I might get creative with some leftover things I’ve got in. Not got an aversion to savoury breakfast or anything have you?”

“I’m fairly certain there’s not a food I don’t like, babe,” Henry laughed.

Shawn patted Henry’s hip and went down to the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee for Henry.

Henry pulled the dove grey duvet up a little closer around him and snuggled down. The sheets, though fresh, still smelled like Shawn’s woodsy-scented shaving lotion and it gave Henry a warm feeling that he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt before. In a way that even Henry was certain no one else in the world would relate to, it reminded him of the feeling he got when he walked into a garage and breathed the comforting smells of petrol and oil and tyre rubber.

“Fresh milky coffee,” Shawn said, returning to the bedroom and setting a mug on the nightstand before he started getting dressed for his jog. “There’s another couple cups on the warmer if you want it. Won’t be out long,” he said, kissing Henry’s forehead.

When Shawn got back, Henry was sat at the kitchen island, working on his second cup of coffee. Shawn stopped in the kitchen just long enough to slip his arm around Henry’s waist for a quick kiss and a cheeky sip of Henry’s coffee.

While Shawn was in the shower, Henry decided to put the kettle on and brew up a pot of tea to have ready for when Shawn came back down. Henry was impressed with the tidiness of Shawn’s cupboards, orderly tiers of spices and herbs took up the entire bottom shelf while airtight glass canisters of pastas, dried lentils, and rice, staples like Branston pickle, Sarson’s malt vinegar, tins of marrowfat peas and Heinz beans, and a few bottles of elderflower cordial sat beside several boxes of Twinings herbal teas.

Poking about a bit more, Henry found a ceramic canister marked ‘tea’ in another cupboard, beside ones marked ‘flour’ and ‘sugar’. Instead of the usual store-bought teabags, though, it contained reusable steeping bags already filled with loose-leaf black tea. Henry took one, wondering whether it was a blend or single type, and filled the kettle, waiting until he heard the shower turned off before switching it on. He imagined Shawn probably preferred something fairly strong and malty like Assam with his morning meal.

Half an hour later, Shawn had a couple of salmon burgers simmering in a pan of curried lentils. Under the broiler, he had two muffin halves topped with a slice of gammon and shredded gruyere warming with a pot of cranberry sauce on the island for a topper.

“Fixing you a pot of tea was definitely inadequate recompense,” Henry said as Shawn put a plate of food in front of him.

“You don’t have to repay me,” Shawn said, stroking Henry’s arm. “You’re my guest.”

“I know but always try to do my bit, that’s all. You know—be a good guest or they won’t ask you back—that kind of thing. Always heard that from my mum.”

“I expect your mum wasn’t talking about blokes you’re shagging,” Shawn said dryly, sitting down to eat. “So, are you lads taking Merrick out on the piss tonight?”

“Depends on what you call ‘out on the piss’,” Henry said. “He’s dead set against anything ‘ridiculous’, as he put it. Which is a pity because I thought a Wizard of Oz theme stag night woulda been perfect. What about James?”

Shawn shook his head. “Nope, he doesn’t want anything. Said he already had a stag night three years ago and doesn’t need it now. I’m just going to take him for a nice meal and the opera down in the bayside.”

“Opera sounds safe.” Henry nodded. “Don’t reckon he’ll accidentally fall for a stripper there.”

“Too right he won’t,” Shawn said firmly. “Not giving him so much time before the wedding this time!”

“Good job you did before,” Henry said.

“Yeah. It rather were the point at the time, I suppose, and he certainly has no call to rethink going through with it now. Fairly impressive how it all turned out though.”

 

“’NOTHER ROUND OF shots?” Nigel asked, getting up from the table in the popular, ultra-modern, blue-lit city centre nightclub.

“Not for me,” Merrick protested over the noise of cackles from a nearby group of young women and thumping, repetitive bassline of something he vaguely recognised as a song that was popular several months earlier but was otherwise just an indicator that most new popular culture was starting to go on without him. “I do not want to be hungover tomorrow.”

“Why don’t we get some food?” Henry suggested. “It’s hours since we ate.”

“Chips!” Theo chimed in cheerfully.

“Crikey. You’re all getting elderly,” Nigel groused. “But, all right, chips is never a bad idea I guess.”

“Carolyn Street is right over the road,” Merrick said decisively. “I could murder some curry chips right now. Come on.”

Chips obtained all around, Merrick, Theo, and Nigel crowded onto a bench to eat while Henry stood. Once they’d eaten their fill, Nigel leaned back with a blissful look and said to Theo, “I suddenly think I’m knackered.”

Theo just laughed and said dryly, “Now there’s a surprise. I think the party just got cut in half, lads. You two carrying on?”

Merrick and Henry exchanged a glance. “Quiet nightcap?” Merrick proposed, and Henry nodded. “Right, well, see you tomorrow,” Merrick said, getting a hug from both Nigel and Theo before he and Henry continued on up to High Street. Merrick directed them to a cosy corner in the back room of a dark wood and dimly lit little gin bar that felt like it had hoarded every vestige of the Victorian arcade in which it was situated like a tiny, architectural, gin-loving dragon. It was a place made for quiet, late-night conversation, the atmosphere more suited to esoteric acid jazz and inhibiting the sort of youthful boisterousness one often found further down the High Street.

Henry went up to the bar and came back after a few minutes with a couple crystal goblets, saying, “How is it even possible to pick one out of that many options? I asked the bloke to recommend something nice but not too boring. He said this one is from Tenby and is very approachable,” Henry said, handing Merrick a drink trimmed with a sprig of rosemary, slice of orange, and a sprinkling of colourful violets.

“James and I are working our way through the list,” Merrick said, referring to the dozen-page menu of gins that took up most of the small table. “We tried one last week made with chili peppers. And then one with seaweed and samphire. I generally like the local ones best, Jamie prefers anything floral or herbal. We’ve both had this one and liked it. Figure we might have tried one of each in the next six years.”

“Cheers, Mezza,” Henry said, touching his glass to Merrick’s. “I’m truly happy for you.”

“Thanks, Henry. Never would have imagined this, eh?”

“You’ve been due for it,” Henry said.

“Maybe I’m not the only one,” Merrick said meaningfully.

Henry couldn’t help the way a little smile crept up on him, but he shrugged, nonetheless. “We’ll see, mate. We’ll see. A lot of factors involved, ya know?”

“There are always a lot of factors involved, Henry. Just make sure they don’t become excuses. You know what I mean? Because it’s always a trade-off. That’s just life.”

Henry nodded and said, “If you’re scared shitless of spinning out, you’ll never have a stiff rear suspension.”

Merrick gave Henry a long look and said, “For the sake of not having nightmares, I’m going to take that as just a racing metaphor and not read in any euphemism.”

Henry chuckled and slapped Merrick’s shoulder. “You know, even if you don’t understand half the words outta my mouth, I’m glad you’re my best mate.”

“Glad you’re mine as well, Henry,” Merrick said seriously. “I miss hanging out like we used to, but I am glad you finally figured out the video calls. Even if that was more for Shawn’s benefit than mine.”

“Well, ya know, I’ve been thinking a lot. And no, it didn’t hurt, before you ask, because I’ve been thinking about it for a good while, really. After Mum and Dad both passed, I haven’t really had a whole hell of a lot of reason to stay in Oz. What have I got keeping me there? My mates from school are all off far and wide and don’t really keep in touch anyway since I moved up here the first time. My real friendships are up here now. I seriously think I’m gonna move back, Mez. I like it here. I feel more like I belong here, always did.”

“I’d love it if you moved back, Henry; I really would,” Merrick said, trying not to let himself turn drunkenly emotional.

“Well, there’s a few things I’d still have to sort out, like changing teams—again—so it won’t happen like next month, but it can be done. Anyway, lemme know when you want to head back to the hotel. Think we should do a taxi?”

“Bugger that,” Merrick muttered. “The walk will sober me up,” he said and finished off his drink, plucking out the orange segment and chomping on it. “Come on. And keep an eye out for Jamie and Shawn. Bad luck to see each other the night before.”

“I think you’re safe,” Henry laughed. “I had a text from Shawn about two hours ago saying they were back from the opera and going directly to bed.”