Chapter Six

June

 

IT HAD BEEN a couple of weeks since James and Merrick’s wedding and the week he’d spent with Shawn. They’d scheduled a call for that evening, and Henry had spent the best part of the day collecting everything he’d been feeling for a while into coherent thoughts.

He had begun to wonder during the course of that week just what it was that was so different about that visit. It seemed to Henry that it had to be more than the obvious fact that he’d never spent a visit sleeping with the guy offering him a place to stay before. The sex with Shawn had been fantastic and adventurous and exciting as well as surprisingly tender and careful, and Henry was starting to realise that he really enjoyed letting Shawn be the one in charge and letting himself be vulnerable. He trusted Shawn to make it pleasurable for them both and felt comfortable talking to him about what he liked and didn’t enjoy as much. It felt so much more cooperative, like a real partnership, than any of his previous marginal relationships had.

But more than the sex, Henry realised how nice it was, just spending time with Shawn. Waking up beside him in the morning made Henry feel wanted, especially the way Shawn tended to mould himself to Henry’s side and throw his leg over Henry’s, curling up against him like Henry was a warm body pillow. He loved the way Shawn was always giving him little caresses when they were alone, and though he was more circumspect when they were around others, Henry could still see Shawn’s thoughts in his glances and subtle, barely there smiles.

The fact that he’d felt like a big, miserable, emotional sook sitting in the departure lounge leaving London (and Shawn) was his first major clue that wanting to move back to the UK had become about more than being closer to his mates or his shifting his racing career back to European circuits. He wanted to be with Shawn, not fifteen thousand kilometres away on the other side of a computer screen or phone line, because that warm, full, butterflies feeling he got when they were together was the only thing he’d ever felt that was comparable to chasing down the car ahead of him on the track and leaving it in the dust.

Shawn had said he’d ring around seven in the evening Sydney time, so Henry had taken a beer from the fridge at six thirty, hoping it would even out his nerves enough to be able to say what he wanted to. He figured Shawn would be just back in from a run in the park and maybe had his tea and breakfast and feeling relaxed and happy.

When Henry’s mobile rang, he took a deep breath to keep himself from diving to grab the phone off the coffee table, telling himself he was totally cool about it. He even went so far as to actually look at the name on the display to confirm it was Shawn before swiping to answer.

“Hey,” he said, taking his beer out to the balcony where he could stretch out on the lounge chair.

“Hey, hot stuff,” Shawn said. “How was your day?”

“Fine,” Henry said. “Got a lot of work done in the shop. Just showered and cracked open a tinnie on the verandah. You get out for your run this morning?”

“Yeah,” Shawn said with a chuckle. “You clearly know my routine.”

“Well you don’t have to worry about me stalking ya, mate,” Henry said. “Not yet, anyway.”

“Not yet?” Shawn asked, intrigued.

Henry took another deep breath. “I’m seriously thinking about moving back up there, Shawn. Especially after that last trip up. I just think it’s where I belong, ya know?”

“Wow. Seriously?” Shawn said.

“Dead set. It’s been on my mind for a while, but I’m more and more sure of it all the time. It’ll take a while to get everything sorted out, but…gonna make a start at it, soonish. I don’t want to do anything major until after Bathurst this year, but nothing would be final before then anyway.”

“That would be great,” Shawn said honestly.

“There’s another reason I really don’t want to be down here full time,” Henry said, feeling encouraged.

“Wha’s that?” Shawn prompted.

“I really want to spend more time with you, Shawn. Not just this long-distance thing.” He paused for a moment, telling himself to just come out with it before he lost his nerve and left it vague. “I love you, Shawn.” Henry tried to breathe evenly while waiting for Shawn to process that, knowing it was a bit of a bomb to drop, but hopefully not entirely out of the blue.

After what felt like an hour, Shawn finally spoke again. “Henry, I…don’t know what to say. I care for you as well; of course I do. Have you really thought about it, though? Sometimes the endorphins, when it’s a bit intense, can feel a lot like love. Especially when you’re newer to some of the stuff we’ve tried out.”

Henry felt like he was driving a car that had just lost a significant amount of transmission fluid. He took a deep breath, yet again, and told himself not to change gears. Shawn was the careful sort—he knew that—knew he didn’t rush into things but always wanted to go over every precaution.

“I have thought about it,” Henry assured him. “It’s not just endorphins. Hell, I could write a book on bloody endorphins. That feeling lasts, like, a couple days max. This isn’t that.”

The other end of the line was silent even longer before Shawn said, quietly, “Henry, I’m not getting any younger…”

Shit, Henry thought, that felt like a serpentine belt snapping and seizing up the power steering column. “Do you imagine I am?” Henry said, attempting to reason Shawn out of his hesitation.

“No, of course not,” Shawn said patiently. “But you are young. You’ve got a lot ahead of you.”

“James and Merrick have more years between them than we do. What’s so different?” Henry argued, even as he felt like he was driving a wet track with bald tyres.

“It is different,” Shawn said apologetically. “Jamie’s always been the romantic sort, always wanted that kind of thing. I’m…more of the no-strings sort. Confirmed bachelor. I love being with you—don’t get me wrong—you’re wonderful to be with.”

“But better at arm’s-length, huh?” Henry said quietly.

“Henry, I don’t want you to feel like I care for you any less,” Shawn said quickly.

Get off the track and take a did-not-finish, Henry told himself. “Course not,” he said, trying not to mutter. “No worries. You just like your space.”

“Bit set in my ways, Henry. That’s not about you or your worth in any way.”

“Yeah,” Henry said. “Look, I, um… Meaning to get a workout in before turning in. Got an early morning in the garage.”

“Okay,” Shawn said evenly. “Henry, listen, you are a wonderful guy. I really hope it does work out, and you can move back up here. It would be brilliant to hang out more. This isn’t me knocking you back. Just explaining how things are. All right?”

“Yeah. I get it. We’ll talk later.”

“Yeah,” Shawn said.

Henry disconnected the call and dropped his mobile on the chair. He wanted a long draught of his beer but came up empty and crushed the can in his hand before lobbing it off the balcony and into the beach grasses, belatedly hoping he didn’t hit any sandpipers.

How, he wondered, could he have misread things so entirely? He really thought that the affection and tenderness Shawn had shown him was a good indication that they were on the same page, or at least in the same chapter, romantically speaking.

Sinking down on the end of the lounge chair, shoulders hunched as he attempted to ignore the tight feeling in his throat, Henry hated the thought that maybe he was just one part of a long pattern. Maybe it was Shawn’s routine to go around seducing guys into exploring hidden proclivities and dismantling their barriers, only to expect them to move on to someone else if they wanted anything serious and long-term.

This kind of vulnerability, Henry decided, was most assuredly not fun or exciting. It only felt lonely and raw. He decided to go back inside and close the blinds to escape the feeling that the vastness of sea was staring at him and calling him an idiot for assuming a depth of emotion based on physical affection.

 

AS HENRY RANG off, Shawn let out a long breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. It was a conversation he’d had before, more times than he cared to count, but, this time, left him feeling low.

He really did like Henry and enjoyed the time they’d spent together during Henry’s last visit. He enjoyed listening to Henry’s passion in talking about cars, despite not having a particular interest in automobiles himself, and Henry was always encouraging about Shawn’s pursuits as well. Shawn couldn’t help feeling at fault. He knew he should have been clearer about what relationships were like for him, but he’d thought it rather redundant to stress the point when he and Henry were more than fifteen thousand kilometres apart.

“Bollocks,” Shawn muttered to no one. He seriously hoped Henry wasn’t deeply hurt and told himself that he needed to apologise for his lack of clarity about things the next time he and Henry talked, which he hoped would be relatively soon. He’d give him a few days to get over what he was sure Henry felt amounted to rejection, and if he didn’t hear from him by then, he’d take the initiative to reach out.

Looking at his watch, Shawn contemplated whether ten thirty in the morning was too early to have a drink. “Fuck it,” he said to himself, pouring another cup of tea and adding a generous splash of peaty whisky.

 

JAMES AND MERRICK had been home from their honeymoon several days when Merrick finally decided to ring Henry since his text messages hadn’t been answered. He was sat at a café table a few doors up from the shop having a quick lunch while his new assistant minded the shop, and he thought it the best time to catch Henry not sound asleep or in the garage.

“Hi, Mez. Look, I’m really sorry I haven’t got back to you,” he said, pre-empting the inevitable question as soon as he answered. “Been up to my neck in a transmission job, mate.”

“That usually makes you sound like the cat that got the cream,” Merrick said. “What’s up, Henry? Everything okay?”

“Yeah, mate, all’s apples. How was the trip? I mean, Tenby isn’t quite Tenerife, but, hey, long as you kids are happy.”

Merrick wasn’t fooled for a minute. “I sent you pictures. We had great weather; the coastal path was fantastic; we loved every minute. Now, if you want to revisit that apples bullshit and tell me what’s going on?”

“It’s nothing, Mer. Just…”

“Just?”

Henry sighed down the line, knowing Merrick wouldn’t let it go now. “Shawn and I have had a bit of a disagreement, that’s all. It doesn’t matter.”

“Ah. That does happen in relationships on occasion. It sounds like whatever it is matters to you though,” Merrick said. He knew James had talked with Shawn the night before, but there didn’t seem to be any indication from that side that things were on the rocks, unless, of course, Shawn had asked James to keep it quiet.

“It doesn’t matter, Mez. I mean, there’s not a relationship in the first place, is there? Not at fifteen thousand kilometres. Hell, not at fifteen kilometres either, I reckon. We just want different things, end of. And it’s all just as well anyway. I mean, what the fuck would I do with a proper boyfriend? Bring him to races so he can hang out in the paddock with the wives and girlfriends? Right. That’ll go down a real storm.”

Henry so rarely ever mentioned anything about the challenges of being closeted in his sport that Merrick admittedly didn’t often think much of it. “I’m sorry, Henry,” Merrick said quietly.

“There’s nothing for you to be sorry about, Mer,” Henry said. “I understand well enough how the world works. Win some, lose some, and if you want the horsepower, you better be ready to chuck the traction. Mutually exclusive in my experience.”

Merrick wished he could give his best mate the hug it sounded like he needed. “Henry, you were there for me in every way when things went so badly with Seth. I know this isn’t like that, but I wish to hell I could be there for you the same way now.”

“Don’t worry about it, Mez. I’ll be okay. I’ll get over it in a few days, soon as I’ve got through a few bottles of the old plonk.”

“You still thinking about moving back up here?” Merrick asked.

“Yeah. I was thinking about that before Shawn entered the picture. Not changing my mind just because that picture didn’t develop. I’m coming up for the classics at Goodwood in September, too, so I’ll plan to see you guys then. I don’t wanna do any big planning until after Bathurst, but I’ll probably scope a few things out while I’m up.”

“All right,” Merrick said. “Anything we can do from up here, just let us know, okay? Looking at flats or whatever.”

“Thanks, Mez. Can I ask you a favour straight away though?”

“You know you can, knobhead. Any time.”

“Could you just not mention this to James for a bit? I know he’ll want to talk to Shawn about it and stuff. I just don’t want to make a big issue of it, especially right now.”

“Yeah, I understand; it’s fine. Look, I gotta get back in the shop. Ring me this weekend?”

“Sure thing,” Henry said. “Once I’m done with this transmission project I’m on, anyway.”

After ringing off with Henry, Merrick immediately rang James’s mobile.

“Sh’mae, fy ngwhr,” James answered, a smile still audible in his voice even after a week of officially calling Merrick his husband.

“P’nawn da, cariad,” Merrick responded, then decided to switch to English just to make sure nothing got lost in translation. He was fairly sure James’s linguistic ability could handle it, but with a delicate matter, he didn’t want to chance it. “Hey, you’re going to up Shawn’s Saturday, right?”

“Yeah,” James said. “Unless you’d rather I ask him over here. Shouldn’t be a problem, especially if you just want some more newlywed time…”

“You don’t have to change the plans,” Merrick said. “We’re married, not joined at the hip. Actually, I just wanted to ask if you would kind of carefully enquire if everything’s okay with Shawn and Henry when you go up. I just talked to Henry, and he’s asked me not to say anything, so I’m not saying anything, and don’t you say anything either, but if you could just…sound it out, maybe? Just casually?”

“Yeah, all right,” James said. “Shawn did seem a little subdued last time I talked to him, but I figured it was just ’cause he was sipping something fairly old and peaty at the moment. But since you’re not saying, I won’t ask you about it. Fancy a curry tonight?”

“O, ie, mae hwnna’n swnio’n berffaith!” Merrick said, a curry supper sounding perfect to him and glad his husband knew exactly how to change a subject.

 

AFTER CLOSING THE shop Friday evening, Merrick took the train home, getting off at the station before his usual one to meet up with James at their regular pub on the high street. As he walked into the pub of classically whitewashed exterior walls and mullioned windows, he saw James stood at the bar, sipping a pint and chatting with the bartender, with a ready glass of gin and tonic beside him.

“S’mae,” Merrick said, slipping his arm around James’s waist. “Diolch, cariad,” he said, thanking James for having a drink waiting for him.

“Dim broblem,” James responded with a kiss to Merrick’s cheek.

“Shwmae, Cerys,” Merrick greeting the regular Friday bartender.

“Iawn, Mered. Sut mae’r gwaith?” she asked, enquiring after Merrick’s work.

“Iawn. Brysur, ond iawn,” Merrick said, smiling tiredly after a good, but busy, week of business.

“Beer garden?” James suggested as it was a fair evening.

“Ie,” Merrick nodded. He ordered the hunter’s chicken and James the fish and chips, and they adjourned outside to the small, paved, open-air beer garden behind the pub.

“So, I talked to Shawn this afternoon,” James said as they sat at one of the picnic tables. “Turns out, you’ll have me at home this weekend after all. Shawn’s mum passed away a couple days ago, and he’s going up to Blackpool for the funeral tomorrow.”

“Oh… Sorry to hear that,” Merrick said. “About Shawn, I mean, not about you being home.”

“Good to know.” James smirked. “I know it’s going to be challenging for him on a few different levels, but there wasn’t exactly a lot of love lost there. Which is probably going to be the hardest part for him. He said he debated going up at all, but I told him even if the relationship was essentially non-existent the last couple decades, it was still the best chance for closure. Some things just can’t be left open-ended forever.”

“You didn’t prod about Henry, did you?” Merrick asked.

“Nah, not right now.”

“Good. I expect he doesn’t need to feel interrogated at the moment, and even a gentle nudging might feel like the third degree if he’s got other things on his mind. I should be talking to Henry sometime this weekend, so I’ll see how he seems to be feeling.”

James shook his head. “Whatever it is, I hope it gets sorted out between them. They seemed really good for each other, once they resolved their sexual tension.”

“Yeah,” Merrick agreed. “Henry’s never had any really serious relationships, and I know part of it is because racing isn’t exactly the most gay-friendly of professions, but…he deserves it, you know?”

“Definitely do,” James said with a nod. “I think Shawn can do better for himself than his stand-by list of fuck buddies too. He even admitted to me at the wedding that he sometimes wishes he had what we have, but then he backtracked and said their current arrangement works fine. I’ve known him for a long time, and I know change is a glacial process for him, but I also recognize when that glacier starts to move. He’ll change his mind, but I hope it’s not too late for him and Henry by the time he does.”

 

IT WAS TIPPING down with rain on Monday evening as Shawn dashed from the taxi into Blackpool North station. He was glad he’d put his garment bag into his holdall, instead of carrying it properly and having to deal with yet another drenched bag on the train. He’d lacked the patience to do any more than stuff it in the bag after returning from the wake anyway. Three days knee-deep in family drama and unwelcome memories of growing up gay in a guttering Thatcher economy had been more than enough.

Shawn fervently wished that smoking was still permissible on rail platforms, especially when the driving rain put a damp chill in the air that hadn’t got the message that it was meant to be summer. With the afternoon having devolved into a blazing family row, he felt breaking a fourteen-year abstinence might have been warranted as he waited for the London train. If nothing else, he reckoned, he could at least have several ales and a packet of crisps from the cart while he tried to put the whole weekend out of his mind on the three-hour ride home. He hoped to hell that the quiet coach he’d booked would prove worth sacrificing the comforts of the first-class travel he usually preferred for a long journey.

Dropping his hold-all and kicking it under his window seat, Shawn sank down, dropped his head back, and shut his eyes for a few minutes before he remembered to put his mobile on airplane mode. As he woke the phone to access the control panel, he realised he was hoping he might have a text or voice message from Henry. It would have been a balm to hear from him after the events of his mother’s funeral. The message he’d sent Friday morning had yet to be answered, though, and Shawn began to feel that he might have irrecoverably scuppered yet another relationship.

As the train pulled out of the station, Shawn sat staring out the rain-spattered window, waiting for urban, industrial, and warehousing to give way to countryside. He remembered keenly, even after two decades, the sense of relief he’d felt the day he’d left Blackpool to become a permanent Londoner. It had been no hardship to leave behind siblings who readily shouldered him out but resented him picking up and leaving, nor his mother who had gone cold as the first step out of bed on a January morning when he’d come out, yet told him he had ‘ideas above his station’ when he moved to London and refused his offer to set up a monthly deposit to help with upkeep of the house.

Now, though, he wondered exactly where his life had gone in those years.

Yes, his life was immensely different now, and he’d done more than he’d ever imagined he could since the days of his misspent and combative youth in the dingy allies and back roads of a struggling industrial existence that had no use for him. But how far had he really come in anything more than window dressing? He had mates who meant more to him than they’d ever know, he’d been able to do a great deal to support local pro-LGBT causes, and he’d even taken steps to turn his lifelong interest in history into a serious pursuit; but what did he have at times like this, when blood relations had nothing but a frosty reception upon his arrival and a disdainful and rancorous send-off?

What he wouldn’t give, Shawn thought, for a warm, strong hand to hold just then; someone who he could permit himself to be vulnerable with and receive physical comfort from; to know that he was accepted in spite of his family’s wholesale rejection. For the first time in his life, Shawn Lasting felt the weight of his years, and it made him weary.

The trolley couldn’t come round soon enough, and Shawn wished he’d picked up a few tins of gin and tonic instead of relying on the rail options.

 

ON SATURDAY, JAMES took the noon train from Cardiff Central into London for a rescheduled mate’s night with Shawn. Shawn insisted he’d meet James at Paddington Station, despite James assuring him that he had no aversion to taking the District line down to Kew. Spotting Shawn just after the electronic turnstiles from the platforms, James opened his arms for a hug.

“Sorry about your mum, mate,” James said. “I know things weren’t great, or even good. Been there. But, all the same…”

“Thanks, Jamie,” Shawn said sincerely. “Come on, let’s get to a pub, eh? The smell of that pasty stall in here is driving me mad.”

James laughed. “I hear you. I usually grab one of those for a snack on my way back. Can’t go wrong. Actually, we had something even better than the usual pasty out on the west coast,” James said as they headed out of the station toward Praed Street. “They had these pasty-like things called oggies, like the rugby chant, ya know? And one bloke had them in a display case set up right in a window on the pavement. Bloody hell, the lamb and leek one I had was like a wet dream in a shortcrust.”

“So, it was a good trip, then?” Shawn asked, gesturing to the right toward the car park a couple blocks away.

“It was perfect, seriously.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear it. Sorry it wasn’t the finest suite in Tuscany with dear old Michael, but a walking tour with your Merrick is a fair consolation.”

James was tempted to roll his eyes at Shawn just having to bring up his ex-fiancé but decided to try a different tack as they approached Shawn’s Land Rover and he dropped his overnight in the back. “Well, you know, Shawn, three years ago you said to me, ‘There’s no such thing as too late’. You weren’t wrong about that. It’s out there, and when you find it, you know it.”

“Aye. What was that other line I gave you?” Shawn said, pulling out into London traffic and making for the Westway. “From King Lear, wa’n’t it, abou’ the blind seeing how the world goes an’ all?”

James kept the conversation light for the short ride along the motorway. When they arrived in Kew, Shawn parked in his road, James dropped his bag inside Shawn’s door, and they walked directly to their usual pub on the green.

Once they each had a pint in hand and a café table out front, Shawn took a long draught of his amber ale and sighed deeply.

“Been craving that, eh?” James chuckled.

“More ’an that,” Shawn muttered, rubbing his fingers across his forehead to ward off a headache. “I need to ask your advice abou’ something, Jamie.”

James sat up a bit straighter, paying attention. Perhaps that nudging wouldn’t be needed after all, he thought.

“I think I’ve made a real mistake,” Shawn said, shaking his head. “I’ve had a lot to think about lately—and you were right abou’ that closure stuff, but it’s brought up a few other things with it, and now, I don’t really know how to fix this—if I can fix it, if I should fix it. I just don’t know.”

James reached out to clasp Shawn’s arm in support. “Talk about it,” he said. “That’s the only way you’ll really get your head around it, mate.”

Shawn dragged a hand over his face but nodded in concurrence. “A couple weeks ago I was talking to Henry, and he told me that he’s making plans to move back up here, said he felt like he doesn’t really have anything keeping him down there anymore; all his mates are up here and all. I mean, I know what that’s like. I couldn’t fucking wait to get back here after being in Blackpool for all of three days. But…then he also said that he’s in love with me. And I gave him my usual gentle let-down lines about confirmed bachelorhood and how he doesn’t want love with a kinky old bastard like me…that sort of shite. And it’s entirely possible that none of this is coming as news to you if he’s talked to Merrick by now…” Shawn said, realising that James didn’t look all that surprised to hear of it.

James shook his head. “I don’t know any specifics, but I’m pretty sure Henry didn’t go into detail when he and Mer talked.”

“Yeah. Well, anyway. I’ve texted him a few times since then, but he’s not got back to me. Initially I wanted to apologise for not making my position on relationships clear from the outset, but after last weekend… And maybe this is like some kind of mid-life, delayed-grief, closure-induced headfuck, I don’t know, but… What the fuck am I doing at this point in my life, Jamie? There’s a great guy who’s exactly my type and is temptation itself on two bloody long legs, who I get on with surprisingly well, outside the bedroom as well as inside; he’s fucking in love with me, and I can’t get my head outta my arse long enough to look honestly at how I feel about him? What, just because I’ve said for decades I didn’t want to get into anything serious? I know I don’t know him as well as Merrick does, but I’m a pretty decent judge of character if I do say so m’self, and I know he’s not the type to take advantage or faff me about.”

James didn’t say anything right away, then asked quietly, “How do you feel about him, Shawn?”

Shawn sighed, closed his eyes, and lowered his head for a moment, rubbing again at his brow. “I don’t know what love is supposed to be, Jamie,” he said eventually. “I’ve always got the impression that it’s meant to be like loads of adrenaline and tachycardia and a bump or two in the loo at the disco. That kind of feeling. And I’ve never had that with anybody. What I feel with Henry is more like…comfort. Like it’s just so easy to be with him; there’s a natural intimacy with him. That initial friction we had when you and Merrick first got together just melted away the first time he and I sat down and talked properly. It’s like being with a mate I’ve known for years, only way more,” he said, giving James a pointed look, “even though I haven’t known him that long. It’s like the comfort of a long, hot bath with lavender bubbles. I don’t know how to describe it other than that, and I don’t know if what I’ve just described counts as love. But I do know that I don’t want to hurt him, and I don’t want to lose him.”

James smiled fondly at his friend. “Shawn, what you just described is what I feel with Mered every single day. I never had the adrenaline and tachycardia thing either, except when I was scared out of my mind telling Mer about having been engaged and the general Michael fallout.”

“Seriously?” Shawn asked. “You’re not just bullshitting me so I run off and ring him and profess my undying love for him?”

“Very seriously, Shawn. No bullshitting of any sort. Of course, I don’t think you should run right off and ring him anyway. Mainly because it’s probably after midnight there. And I do think the two of you should have some more time together before putting any definite labels on things, but…you know, ringing him and telling him what you just told me is a prime option.”

“You think I can make this right with him?” Shawn asked, fiddling with his pint glass and wondering if he dared to hope, let alone try.

“Unless you’ve got a surprise fiancé in your back pocket, I’d say it’s doable, yeah. Even then, you still might be in with a chance.”

 

IT WAS LATE morning Monday when Shawn sat down in his library to phone Henry. The grey weather admitted little daylight to his reading nook and seemed to amplify the weight of the discussion he needed to have with Henry. He wished he could have done it the night before after dropping James at the train station so that he could have a fortifying sip of whisky on hand in case Henry told him to get stuffed, but he didn’t want to chance getting him too early. Waiting while the line rang was nerve-wracking.

“Hello, Shawn,” Henry said when he finally picked up. He sounded jaded, an unnatural sound for someone Shawn associated with such passion in everything he did.

“Hi, Henry,” Shawn said. “It’s been a while since we talked. You all right?”

“Fine, mate. Just don’t want to crowd you, that’s all.”

Shawn bit back a sigh. Nobody in the world could deliver a relaxed yet stinging tone quite like an Aussie. “Listen, Henry, that’s what I wanted to talk about. I owe you an apology. Probably several.”

Henry didn’t say anything on the other end, and Shawn guessed he wasn’t about to make this any easier on Shawn, which Shawn supposed was perfectly fair.

“To be honest,” Shawn said, “at first, I wanted to apologise for not being clearer about my view on relationships. It was short-sighted of me to presume that the physical distance between us would hinder deeper feelings developing. But now, in a way, I’m almost glad I didn’t.”

“Almost glad, eh?” Henry said dryly.

“I’ve had some time to think, Henry, for various reasons, including seeing my family last weekend for Mum’s funeral. I don’t bring that up for the sympathy vote, but I want you to know this isn’t coming out of nowhere. When I said that about not getting any younger…I had it the wrong way round. I shouldn’t have used that as a reason to hold you off, but as a reason to figure out a few things in my life. I’ve felt for so long, or told myself I did, that I didn’t want a serious relationship, and I never believed I had, or didn’t admit having, a cause to question that.

“I also said I was set in my ways, and that was true, but it was purely out of stubbornness. Not without good reason, too, because revisiting my attitudes and looking honestly at whether they’ve grown with me or held me back has not been an enjoyable experience. Some of it was to do with ill-conceived notions I’ve had all my life about what love is supposed to be and feel like. And that’s one thing I can say was put upon me a very long time ago—the notion that who I am means I won’t ever experience love the way other, so-called normal people do. I rather internalized it and just decided if that was the way it was, I wouldn’t fight it but embrace it and get as much out of it as I could.”

“So…what exactly is it you’re saying, Shawn?” Henry asked after a long pause.

“I’m asking for your forgiveness, Henry. I wasn’t able to recognise that my feelings for you are valid and genuine, and so when you told me how you feel for me, I tried to convince you that your feelings weren’t what you thought. I’m deeply sorry for that. Sorry that no matter how gentle I tried to be, my ignorance hurt you.”

Shawn took a deep breath and swallowed hard. Heartfelt contrition was one thing, but his next words were wholly virgin and extremely exposed territory for him. “I do love you, Henry. I love the easy, honest intimacy we have. I love the warmth I feel with you. I love your enthusiastic and playful personality. I just didn’t know those feelings were love. And I really hope I haven’t left it too late.”

Henry was silent for a long while, and any hopes Shawn had of candour helping his case began to flag.

At length, Henry let out a long sigh and said, “I guess I’ve been thinking a lot as well. I didn’t consider very much about what I said when it comes right down to it. At least not from any perspective beyond my own. What did I expect you to do, anyway? Because I’ve been on the other end of it. Somebody tells me they have feelings for me, and I try to tell them of course they don’t, not really, not possible, or just tell them I’m not exactly out, so they’d just have to live with that. And then there’s the fact that I’ve never had actual, real feelings for anybody I’ve been with before, so I wasn’t about to encourage theirs for me, whatever they were.”

“Where does that leave us?” Shawn asked rather quietly.

“Honestly? Not sure I know, Shawn,” Henry said. “Maybe it’ll take time to figure that out. I don’t have pace notes for this course, ya know?”

“Yeah, neither do I,” Shawn said, despite not being entirely sure what pace notes were.

“Look, I’ll be up in a couple months for the Goodwood Classic. Maybe we can plan to get together, feel some things out then?” Henry suggested.

“I’d like that very much,” Shawn said readily. “Actually… I’ve had a thought in the back of my mind, and I don’t know if it’s feasible or not because I know you’ve got commitments—you’ve got a life, of course, but what I’d really like is more than just a holiday with you. Maybe, at some point, you could come up for a longer stay. A few weeks? Make it a sort of trial run, for both of us?”

Again, Henry was quiet for a spell, and Shawn hoped he hadn’t pushed for too much too soon.

“I’m not saying for defo just yet, but…that might be possible for the few weeks before Goodwood. I was considering coming up a couple weeks early anyway because I want to spend some time on one of the cars I’ll be running that weekend. It’s not one I’m really as familiar with. So, maybe I can delegate the jobs on the agenda a couple weeks before that to some of the other guys in the garage. They know I’m gonna start the process of moving back up there to Pommieland, so it probably won’t be coming outta the blue.”

“That would be great, if you can,” Shawn said. “Don’t press the matter too much if it’s going to be a problem, because I understand, truly. But it would be great, even just to see you for a couple weeks, really.”

“Do you think we can make something of this, Shawn? Realistically?” Henry asked.

“I certainly hope we can. What I said that first night, about communication? I think that’ll be the key to it. And maybe a bit of patience with the old and ossified…”

Henry snorted. “Ossified like fuck, mate! You’re bendier than I’ve ever been.”

“Bent, anyway,” Shawn said with a relieved laugh.