Chapter Seven

The following months passed in a social whirl to which Evan was quite unaccustomed. He and Milo spent several evenings each week together, as well as their Sundays, and any other time they had free. They went to concerts and films, mostly paid for by Milo, and sometimes to galleries, where Evan absorbed Milo’s artistic knowledge like a cultural sponge.

He loved the hours they spent in Milo’s flat too, talking and reading and listening to music, but he especially enjoyed those sunny days they went for a stroll in one of the parks. Evan described to Milo all the flowers and shrubs he would plant in the beds if he worked there, the fragrant tea rose and delicate aster being his blooms of choice. They even had the picnic Milo suggested, but without the champagne. Evan had insisted they stick to ginger beer, saying it would be bad luck to partake of the celebratory drink before the competition results were announced. In reality, he didn’t want Milo spending any more money on him. Milo had worked hard to be his own man, not reliant on his wealthy parents, and Evan didn’t want their friendship to compromise the independence of which he was so proud.

Evan was also reluctant to get anywhere near drunk when they were together. He adored spending time with Milo, but not being able to kiss him or touch him in the ways he longed to drove Evan to distraction. Afraid he might give in to his urges under the influence of drink, Evan used Mrs. Grindley’s puritanical streak as an excuse to stay largely sober, and his friendship with Milo had grown ever closer, if entirely chaste.

He was thinking of Milo when he left work one summer evening, and wishing they’d arranged to meet, as it was such a lovely day. Then he smiled as he saw Milo standing outside the shop, debonair in a dark brown suit with his hair all silky and slicked back.

“Milo! What are you doing here? We aren’t going out tonight, are we?”

“We weren’t.” Milo grinned. “But we are now. The competition results were announced this morning, and we have something to celebrate.”

“You won? Milo, that’s—”

“We didn’t win, I’m afraid. That prize went to an established artist most worthy of the accolade, but your picture took third place. Can you believe it? Third out of all those hundreds of entries. I couldn’t be more thrilled.”

“I’m so pleased for you.” Without thinking, Evan threw his arms around Milo. “You deserve this, Milo, you really do. You’re a brilliant artist.”

Milo laughed as he pulled away. “As my model and friend, you may not be the most impartial judge of my talent, but I thank you anyway. Are you ready to celebrate?”

“Absolutely. And here’s just the man I need to see.” Evan waved in the direction of the insurance office, where half a dozen young men were ambling out of the grand entrance door. “Dennis! Over here.”

Dennis left his colleagues and walked over to Evan, looking curiously at Milo as he approached.

“All right, Evan? You ducking out of another Beston dinner by any chance?”

“I am, but I do have a very good reason. My friend Milo here has come third in a painting competition. At the Royal Academy, no less.”

“Very impressive.” Dennis nodded. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” Milo smiled modestly. “Evan is going to help me celebrate.”

“If you’ll tell Mrs. Grindley I won’t be in for dinner, that is.”

Dennis rolled his eyes. “Do I have to? The old bat’s getting suspicious. She reckons you’ve got some tart on the go.”

“Well, you can tell her different, can’t you? Go on, Dennis. Be a mate.”

“All right, I’ll do it.” Dennis shook his head as he walked away down the street. “The things I do for you, Evan Calver. I deserve a medal, I do.”

“Cheers, Dennis. You’re a pal.” Evan turned to Milo. “Now that’s all sorted, where are we going?”

“I did have somewhere in mind. An exclusive little club I’m a member of.”

“I hope it’s not expensive, Milo. You’ve spent enough on me in the last few weeks. A lemonade down the pub’s fine by me.”

“I said exclusive, not expensive.”

Evan wasn’t convinced, but he didn’t want to spoil Milo’s evening. He agreed and followed where Milo led him, which happened to be a fair distance. After half an hour walking through city streets, some bustling with people, some quiet as churchyards, Evan hadn’t the foggiest where he was. He began to feel a little bit frightened—not because he didn’t trust Milo, but because the alley they’d ended up in looked more like the haunt of gangsters and thieves than the home of a gentlemen’s club. They passed several dank doorways, in which shifty young men skulked and smoked, but Milo continued and Evan trailed close behind.

“Where are we going, Milo? Your club isn’t down here, surely.”

“It certainly is.” Milo knocked on a blue door less shabby than the surrounding ones, then he paused and knocked twice more. After a moment, the door opened and a middle-aged man in butler’s garb appeared.

“Mr. Halstead. We haven’t seen you in some time.”

“I’ve been rather busy, Soames, but I’ve come to celebrate some good news. I assume you still accept guests?”

“Of course, Mr. Halstead. May I take the gentleman’s name?”

“This is Evan Calver. He’s a friend of mine, and I can vouch for his character and his discretion.”

“Very good, Mr. Halstead. Do come in.”

They followed Soames down a set of stairs, the walls of which were painted the same deep blue as the door. It was almost like being back down the mine, and Evan was relieved when they emerged into a large basement room. Its décor was still dark, but wall lights gave the space a warm glow and a band was playing on a small stage at the far side of the room. Evan recognized the jolly tune and he tapped his toe to the beat as they waited for Soames to show them to their table.

Evan looked around the room, which had chairs and tables at its edges and a space in the middle for dancing. It wasn’t the gentlemen’s club he’d been expecting, with overstuffed armchairs and stuffier old men, but Evan wouldn’t have dared enter the music club without Milo at his side. It was the type of establishment frequented by the young and wealthy, who wouldn’t want the likes of Evan intruding on their fun, except perhaps to serve them cocktails on a silver platter.

Soames led them to a table, where Milo ordered champagne, assuring Evan that he had an account there so money was not an issue. Evan supposed he could make an exception to his rule of sobriety on such a momentous occasion, and he tried to relax on his blue velvet seat as Milo asked, “What do you think of the place?”

“It’s a bit different from the Rose and Crown.”

“I can’t disagree with you there. What about the clientele? What do you think of them?”

Evan surveyed the men sitting around them. They were mostly in their twenties and thirties, some in full evening dress and others in suits, making Evan feel rather underdressed in his everyday jacket and trousers.

“I’m guessing they’re all fairly well-off.”

“Most of them are, but not all.” Milo nodded to a waiter who arrived with the champagne and proceeded to fill two glasses. “Look closer, Evan. What do you see?”

Evan was used to Milo posing questions about paintings, asking him what details he saw and how they made him feel, but he wasn’t sure what he was meant to be looking for here. The only common factor he could find was that their fellow customers were all male, but the same could be said of most pubs in London. He fixed his eyes on a table of four young men, hoping to detect the feature Milo was guiding him to. Then he saw it.

“Bloody hell, Milo. Those two blokes are holding hands.”

“They are indeed. This is a very special kind of club, Evan, where men like us can be ourselves.”

“But what if the police find out? They could get sent to jail. We could get sent to jail.”

“Don’t concern yourself, Evan. The lads in the alley keep a lookout and let Soames know if they spot any trouble, but it’s unlikely the police will come nosing around. The club’s membership includes some highly influential men, and as long as we are discreet, we are left to our own devices.”

Evan stared around the room, at men talking, laughing and drinking, and in one particularly dark corner, kissing.

“I would never have believed such a place existed.”

“Thank goodness it does. I’m not sure I’d have survived the past few years without it. And here’s one of the reasons it’s so special.”

Milo beamed as a man in a dinner jacket approached, his hand outstretched in a somewhat feminine way.

“Milo, darling, how the devil are you? We thought you’d fallen out with us all.”

“Of course not, Timmy.” Milo took his hand and kissed it as if it were the most natural thing to do. “I’ve been frightfully busy.”

“Ah, yes. You’re about to be hung in the Royal Academy, I hear. Congratulations.”

“Thanks, Timmy. You’ll have to come to the official unveiling.”

“Just try and stop me.” Timmy’s gaze drifted over to Evan. “And will your gorgeous young friend be there?”

“I hope so. Timmy, this is Evan. Evan, this is Lord Timothy Ayrton.”

“Oh, hush, Milo. I’m Timmy here, and you know it. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Evan.”

He held out a hand in his girlish way, and although Evan didn’t dare kiss it, he took it as if he were greeting a well-to-do lady.

“I’m pleased to meet you too.”

Timmy held his hand a moment longer, and Evan glanced at Milo.

“Leave the poor man alone, Timmy. It’s his first time here.”

“And not his last, I hope.” Timmy winked as he released Evan’s hand. “Au revoir, Evan.”

Timmy wandered back across the room and Evan whispered to Milo, “Is he always like that?”

“Only when he’s here or at a private party. He’s actually something high up in government. If you met him in Whitehall, you’d find he acts in a quite conventional way. This is where he finds his freedom, where he can be the man he wants to be.”

Evan spent the next hour enthralled by Milo’s tales of Timmy and the club’s clientele, their daily lives contrasting with their nightly interactions. He’d had his own secret life since the age of eighteen, but it consisted of random assignations, not a social life with real friendships and relationships. According to Milo, some of the men were as good as married, having been together as couples for years, although they could never admit it in public, of course.

Milo and Evan had chatted their way through a whole bottle of champagne when the band struck up a different style of music, the pianist caressing the ivory keys in a romantic melody. After all he’d seen and heard, Evan wasn’t shocked when two men left their table and started to dance, their arms wound closely around each other. He was, however, startled when Milo took his hand.

“Would you like to dance, Evan?”

“I can’t. I’ve never danced with a girl, never mind a man.”

“It’s easy.” Milo slipped his glasses into his pocket. “Just follow my lead.”

Evan didn’t appear to have much choice as Milo drew him to his feet. They moved to the middle of the room, where Milo draped his arms around Evan, one about his shoulder and the other at his waist. Evan mirrored his movements, trying not to tremble or tread on Milo’s toes. He giggled at first, unable to believe what he was doing. Then he settled against Milo’s chest, gazing into his ocean-blue eyes as they moved to the music. Milo rested his head against Evan’s shoulder, and Evan couldn’t imagine a more blissful moment. But then the inevitable happened.

Not only were their cheeks and chests touching, but also more sensitive parts of their bodies. Evan tried to control his impulses, but the friction between them took its natural effect and his groin twitched unstoppably to life. He edged his hips away from Milo, who pulled him back, clutching his fingers to Evan’s backside. Realizing that Milo was equally aroused, Evan whispered into his ear.

“Do you want to get out of here? Go back to your place?”

Milo nodded, and they hurried up the stairs and outside, where Milo hailed a cab the moment they reached a main road. Within minutes they were in his flat, kissing and tearing at each other’s clothes. Evan’s shirt was on the floor, his trousers flung on the chaise, as Milo pulled him onto the bed. Evan was so excited he was quite short of breath, and he took several deep lungfuls of air before leaning down to kiss Milo again.

Milo turned his head away, and Evan thought he was playing. He twisted around to seek Milo’s lips, but Milo pushed him away.

“Please stop, Evan. Please.”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“I can’t do this. I thought I could, but I can’t.”

Evan lay back on the pillow, trying to keep the frustration from his voice.

“What’s going on, Milo? I want this, and I know you do too. So what’s there to stop us?”

“Evan, please don’t make this more difficult than it is.”

“I’m not trying to make it difficult. I want to understand. Why won’t you make love to me?”

“My dearest Evan, there is nothing I want more than to make love with you, to feel your skin beneath my fingers, your body pressed against mine. But I cannot allow myself to do that, because if I make love with you, I will want to spend the night with you, and then the night after that. I’ll want to cook you meals and take you out to the country and spend every possible moment with you, and I cannot have that.”

“Why not? We spend half our time together anyway. What difference would it make?”

“It would make all the difference in the world. While I might be able to sleep with a man and simply be his friend, I couldn’t do that with you. I would want so much more.”

“Then we can have that life together, like your friends at the club. I know it would be complicated, with the stupid laws and people talking, but we’d be careful. We’d make sure no one found out.”

“I couldn’t care less who found out. I’d face the law if I had to—although I’d do everything I could to keep you out of court—but it has nothing to do with that.”

“Then I don’t understand. We both want this, so what’s the problem? Please explain to me, Milo, I beg you.”

Milo’s face paled as he pushed himself up against the headboard. “I lied, Evan. About my time in the war. I lied.”

Evan’s stomach fluttered as he sat up next to Milo. He knew of men who’d embellished their war record to impress employers or lovers, but he couldn’t believe it of Milo. He didn’t care if Milo hadn’t been at the front, risking his life for king and country. In fact, he’d be glad of it, but he couldn’t bear to think Milo had lied to him. Of all the things Evan loved about Milo, his honesty was one of his most endearing traits, but he supposed it was better to find out the truth, whether it be that Milo had spent the war in army barracks in England, or that he’d never joined up at all.

“Were you not in France, like you said?”

“Oh, yes. I was in France. I served in Verdun and Arras and Amiens. I looked after my men as well as I could, and I saw the most horrendous sights. But I lied when I said none of my men was more special to me than the others. There was someone. His name was Wyn. Corporal Wyn Griffiths. He was a tailor in Swansea before the war.” Milo shook his head and smiled. “Our company was the best-dressed in the battalion. He’d sew on buttons and darn stinking socks, and he never complained. I think it took his mind off what was going on around him, concentrating on threading a needle or making the next neat stitch.”

Milo paused, seemingly somewhere else entirely, before he took up again.

“Wyn was a very handsome man, even when he was filthy with the mud and grime of the trenches. He had thick blond hair and hazel eyes. He was tall and broad-shouldered too. Played rugby for the regiment. I was always amazed that such a physical man could sew so delicately. And he could sing quite beautifully. I know it’s common to say that Welshmen can sing, but Wyn had an exquisite voice. His comic songs had the men rolling with laughter, and his proud Welsh hymns brought tears to their eyes. But they never heard his love songs. Those he saved for me.”

Milo disappeared into his own world again, his smile wistful rather than sad.

“It began in the winter of 1916, when he was sent out to France. At first, we enjoyed each other’s company. Then we huddled together at night, as many men did in that infernal cold, but it soon became more. Other men did that too, sometimes purely in the absence of women, but for us, it was different. We could have found ourselves in a room with the world’s most glamorous women and men and we would have wanted each other. We talked, we kissed, we made love when we could. It was wonderful to know that we could hide away together to escape the madness and monotony, if only for a short while.”

Milo was quiet again, and Evan cautiously resumed the conversation.

“Did the other men know about you and Wyn?”

“Yes, they knew. But they never caused us any trouble. They could have reported us both or blackmailed me, but they didn’t. They knew we weren’t just using each other for sex. They knew that we loved each other. And I never let our relationship encroach on my work. I didn’t once neglect my duties or treat Wyn differently. I was probably more demanding of him than I was of the other men. Perhaps I shouldn’t have been.”

Milo drifted away again and Evan ventured his next question, already certain of Milo’s reply.

“What happened to Wyn?”

“He so nearly made it to the end. That’s the absolute tragedy.” Tears shimmered in Milo’s eyes as he tried to smile. “Wyn died in September 1918. If he could only have kept himself safe two more months, he would have come home. He was planning to move to London. We were going to… Who knows what might have happened? We might have tired of each other in everyday life. He might have gone back to Swansea in a matter of weeks, but at least we would have had the chance to find out.”

A tear dripped onto Milo’s cheek, but he was so lost in his memories Evan didn’t dare take his hand.

“Haynes was the one who found him, poor man. He covered Wyn’s body, leaving only his face exposed. It was miraculously untouched, but every trace of life had drained from his beautiful skin.”

Milo raised his fingers to his lips, which were pale as his dead lover’s might have been, but still Evan didn’t dare touch him.

“His expression was oddly serene, as though he hadn’t been aware of what happened to him. I can only hope that was the case, as his injuries were horrific. He lost one of his legs, and a hole was blasted through his chest. Not that I ever saw it. I would have ended up in the asylum like Sassoon and his pals if I had. Haynes held me back, stopped me ripping the bloodstained blanket off Wyn, pressed his hand to my mouth to stifle my cries. Only when I was calmer did he let me kneel at Wyn’s side, where I kissed him one last time before the stretcher-bearers came to carry him away.”

Milo fell silent, clearly reliving those inconsolable moments in his head. Then he roughly wiped the tears from his cheeks.

“Haynes and the others stopped me falling apart in those final weeks. They’d relied on me over four long years and they didn’t let me down when I needed them. I was an utter wreck by the time we got back to England. My parents took care of me and saved me from going under, but I was frighteningly close to madness. I didn’t go out of the house for weeks, holed up in my room with my memories, the good ones and the bad. It took me months to get back on my feet, and even longer to live anything like a normal life.”

Evan couldn’t imagine the torment Milo had suffered, and he tenderly took Milo’s hand.

“But you’re all right now, Milo. Aren’t you?”

“Yes, I am. Thanks to my friends and family, and Haynes and the other men who kept in touch. But I couldn’t put myself through that again. No man should have to endure a loss like that, and to do it twice would destroy me. That’s why…” Milo lowered his gaze for a moment. “That’s why I haven’t allowed myself to become close to anyone since. I’ve had lovers, of course, but no one I wanted to wake up with each morning. No one I longed to open my heart to or spend the rest of my life with. I can’t give myself to someone as wholly as I did to Wyn and have him torn away from me again. So I have friends, and I have acquaintances who satisfy my physical needs, and between the two I have been content. Or I was until I met you.”

Milo closed his fingers around Evan’s hand.

“When I saw you that night in the pub, even though I hadn’t spoken to you and didn’t know your name, I knew you were the man who might break my resolve, who might revive my frozen heart. And when I met you in the museum, I knew it was meant to be, that you were the one I would risk my happiness for after all these years.”

Evan was surprised and thrilled that Milo had felt so strongly about him from the start, but it made his reluctance harder to understand.

“Then why won’t you make love to me? Have you changed your mind about me?”

“Evan, I love you and want to spend my life with you, but I cannot lose the man I love again. When you were ill that day in the smog, I saw it all happening again, and I feared if I lost you, I might not recover. I thought it was better to be friends, to keep a safe distance, but over the past weeks I’ve come to realize that I cannot be your friend. I want you completely, body and mind. And when we danced tonight, I thought I’d conquered my fears. I thought I could take the next step.”

“What’s stopping you, then? What’s changed?”

“When you took those urgent breaths just now, I was there again on the night of the smog, not knowing if you would pull through. And I was back in the trench, looking at Wyn and feeling my life fall to pieces. I can’t go through that again, Evan. I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

“Oh, Milo, it must have been awful for you, but you’ve no need to fret about me. I survived a good few years down the pit. A bit of fog isn’t going to finish me off.”

“But you weren’t in my place when it happened. I didn’t know what to do. I was terrified of losing you.”

“You were amazing that night. A trained nurse couldn’t have done better. But if it puts your mind at rest, I’ll tell you what to do if it happens again. I’ll write it all down if you like.”

“Evan, it’s no good. I can’t do it. I’m sorry, but I-I can’t. I’m—”

“It’s all right, Milo. Don’t upset yourself. If we can only be friends, then that’s what we’ll be.”

“But it’s not what you want.”

“All I care about is that you are happy, and if us being lovers would bring you pain, then I don’t want it either. Now, am I allowed to give my friend a hug to make him feel better?”

Milo nodded tearfully and Evan wrapped his arms around him, holding him close until he fell to sleep. Mrs. Grindley would be livid if he stopped out all night, but he’d willingly risk his landlady’s wrath. Evan would stay with Milo and he would stand by his promise. He knew it would be agony not to touch him and kiss him, to feel his body around and within him, but Evan would be Milo’s friend, for better or worse, perhaps as long as they both lived.